#the length of this post is uhm a bit concerning

[nicoscheer]

Milex quotes (ranging from unhinged to batshit crazy while taking a detour through wtf land)

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- first impressions: “What is this puny spotty kid with his little brown bag ?” (Miles about Alex) “Who’s that jester who makes me laugh so hard as soon as he opens his mouth ?” (Alex about Miles). Via Les Inrocks arcticle

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- “I tell him I love him all the time,” via NME (Miles)

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- “I love you because you’ve got a very strong pain threshold.” Via NME (Miles)

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- since when are you both that close ? “You want to know if we’re going to get married ? If we have sex like real men, between the buttocks ?” Via Les Inrocks article

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- “For kids from the North, it's hard to say but we never stop telling each other that we love each other. Alex knows I'll always be there for him. (How do our girlfriends deal with that? Are they jealous? Maybe we should ask them).” (Miles) Via Les Inrocks article

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- “To me, The Last Shadow Puppets is not even a band. It’s more like a way-out of the notion itself of ‘band’. It’s a space of freedom. There is no embarrassment, no taboo, no limits between us. It's a real trade, we reroute each other's ideas. In the end, it's impossible to quantify the contribution of the two of us. Our complementarity sometimes freaks me out.” (Alex) via Les Inrocks article

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- MK: Totally, to me it’s even the best vocal take of his entire career! (He cuddles him.) AT: Thank you, my dear. (Note: here it says “mon lapin”, which can mean “my dear” but literally translates to “my bunny”) via MyRock Magazine

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- AT: Ah yeah, that’s how it is with my Miles! I start a joke and he’ll finish it! (he pounces on Miles and catches him in an armlock on the settee, before giving his crotch a light slap and shouting “Here comes the nuts!”) You wanna see how close we are as friends, Miles and I? Here, look, a spectacle exclusively for you! (At this point, we move up another notch in this madness: Alex swoops for a bowl of cashew nuts and starts to frenetically toss them at Miles, who tries to catch them with his mouth… after a fashion. Via MyRock Magazine

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- “Alex is so dedicated to song writing, it’s inspiring to be around. He’s a beautiful soul and I’m honoured to witness him and the band grow. His left ears going to be burning when he hears this…” (Miles) via GQ magazine October 2013

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X

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- “Alex Turner is a genius, isn’t he? He’s a genius fish.” (Miles) via Knack Focus

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Via Kultura Onet

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- “Sometimes we have Skype-sex, or we wank off on FaceTime!” (Miles) via Index

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- “We've been through a lot together. It's like, he's one of those friends, those few best friends you have in life. As you grow older, your circle tends to shrink, but he's remained one of my closest pals. It's almost like a bit of yin and yang between us.” (Miles) via Numéro

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- Alex turns to Miles and propositions him: “Your place or mine, then?” There’s no-one expect us and the road-crew there to see it, but it feels like a special moment nonetheless. Via NME

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- “I think we can bring the best out in each other, you know? He certainly does that with me.” (Miles) Via Eska Rock

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- “Why, yes, bromances are for sharing your dreams. What a wonderful sentiment.” (Miles) via Interview Magazine

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- AT: Miles is, without a doubt, Wolverine. Wolverine is a style icon to him. I see similarities. Miles always follows his instinct. And he’s capable of fixing things that are broken, whether it’s material or emotional damage, in no time. MK: Alex often reminds me of Gambit. He can change something insignificant into something explosive. He’s very aware of everything that happens around him, something that balances him out. And he can read my mind. Via OOR Magazine 2016

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- “We understand each other and keep each other going. We both have strange ideas and we need the presence of the other to make sense of them.” (Miles) Via OOR Magazine 2016

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- “Sometimes it can be a pressure being the fella in the band who writes the songs. Getting together with Miles I've got someone to bounce ideas off and that is something new for me. Also, it gives me somewhere to hide because he's up there singing with me. In the Arctic Monkeys, there's nowhere for me to hide.” (Alex) via Culture

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- “My best mate. I love him, man. I like the way he pushes himself and keeps that thing of, whatever's going on around you, you're just a lad who loves playing music and writing tunes. He's a prime example of someone who's big but doesn't take anything for granted.” (Miles)

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- “I decipher his thoughts and organise them. When Miles bursts, the idea comes flying. Someone who knows him well enough might be able to filter out the good ideas. But usually, he only has good ideas and it’s up to me to catch everything. That’s my job within this duo. That process releases all kinds of stuff within me, causing me to go into certain directions I would never take my own.” (Alex)

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- “I thought it were going to be like them finding a tape where you’d had an affair,” he grins. “Like your bird had found an affair tape and was watching you having sex with another bird… but it weren’t like… an affair tape… erm, not that I’ve ever made an affair tape.” Alex Turner about the Monkeys’ reaction to The Last Shadow Puppets’ album via NME

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- “And also working with Miles, it comes very much from my heart. You know, with such a close friendship we have. Wanting to work together, it brings something else. I haven’t done too much with other people… he’s kind of the only one.” (Alex) via Hot Press

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- MK: And he can read my mind. AT: But you can read mine, too. MK: I knew you were gonna say that. AT: And I knew you were gonna say that. via OOR Magazine 2016

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- “Even if we aren't writing half a word is enough. We can finish each other's sentences sometimes and if we focus on it, we can take it to a much deeper level. That's pretty unique. My thinking process is pretty abstract and a lot of people don't know what to do with that. Alex understands me like no other.” (Miles) via OOR Magazine 2016

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- you’re living in Los Angeles too now, miles? “…because Alex lives there…” (Miles) via Humo

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- “He has written a lot of songs – a lyrical wonder, this boy!” (Miles) via Humo

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- The pair live, Turner says, “seven minutes away from each other”. Ask them what a typical night out entails, and they look at each other, then proceed to not be very forthcoming, though Turner will eventually concede that “some of what happens in those situations is disclosed, through the veil of song, on the record. There’s references.” Via Shortlist

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- “Starin’ out the balcony at the moon, wonderin’ where is he, what is he doin’ now, who’s he kissin’” (Alex) via Sidewalk Hustle

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X

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- “… but this thing we had together… I know that I was the new kid and he was a sort of superstar, but even from day one, it was amazing. To an outsider, it wouldn’t look equal, but it was always so equal. He made me feel like that, just because it was.” (Miles)

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- “We take it in turns playing the straight man.” (Alex) via Shortlist

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- “Quite cute ! Quite and quite camp, you mean ?” (Miles about their relationship) via NME

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- On what it’s like to work with Kane again, Turner said: “It’s like John Lennon meets… Paul [McCartney].” Via NME

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- Miles says their relationship was established “on laughter and general stupidness” via the Telegraph

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- Interviewer: Alex, what does Miles bring out in you that…. Alex: A woman can’t bring out in me?

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- Miles and Alex and their endearments and nicknames for each other :

“We always talk about it, me and the boy, y'know?” (one of the cutest things Miles has called Alex is 'the boy' it's so beautiful bc someone asked him on Twitter what he was up to and he just said he was 'going out with the boy'. which boy? it didn't need saying. everyone knows who The Boy in Miles' life is.)

"He's got the face for it...the little diamond."Miles to Alex

"The Little Prince" Miles to Alex x

“Shavambacu” Miles to Alex at 4:01

“You naughty turtle” Alex to Miles- Tlsp @ Paradiso, Amsterdam 2016 during the element of surprise

“Baby” Miles to Alex multiple times

“You scampi fry” Miles to Alex via the guardian

“The Wirral squirrel/wirral riddler” Alex to Miles via absolute radio 2011 at around 10:50

“All aboard the Kane train” Alex to Miles at Lowlands 2016 at around 21:56

“My Miles” Alex to Miles, MyRock interview

“The next song is called ”My Fantasy”… I’d like to dedicate it to my Alex Turner!” Miles to Alex, live performance

“If I can speak for both Darling” Alex to Miles via El País

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- “He (Alex) turned up one day in red jeans. That surprised me. I like it when he wears red jeans. When they’re tight.”

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- “There's nothing innocent about Miles Kane,”Turner warns, in case anyone was planning to accuse him of luring his fresh-faced co-conspirator into a decadent world of rock star self-indulgence. “He is the antithesis of innocence.” “Ooh,” Kane retorts, archly, “you scampi fry.” Via the Guardian

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- “We went for a bike ride. Tops off. Fred Perry shorts on.” (Alex about their time recording the age of the understatement in rural France Blackbox studio) via Q Magazine 2008

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- You look like you're about to snog each other. AT: “It’s rare that we don’t look like that.” Tlsp at the Mercury music Prize 2008

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- “As far as I’m concerned there are only two superstars: Beyoncé and Miles Kane. You can quote me on that.” (Alex)

[brooklynislandgirl]

Role Play Comfort Zone!

A valuable meme for any roleplayer! Come display your comfort levels so your roleplay partners are aware of what they can do, and of what they should avoid! A healthy relationship between role-play partners is the key to a good time! While this meme shows the basics, please remember to communicate with your roleplay partners! REPOST DON’T REBLOG!

Key: BOLD = Yes. Normal = Okay/Ask me about it. Strike = No.

tagged by: stolen from @reevezs

tagging: *leaves it unattended on the porch with a ring camera.*

ROLEPLAY BASICS

LOCATIONS I am comfortable doing:

tumblr

email

kik, im, discord

google docs

skype

forum

other

PARTICIPANTS I am comfortable with:

One on one roleplays. 

Up to three people.

Up to four people.

Five or more people!

As big as possible!

POST LENGTH I usually write about:

One or two sentences.

One or two paragraphs.

Two to five paragraphs.

More than five paragraphs. 

A few pages worth. {{I do enjoy novella, but this is totally one of those ask me things}}

I AM COMFORTABLE ROLE-PLAYING WITH PEOPLE WHO WRITE:

One or two sentences.

One or two paragraphs. {I mean as long as there's enough for me to interact with, I don't mind}

Two to five paragraphs.

More than five paragraphs.

A few pages worth. 

Write me a book.

ROLE-PLAY REQUESTS I like getting requests from:

Anyone and everyone at any time! 

When I ask for roleplays.

From friends and acquaintances.

From friends only.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ** IMPORTANT: Communication is the key to a real life relationship, it shouldn’t be abandoned for a fictional one either! Be sure to talk to your partners when considering romance

SHIPPING I am comfortable shipping my characters:

Never.

If our characters know each other deeply. 

If our characters know each other deeply, and I know I can trust the role-player.

At the first sign of flirting! 

Only if the role-player and I plan it.

It’s situational to each character.

If you want to ship with my characters:

Talk to me about it from the start.

Talk to me about it once our characters know each other.

Talk to me about it once they both have some feelings for each other.

Talk to me about it when they finally decide that want to go beyond hugging.

Talk to me anytime - there’s no requirement.

SPEED When shipping my characters, I like the romance to happen:

Swift as lightning!

Fast, but not super fast.

Happens in about three months.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Slugs know what’s up!

My relationships know no speed. They happen if they happen.

SMUT When my characters get intimate, I prefer:

To skip the act entirely.

To write the build up, but skip the act.

To write the act only if it is very special, but otherwise, skip it.

To write the act all the way through. {{I don't mind, but I can/will write it elsewhere if you prefer, I can ftb pretty well and pick up after the fact, my concern is everyone's comfort}}

ROMANTIC ARTWORK When it comes to artwork depicting our relationship please:

Do not post it at all without talking to me.

Post it if it is cuddles and hugs.

Post it if it is kisses.

Post it if it is N.SFW.

Only post it if it depicts N.SFW privately between us.

Do not post it at all if it depicts sexual acts!

Do not post it where I can see it, but draw what you like!

DRAMATICS ** Important: Always be sure to communicate with your partner individually if you think you are about to go outside their comfort zones even just the slightest bit!

VIOLENCE When it comes to violent situations, I am comfortable with:

No violence at all!

I’m fine with verbal arguments!

Some violence, like a paper cut, or an accidental elbow to the face.

Mild violence, such as punching, kicking, hair pulling.

Violence, such as stabbings.

Beyond violence, such as torture and more. {{Uhm, Beth has, in her natural habitat, a great capacity for doing and being on the receiving end of some really wild stuff}}

If you are going to do something violent, please:

Don’t do it at all.

Talk to me about it first.

Surprise me!

DRAMATIC ARTWORK:

Do not post any dramatic scenes that happened between our characters.

Talk to me about it before posting!

Post what you like!

[thornstocutyouwith]

Original post here. @ofwondersandhares

Pointing at the other, he snapped his fingers toward Darius "Temporarily dead, you're right!" He giggled slightly, before he sniffed, staring for a moment as he went quiet, Darius soon enough saying something catching his attention again.

"Right. That's certainly what it is." He was not one to care about such things, that way, right? Though his people certainly had, that's why this entire situation had come about, the pressure for marriage, to secure the royal line. As Darius spoke he nodded his head acknowledgement toward Darius' words "Ah, well, how unfortunate for them that you are, more, or less. Their queen, that is?" He laughs shifting slightly as he continued to toy with the ring, it was loose on his finger, showing more how much he had suffered during his time of 'death'.

Listening to Darius half distracted he made a face, his brows furrowing slightly "Well, I have no idea what religion is, to be fair." He had never been introduced to such a thing. Perhaps because of the fact that his mother kept him at arms length and he was certainly not raised within a notably religious family because Wonderland honestly had no such thing…all in all, cults on the other hand, seemed to be more common.

"Alright, alright. We can…" Asher had relented a little bit. Then closed his eyes, slouching a little indignantly when Darius spoke on "Darriiiuuss…I do imagine I might have been sad long before you found your space in my life." Laughing, he raised his eyebrows "Can't you just-" Wiggling his right hand in front of his face a bit "I'd say there's plenty of other events where I'd be saddened by." Looking at the ring, however, he paused, going quiet for a moment "However…Frustrating…you could be…"

Hearing Darius' concerned question he looked over, pulling his hand slightly from his head "Uhm. I think…yes. I am. I am… I just…" His hand moved down over toward his torso, fingers tracing a long where the scars from his injuries still remained. Pulling his hand away he balls it into a fist "Sorry…yes…I think…Maybe we should not speak too much of her." He mumbled dispassionately, almost feeling out of body. Then finally he looked over at Darius "It wasn't your fault…like that, okay. It was the best decision at the time." At least he was sure. He simply could not remember though. Shaking his head at Darius' reasoning then he exhaled heavily "I don't think she will, she's grown passed that…She thinks I killed you…"

After composing himself a little bit he shifted, turning toward one of the staff and walking over to talk with them about putting in a protocol for his going away for around a month. Asher and the staff member talked for a moment before he returned to Darius "Alright, all set." Thinking then, he glanced up, trying to think of a silly gift for a silly holiday "OOooh…Huh…Maybe we should give her a those fruits that taste like things they are not…"

[radiosandrecordings]

Based on this post I made earlier. Also available on ao3 here. 

Warning for implied sexual content, but nothing is detailed and Jon isn’t involved in any way. 

Jon felt himself relax as he found a free seat on the train, letting out a sigh. To be on your way home on a Friday was always a good thing, but getting an unexpected half day was especially nice. 

He’d been trying to cut down on the amount of time he spent in work recently. Martin had been badgering him about it, and for once he let himself take the opportunity to not push himself beyond what was required. Besides, he always felt rather lonely on Friday’s, heading off to work by himself while his partners still slept. It was one of Martin’s days off from the library, and Gerry taught the evening class that day, so he didn’t have to be at the art school until eight. 

He pulled out his phone to text them both, tell them he’d be home early, before realising rather too late that no, after five years of living in London there wasn’t suddenly signal on the tube. 

He slid his phone back into his pocket. It’d just have to be a surprise then. He was only about ten minutes from his stop, and then he could walk home and get dinner on the way - or, he supposed with the early hour, lunch. He could waltz in the door and it would be a lovely surprise, and what a perfect way to start a weekend. 

~~~

“Surprise! Boss ordered us all out early, basement is getting fumigated or some such thing. I brought- Oh!” Bags of food in one hand, he used the other to push open the bedroom door. Which revealed…

“Oh, Jesus-”

“Jon?” 

Jon felt himself instinctively step back from the doorway. He tried to get words out, but his brain had decided that it didn’t exactly want to cooperate right now.

Martin pulled the sheet around himself self consciously. “Jon, we’re so sorry, we didn’t think you’d be home-”

“I’ll just go and- Uh- Put this… In the kitchen,” Jon managed to stammer out, before retreating to the safety of another room.

So… That had just happened. He had walked in on his partners… Well, having sex, to put it bluntly. Which was fine, he was fine with that, they were both adults who were allowed to do whatever they wanted. It had just caught him off guard, that’s all. He deposited the food on the countertop, and turned to lean against it, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute. 

There were hurried footsteps down the hall after him, shortly followed by Martin and Gerry appearing in the doorway. They’d both pulled underwear on, and Gerry was wearing a shirt which, judging by the size, was probably actually Martin’s. Both of them looked about as mortified as Jon felt. 

“Are you okay?” Was the first words out of Gerry’s mouth. Jon saw his hand move, as if to touch Jon’s arm in that way he did so often when he knew Jon was upset, but he hesitated before pulling back. 

“What? Yes, yes of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” and Jon was aware that, for a man desperately trying to convince himself that he was not panicking, it kind of sounded like he was panicking. 

“Well, you’re answering questions like that for starters,” Martin replied, and his voice was the right amount of calming and reasonable that he knew Jon needed right now. “Breath, love.”

Jon took the advice. In. Out. Look up to meet Martin’s eyes. “Yes, I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry I reacted so… Adversely, I wasn’t expecting, well, that.” 

“Do not start apologising over this. You did nothing wrong, we know this is a boundary for you, and we’re sorry we crossed that.”

Jon took a second before responding. “No, it’s… You two shouldn’t have to apologise either. You thought I wouldn’t be home for another four hours, I can’t fault you for wanting to, to have a good time in your own home. I can’t expect you to refrain from something you enjoy just because it makes me uncomfortable, especially when you didn’t expect me to be home.” 

“You okay for a hug?” Gerry asked, leaning forward against the doorframe.

Jon wrinkled his nose slightly. “Maybe after a shower?” They all laughed at that, and Jon could feel the tension finally break between them. Then he coughed slightly to clear his throat. “Right, well, do you two want to go- Uhm… Finish up?” 

“No offence, but I feel like the mood has been well and truly broken,” Martin said, “I think we should probably just take your advice on that shower,” he linked his hand with Gerry’s, and began to pull him away towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get the lunch ready,” Jon said, smiling through it as he began to take out plates. 

~~~ 

Ten minutes later and all three of them were seated around the table, portioning out various containers of food. 

“So is this a regular occurrence?” Jon asked, when they were all comfortably settled. Gerry nearly choked on his drink. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I’m never home on Friday’s. Is this when the…” Jon trailed off, pausing to laugh at his own phrasing before he’d even got it out, “When the magic happens, so to speak?” 

Gerry let out a groan, and Martin’s face was buried in his hands, and knowing him, extremely flushed. “I mean not- Not every Friday,” he managed to mumble. 

“But the majority of them?” 

“... Yeah,” Gerry admitted. 

Jon smirked. Now that nothing was directly going on, he was substantially more comfortable about teasing his partners than he was twenty minutes ago. “And what was the thought process behind that?” 

“Well, we know you don’t like sex. Obviously. And we do. So we compared all of our schedules-” 

“He made a spreadsheet,” Gerry interrupted, “A sex spreadsheet. Can you believe him. This is who we’re dating.” 

“And we’re very lucky to have him,” Jon said, grabbing Martin’s hand from across the table and pressing a kiss to it.

“As I was saying,” Martin said, blush returning with the kiss, “We compared the schedules and Friday was the only time you weren’t home when Gerry and I were… So… Fridays.” 

Jon laughed. “As adorably nerdy as that is… Why did you feel the need to do that?” 

“Well not all of us are ace,” Gerry started, “And our boyfriend is particularly handsome so-” 

“Yes, yes, no, I get that bit,” Jon interrupted, waving his hand to stop Gerry from elaborating any further. “I just meant.. Why all the cloak and dagger?” 

“Well, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Martin said with enough earnesty that it made Jon’s heart ache slightly. 

“So you didn’t want me to be around for it?” 

“It’s more that we thought you wouldn’t want to be around for it,” Gerry said. 

“Oh, that’s…” Jon was a little stunned. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. To know that his two favourite people that he loved so much, cared about him to the extent where they would schedule that kind of thing around his own comfort. “How long have you been doing this?” 

“... As long as we’ve lived together?” Martin admitted, voice trailing up at the end. 

A year. They’d been conducting this elaborate plan for a year and he hadn’t noticed. All to make sure he was comfortable. Jon felt himself tearing up slightly. “That’s… That’s very… Thank you. Thank you. But really, there’s no need for that, it’s fine, I promise.” 

“What do you mean?” Gerry asked, eyebrow furrowing. 

“You were pretty firm that you really wanted no part in that kind of thing,” Martin said. 

“I don’t!” Jon said, raising both palms, “That’s- No, that bit hasn’t changed, and I doubt it ever will. I just meant… I don’t really mind, if you two want to have some time together while I’m here?” The two looked slightly shocked, and he hastily continued, “I don’t want to be involved, or anything, I just meant you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that from me?” 

He let out a sigh. “I love you both very, very much. And I’m so grateful that you care enough about my boundaries that you would go to sheerly ridiculously lengths like that for me. But I don’t need to be shielded from it. My reaction earlier was mostly out of surprise. If in future you were to just… Tell me when, I would happily make myself at home in the living room with a book, or go for a walk or something. I don’t want you to feel like I’m something you have to accommodate.” 

Gerry reached a hand across the table and took one of Jon’s. Martin followed suit, gently tracing circles across his knuckles. “Are you sure?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I think you can trust me to make my own decision on this one. I will always tell you when something is wrong, or makes me uncomfortable, or unhappy. This isn’t one of them. I want both of you to be happy as I am in this relationship and that means not having to literally check your calendar to see if you’re allowed to have sex.” 

Gerry leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Your right. We should’ve trusted you enough to tell you. At first it was a little… We didn’t want to freak you out or anything, and then after a while it just didn’t seem like a big deal? We probably should’ve tried to communicate better rather than just deciding we knew better.”

“It came from a place of love,” Jon said, returning the kiss by pressing one to his forehead, and then Martin’s in turn. “But I agree. More communication in future sounds good.” 

“And we’ll buy you some noise cancelling headphones,” Gerry smiled.

“Christ, really?” 

“That one was a joke.” 

“Oh thank god.”

[tailorvizsla]

NSFW Alphabet Series: Oral

Title: Oral Pairing: Paz x Reader Word Count: 1174 Rating: MA Warnings: Blowjob, deepthroating/throat fucking Notes: Gender neutral reader. You succ, you swallow, that’s it. Also posted on AO3. Other Parts of the NSFW Series: Aftercare  | Body Part/X-Ray | Dirty Secret/Risk | Quickies and Kisses | 📚 My Master List 📚

With trembling fingers, you reach up to familiarize yourself with the older man’s cock. It is thick, with prominent veins and an exaggerated upward curve. As you skim your fingers down the length, you swallow nervously, wondering how the hell you are going to get this beast inside of you. His skin is delightfully soft and silky, a sharp contrast to the calloused fingers sliding across your jaw. He tilts your head back so that your eyes meet his visor, and your heart jumps, heat rushing straight to your groin. Seeing yourself reflected in the dark glass – your pupils blown wide open, your cheeks stained pink, and your lips parted in a silent pant – is surprisingly arousing.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yeah,” you manage to say. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re lookin��� at it like it’s going to bite you,” he says. “Listen, if you don’t want this – “

“My only concern is how I’m going to fit this in me without hurting myself,” you say with a wry smile, as you wrap your fingers around him. “Uhm…this is a lot to take in. Pun definitely not intended.”

You can just barely hear the huff of amusement from his modulator. He shifts on the bed, spreading his knees a bit as you get comfortable between them.

“Really, we don’t have to,” he says, in a tone that is far gentler than you’ve ever heard from him.

You purse your lips and lean in, placing a gentle kiss on the head of his cock. Curiosity gets the best of you and you flick your tongue out, lapping up the single droplet of precum waiting for you. A little bitter, a hint of sweetness, but the most pervasive flavor is salt. Inoffensive, almost pleasant.

Leaning in even closer, you kiss a path down his shaft, taking the time to map each vein and ridge. His hips shift as you work, the fingers of one massive hand tangling in your hair. As his cock throbs, you pause a moment to nuzzle your cheek against it, relishing in the sharp inhalation that act earns from your lover.

You kiss your way back up the other side, letting one hand drift up to cup his balls. They are firm and heavy as you palm them, tugging ever so gently, earning another sigh of pleasure from him. You can tell he’s not used to being handled gently by a partner. This is as new for him as it is for you.

You wrap your free hand around the base of his cock, a smile playing at your lips as it leaps in response.

“Paz Vizla,” you breathe. “This has got to be the prettiest cock I’ve had in my mouth.”

“Must not have seen that ma – ah!”

You cut him off by wrapping your lips around him. You hope he picks up on the mischief in your eyes – your mouth is achingly full of his cock, and you have barely even started. His breath comes in heavy, harsh pants as you slowly inch your way down. Then, just as slowly, you draw back, pausing to lap against the sensitive patch on the underside, earning another soft grunt from him.

Over and over, you bob your head, taking him in a little deeper each time, until he’s brushing the back of your throat on each stroke. As his hips start to rock forward, you pull back, pumping your hand along his entire length a few times to give your jaw a break. He is more than a mouthful, and you simply are not used to someone of his size.

“Might also be the best tasting one, too,” you say.

Licking your lips, you take him back in, locking your eyes on where you think his eyes are. He makes a noise that you cannot quite decipher, so you take it as encouragement, and continue stroking. His hands never leave your head, firmly but gently guiding your pace. That thrill in your belly turns into a deep, throbbing ache of pleasure. Heat spreads through you, like you’ve lowered yourself into a hot bath, every square inch of your flesh hypersensitive and tingling. He makes the prettiest noises, you decide, as you listen to the man’s soft groans and garbled praises. As those soft groans progress into full, throaty moans, you feel a tendril of pride fill you. To know you’re one of the few who have seen him so relaxed and vulnerable leaves you aching and wanting.

You break away again, palming the head of his cock, placing open mouth kisses along his saliva-slick shaft until you reach his balls. You suck the first one into your mouth. Paz grunts as a little spurt of cum oozes into your palm and his hips nearly lift off the bed. Then you lavish attention on the second.

“I could worship this gorgeous cock all night, Paz.”

“M-maybe later – wanna come, please – “ he says in a voice about half an octave higher than normal.

“Such good manners,” you croon, and you lean in to reward him for his politeness.

This time you take him all the way, working him with a firm pace. He’s spewing pure gibberish at this point. You can hear the occasional ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ when you hit those spots he likes.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he grits out, his hips grinding toward you, “I’m gonna come – “

You inhale sharply and slide forward all the way, swallowing when you feel resistance in the back of your throat. You continue pushing until your nose is buried in the thatch of curls at the base of his cock. Paz keens, his fingers tightening against your scalp as he starts thrusting into your throat, all considerations for your comfort disappearing. You go slack as he fucks your throat, letting him guide the pace and depth. Staring up at him, you fight the urge to gag, even as tears collect on your lashes. One particularly rough thrust finally makes them fall onto your cheeks, and Paz tenderly brushes them away with his thumbs. Just when you’ve reached your limits, he comes with a deep, sensuous moan.

He pants harshly, his body curling forward, as his hand clamps down at the base of your skull, his cock pulsing his load down your throat. After several torturous seconds, he lets go, and you pull back with a gasp of relief. You gag and hiccup as his cock leaves you throat with a wet noise. Winded, you sit back on your heels, wiping the spit and tears off your face. As you cough, Paz comes to his senses, and reaches out. Gently, effortlessly, he picks you up and places you on his knee, pressing his forehead to yours in a gentle show of affection. He holds you until you can breathe normally, nuzzling against you, his free hand gently rubbing your sore knees. You relax into his embrace and close your eyes, soaking up the rare moment of tenderness between you two.

[spideywars]

tell me the world’s alright

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: this is a WIP that I've been working on over the winter break. I've written about 10k worth of words towards this story and I'd love to post it all! So here's a sneak peek of chapter one, I'd love feedback!

words: 1.3k of 10k+

warnings: future violence, possible smut, ptsd symptoms

summary: after the blip and when everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren't as safe as you thought. Even under your father's iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place. (Takes place after endgame, Tony survives).

-

The web fluid bubbled from the heat as you squinted down at the suit in front of you. The wires were so small and delicate you had to have stupid magnifying eye-glasses on that were heavy along the bridge of your nose. It caused your gloved finger to flick at the frame to push it back up because of how much it slid down.

"Come on," you mumbled. Your lip was raw from biting it so much, your muscles were sore, but you were so close you could see the finish line. This was something that not even your father was able to do, with constant trial-runs and annoying training sessions that end in failures. But the answer hits you at the strangest times.

In particular, this time it was when you were eating dinner. Pepper and Tony were sat between you arguing as you sat at the end of the unnecessarily large dining room table. You picked at the last of your roasted red peppers, and just one flick of your wrist and a glance down at one pepper slipping off the plate and landing on the table, it came to you.

So now you're here, and you won't let either of your parents into the room. Pepper is more worried, her knocking becoming so frantic you had to yell at her to back off. You're in a zone, another world where finally, finally you can get Peter the suit that he needs to survive anything that comes his way.

It's one spark from the wire as you connect it to your new design when the suit came to life in color. It illuminated the room, his spider symbol in the middle shining onto the ceiling. It was brighter, everything was, something that reminded you of Black Panther's suit, but minus the vibranium.

"Oh my god." You had to chuckle at yourself, hands throwing the magnifying glasses onto the lab table and pushing your stool away so you could stand back and stare at your invention.

Peter can now heal ten times faster, you've managed to mix his DNA in with the suit to cause triple the amount of cell healing. A bullet is just a scratch, a machine gun is a bruise. Everything that can kill a human being in one go will be nothing to him.

"Y/N" It's Tony this time, probably being forced by your mother to do the parenting now. But you're smiling ear to ear, eyes watering with joy as you witness the thing you've been struggling with for months since the blip.

"Listen kid your mom is raging at me right now cause of you and I'd appreciate if you'd come out and give her some reassurance you're all good." You blink slowly out of your daze, now moving towards the suit again to power it off and place it on the charger.

"And uhm, if you don't come out soon I'm blasting my way in and I'm taking the damage costs out of your bank account."

You giggle at that, quickly fixing up the suit and cleaning up the area before rushing towards the laboratory down and unlocking it. You open it to see Tony leaning against the door frame, one of his brows immediately raising at your lab coat and gloves.

"What's up, Einstein?" His question makes you roll your eyes, and you don't say a word to him as you maneuver around his body to get upstairs. He's hot on your heals though. You can just feel the irritation radiating off him.

"I don't really appreciate the silence after you've just come out of my laboratory looking like you've just cured cancer. Mind sharing with the man paying for your equipment?" He's on thin ice, and Tony knows how to pick and prod at your emotions until you spill the beans. But you feel like you're floating on a cloud right now. You don't really know what to say, who to tell.

Well, you know exactly who you're going to tell. But that person isn't present at the moment. He's probably studying for a biology quiz or swinging across the city.

"I-I just need time to think." You say without faltering your steps up the stairs and towards the kitchen where you see your mother gathering dishes and placing them in the dishwasher.

"That's great, wonderful." The sarcasm is dripping from your father's mouth, but that's the usual. You ignore it easily, moving towards the trash can near the dishwasher to throw your gloves inside, just so Pepper can see you have finally exited your little cave.

"Jesus, finally." Pepper breaths out as she drops one of the plates a little too roughly into the wrack before maneuvering around it to give you a hug. It's a short pulse before she's putting you at arm's length to give you that disturbing stare where she looks inside you and at your soul. It makes you shiver, and you prepare for what's bound to happen next.

"You scared me by just getting up and leaving like that. Especially going downstairs to lock yourself in that lab." She shakes you a bit, and you place your hands onto her own that are squeezing at your shoulders.

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"It better not be anything to do with Parker and that damn suit. I told you I would handle that." Tony cuts you off, and that throws you off completely. Well, not completely. You know your father doesn't like you involved with his...other work. But Peter was your best friend and someone that you couldn't risk losing.

After the blip and when everyone including you disappeared, you realized that things weren't really as safe as you thought. Even under your father's iron wing, you knew the world was going to be a very dangerous place.

You needed to step in.

"Dad, you know I can't just back off from this..." You glare at him over Pepper's shoulder. He glared back with just as much force.

"It's easy, especially when you have school and work and friends to hang out with. You have something called a life and this," he motions with his hands towards you and your lab coat, "is not your life."

That makes your jaw clench. He doesn't really have the right to own your life. But apparently, since he owns basically everything in the world, he's entitled to own you too.

"God, I'm not one of your toys. You can't just program me to do what you want, not this time." You throw your hands in the air and shift out of your mother's hold. Pepper looks upset, torn between the fight with her brows furrowed and lips tight.

"Oh don't bring out the ownership card again Y/N Stark. You know the only reason I'm doing this is to-"

"Protect me!" You yell, stopping your stomp out of the kitchen to twirl around and point an accusing finger right at your father's reactor. He blinks at you, surprised but still showing the sparks of anger flowing through him.

You don't allow him to speak again. You're grabbing your coat and shuffling on your shoes before he can even blurt out another snarky remark.

"Y/N," it's Pepper this time, eyes wide and concerned as she rushes into the front hallway where you stood with the front door slightly ajar. You halt in the middle of your exit to stare back at her, listening.

"If you're going to him, please, just be careful. Call me."

That's enough to make you nod with the smallest smile before you slip out and slam the door behind you.

_________

I am so excited about this work and I hope you guys are too! Feedback is really appreciated and hopefully I can get the full chapter out by next week.

[empanator]

Despondent, Distracted

Preview: Her heartbeat drums steadily in your ear, and you are desperate for that to be comforting enough to soothe you to sleep. But, really, if she could just wake up right now and know what you are feeling... If you could feel less alone in the darkness… Pairing: Portia Devorak x MC/Apprentice (special appearances by Pepi)  Genre/Rating: Comfort/Safe for Work  Length: 2,296 words (~5 pages) 

Note: This was supposed to be a headcanon post for someone (you know who you are), but my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a 2k fic. Oops. 

Portia fell fast asleep. And you thought you would, too, but the troubles in your mind have kept you waiting, patience and strength fading as the hours tick by. 

You turn yourself around under the thick comforter to find her face. Serene. Just barely aglow in the moonlight filtering through her curtains. Eyelids heavy with sleep conceal the sparkle of blue that you are used to. The softness of her gaze has a way of putting you at ease even in your darkest moments, but now, in the dead of night, her eyes cannot see the way yours squint and furrow with emotions you can’t quite think of a name for. Emotions you wish would subside for just long enough to allow slumber to find you. 

You shuffle closer to her, seeking out her warmth with your head on her chest. Riding on the rise and fall of her breathing, the motion gentle as if floating on calm waters, you close your eyes. Her heartbeat drums steadily in your ear, and you are desperate for that to be comforting enough to soothe you to sleep. But, really, if she could just wake up right now and know what you are feeling... If you could feel less alone in the darkness… Without thinking, your hand reaches up to her cheek, stroking a thumb against her freckled skin. She stirs a bit. Oh, no, no, don’t wake up, you think. You snatch your hand away, afraid to disturb her peace. Perhaps afraid to show her your silent struggle and cause her to worry.

As careful as you can, you slink out from under the covers, deciding it best to let Portia sleep. Summoning a dim ball of light, just barely bright enough to illuminate the way forward, you leave your side of the bed empty.

It’s quiet in the cottage. You light several candles with a snap of your fingers and sit at the dining table, watching the stillness of night just outside the window. Quiet out there, too. Suddenly, something clambers behind you, interrupting your thoughts with a soft prrt? Pepi, stretching her fuzzy little legs as her paws plod along the floor, approaches with what might be the closest thing to a smile that a cat can muster. Rising on her hind legs, she reaches up to swat at your thigh, waiting to be picked up. Peep!

“You want to be held, huh?” The legs of your chair scrape noisily against the floor as you make room for Pepi to lie in your lap. “I suppose that makes two of us.” You run your fingers through her fur, trying to let the droning sound of purring calm your mind.

A few long moments pass by before you hear another noise behind you. This time, when you look behind you, you see Portia leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed playfully. “Wow. Both of my favorite people left me to be cold all by myself?” She yawns and scratches her head, curls going in every direction. “And yes, Pepi is a person, don’t try to combat me on that.”

Still looking over your shoulder at her, you force a smile. A weary, obviously fake smile. There’s no way she could ever buy that look, though. Portia knows you well enough to see past any façade you may try to put up. She sighs and uncrosses her arms, twiddling her fingers together.

“You know… you don’t have to put on a brave face for me.” She approaches and rests a hand on your shoulder. “I can tell when you’re not okay. Do you wanna talk about it?”

You look away, unsure of how to really answer her question. Sure, you could talk about it, but how do you talk about feelings you can’t explain? You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, only a broken “uhm” accompanied by a shrug.

“Do I need to beat anybody up? ‘Cause you know I will for you.” She pounds a fist into her open palm. Always a go-getter, her spunk cracks a smile out of you. But this time, the smile is genuine. Even though it’s small, at least it’s real. She looks satisfied with this accomplishment.

“No, Portia, it’s nothing like that.” You sigh and look down at the table. While you’re still at a loss for anything constructive to say, Portia doesn’t miss a beat. She’s already bustling around the kitchen, the clinking of ceramic and metal meeting your ears before her voice does again.

“I’m making tea. What kind do you want?”

In no time, the kettle whistles, and your choice of tea appears in front of you. She prepared it exactly how you like it and poured it into your favorite mug. You offer your hushed thanks, and she presses her lips to your temple in response.

Portia joins you across the table with her own mug, casting a long glance out the window to see what you’ve been watching. “Not much happening out there at this time of night.” She’s trying her hardest to make you feel comfortable—to make you feel like a regular human again. Just having her up and in the same space as you eases some of the anxiety you’ve built up, quelling the inexplicable loneliness in your heart. But it’s admittedly better to know that she’s so attentive and patient with your emotions.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t know what else to do this late.” You shrug again. You both fall quiet for a while, sipping your teas and looking at the nothingness outside. The silence isn’t awkward, but it isn’t comfortable either. She knows you’re not okay and wants to help you, but it’s clear you don’t have much to say.

“So,” Portia eases back into an attempt at conversation. “Come here often?” She waggles an eyebrow at you, grinning mischievously. You throw a sarcastic scoff her way, and you can’t help but feel a little joy tugging at the corners of your mouth. “There’s my favorite smile! Come on, no need to hide it!” She reaches across the table to hold your hand. “Just like how you don’t need to hide from me. How long have you been awake?”

You let out a strained breath. “Uh… all night? I never actually went to sleep.” Without meaning to, your grip on her hand becomes tighter, words swirling around your brain and beginning to flow out. “Sometimes, it’s like I can’t turn off my brain, you know? All of these negative thoughts and missing memories—even when I’m not thinking of anything and there’s that feeling of dread looming in the back of my mind and I just feel so alone and—”

As hard as you’ve been trying to fight your anxiety, and as much as it helps to have Portia with you and finally aware of how you’re feeling, tears begin to sting in your tired eyes. You barely suppress them for a moment before Portia springs up from her chair, immediacy in her steps until she is firmly at your side once more. She cups your face and sweeps away the few tears that roll down your cheek. “Hey. I’m here.” You feel her lips, soft, light against your head, a kiss to remedy the part of you that is hurting. “I’m here. You aren’t alone now. And you never have to be, okay?” She moves her hands to your shoulders and rubs them reassuringly. “Is there a reason you didn’t wake me up?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You deserve to sleep and not be bothered.” 

Stunned to silence, it seems, she knits her brow briefly before clearing any trace of shock from her face, instead replacing it with concern. “Well... so do you.” You search her eyes, the words baffling you and not quite clicking in your mind. “Don’t ever think your troubles aren’t worth expressing. I would rather stay awake with you than let you be scared and alone.”

Pepi, who had been asleep in your lap until now, pipes up with a tiny squeak.

“You’re absolutely right, Pepi,” Portia declares. “Even this precious angel will be here for you if you need her. Isn’t that right, Pepi?” She bends down to scratch her fuzzy chin and turns her attention back to you. “Want me to scratch your chin, too?” She reaches for you, and you let yourself giggle at the tickling touch. “Come, let’s get you back in bed.”

“Yeah… That sounds li—” A yawn cuts your sentence short, a little bit to your embarrassment. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Pepi hops down as Portia extends her hand to you, offering a slight tug to get your sleep-deprived form out of the chair. She guides you to the open doorway and gestures with a short bow. “After you.” She almost follows you in, but stops in her tracks. “Oh! Just a second; I need to blow out those candles. Get comfy, okay?”

You sink into the bed, draping the covers over you as Pepi curls up at your side. One by one, the glow from each flame is extinguished, making the room darker and darker. Portia’s footsteps approach soon after, but with no light in the cottage, she bumps into the wall with an Oof!

“Portia??? Here, I can—” As you scramble to try to sit up and summon a new ball of light for her, she bangs her knee into a dresser.

“No, you need to rest! I’ve got this!” She continues bumping into things, the thudding of wood interspersed with bilingual curses under her breath before she finally finds the bed. Flopping face-first onto the mattress, she breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. I’m back. In one piece.”

As silly as she is, the weight of your rapidly compounding physical and mental exhaustion prevent your smile from growing too wide. You lie flat on your back and stare up at the ceiling. The bed shifts beside you, jostling you and Pepi a bit as Portia crawls her way on top of you. She straddles your hips, arms bracketing yours.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “Uh… hi.”

“I’ve heard that pressure and heavy blankets can help people feel more secure.” Pepi perches on her back, her little face looking down at you over Portia’s shoulder. They both share a feline smirk as they watch you adjust to the situation. “Is it working?”

“It’s definitely… distracting,” you admit.

“Hm. Not good enough!” She rolls off of you and onto her side so as not to squish Pepi, who relocates to your other side. “Would you like it if I rubbed your back instead?”

With your assent, you turn towards the wall to give her the space she needs to work with. She wraps her arms around your stomach to press herself closer to you. She nuzzles her face behind your neck and strokes her nose against your skin before softly kissing it. Her hands—warm, gentle when they need to be—find the center of your back and travel outwards, down, up, in again, varying in intensity from deep rubs with the heel of her hand to air-like brushes of her fingertips. It does not take any effort to get your muscles to relax, as Portia is doing all the work for you. Her touch melts away the stress in your body, replacing it with the love and tranquility you sorely missed. How long have your eyes been closed? You do not remember shutting them, but perhaps that’s a good sign.

After a while, Portia must assume that you’ve fallen asleep because she slows and then stops her motions against your back, reaching in front of you to hold your hand. You startle a small noise out of her when you squeeze her hand back.

“Still awake?”

Voice groggy, you manage a response. “Technically. But I’m feeling a lot better than when you found me.”

“I’m glad.” She returns her face to where it was nuzzled before, her eyelashes fluttering on your skin when she blinks. “How about I sing you a song?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! Let’s see…” She hums, going through the library of music in her head before choosing one. “Oh! This one should be perfect. So, you know about Maz’s magic soup already—the one that can make even Volta relax?” You nod, remembering your visit to the Procurator’s estate.

“Well, when I was a little kid, I sometimes lay awake at night after the soup wore off. Lilinka always seemed to know when I would need her, though, and she’d sit at the edge of my bed, singing Nevivon’s traditional lullabies until I fell asleep. You know,” she tightens her arms around you and sighs. “I had a lot of anxiety back then, too. I was too young to remember my family or the shipwreck, but it must have left a bad imprint in my head anyway… enough to have made me constantly worried. Scared. Unsure of where the fear was coming from. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re feeling, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.” She kisses the back of your neck. “Even in the middle of the night. Okay?”

“…Thank you, Portia.”

“Of course. Are you ready? This lullaby is the longest one I know, so I guarantee you’ll be asleep before I’m done.”

“If I’m not, will I get my money back?” You can’t see her, but you just know she’s rolling her eyes.

But she was right. You didn’t get to hear the end of the lullaby. Neither of you knew when it happened, but slumber had found you, safe between Portia’s arms and a purring Pepi.

[pampamtiger]

The Gate (short story) 1/ 2

This was supposed to be up last Halloween but I just finished this yesterday. I divided this story into two parts because of its length (it was supposed to be 1000 words maximum, but heck with my hands for typing beyond the limit...). The second part would be posted soon after.

Though this story hadn’t undergone much proofreading, I still hope that you could give it a try. :)

Enjoy!

Word count: 3477 (part one)

Themes: friendship, childhood, bits of fantasy

🌱 🌱 🌱

Filipino terminologies used in the story:

ate - older sister             tita - aunt

kuya - older brother       manong - old man

lola - grandmother

🌱 🌱 🌱

The Gate

   Every spring during my childhood, my whole family, along with some of my relatives, would spend a one week vacation on my grandma's ancestral house located in the province. It was a two-story ancient house that had been standing for nearly a hundred years which was meticulously preserved and taken care of by my lineage. It had a marble first floor and a second floor that was mostly made out of furnished woods. But the house was not the only one that had been standing for ages and still looking like it's just been built. There was also this beautiful little garden located at the right side of it. The garden housed plenty of plants with abundant leaves, herbs, some leafy vegetables, and various flowers in full bloom. It had always been tended with utmost care, for it was a special space loved by my late great-great grandmother when she was still alive, as what my mother had mentioned. The small garden was enclosed by white fences and a gate embroidered with flower patterns. At the back of the garden, there was an identical but rusty gate plastered on a brick wall, which seemed to be a passageway to some place that I still did not know of... not until we met Harper. 

One spring afternoon when I was eight years old, three of my cousins and I were playing in front of the garden. We liked playing there because it was the only spacious area that we could freely run to, without being scolded by our parents. It was our second day in the province, when we encountered her. We were resting under an Acacia tree in front of the garden back then, when we heard a voice. "Hello." It was a voice of a girl. We turned our glance toward the garden where the voice seemed to come from, and there was really a girl, standing in front of the gate, looking about our age and had a wavy auburn hair. Skipping happily toward us, the girl smiled brightly and waved her hand. "Uh... hello?" my cousin Danny hesitantly replied. "What game were you playing before?" the girl sat two feet away from us, giving us a fascinated look, like we were some kind of spectacle, when we basically weren't, just four sweaty kids who were dreaming of eating ice cream moments ago. "Well, we just finished playing tags for the third time and decided to take a timeout." I was the one who talked this time. "And who are you?" butted cousin Paul, looking a bit taken aback. "Oh! I'm very sorry! I got really excited to know what game you were playing earlier that I forgot to introduce myself. A-hem... Hello again. Nice to meet all of you. I am Per—H-harper. Harper, that's right. Sorry, I'm just excited to meet you." She said as she grinned at us, displaying her crooked front tooth. "Hi, Harper. We're glad to meet you, too! By the way, these are my cousins, Cindy, Paul, and Kuya Danny. Oh, and I'm Janine. Call me Ate Janine." After the short introduction that I uttered, she shook our hands one by one. "Hi, Cindy! Hi, Paul! Hi, Kuya Danny! Hi, Ate Janine!" She acted like she just ate tons of chocolate bars, jumping from one person to another, getting hyper as the moment passed, which by the way sounded a lot like her name. "Where do you live, Harper? We haven't seen you around before." It was Paul who threw her a questioning look, acting tough all of a sudden, as if he was not frightened minutes ago. "Oh, I lived near here, somewhere behind that gate." She then pointed at the rusty old gate, inside the garden. "That gate? Did you use it to get here?" My curiosity jumped out when I had asked her that question. It was not because we were not allowed to go beyond the old gate by our parents—they didn't even bother to tell us what was behind it—it was just we never thought of opening it since we were afraid of breaking it. "Uh...yes? I accidentally saw that gate and took a peek. I was captivated by beautiful flowers that I saw and the next thing I knew, I had already entered it and then saw you running around afterwards. Why?", she offered us an innocent gaze. "Nothing. Did you struggle to open it? It was rusty after all." "No, not at all! Believe me or not, the gate on the other side was not that bad looking. It looks okay, just like that gate." She gestured her index finger at the outer gate of the garden which still looked pristine due to caretakers. "Really?" Cindy perked up. "Really. Anyway, let's not talk about the gate anymore, please. Now that we know each other, is it alright if I play with you? I don't have any friends in here yet. I want you to be my friends. It's been so long since I last made a friend." "How can we be friends already, we just met you! Mommy said not to talk to strangers!" Paul sulked beside Danny. Harper looked hurt and her eyes turned sad. "B-but I just told you my name. We know each other now." "Hey, Paul. Quit it. Don't be mean to her. She just wanted to play with us. She was not hurting you, is she?", lectured Kuya Danny who was a year older than me and two years to Paul and Cindy. "Kuya Danny was right, Paul. Harper meant no harm, right Harper?", she nodded at me. "Paul was a meanie, not Harper!", shouted Cindy. "Hey!" "Paul, stop it already. We will play with Harper whether you like it or not. You can go inside the house if you don't want to play." "Oh no. I don't want to force him to be my friend. It's okay, Kuya Danny." Harper insisted. "No, Harper. We'll be your friends. We'll play with you. It's just that Paul is not used on playing with other kids unless it's us, because he grew up hearing stories about strangers and that scared him." I assured her as I patted her head, for she was a bit smaller than me. "F-fine! I'll play, too. But do not blame me if we suddenly get kidnap by strangers because we befriended one." Paul crossed his arms while his mouth talked in pout but with no bite. "Hey! I'm not a stranger anymore! I don't harm people unless—" "Alright, alright. Let's not argue anymore. We better start playing again since the sky will get dark soon." cut Kuya Danny. "Now, Harper and Paul. I hope you get along well." "Me, too! Me, too!", squealed Cindy. Cindy's excitement seemed to affect to both Harper and Paul, for they slightly smiled at her. Minutes later, we resumed our game of tag. Since Harper was a new friend, we made her the IT. At first, she was clueless on how to play it because according to her, she seldom left her house and whenever she had the chance to go out, she'd just spend hours picking flowers and strolling around nature or bonding with her mother in their farm. Aside from tag, we also played Langit-Lupa (Heaven-Hell) and explained to her the rules. It was a game which was a bit similar to tag but with a twist; the IT would act as the devil on land while the others would find an elevated ground to go to, which was referred to as the heaven. Players were only given five seconds to stay on a certain elevated ground before the devil could access that part, so they would move location from time to time. "I like this game a lot, Ate Janine! This reminds me of someone but he might be mad when I told him about this.", Harper snickered as she changed her place. "What was it again, Harper? Sorry I couldn't fully hear what was just said. Who is that someone and what's it about?" I told her while I was busy catching my breath. "Nothing, ate. I just find this game really fun.", a ray of sunlight hit her face right when she smiled so wide, accentuating the glow on her face. I once again thought that her parents must be very beautiful since their child was really cute. Hours passed by and Paul's indifference to Harper gradually faded. They talked a bit while we were trying to rest after playing different games. We played and played until we got tired and rested again under the tree. It was nearing dusk when Harper spoke. "Oh, look at the time! It's going to be dark soon, I should make my way home." Kuya Danny offered to escort her home since she was about Cindy's and Paul's age, but she immediately declined. "No need, kuya. But if it's okay, can I go through the old gate in the garden again? That way, I could reach my house in no time." "Are you sure you don't want Kuya Danny's help? You never know if someone is gonna kidnap you, you know..." Paul insisted his opinion about strangers again, but this time, it was out of concern for Harper's safety. "Thank you for all your concern but there's really no need. My h— I mean my brother taught me how to go back in our house by myself so I was really used to it. And no one would try to harm me. Ever.", crossing her heart cutely. "O...kay. Just stay safe and don't let your guard down, alright?" I said as we walked with her toward the garden. "Yes, ate. Thank you. Uhm... you can stop at this point. I will go on the other gate on my own. Your parents must be looking for you now." Harper stated when we reached the front gate of the garden. "Yikes! I said to mama that I will only play for a bit then go take a nap after it! What should I tell her, Kuya Danny?", brought out Cindy who was biting her thumb. "Don't worry, Cindy. We'll just tell tita that we didn't notice the time since we're having a lot of fun.", reassured Kuya Danny. "Okay." "See? You should go now. I'll go once you enter the house. I'll make sure to close both gates when I leave, so no stranger could get Paul." she whispered the last phrase to me which made me chuckle and directly looked at Paul. "Will you be here again tomorrow, Harper?" Cindy asked shyly. "I don't know... but is it okay if I play with you again tomorrow?" She searched our eyes to see if we agree. "You don't need to ask us, Harp. You're already our friend and I think of you as my little sister already.", answered Kuya Danny as he patted Harper's head. "Really?" "Really. Now, we better get going. Bye, Harper!" "B-bye, Harper!" stuttered Paul before he ran real fast toward the ancestral house. His gesture made Harper laughed. "Bye!", she waved us goodbye then flashed her bright smile. Later that night, us cousins recounted our fun-filled afternoon to our parents during dinner. We told them that we made a new friend but left the part about Harper using the gate since they might scold us; they seemed happy about it but were not really glad when they saw how sweaty we were.

Harper came back the day after we first met her, just like she had promised. Harper easily became closer to us as days passed by. For four days straight, we stuck to our routine; played various games, rested under the tree and talked nonsense, then ran around again until our feet became sore. During our timeout, Harper loved to tell us information about her favorite flowers namely rose, crocus, violet, iris, lily and larkspur. She would not leave any small detail about those go unmentioned, which was really impressive for a little girl. We would sometimes enter the garden upon her request, that was if she got too absorbed on telling tales about it and would go from one plant to another. We never dismissed her chatter because she really seemed fond of it, and we thought it was really interesting, too. We got to discover that most of her favorite flowers can be found inside our lola's garden, and that to us were such a pretty amazing coincidence. Harper, too, would always bid goodbye when the sky turned into twilight and would always use the old gate to return to her house. During our fifth afternoon with Harper, Paul asked her if we could visit her house in return while we were resting under the Acacia tree. Harper suddenly sprang up from her seat and looked surprised. "As much as I would love to, Paul, you certainly can't. My h—brother is not that friendly, like I am, and you might get lost andyoumightneverreturnonceyougowithme...", she uttered the last part so quick and in a whisper manner that we didn't get to understand it. "But I think it would be okay if we get permission from your mother, right? You said that she's a lovely lady who loves you the most.", it was Cindy who proposed the said idea. "Yes, my mother would love meeting you all but that would be a lost case since she doesn't live with us there and she's busy with her farm. Please don't be sad if you can't come into my house. There's really no point... unless you're already gone..." she looked down. "Already gone...? What?", my eight-year-old self could not comprehend what Harper was saying. "N-nevermind, now. At least we get to play in front of your beautiful garden every afternoon, right? Plus, you said that tomorrow will be your last day in here. It'll be a waste if you try and go to my house.", she reasoned. "We just wanted to visit your house, that's all..." Paul shyly insisted. "Enough. If Harper said that we shouldn't visit her house, then we won't visit at all. Let's not make her uncomfortable and let's just play and play since tomorrow is our last day. Is that okay?", as usual, nine-year-old Kuya Danny knew what words to say for us to agree among each other. "Okay." After the said conversation, we resumed playing until the sky was getting darker and Harper needed to come back home once more. We were walking toward the front of the garden when Harper suddenly turned around. "Cindy, Paul, Kuya Danny, Ate Janine, thank you for playing with me. It was really fun learning all those games and being with you. It's been awhile since I've made a friend and had this much fun on this side. Thank you a lot!", she then launched a surprise group hug which made us stumbling onto the ground. "Thank you, too, Harp. It's not only you who were having fun. We did, too. And, please. Don't sound like we won't see each other again. We still have tomorrow, right?" "...right.", back then, we never noticed the bittersweet smile that Harper painted on her face.

Morning came and we were asked by the elderly to help tidy up the house since we were leaving later that night. Though the said house had numbers of caretaker, my family believed that we should still help maintaining the beauty of the place as our passed on loved ones did it by themselves. By the time that we finished packing and cleaning, we quickly ate our lunch then ran straight to the Acacia tree to wait for Harper and spend our last day with her. An hour had passed but Harper didn't show up. We waited for her a bit more but decided to go at the old gate when some moments passed. When we opened the front gate of the garden, we noticed that all the flowers looked like they're shining and in in their most blooming form, most of the flowers which were in different kind of beauty were Harper's favorites. While we were in awe, Cindy's mother, Tita Sally, called our attention who just came out of the house. "Are you playing inside the garden this time, guys?", she inquired. "No, mama. We're about to go to the old gate to wait for Harper.", Cindy replied. "Wait for who? And why wait on that gate?", Tita Sally seemed intrigued and confused at the same time. "Wow. These flowers are extra beautiful today. The gardener must be so busy tending it.", she added as she walked toward us. "Tita, remember the girl we mentioned last time who became our friend? Her name's Harper.", Kuya Danny explained to her and we nodded along. "Oh, your new friend! But why wait on this old gate, then? Is this your meeting place? You should wait under the tree instead." . "No, tita. Harper will be coming through this gate. Her house is on the other side and she always use this gate to come here." With Paul's words, Tita Sally's eyes grew big and she seemed really shocked. "What are you talking about, Paul? How will a girl live there when it's just an empty vast land for centuries? You kids! Are you playing tricks on your tita? It's not funny and totally not scary at all. C-cindy! Help mama finish packing our things. Hurry!", she stormed out of the garden. "Y-yes, mama.", Cindy looked confused with her mother's action but followed her anyway. Kuya Danny, Paul, and I were left standing in front of the old gate, still processing what our tita just told us. "...what did Tita Sally say?", I asked them but received no reply since both of them seemed shaky just like I was. "I... I don't understand. Why would Tita Sally say those things when Harper clearly told us that she lived behind this gate. And what about the other side being an empty land?", Kuya Danny paced back and forth like a little detective, but a coward one since his voice was shaking when he said that while avoiding to look past the old gate. "Ate...kuya...l-look.", hearing Paul's voice, we looked on where his gaze was focused on. He was really near the old gate and seemed to be peeking. We went near him and tried to peek, too. What we saw behind the gate was nothing but big land with few grasses and some trees. No houses were visible. The only sound that can be heard was the chirping of birds and rustling of the spring wind. I was getting scared bit by bit, and I felt that they were too, when Kuya Danny spoke. "Maybe Harper's house can't be seen from this distance. Maybe we should go take a look ourselves." "B-but Kuya Danny, Harper said that we shouldn't visit her house. His brother won't like it.", Paul added. "I know. But we'll just said bye to her if she doesn't want to play. We won't technically go inside her house but call her name outside of it. That, if we can find it.", kuya sounded like he was convincing himself. "O-kay. Since it's just 2:30 in the afternoon, we could try finding her house, I guess.", I said. Paul found the idea crazy but agreed anyway. After agreeing with the plan, I started to pull the gate but it won't budge. I asked for their help but the gate can't be opened and just made a creaking sound which hurt our ears, making us stop. "Stupid gate," muttered Paul as he slumped on the ground, looking resigned. But not long after he had sat, he suddenly got up. "How can we open this ugly gate if it's locked in the first place!", he pointed at the lock which was place a bit lower, making us not notice it out of our panic earlier. "Wait. When was this gate locked? I thought this was never locked?", my curiosity was running wild. Manong Gil, the gardener, was entering the garden with his tools, when we were busy figuring things out. "Hey, kids. What are you doing there?", putting his gardening tools down, he approached us. "Nothing, Manong Gil. By the way, manong, did you perhaps lock this gate last night or earlier?", Kuya Danny probed. "No, Danny. I didn't lock it.", Manong Gil replied. "If you didn't lock it, then who did it?" I added. "Well, I did locked it but not last night or earlier. I locked it weeks ago when I finished decomposing the trash.", he seemed weirded out by our questions. "But...how?", Kuya Danny looked flabbergasted. We never got another reply from Manong Gil as we heard my mother’s voice coming from inside the house. "Danny! Janine! Paul! Come inside! In the living room! Now!" shouted my mother. (to be continued...)

[muninandhugin]

The Frozen City

So like... I’ve been wanting to write a story that’s been in my head for years now, but only as random little scenes and snippits... So I finally shat out the end scene this morning because I couldn’t sleep. It needs work, elaboration, editing, etc... but like... I threw it through wordcounter.net (1200 words) for a spellcheck and I guess I’m fairly happy with it, such as it is... Uhm... So here it is, uh. Don’t steal it please, that would be a real bummer. Lemme know what you think.

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

A lone young woman made her way into the village center of Ardir, inquiring to a few locals where a man who had been gone for years but had returned was staying, carefully describing his features, unsure if they would know him by name.

"That sounds like y'are alookin for Ansel, deya." A rugged and weathered old man finally said. "He's been astayin' at the ol Root's place hessaid. Word hassit hes rebuilding the burnout. Gods know the boys got his work cut out for him." He puffed at a pipe thoughtfully.

The young woman beamed. "Oh I'm so glad I've found him! Where is the Root's place?" She was nearly bouncing.

The old man smiled. "Well ain't that nice, for all the stories he's been atellin at the bar, nobody believed he had a sweetheart out there in the world, and here y'are." The man leaned against a fence post and motioned with his hands. "Now y'are agonna wanna head out town thattaway and keep going until you see a big ol boulder. Now deya, not the big grey mossy one but the big red one after that aways away by the mulberry tree that been there every since I was a boy, deya." Puff, puff. "There'll be a cart path 'tween the two, but its overgrown and weedy last I got a look at it, that'll bring you right to the ol Root's farm." He nodded sagely and puffed at his pipe once more.

The young woman deciphered the old man's meandering directions the best she could and ran off, shouting her thanks over her shoulder as she went. The boulder -- the red one, not the grey mossy one -- and the mulberry tree were about fifteen minutes or so outside of town at a brisk walk. She stared down the grassy path into the forest. It didn't look overgrown at all, in fact it looked to be well enough maintained and used. She took a deep breath, heart hammering in her chest, and set off down the path.

A short walk brought her to a gully brook forded by a low bridge that looked freshly repaired, wood shavings still scattered the leaf litter surrounding. She crossed, running a hand over the smooth bark of the guard rail with a smile. The path beyond was more grass-bare and completely devoid of branches, sticks, twigs, and brambles, neat piles of such were dotted every several meters or so on either side. She thought she could faintly hear singing, largely masked by the whisper of the trees and the chirps of birds. She took off at run and upon rounding a bend in the road the woods abruptly opened up into clearing where she stopped in her tracks, staring wide eyed and catching her breath at a half-charred, mostly repaired cottage and gardens on either side of the path ahead. The singing came from her left and she dropped her pack in the path and followed it, jumping the fence and carefully picking her way past young plants in their beds. 

She caught sight of him ahead, standing up from a patch of greenery with a basket of weeds on his hip, straw hat on his head, no shirt, tan skinned and covered head to toe in dust and dirt. He stared at her like a shocked deer caught raiding the garden.

"Laci?" He gasped an rubbed his eyes, smearing sweat and dirt across his face.

  "Ansel!" She skipped over plants and tackled him with enough force to knock his hat off, though he stayed upright, holding her tightly. He smelled like he looked and everything she had gotten so used to traveling with him. "Ansel, I've missed you so much." 

"Me too, whattaya doin' here?" He didn't release her, and neither did she. "What happened to that prince you were gonna to marry?"

"It didn't work out, politics happen like that sometimes, you see." Laci breathed a laugh into his neck. "So I ran away."

Ansel held her out at arms length, a hand on each shoulder, and speared her with a concerned stare. "Laci, there gonna come lookin' for y-"

"It was discussed at length with my father." She interrupted. "I've been too long away from the life of a princess, I left with his blessing." Ansel pulled her to him again, and breathed in deep. A meadow, he thought, she smells like a damn meadow, gods take me.

"For a time, I wished you had accepted his offer of staying in Melek at the palace, but I understood it wasn't really your forte." Laci sighed. "So I thought you may need some assistance with your dream of rebuilding your family's farm, though it would appear I should have come sooner to have been of any u- Mmmf!"

Ansel kissed her hard, one arm securely around her waist, his other hand on her jaw, tilting her face up toward his, the short scruff on his face tickling hers. He smiled when he felt her smile against his lips. 

"I reckon y'are right on time." She kissed him in return and they spent a long moment enjoying each other in the sunlight before parting, Laci's face was now smudged and she didn't care in the least. She beamed up at him and he tucked an escaped lock of copper hair behind her ear. She smooched his wrist as he did so.

"Its pretty clear I ain't gettin' any more weedin' done today," he was grinning stupidly. "Lets go upta the house. I gotta stew simmering since this mornin' and you must be damn near famished comin' all this way." He scooped up his hat and placed it on her head. "Didja bring anythin' withya?" He glanced around for signs of her belongings.

"Oh, yes!" Laci tucked another strand of hair that had escaped her braid behind an ear. "I dropped my pack on the path near the treeline." Ansel nodded and went to retrieve it; Laci followed behind dividing her attention evenly between not crushing any of his plants, and all but outright gawking at the man he had become.

Gone was the scrawny, wiry, ragged, slightly malnourished, road-weary Ansel. Ahead of her walked an Ansel who was eating well every day, probably sleeping better than he had in years in the comfort of his childhood home, such as it was. A man who had lost everything and was rebuilding it stone by stone, log by log, plant by plant; strengthened and toned by daily hard work in the mountain air. Ansel now glowed with happiness and pride at what he had accomplished, it was evident in his face, in his stride, and in his voice. He vaulted over the fence and held out his hand to her to help her over it, kissing her knuckles playfully once she was. He slung her pack over one shoulder before she could get to it, grinning like he had won a prize.

"Onwards to my castle!" He shouted, lacing his fingers with hers.

Laci giggled. "And what a castle it is, dear Lord Ansel, unused am I to such decadent finery." They made their way to his little cottage, feeling happier and lighter than either of them had felt since they were children, ignorant to the horrors of the world that they would witness in the future. But that was past, their journey was over, and they were finally home.

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So uh, there it is... Formatting is a bit of a bitch on here apparently. Thoughts?

[klausplease]

Shakira and Lip Gloss

Requested By: Anonymous

Prompt: Hey I was wondering if you could write a fic where Klaus’s or Diego's s/o comes out as genderfluid and they’re really scared and nervous because their family isn’t very accepting and it’s kind of been put into their head that it’s wrong not to be their birth gender but Klaus or Diego tells them its ok and they're not doing anything wrong by being who they are and its just really angsty and fluffy?

Post Info: Genderfluid reader, AMAB. Mentions of transphobia. Light angst.

A/N: I’m... not sure this is what you wanted. But I tried.

~

Diego was concerned about (y/n). He hadn’t seen him all day, even though Saturdays were usually when he came over to the Hargreeves household. He wasn’t jealous about the fact that Klaus and his boyfriend had a standing date, when he still had to schedule time with him. He wasn’t. He was just a little miffed that the two spent so much time together. Without him. Doing ‘secret things’, as Klaus had told him when he asked.

But (y/n) wasn’t at the mansion today, as evidenced by the fact that he was practically being attacked by a very angry Klaus.

“What did you do, you moron?” Klaus asked, apropos of nothing.

Diego shot Klaus a look. “I do a lot of things Klaus, several of which you seem to find moronic. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“(Y/n) hasn’t come for our weekly cult meeting and I am laying full responsibility for that fact on you. So, what have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything Klaus. Maybe he’s sick,” he attempted to sound nonchalant, despite the fact that he was quite worried about the status of his boyfriend.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “They would have told me.”

Wondering at Klaus’ use of the singular they, Diego was about to ask Klaus what he meant by that when (y/n) entered the room.

“Hey babe,” Diego said instead, moving across the room to hug his boyfriend.

“Hi,” they muttered into his shoulder, seeming to curl in on themselves a bit.

Holding (y/n) out at arm’s length, he frowned and looked them over. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine cariño. Just a bad brain day.”

The taller man nodded understandingly. He was quite familiar with his boyfriend’s depression and how it could affect him unexpectedly and at any given time. He leaned in for a slightly longer hug and gave him a kiss to the forehead.

(Y/n) smiled tiredly up at Diego and squeezed his hand before slipping away to greet Klaus.

“Hey ghost boy,” they teased gently.

“Hola, mi corazón,” Klaus hugged them and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of their head. “¿Cómo estás?”

Resting their head against Klaus’ chest, (y/n) mumbled “más o menos”.

“¿por qué más o menos?”

They looked meaningfully up at the stairs, signalling to Klaus that they didn’t want to discuss it here. Since Diego was the only one in the room, he was confused and vaguely upset that (y/n) didn’t want him to know what was bothering them.

Klaus, either oblivious to his brother’s inner turmoil or ignoring it, whisked (y/n) away to his upstairs bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed, Klaus rounded on them, crossing his arms. “You have to tell him.”

(Y/n) threw themself face first onto Klaus’ bed. “I know.”

Massaging their calf, Klaus let out a heavy breath. “We’ve talked about this. He won’t care. He loves you mi cielito.”

“You don’t know that Klaus.” And now they were crying. Big fat, heartbroken tears.

Since about four months ago, every Saturday they came to the Hargreeves household. Together with Klaus, they would research, shop, and modify. Makeup was practiced, and outfits were cultivated.

This is because four months ago, Klaus had found them at a bus stop crying. It was a common hang out for junkies and homeless people, and even though Klaus was doing the sober thing, he liked to hit up those spots in case he could help the younger kids who weren’t too deep into it yet.

He found (y/n) there, crying and being approached by several of the seedier dealers. He had bundled the shivering, nearly passed out, significant other of his brother and taken them home. There (y/n) had explained to Klaus how they ended up there. They had been caught in a skirt by their older brother, who they were currently crashing with, and given a thorough dressing down. Childhood indoctrination of transphobia falling out of his mouth and slowly tearing down (y/n)’s hard won self confidence.

After that, Klaus assisted them in finding a new roommate, a good place to stay. The days spent together doing that, turned into a standing date where Klaus helped (y/n) explore their newly expressed gender identity.

“How about this. We both get dressed up, then we go downstairs and tell my dumb brother. Tell him “take it or leave it”. And if I am drastically wrong, we will buy so much Ben and Jerry’s you’ll get sick. And we’ll steal his repurposed sex harness. Hide it in Luther’s room.”

Sniffling, (y/n) smiled tentatively at Klaus and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. That sounds good. I’m down for that.”

Klaus was off the bed immediately, making a beeline for his closet where their things were stored.

He pulled out a soft, knit cropped sweater along with a pair of loose black joggers. The sweater looked like it was straight from the 80’s with four thick stripes of red, green, purple, and white. It was an outfit (y/n) wore often, when it was just them and Klaus. It was comfortable, while still making them feel cute.

“Here. He likes soft things.”

(Y/n) smiled softly at Klaus and took the clothes, stripping down in front of Klaus with no shame. Klaus discarded his clothes as well, changing into a black Ramones crop top and fleece Star Wars sleep pants.

They grinned at each other, smoothing palms over their soft clothing. “We look great,” Klaus said matter of factly.

(Y/n) just gave a soft snort of laughter and began pulling makeup items out of Klaus’ bureau.

The clairvoyant man went to turn on some music, letting (y/n) take a moment and decide what they wanted to do.

Hips Don’t Lie by Shakira begin playing over the speaker, from Klaus’ small purple ipod. Both of which (y/n) got for him.

Klaus made his way over, body undulating to the beat, hands drifting in front of his body at intervals. In response, to the music and to Klaus’ comfortability in his own body, (y/n) began swaying their hips to the music. Soon enough they were holding hands, stepping in and out, closer and then away, hips moving in concentric circles. They danced through the song, and by the end, (y/n) was loose limbed and more settled in their skin.

One of Klaus’ world altering smiles was shot their way, and then he was picking through their combined, assorted makeup.

“I was thinking a more natural look? Some eyeshadow, light foundation, lip gloss?” He spoke absently, looking for whatever would aid him in creating the look he had in mind.

“Sounds good. I don’t think I’m up for anything too complicated.”

Klaus hummed in acknowledgement and handed (y/n) the supplies he had gathered. “I think these colors will be good.” And then he was digging around again, looking for something for himself to wear.

He popped up, reminiscent of a meerkat, and asked “You do mine, I’ll do yours?”

In response, (y/n) simply nodded and set their chosen palettes down on the bed, before settling themself on it as well. They patted the spot in front of them, and Klaus was soon occupying it.

Klaus’ makeup was easy, some simple pale purple eyeshadow and a quick cat eye. Blush and highlighter on the tip of his european nose. Pale pink tinted lip gloss to top the look off. His hair was naturally curly, and quite voluminous, so nothing had to be done to it.

“Done.”

Klaus got up to look at himself and hummed in satisfaction. “You get better every time we do this.”

Flushing, (y/n) situated themself to allow Klaus access to their face. The process was much the same as for Klaus, save for the addition of some powder foundation. Where Klaus’ eyeshadow was purple, theirs was a rich red-brown. Where Klaus’ gloss was pale pink, theirs was a deep red. Their hair was longer than Klaus’, and a different kind of curly though it was just as thick, if not thicker. Klaus decided to put it up, gathering the unruly curls into a messy bun on the top of their head. He pulled some small pieces down to frame their face, and rest over their shoulders.

When he was done, he pressed a kiss to the top of (y/n)’s head, humming along to The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani.

“We’re done. You ready to go see Diego?”

Stalling for time, (y/n) jumped up and began rummaging in one of Klaus’ drawers. “We almost forgot our fuzzy socks!”

Smiling indulgently, Klaus took the pink pair and slipped them on. He waited for (y/n) to slip on the black and white striped ones before speaking again. “You can’t avoid him forever, mi cielito.”

A gusty sigh. “I know. I’m just… scared.”

Klaus wrapped them in a tight hug, giving them an extra squeeze before letting go. “I know. But whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

Grabbing Klaus’ hand, (y/n) dragged him down the stairs and into the training room, where Diego was bound to be brooding.

They caught him on his way out to patrol, he was already strapped up and putting his knives into their holster.

(Y/n) had to stifle a hysterical giggle at the memory of Klaus calling it a repurposed sex harness.

“Diego?” They asked tentatively, catching his attention.

He looked up with an irate expression that immediately dropped when he say (y/n), making way for one of awe and confusion.

“Yes?” he responded, just as hesitant and much more confused.

“So, uhm. Klaus. I’ve been spending time with Klaus because…” They trailed off, the words forming strange and incorrect in their mouth.

Klaus gave them a reassuring pat and Diego drew nearer, to be just that little bit closer.

A deep breath in, measured breath out. “ Klaus has been helping me. I’m genderfluid. Which means-”

“I know what it means,” Diego cut them off. “I… yeah, I know what it means.” Diego cocked his head and asked, “Pronouns?”

And that, the easy acceptance, is what caused (y/n) to really let loose on the waterworks. It was lucky that Klaus had thought to use waterproof makeup.

“They- they and them,” (y/n) stuttered out, falling into Diego’s arms. “Mostly,” they added, face buried in Diego’s shoulder.

“I can do that. Just have to keep me updated.”

Diego held them out at arm’s length. “I love. No matter what. A little thing like gender isn’t going to keep me away from such a great person. You’re gorgeous.” He kissed their forehead. “Truly stunning.” Their cheek. “I’m in awe of you.” Their other cheek. “And you.” Their nose. “My love.” Their eyelid. “Are a giant fuckin’ nerd.” Their other eyelid.

That last remark got Diego a smack to the back of his head, but it was worth it to see (y/n) smile.

“I have the best datemate ever,” he declared before kissing them soundly on the mouth.

They were so caught up in eachother, that neither noticed Klaus slipping out of the room.

[killerqueenmachine]

The stars would be proud - Brian May x Reader

Pairing: Brian May (1970) x Reader Words:1500+

Prompt: This post I stumbled upon. https://prettypositivity.tumblr.com/post/180754965206/i-bet-the-stars-would-be-so-proud-to-know-their Summary: You're studying for your upcoming exams with your best friend Brian and slowly that turns into something… slightly other than studying.

Warnings: None.. Is a lil' bit of fluff and a lil' bit on the line of smut.. Nothing explicit. Note: The gif is not mine, I don’t know who made it. This is the first fanfiction I've written in approx. 4 years.. Please go easy on me, hah! I'm still trying to figure out my style of writing.. I think?

Exams were upon you. Long study nights with your best friends were all your life consisted of at the moment, even though you all majored in different things. Your tiny flat was messy and filled with friends at every possible hour of the day and your coffee machine was constantly spitting out the most caffeinated black liquid money could buy.

A few of your friends, that you actually shared major with, had just left your flat and for the first time i a week you were alone. A deep sigh left your lips as you made your way to the kitchen, quickly washing all the dirty mugs and putting them back in your cabinet. Another smaller sigh emerged from you as you remembered the other dirty dishes that were stacked in your living room. With a quick movement you pulled your hair from the tie, that had been securing it in a tight ponytail all day. You shook your head quickly and laughed to yourself. As you passed the mirror that was hanging on the back of your front door, you completely stopped in your tracks. "I'm a mess!" you exclaimed, sighing once again. Honestly you couldn't even remember when you showered last.

Half an hour later

With a confident strut you left your bathroom. Finally you were clean and it felt amazing. Quickly you waltzed around in your towel, singing to yourself. You rid yourself of your towel and threw on a large worn-out t-shirt and a pair of black leggings, not expecting company for at least a few more hours. You danced your way over to your record-player, where you threw on a Beatles record. The upbeat sound of guitar and drums filled your flat as you tried to make it look like a home again.

"(Y/N).. Are you in there?" You heard a soft knock on your front door and the unmistakable sound of your best friends voice. You had begun to feel butterflies whenever you heard his voice. Every so often you would catch yourself ogling him for much longer than what would be socially acceptable. The sweet smell of him would make your knees weak and every time he touched you, you swore you could see stars. You couldn't tell him though. No - he was your best friend and he probably only saw you as a friend too. No need to ruin that.

In a few swift strides you were at your door, which you yanked open. "I sure am!"

You sent him a large smile and invited him in. He reciprocated your smile and pulled you in for a quick hug before entering your flat, kicking his clogs off right by the door.

"Well this place seems.. Like you've had some time off?" Brian laughed, quietly placing his bag on the floor close to the table you guys always sat at, when doing schoolwork. Quickly you glanced at your watch.

"Yeah.. About an hour or so" you laughed.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your alone-time" Brian apologized. You shrugged and sat down in front of your papers that were spread all over the table. "Don't worry.. I should be studying anyways"

"Great.. Thats why I'm here too.. If you don't mind?" he stated while you nodded. "Yeah.. I figured. No, I'm all yo- I mean.. My flat is all yours" you stumbled over your words as a scarlet red colour started to appear on your cheeks.

An hour later

He was so beautiful. He had absolutely no business being so god damn beautiful. Luscious curls perfectly framing his face. Eyebrows furrowed from trying to understand what was written in his textbook. Eyes running over the pages like it was nobody's business.. And his lips.. Those picture perfect pink lips that were parted ever so slightly. God must have had an exceptionally good day when creating that masterpiece of a man.

"(Y/N)? Hello?" You had been ogling for to long again.

"Oh.. Uhm.. What? Sorry, I wasn't listening" you apologized, nervously tapping your pencil against your book.

"No.. I noticed… do I have anything on my face?" he laughed and gently wiped one of his long fingers across his cheek.

"No.. No. I'm sorry" you laughed shyly. "You want another cup of coffee?"

"Uh.. " he looked into his nearly empty cup. "Yes, thank you" he laughed after he quickly drank the remaining contents of the cup.

As you reached out to take the cup from him your fingers brushed against each others. It was only for a short moment, but that little knot in your stomach tightened and a shy smile flashed over your lips before you quickly turned around and marched to your kitchen.

"Get him out of your head" you chanted quietly, while pouring hot coffee into Brian's mug.

"You should be focusing on your exam and not falling in love with some guy"

You turned around to walk back into the living room but to your surprise Brian had followed you into the kitchen. "Oh!" you exclaimed, shocked to see Brian standing right in front of you.

"Who are you falling in love with?" he asked while crossing his arms, giving you a look you couldn't quite decipher. Was he disappointed? Curious? Tired?

"Uuh.. You.. Don't know him" you lied, trying your hardest just to smile and walk past him.

You placed the mug back on the table and turned around, facing Brian, whom hadn't moved at all.

"Oh.." he quietly replied.

"Are you okay, Bri?" you asked him, slightly concerned.

You took a single step closer to him, which brought you within an arm’s length away from him.

He didn't answer. "Bri?" you repeated, touching his upper arm gently.

He looked troubled. Something was bothering him, and you had no idea how to get it out of him. Once Brian decided to give you the silent treatment, which he had done every so often, there was no possible way of getting him out of it, until he decided so himself. His cheeks turned slightly red and you cocked an eyebrow, not understanding why.

"Bri-" you were cut of by him swiftly turning his whole body towards you and then awkwardly staring at you, obviously not knowing what to do next.

"I.. I like you. (Y/N).. I really.. Like you" he murmured so quietly you could barely hear him.  

"Like me? I.. Brian I like you too, but-" "No, not.. You don't understa-…" Brian sighed heavily and took a single step closer to you, completely closing the gap between you. Gently he cupped your cheek and turned your head, so you could look him directly in the eyes.

This was a moment you had dreamt about. Was this a dream? The intoxicating smell of Brian ingulfed you and tiny pieces of firework started going off in your stomach. His beautiful eyes were staring directly into yours and his picture perfect lips where yet again slightly parted. "No but I do understand, Brian" you said softly and slid your hand up his chest and around his neck, gently pulling his head closer to yours.

You pressed your lips against his and it didn't take him long to place a hand firmly on your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. You tangled your hand in his hair as the kiss deepened. This was a moment you hoped would never end. But it did. Brian pulled away for just a single moment, letting his eyes scan your face before he, without a word, gave you another kiss.

"Bri.." you whimpered as you pulled away from his touch.

"I know.. I know. It's a mess and I'm so sorry (Y/N)" he whined.

"No.. I want it. I want more. I want.. It all!" you exclaimed, quickly grabbing his hands, kissing each of them and putting them on your hips. A sly smile crept onto his face as he gave your hips a tight squeeze.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this" he whispered against your ear, before leaving a ghostly kiss right under your earlobe and lifting you from the ground causing you to shriek.

He walked back to the table you had been sitting at and quickly shoved some paper and a few books on the floor, placing you gently on the table. He stood between your legs towering over you, peppering you face with tiny kisses. You couldn't help but giggle. "Bri.. Our notes" you moaned against him as he pressed another kiss on your neck.

"Mmm.. (Y/N)" he moaned against your skin. Your name fell of his lips like pure sex. It was the most amazing thing you had ever heard in your life. "Look at how beautiful you are" he purred, as his hands ran up and down your body, lastly cupping your face again, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

"I bet the stars would be so proud to know their fragments created someone like you" he whispered. In that moment you became putty in his hands. Not knowing how to respond to something that sweet you pulled him in for the most passionate kiss you had ever been a part of.

[etheralisi]

What’s lost will be found

So, I finally decided to actually post (and finish) one of my works for this fandom. It’s part of the Papadopoulos Fam AU (derived from http://flightfoot.tumblr.com/post/183365981727/so-is-lester-a-being-that-zeus-created-like-did ) and all OCS in this fic belong to @ArtJunkyard. It’ll make sense if you read their fic first ( https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13196036/4/Trials-Of-Apollo-Oneshot-Series ) because every single character here isn’t even cannon. Every. Single. One.

Much to her displeasure, she often misplaced things. A trait she'd shared with her grandmother apparently (her mother often told her stories of that woman always losing her glasses, which nine times out of ten were still on her head.) But she had always been told that no matter what she lost — how insignificant, how small — it would always find its way home.

She just hoped someone would tell her son that.

She'd lost it.

The memory dated way back to when she was merely a child. It was hazy and fractured, like all old memories were, but she could never forget the compassion that burned deep within her mother’s eyes. Or the way she smiled at her, gentle and understanding.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” Her mother had asked, kneeling down so as to look her in the eye. A gentle hand found its way to one of her unruly curls, tucking the loose strand behind her ear. It sent a pang of warmth through her heart, though it wasn’t enough to ease her troubles.

A single tear managed to trek down her cheekbone.

“Teddy,” She mumbled under her breath, almost incomprehensible. “Teddy’s gone.” She was so sure he’d been with her a few moments prior, clutched in her arms so tightly that, had he been a living breathing creature, he would have been sure to suffocate. Yet, all she grasped now was empty air.

Her mother nodded sagely, though the encouraging smile never slipped from her face.

“Not to worry! We’ll retrace our steps, okay?” She stood up, wincing slightly as her knee let out a worrying ‘pop’. Even so, her mother’s attention promptly turned back to her and she laced her calloused hand with her own, still oh so small from youth.

“Thanks Mama,” She said, her voice still small but filled with the faintest trace of hope as the pair of them began to make their way back to where they’d just come from. With her free hand, she began to fiddle with the hem of her skirt. It was a little too fancy for her taste — too many ribbons. But her mother seemed to think she looked adorable in the colour pink.

“Don’t look so worried Susan. Look,” Mother stopped in her tracks, almost sending her toppling on the floor. Her mother laughed, joyful like bells rather than bitter or mean as she reached into her coat pocket (also — if she remembered correctly — pink.) Out of it she retrieved a small, silver object attached to a length of chain. Encrusted in the centre a green jewel glinted, its colour coming close to mirroring her mother’s own eyes.

“It’s a necklace,” She gazed at the object fondly, no doubt recollecting a precious memory of the past. “My mother gave it to me many, many years ago,” She laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges. But, even in that moment, with a face riddled with wrinkles and laugh lines, Susan could have sworn she looked as young as ever.

Her mother hesitantly removed her entwined hand from her own before unclasping the chain. She took either end of it with both of her hands and draped it around her neck. Susan gasped as the metal brushed against the back of her exposed neck, maybe even shivered a little, but she remained speechless even as her mother backed a step away from her. In that moment she almost reminded her of an artist, stepping back to admire their work.

“You look just like her, you know? Ah, um. Nevermind sweetie. I just think she would appreciate you having this. My mother, uhm — your grandmother, she was quite the forgetful soul. Especially in old age. But she would always tell me that whatever she lost, no matter what she lost, it would always turn up one way or another. Often when you least expect it. Just like this necklace.” Her fingers traced over the silver plated necklace, now resting on Susan’s neckline. “I was always losing it… but it came back.”

“Just like your teddy will.”

She’d lost it.

It had to have been around here somewhere, Susan knew. It just had to be.

She knew she must have been a mess. A frantic girl on her hands and knees in a nearly deserted school digging through the contents of a rubbish bin. Must have stank, too, though she had long since grown used to the stench. Either that or the smell was so strong that her nose has given up its ability to smell.

Maybe it was a combination of both.

At long last, her fingers clasped around something smooth, cool, metal and decidedly not yet another mouldy banana peel that had been festering in there for months on end (she really wished people would come and clean their school bins more often.) She yanked it out and, despite it being filthy, she recognised the necklace her mother had given to her when she was just an infant. Susan let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

The trinket, even in its battered and worn state, held a firm place in her heart. If those boys had actually managed to…

No.

She wouldn’t dwell on it. All that mattered now was the necklace was still in her hands and she would not by any means let it out of her sight ever again. Ever.

As Susan fastened it around her neck, being mindful to keep her hair out of the way, she heard an inhuman shriek that, had she had her hands free, would have caused her to have thrown her hands over her ears. As it was, she didn’t, and for many years after the incident feared that this very moment ruined her hearing.

She peered around the corner. Her angle was awkward and the way the building jutted out obscured her view. But what she could make out left her heart hammering in her chest. A blur of bronze. A pair of malicious, red eyes that flared with a hatred so intense that nothing human could ever bear it (she’d be having nightmares of those eyes a lot in her foreseeable future.) Though these eyes, the pure image of rage, were reduced to nothing but crumbling ashes by that blur of bronze, that was no doubt now a sword (a sword? In this day and age??), which sliced through the creature if it were nothing more than a slab of warm butter.

Susan never found out who the wielder of that weapon was. She’d already passed out.

She’d lost it.

Now, please remember that she was a level headed person. Was never one to lose her temper. No, she’d call herself a rather calm person.

But these- these girls… they just tipped her over the edge of that metaphorical cliff and straight to the burning pits of hell. Made her lose that temper of hers she, under any normal circumstance, would have had under control.

“Excuse me?” She did not shout. Didn’t even raise her own voice above speaking level. Yet the way she carried her voice through the air, venomous enough that even the room itself seemed to cower at her tone, worked better at carrying the message across than anything the loudest person in the room could have said (which would have been Jonathan. Man, that boy could shout.) “What do you think you're doing?”

Internally though, despite the raging white hot heat that burned from her very core, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug when she caught sight of how Angela flinched, even if she regained her composure straight afterward.

“What is it Susan?” The dark-haired girl sneered at her, through her eyes never left the sight of the boy before her. He was tall for his age, easily towered Susan, and she was short by no means. She recognised him now, she realised. They only shared one class together but it was hard not to forget that grinning boy that sat in front of her for chemistry.

Except now that smile was gone, wiped clean off his face and instead replaced by one that simply didn’t belong. Somehow, Susan’s blood managed to boil even more than it had been previously. Angela had no right —

“This doesn’t concern you.” For the first time, Angela twisted to look around at her, eyeing her distastefully as if she were a piece of rotting meat that she had allowed to fester. Or a mouldy banana.

Laughter bubbled in her chest, though it tasted bitter and acidic to the tongue. “Doesn’t concern me, huh? You’re one to talk, nosing around in this boy’s personal life, using his father’s uhm… record as material to torment him.” Her eyes flicked back up to the boy who was now staring at her with tears in his eyes. Damn, Angela had gone and made him cry. She opened her mouth yet again to continue admonishing the girl when Angela beat her to it, now glaring at her with complete and utter hatred.

Like the eyes.

She swallowed back a gulp as Angela spoke in that rather frustrating voice of hers, “You think you can lecture me on being nosy? Look at you! You were listening in on our conversation—”

“Sounded more like you were harassing him.”

Angela dutifully ignored her. “—just mind your own business, okay Susan? Not everything is all about you, you know?”

“I never said it was.” She folded her arms, pointed look never wavering from its place on her face. “I just asked you to leave him alone. I don’t appreciate people treating my friends like that.”

Was it her or was that boy tearing up even more than before?

“Sureee,” Angela drawled, “your friend.” She turned back to the boy who flinched under her narrowed gaze. “Remember to have it tomorrow, Thomas. I’d hate for rumours to spread around the school about what your dad does. Especially, if they are true.”

With that, Angela spun on her heel and walked away from the pair of them with her entourage (ugh, how cliché) who repetitively sent amused glances their way. As if this were all just some game, some form of entertainment to keep them preoccupied for the time being. The idea alone made her skin crawl.

“That was pretty cool of you,” Susan turned, a little stunned to hear the boy’s (Thomas’, his name was Thomas) voice for the first time that day. While not at full force, his easygoing smile was back and he was looking at her with — was that admiration? “I would never have been able to stand up to Angela like that! Thanks!”

Her cheeks may have flushed at the praise. “It was no problem — really.” She added the last part on hastily as he opened his mouth to protest. “I hate those girls. Always being so ugh!” She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles started transitioning to sheet-white. “And they’re still planning on spreading rumours about you.”

Thomas’ face crumpled, and as much as that made her heart pang, she couldn’t help but notice that like this he held an uncanny resemblance to that of a sad pug.

“Don’t worry, though. They won’t get away with it.”

Thomas blinked in a look of adorable confusion. “How do you know that?”

“Because.” She tried out that encouraging smile her mother always used to give her out for size. “I won’t let them.”

She’d lost it.

“You’ve lost what?” Thomas asked, tucking into a peanut butter, cheese, ham and Oreo sandwich he’d made for himself at the kitchen counter. Personally, she didn’t know how he stood the flavour of the thing. Susan had once taken a (reluctant) bite of it and promptly dashed straight for the bin. She could no longer see Oreos the same way again.

“My Mother’s recipes!” She threw her head into her hands, narrowly avoiding face planting in her very own (non-Oreo filled thankyouverymuch) sandwich. “I’ve looked everywhere at home and I—” She choked out a sob. “I can’t find them!”

“Oh,” Thomas deflated a little and put down his sandwich in favour of twiddling with his hands. “Umm… are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?”

Susan picked herself off of Thomas’ family kitchen table as she rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Yes,” She sniffled. “I’m sure.”

“Urm… why don’t you just, you know, stop looking for it?”

Susan stared at him. Really stared. “Thomas,” She said slowly, a hysteric edge accompanying her tone. “This is my Mother’s cookbook we are talking about. I’m not going to just say ‘oh well, that’s that I guess’ and stop hunting for it.”

“No! No!” He bounced up from his seat, hand instinctively reaching out to her own. “That’s not what I meant at all, Suse. I was talking about what you told me she used to say to you when you were younger. About lost things.”

“That they’ll always turn up? Yes, well I—”

“The other thing. How stuff will come back to you when you least expect it. So just stop looking for it.” He returned back to his sandwich. “You’re bound to find it eventually.”

Susan took her hand from her necklace, only just realising that she had been stroking the jewel as she usually did when she was anxious.

“She did say that, didn’t she?” Her lip twitched upwards. “Thanks Thomas… but that still doesn’t solve the problem of what I’m going to give my uncle Lester for his birthday next week. I wanted to bake him something from the book, but…”

“Why don’t you write your own book, then?”

Susan found herself frowning at him, not for the first time that day. “My… own… book?”

“Yeah!” He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Your baking is the best. You’ve been doing it for so long… you’re a natural. Making your own recipe book will be a breeze.”

“No offence, but you would eat just about anything,” She retorted, eyeing his lunch. “And I don’t know so much about it being a ‘breeze’. Writing down the correct amounts and temperatures is quite challenging.”

“But if anyone can do it, it’s you Suse. Go for it.”

Her heart caught itself in her throat. What did she do to deserve a guy like this? “Thanks Thomas. I- It’ll try.”

She’d lost it.

Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t her this time doing the losing. And it wasn’t really lost per say. According to her daughter, she knew exactly where the book was. At school. In her drawer. And it was stuck there for the entire weekend, much to her displeasure.

“But I want you to read to me about princess Raven Way.” The six-year-old pouted, once again using her ‘puppy dog eyes’ technique. It was effective.

“Oh Katie,” She soothed, ruffling her fingers through Katie’s hair. “You know I love reading to you at night. But the book is at school. We can’t break in just to get it back.”

It amazed her to no end that her daughter managed to pout even more. “Mummyyy pleaseee. We read the others.”

“Haven’t we already read that book too, though?” She chuckled as Katie grumbled under her breath. “Don’t worry little princess. I’ll see what I can find, okay? Brush your teeth and settle into bed. I’ll be back up soon.”

She placed a sloppy kiss on Katie’s cheek, causing the little girl to dissolve into a fit of giggles and cry out ‘eww!’ as she prodded at the scene of the kiss. Susan only smiled at her second youngest before she headed downstairs to see if she could locate something of her daughter’s interest.

It proved… difficult.

She found crosswords, multiple ‘touch and feel’ books that had once belonged to her eldest son, Lester (named after her favourite uncle) and she’d kept for the multiple children she had had since (and in Cameron’s case, adopted. He wouldn’t let you forget that and always used it as an excuse to get out of his chores as if that even made sense.) She had even come across her Mother’s old cookbook in which she had lost a very long time ago. Fortunately, it had turned up a month after her uncle’s birthday. She had promptly stuck in her own additions to the book (including the chocolate brownies she had made for Lester — uncle Lester that was) and placed it by her bed where she promised never to lose it again. Of course, she lived in another house now. But it still remained at her bedside.

Eventually, after furiously routing around the household, she came across a book from Cameron’s collection (it was rather small. With his dyslexia, he tried to avoid reading on the most part.)

“Do you mind if I borrow this?” She held it up from his shelf.

Cameron furrowed his brow as he looked up from his homework. But the boy, bless his soul, didn’t even question it. “Uhh sure Mum? Go nuts.”

With that, she returned back to Katie who was, as promised, sitting in her bed. Well, if you could call it that. It was more like a mound of pink furry blankets, cushions and sparkly stuffed animals. And as if it wasn’t pink enough? She was surrounded on all sides by fairy lights that her dad, Thomas, had caved into buying for her. With this love of pink and frills, Susan couldn’t help but think that Katie reminded her of her own Mother. They’d have gotten on well.

“I’m back.” She smiled as she sat at the end of Katie’s bed. She fidgeted a little as she began to sink into the bed as if it was one of her own soufflets. At last, when she finally found herself in a position that didn’t have her in any danger of being swallowed whole by a bed, she turned back towards the six-year-old. As per usual, her girl was wearing a pair of glittery pyjamas. It was the rainbow pair and even had a print of wings emblazoned on the back (she was going through that fairy faze.) Katie’s favourite pair.

“Ooooh! What’s that, Mummy?” She pointed at the book clutched in her hands.

“This, little princess, is a book on Greek mythology.”

Katie wrinkled her nose. “Mithigy?”

Susan patted her on the head. “Mythology. It’s… educational.” The only thing she could find in the house. “And makes great bedtime stories!” She’d just have to cut out all of the gore.

Katie didn’t look all that convinced. Even so, she didn’t protest and listened as Susan spoke.

After an hour of telling myths, she glanced over to see that her daughter had fallen into the realms of sleep and was now snoring — a trait she’d attained from her father of course. Man, her husband could snore.

Susan leaned in to kiss the tip of Katie’s nose, though was careful not to waken the little girl. As she pulled away, she froze, the distant echoes of two very, very familiar laughs echoing throughout the landing. Susan had to hold back the urge to groan.

Tyler.

Tyrone.

The youngest members of the family. Twins and definitely their father’s children. Why she had thought it okay to leave the three of them in the same room again? That was just asking for trouble.

Susan clambered up from the bed and switched off the fairy lights. Guess she'd have to deal with the aftermath of whatever had just been unleashed.

Two weeks later after she found out the three t’s of the family (Thomas, Tyler and Tyrone) had taken all of the mugs from the kitchen and scattered them around the front of the house, Susan was approached by Katie.

“Mummy?” She asked, tugging on the hem of her skirt. “Can you make me a costume?”

Susan didn't know if she'd heard her daughter right. Did she just say she needed yet another costume?

“A costume? Sweetie, what for?”

“Just wanna.” She blinked slowly at her, making sure she fluttered her eyelashes. Oh, Susan could already see the anime glitter. “Pretty please!”

As always, Susan proved to be swayed by Katie’s eye fluttering. “Okay then. Another princess I'm guessing?”

“Nah,” She shook her head which made her pigtails jiggle up and down, further emphasising the cuteness that Katie loved to flaunt. “Artemis.”

“Artemis? But… why?”

“She's cool. So can I?”

Susan thought for a moment. “I suppose. I've never been one to sew, though, so I might need to get in touch with one of my friends… but why Artemis?”

“The mimtholigy story was good. And thanks Mummy!”

As she watched her daughter skip away, Susan felt her heart warm. Maybe losing that book (but not really. She got it back after that weekend) wasn't so bad after all. Maybe…

She glanced down at her necklace strung around her neck.

Maybe it was time it found a new owner.

She’d lost him.

Susan hugged her knees, still in her bedroom with the door locked as she had done as a young girl. She - she couldn’t face her family.

Not after this.

Not after she lost him.

Her poor, poor son.

So young. Too young.

“Mum?” The voice was small, fragile, shattered.

Broken.

She wanted to kick herself. Of course she wasn’t suffering with this problem on her own. They had just lost a member of the family, and here she was. Hauled up in her room doing absolutely nothing to help ease the pain everyone else felt. Help stitch up the holes in their hearts.

She had abandoned them when she was needed the most.

Susan leaned over to the door and unlatched the lock, allowing her second oldest son (but he was the oldest now, wasn't he?) to enter the room.

His eyes were rimmed red, no doubt from crying too. They'd been close, Cameron and Lester. Two peas in a pod. Very rarely would you see the duo apart.

“He’s coming back, right Mum? It’s like you always said. All lost things come back. Tell me it’s true — please.”

All lost things come back.

She wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. Maybe do a bit of both. Because deep down that traitorous part of her knew, truly knew that her son was gone.

Her baby boy. The one always there to help the family and give comfort wherever he could. The first person who helped her realise that, no, she wasn’t crazy when she thought she saw monsters and strange, unexplainable things — because he saw them too.

But this time? What she lost would not be coming back.

Thanks for reading (seriously, thank you for spending time reading my stuff!) :)) 

^ Also, that’s Susan.

[vergeangst]

Family is Not Always Everything Part 1

Notes: Alrighty people I’m starting this year off with some good ol’ angst. Be ready (or don’t.) Inspired by this post.

Warnings: Deciet, lying/manipulation, Apathy (character, not in there for long and he doesn’t do anything other than talk but y'know), panic-like state, crying

Tags: @itsme98z @analogical-lovechild @ailithnight @pippa-frost @nightphans @nymphaedoratonks

WC: 1,696

Part 2

~

He was there, his door slightly ajar as he looked out of it, when Roman had shouted at the man. The man in a bowler hat and a cape, looking villainous, but Virgil wasn’t one to judge on that topic.

He’s new, Virgil thought, watching the man disappear through a door and into the shadows after an infuriated Roman had walked off. He needs someone. A friend. I can be a friend, can’t I?

~

The next day, late afternoon, Virgil had woken up and gotten out of bed before applying the pencil eyeliner below his eye and smudging it, something he always did, for a reason he didn’t truly know. It was routine. Concrete. One of the very few things he could control about his life here in Thomas’ mind.

He opened his door and there, in the shadows, was the door. The door he had walked out of quite some time ago, but had never walked back through. It was a deep, dark brown, almost black, with a knob of gold. It was menacing as it hid in the shadows of the hallway.

This was a place he knew well, too well. It was dark and all things ominous. It was where he, anxiety, stemmed from, and he knew the things inside were scary and mean. He knew there was a possibility that the man was just like any other creature in there. There was a possibility the man was all bad, but there was also a possibility he was like Virgil, just wanting someone to stand by him and be his friend. So, Virgil took a chance. He turned the knob of the door and opened it, looking into the darkness that engulfed the room he then walked into.

This was where all of Thomas’ dark sides and fears were located. It was pitch black once the door was closed. There were sounds, growling, footsteps, and the feeling of always being watched. Virgil could hear his breathing and the sound of someone else’s voice. The voice was all around him.

“Anxiety. Welcome back. We missed having you here. Tell us, what is it like living with them?”

God, he hated that voice. He hated him. Him being Apathy.

Apathy: [ap-uh-thee]

noun, plural ap·a·thies.

1. absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement.

2. lack of interest in or concern for things that others find moving or exciting.

Apathy took motivation and crushed it, squishing it like a bug as he drained you of emotion. Virgil had had a few too many encounters with him.

“What do you want?” Virgil tried to sound as if his heart wasn’t racing.

No. It’s fine. Everything will be ok.

His heart slowed only slightly.

“Awe, don’t be like that. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Apathy laughed loudly, it echoing in the large, seemingly empty space.

Virgil cringed at the laugh. It was a laugh that would send shivers up your spine and make your skin crawl. It could only be described as evil. He shrugged off the feeling soon after and spoke again.

“Who’s the new guy?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I want to meet him.”

Virgil jumped forward as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Is that so?”

Apathy’s voice was close now. Very close.

“Yes. Now where is he?”

Apathy hummed as a sound echoed from what Virgil would say was about twenty feet away, footsteps following.

“Well, looks like you won’t need my help with that.”

And with that, Apathy backed away and the footsteps grew closer, stopping what could’ve been an arm’s length away.

“Why do you wish to see me?”

“Who are you?”

“Is that of major importance..Anxiety, was it?”

Virgil’s eyebrows drew together. “Yes..that’s my name, and I suppose it isn’t extremely important, but I just wanted to know..”

The man hummed. “Call me Dee.”

“Okay, Dee… I would like to get to know you better.”

“May I ask why?”

Virgil paused for a moment, thinking of a response. “It’s nice to have company. Plus, I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Are you not a light side?”

“I -uhm yes, I guess I am-”

“So you have plenty of company.”

“I guess so, but I was thinking you could use some company away from the Others.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Uhm…”

Dee chuckled. “Oh, aren’t you just precious.”

Virgil was more confused now than he had been in a while. “I..don’t think so, but whatever.”

“I’d love to take up the offer to be in your company.”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Cool. I guess I’ll see you whenever.”

Dee hummed. “Amazing. Goodbye Anxiety.”

“Bye Dee.”

Virgil made his way back to his room, a small smile on his face and the thought of finally, finally having a friend in his mind.

~

The next day, Virgil was noticeably happier. He walked into the kitchen while the other sides were eating breakfast, ignoring how the small chatter in the room died down, with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Well, is Mr. Doom and Gloom actually lightening up for once?” Roman said, interrupting the silence.

Virgil, grabbing nothing but a granola bar, chuckled quietly and walked back out, saying, “In your dreams Princey.”

His day just got worse from there.

He had to film a video with Roman and Thomas a few hours later, which only left him exhausted. Honestly, although he got to talk about the darker messages in Disney, which was actually kind of nice, if he was being honest, having to deal with Roman arguing with him the whole time gave him a headache. Then, after going to his room for a bit with his headache not getting any better, he decided to take something for it. That, however, meant he had to leave his room, as the only source of pain medication was in the first aid kit located in the commons. (Curse himself for not storing some in his own bathroom.)

He popped in on the top of the stairs, first listening to see if anyone might be there. After hearing nothing, he walked down the stairs silently. His feet slowed as he saw Logan sitting on the couch, reading a book, having not noticed him yet. Virgil let out a small puff of air as he stepped off the last step, alerting Logan of his presence.

“Hello Anxiety.” Logan looked up to the hoodie-clad man.

Virgil gave a two fingered salute to him, making his way to the closet, all too aware of the eyes that were boring into him at the moment. He was glad it was Logan, at least, instead of Roman. Roman would be throwing insults at him and being his loud, dramatic self. Logan would just give a calculating stare or glare that never failed to make Virgil feel on edge and his hands to start trembling in the slightest way. He opened the closet and grabbed two ibuprofen from the bottle in the first aid kit.

“Are you hurt?”

Virgil turned his head to look at Logan as he closed the closet. He sat, still holding his book open on his lap, with an eyebrow raised.

“Headache,” Virgil said simply.

He sunk out after that. Virgil always managed to feel uneasy after an encounter alone with Logan. He felt Logan’s eyes on him the entire time, watching him as if he were another one of his experiments to study. Every encounter left him with an increased inauspicious feeling, a sinking sensation in his gut that told him to stay away.

He listened, not leaving his room for the rest of the day, not even when his stomach wailed at him for some sort of sustenance as the aroma of a delicious home-cooked meal drifted from the commons to his room. It was a special kind of torture, really, the knowledge that he’d never be able to enjoy a meal like that with a family. It was so close, yet unattainable. The others would never enjoy his company, let alone allow him to intrude long enough for a true meal, and it’s not like he had anyone else save for… No, he’d only just met him yesterday. He’d never agree to spend an extended amount of time with him. Virgil sighed. It was a fruitless fantasy. He should stop thinking.

~

About two weeks later was Virgil’s next encounter with this so-called “Dee.” He had left his room, pausing as he closed his door. The distant sound of Roman’s complaints could be heard, slightly muffled from the distance. It was something about…snakes? Virgil rolled his eyes.

Eh, probably just one of his adventures in his realm again.

“Hello, Anxiety.”

Virgil jumped at the sudden voice, turning to the hallway across from his room to see no one other than the mysterious man in the cape and bowler cap.

“Oh, hi Dee. I uh, didn’t see you there.” He chuckled slightly, eased as Dee chuckled back.

“It’s alright. Sometimes it’s good to not be noticed. Especially if it’s by a certain prince.”

Virgil hummed. “I feel ya man. Why does he hate you so much anyway?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I’m not forcing you to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“You see, I’m not like the Others. I don’t have a certain…appearance. Roman doesn’t like that.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at the dark figure, but it dropped as Dee began walking toward him. As soon as Dee’s face hit the light of the hallway, Virgil’s eyes went wide, a slight smile appearing a few moments later.

“Dude, screw what Roman thinks. You look fucking awesome.”

“Thank you. I must say, I really do love your style.”

“Oh, uh, I mean, it’s only a hoodie and jeans, pretty much just fits in with the ‘emo’ stereotype.”

“It suits you completely.”

Virgil didn’t miss the slight upturn of one of the corners of Dee’s lips.

“I really must go now,” Dee spoke again. “Goodbye Anxiety.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Bye Dee.”

What Virgil did miss, however, was the sinister smirk Dee wore once he’d turned away and walked through the door at the end of the hallway.

~

[ofstoriesandstardust]

Hey! Could you do a draco malfoy×plus size reader where the reader is attending a ball with draco and draco is mesmerized seeing the reader in a dress for the first time? And could you please include draco getting jealous and showing everyone that the reader is with him which leads to lots of kissing? (You can include smut too if you are comfortable) :)

A/N: Alright guys. My last post flopped like horribly. I was super proud of it and it got like 8 notes, in total. So I haven’t been feeling motivated to write because what’s the point of writing if no one gives you any feedback or likes what you’re writing? But after about a week of thinking, I decided to just buckle down and at least start it. I hope you all enjoy and please, please, please leave feedback. Also, I didn’t like, pick a House so you can just use whatever House you are in. Also, this takes place in the Yule Ball scene from the movie because that was the only one I could remember.

Word Count: 1,421

Warnings: Some low self-esteem and self-doubt, like one swear word?

Mine

The Yule Ball seemed to be every girl’s dream and the boys worst nightmare. Personally, you were enjoying it all. The prospect of getting dressed up for a glamorous, elegant ball, dancing the night away with some dream boy, all the dance lessons, and all the cute boys that had flooded Hogwarts. You had wanted Draco Malfoy to ask you, but you knew that ultimately you would never fit the description of Draco’s type of girl, hell, you weren’t even sure he knew who you were. He wanted someone who wasn’t sassy, wouldn’t fight back with him, and was skinnier. You didn’t look like Pansy Parkinson and you didn’t look like most girls at Hogwarts, for that matter. You were a bit on the heavier side and while you were mostly at terms with yourself, it was events like these that brought out the darker thoughts within your mind. After voicing some initial concerns about the dance to Hermione and Ginny, they had taken you dress shopping with them and you were able to find a gorgeous floor-length pale purple dress with a hint of gold glitter in the dress. The dress fit every curve correctly and the dress seemed practically meant for you. You hadn’t thought it was possible before you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you felt like a princess in this gown. As the dance had grown closer, you had given up hope of Draco asking you right about the time he asked Pansy Parkinson to the ball. Blaise Zabini had asked instead, and with some encouragement from Hermione and Ginny, you had agreed. Blaise had always been kind to you and a good friend and who knew, maybe something more would come from the night. When the day of the Yule Ball arrived, you began to feel the butterflies in your stomach. What if you made a fool of yourself? What if your dress suddenly didn’t fit? What if Blaise abandoned you at the dance? The possibilities of what could go wrong seemed endless. But once Hermione had done your hair and you had put your gown on, the nerves seemed to instantly disappear. The jeweled band in your hair your parents had sent you as a gift seemed similar to a tiara and you felt breathtakingly gorgeous. As you made your way down the staircase, you spotted Draco talking to Blaise. Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten that he was going to be here. Keyword: almost. As you made your way into the view of the boys, Draco’s eyes seemed drawn to you. You made your way over to Blaise, Draco, and Pansy, who had just joined the group as well. “You look stunning, (Y/N).” Draco said a tone of awe.

“Thank you.” You responded, a light blush gracing your cheeks.

“Shall we?” Blaise asked, offering you his arm. You nodded and took it. He led you into the Great Hall, which looked completely different. You paused upon entering it.

“It’s gorgeous.” You said as you looked around.

“Just like you.” Blaise said softly and you looked over to him, a smile erupting on your face. You shook your head and looked down at the ground. He led you to a spot near the dance floor as you awaited the entrance of the champions. As you and Blaise chatted lightly with Neville and Ginny, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned your head slightly, not sure whom you were expecting to see, but certainly not Draco's’ piercing blue eyes. Pansy Parkinson seemed to be talking his ear off but he wasn’t paying attention. You expected him to avert his eyes once your gaze met his but his blue orbs never left your face once. However, you’re gazing did not last long as the Great Hall doors opened, and the champions entered with their dates. After a few other couples made their way onto the dance floor along with the champions, Blaise led you to the dancefloor. Much to your surprise, Blaise was a wonderful dancer and you felt your heart flutter as he led you through the dance. However, your heart still longed for Draco and you couldn’t help but wish that it had been him leading you through the dance.  Quickly, however, the soft classical music was overtaken by some sort of punk rock band and you laughed as Blaise pulled you closer to the stage so that the two of you could dance along to the music. The next few hours felt like one of the most joyous moments of your life as you laughed and danced along with your friends and your date, with the thoughts of Draco fading to the background, which is where he was in that moment; the background. Eventually, though, the music began to slow again as people began to leave the Great Hall. Blaise pulled you closer and you two began swaying to the music. You both stared deeply into the other’s eyes and Blaise began to lean in closer, meaning to kiss you. You pulled away, not sure if you were ready for that. You cleared your throat, clearly uncomfortable.

“Uhm, do you think you could, uh, go get me something to drink? I’m, uh, kinda thirsty.” you quickly lied, wanting to get away from him and have a moment to breathe. He nodded uncertainly and made his way to the refreshment table. You quickly found the table where Harry and Ron were seated and you sat across from them, quickly catching their attention.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ron asked. You shrugged.

“Well, at least you’re here with the person you want to be with.” Harry said glumly. You shook your head and both the boys looked at you in curiosity.

“Gee, you guys really are dafter than I thought.” you chuckled dryly. “Besides, you guys would freak out if I told you who I really wanted to be here with.”

“I don’t care who it is, it just better not be Krum.” Ron said bitterly, glancing in Hermione and Viktor’s direction.

“Or Malfoy.” Harry added and at that, you averted your eyes to the table. “Merlin, you fancy Malfoy?”

“Ok, I’m not talking to you about this.” you stated and got up from the table. You quickly found Blaise who was chatting with one of his other Slytherin buddies. “Hey, do you think we could take a walk? I need some fresh air but could use some company. Blaise quickly nodded and bid his friend goodbye, as you tow headed out the door of the Great Hall. After leaving the Greta Hall, however, one of your friends spotted you and called you over. You asked Blaise to wait for you and you left him to go top and say hi to your friend and her date. However, after a few minutes, you heard a scuffle behind you and you turned to see Draco pushing Blaise.

“You don’t deserve her!” Draco yelled at him as Blaise stumbled backward.

“Hey, neither do you man!” Blaise spat. You rushed over as fast as you could, well, as fast as your heels would allow you. You pulled Blaise away from Draco as Crabbe and Goyle did the same for Draco. Once you were sure Blaise wasn’t going to go for Draco, you turned around to glare down Draco.

“What in Merlin’s name is your problem?!” You spat. Draco looked between you and Blaise angrily.

“It should’ve been me!” He declared. “It should’ve been me who took you to the ball, it should’ve been me that told you that you looked like an elegant queen, it should’ve been me to take your breath away, to hold you through the dances, to make you laugh and smile, to woo you, it should’ve been me!”

“Hey, news flash, you git: You didn’t ask me. You asked Pansy Parkinson. This is your fault, not his. I’m going back inside.” You turned to go back to the dance but Draco grabbed your wrist and turned you around to face him once again. You looked into his eyes and before you knew it, your lips were on his. You ran your fingers through his hair as the passionate kiss continued. Once you both pulled away for air, Draco’s eyes looked deep into yours once again and you felt yourself swooning just over the look he gave, one of full of admiration and love.

“Be mine.” He whispered softly and you nodded, pulling him back in for another kiss.

[vegasring]

Don’t Die

This one is part of the Tiny, Tiny Moments Series. It’s really part 4 of the story that started with Anyone But You. The chapter before this is smutty and I didn’t post it on Tumblr. But you can read the smut here.

He came to wakefulness at about 5:30 a.m. feeling unusually rested. He had his right arm wrapped around Molly's shoulder, her head nestled just below his collarbone. He never thought much about physical contact and had often derided people's need for it. But now he could be persuaded that there was some merit to it. And it didn't have anything to do with last night's activities, although that was some spectacular show of endurance and willpower on his part if you asked him.

The weight of her sleeping form, her steady breathing against his chest, and the length of her frame pressed against his side gave him a strange sense of stillness. He never thought he'd ever want to linger after sex, but he found himself unwilling to move. Maybe it was the time of day? Or maybe because it was just Molly? She was a safe zone, after all.

(His last sexual encounter long, long ago in a posh hotel room in Islamabad was a dare that had to be accepted. He instantly regretted it though and fled before any more propositions or nefarious deals were exchanged.)

Whatever this was, it brought him clarity. He stayed there unmoved, in bed with Molly Hooper and her hair, breathing her in and found the courage to do what he knew he needed to do from a place of lo-… light, instead of his overwhelming sense of self-loathing. He knew he had to go to hell. Mary just gave him very specific instructions on how to do it, even though he didn't need it. To "go to hell", Sherlock just needed to follow his basest of instincts. Before last night, he was ready to make that fatal leap to go all out, so to speak.

Things shifted somehow in the early light of day. He couldn't jump into hell now, at least not without knowing there was that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. This job wasn't about him after all. He needed to save John Watson first and foremost, not kill Sherlock Holmes.

With this epiphany, he carefully extricated himself off her to shower and get to work on his game plan.

It was almost seven in the morning when Molly woke up to find herself alone in bed. Not that she was expecting them to be waking up spooned together like little baby cats. That could have been awkward, actually. She knew Sherlock well enough, and he wasn't a touchy-feely guy. Last night was quite surprising and nothing short of miraculous. But then again, even the great Sherlock Holmes was prone to clichés. He did hook up with the bridesmaid after a wedding. Why wouldn't he hook up with the co-godparent after a funeral?

Molly lumbered her way towards the kitchen on wobbly legs and almost tripped when she found the consulting detective at the breakfast bar with his laptop open and a coffee mug in his hand.

"Good morning," she croaked, half pleased he was still there and half mortified her bed head was in full display while he was already, as usual, impeccably dressed.

"Uhm," he grunted in response, acknowledging her with just a quick glance up from the top of his mug and the computer screen. He then put the mug down and walked towards the oven where he retrieved a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He set the plate down in front of her then poured her a cup of coffee, mixing in milk and two sugars just as she liked it. This is how I should start my day every day, she thought as her eyes did a quick scan of the Adonis before her. She had to pinch herself to make sure this was not a dream.

"Ow! I mean, Wow," she skillfully corrected, as he handed her some silverware. "I must've done something right. That, or I died and went to heaven," she joked as she took a bite of her toast. "Service in this house has never been better."

Sherlock did not answer that. He was just staring intently at the computer screen, trying to formulate how he was going to ask her a favor.

"A new case then?" He finally faced her with his head tilted in confusion.

"You must be working on a new case," she continued, as one does when met with awkward silence. "You haven't eaten and you're drinking coffee. You don't eat, and you only drink coffee when you're working a case." His eyebrows raised, as if impressed.

"I, too, can make observations, Sherlock. You're not as mysterious as you make yourself out to be. So, what is it?"

Having found his opening, Sherlock said, "It is a case. A 10. Probably my most important and dangerous to date." He sucked in a breath loudly before he added, "I need a favor from you."

A slow smile formed on her lips as she swallowed her coffee and set the mug down. "Ah, and there it is," she said. Sherlock looked absolutely perplexed. Clearly, Molly had to explain herself because his brain wasn't functioning on all cylinders this morning.

"Well, you know. Dinner, breakfast….sex," she said that last bit flippantly, as if it didn't matter to her. "It all makes sense now." He looked horrified. "It's okay Sherlock. Don't look so shocked. I'm on to you," she said, winking to let him know she was joking, that she doesn't take it personally. "You always butter me up when you want something from me. No use denying it now. I know it's a big ask."

He didn't know why he felt insulted by this when it would be far more convenient if it were the truth. He was about to object to her assertions when he realized that his intentions last night, and all those times he had 'buttered her up' had been sincere. He had not been bringing coffee to the morgue solely to gain access to body parts. And he hadn't been buying her dinner because he kept her late at the lab. He just made it always seem that way. Up until this moment, he had convinced himself that he needed to keep Molly Hooper happy to continue his unfettered access to the lab and body parts.

The inconvenient truth was that he had a better laboratory to use at the Met's and no real need for body parts to play with. Why he continued to go to her was something he didn't want to think about. Right now, he had a goal – to save John Watson – and whatever he was feeling had no bearing on anything. He had to focus.

And so, he acknowledged her deduction at face value.

"You're right. It is quite a big favor." He looked almost sorry he needed to ask it.

"What is it then? What do you need?" Over four years ago, she asked that very same question. She had been so very afraid for him then. This time was no different.

"I need you to trust me."

Molly nodded and braced herself for what was coming. But that was all he said.

"Okay Sherlock. I trust you. What do you need?" She asked again. Molly searched his eyes for clues for what he wanted. But Sherlock's face wasn't giving any hints.

"I just need you to promise me that you will trust me, no matter what. Even when every bone in your body, and all other evidence is telling you otherwise." His intense gaze pleaded her to understand. But she wasn't getting it.

"I do trust you, Sherlock. You don't need to ask that of me."

"But I do. For this case, I do. I will have to do things you wouldn't want me to do. But…" he let out a huff to prevent himself from crying out and letting her save him from himself.

"Just trust that I know what I'm doing," he swallowed hard to control the fear that was bubbling up from his belly, "and see me through this."

Molly was moved by the sincerity of his request. It was a simple ask as far as she was concerned. Of course, she trusts him. Of course, she will see him through. She will always be there for him. Always.

Unless…

And that's when the gravity of the favor hit her with full force. She finally understood what he was saying. This was no ordinary case, whatever it was. He was going to visit his demons as she watched from the front row.

"No," she said, taking a step back. "No, I can't do that," she said more forcefully, shutting her eyes and walking away. Her head felt heavy and that Meat Loaf song blasted in her ears. I will do anything for love, but I won't do that, it said over and over. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her life being reduced to a 1990's epic rock song but the loud pounding of the imaginary piano was too disorienting.

Sherlock sprinted around the bar and grabbed her shoulders. He spun her around and hugged her tightly, rocking her like he did the night before.

"Please Molly. Please," he begged. "I have to do this. I have to do this, even without you. But I'd much rather not. I've lost so many friends already. I can't lose you, too."

How could she say no to him when he was like this? She understood his desperation perhaps more than he did. She was hopelessly in love with him, the Sherlock Holmes who thoughtlessly threw himself at death's door, after all. She knows what it's like to fear losing someone you care for.

So how can she deny him? She will always be there for him anyway. Always. But will he be there for her? Shouldn't she demand something in return? Why not. It was only fair.

"Ok," she said finally, coming to terms with her decision. "I promise to trust you and be there for you all the way. Anytime. But you have to promise me one thing. Just one easy thing."

Pulling out of their embrace, Sherlock held her face and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"What is it?"

"Don't die."

Author's Note. It bothered me so much that Sherlock was so rude to Molly during The Lying Detective, and that Molly just took it. She clearly wasn't happy with him. But I wanted her to scream and slap some sense into him for what he was doing to himself. And then she turns around and easily forgives him and takes the night shift. So I thought, well, maybe she had an idea that something was up and that he made her promise to trust him? And for Sherlock, for someone as self-destructive as he is, when he said "I don't want to die," it felt blasé at first, until he truly realized he did not want to die. Maybe he realized what his promise to not die really meant?

[siarven]

20 Questions Tag

I got tagged by @reinkings to do this tag game, thank you so much :3

1. Is there any scene from any piece you’ve written that actually scared you? If so, describe the scene.

Hm… I’m not really one for horror? I don’t really like watching or reading it so I haven’t really written any, either.

2. What genre do you feel most awkward writing?

Romance. I'm horrible at anything concerning flirting and stuff like that xD Horrible!

3. How many different types of writing do you write? Types of writing include novels, short stories, poetry, song lyrics, etc.

Mostly novel-length stuff, though they usually end up getting longer than just one book. Also short stories, and one-shots. I wrote poetry when I was younger (but I am probably rather bad at it). Also I never wrote a song, lyric-wise, only making up melodies etc without lyrics.

4. How old were you when you first started writing?

Writing as in writing stuff down, or storytelling? I can't remember a time when I didn't tell myself stories (out loud, until I managed to do it in my head later on). I started writing them down as soon as I could write, haha (so near the end of first grade). Most of the stories from that time are about "Feelie" ("Fee" means fairy in German...) who was, oh wonder, a fairy! And had veeery long hair. And a flying unicorn. xD The stories are kind of very cute and slightly embarassing, and very stereotypical XD Also there was Lisa, my next ... "OC". There were a lot of different iterations of her, because I never finished anything before getting a better idea and subsequently starting again from scratch XD

5. How confident are you in your writing?

Hm. Sometimes I am really sure that what I'm doing is amazing (usually when I just came up with a really mean plot twist or magic system or found the perfect solution to a plot hole) ... only that usually doesn't last very long XD I would be lying if I said that I don't care about what others think, but at the same time, I also don't? I'd love to be published one day but if it comes down to it, I'm writing for me, and only me. I feel so blessed to have found this community, and that there are others who are coming to love my characters as much as I do. But I would write these stories even if nobody were interested in them. So... I don't know, I think I'm getting better at the confidence thing :)

6. Have you ever written and posted anything that was very personal to you?

I don't think that I've ever posted anything? I write Morning Pages (sadly not as frequently as I should), which are 3 pages of stream of consciousness, first thing after getting up in the morning. It helps a lot. But it's also the sort of thing I won't ever upload anywhere cause it's deeply personal and I would feel very uncomfortable giving it to anyone. I've been thinking about uploading a cutesy (rather personal) short story, though. I wrote it for my mother as a birthday present some years ago :D

7. What inspired you to start writing?

I... have no idea? I've told myself stories before I could write, so... I have no idea. I should probably ask my mother if there was some sort of catalyst xD I didn't even start reading of my own free will until 2nd or 3rd grade, but since then I've never stopped so... xD Anyways, my father read me bedtime stories every night when I was small so maybe that? I never really watched a lot of TV until 10th grade when I discovered the mysteries of the online stream and suddenly had a lot of stuff to catch up to... and now I'm studying film xD (My parents are still confused by that because I was a kind of late bloomer concerning cinema and tv :D )

8. Which of your OCs do you relate to the most?

Uh... let's see. I think maybe Jouka? He’s from my wip firewings, and I love him a lot.

9. Have you ever written self-insert fanfiction?

Maybe not *fan*fiction but maybe self-insert fiction when I was young xD All that fairy and princess stuff... most definitely self-insert, haha.

10. What is your favorite piece you’ve ever written about?

Uhm… I haven’t written it yet? But when I’m done with Dreams and Shadows I’ll go and write Icicle Soul. It has some of my favourite characters, plot lines and plot twists in it and I’ve been looking forward to properly writing it since forever :D

11. How frequently do you actually sit down and write?

I try to write every day. It does not work. I always end up doing tag games instead because there are still so many to finish.

12. How many hours at a time do you do research on your writing?

Sometimes it escalates and I spend the whole day reading up on stuff on wikipedia and then end up source-riding until there’s no way back and I have 3000 tabs open. XD

13. Do you like to branch out in your writing or do you tend to stick to what you know?

When I was younger my stories tended to include a lot of the stuff I was interested in at the specific moment, and were influenced strongly by the things I’d read recently. Now I try to challenge myself a bit to write stuff that I’m bad at, or to use writing to explore things that I don’t really know yet :)

14. What would your antagonist of your current WIP say to you if they saw you in person?

I think that depends on if they know that I’m the writer or not xD If not I’d be far too insignificant. If yes, I would probably be subjected to a lot of threats, and curses. And assassination attempts, so they can wrangle control back.

15. Do you consider yourself your OCs’ god or just kind of a guiding hand (or other? If other, please list)?

Well. I’m not very good at being a god, I guess, since they always decide everything on their own. Or change, without me wanting them to. Or do something totally unexpected. So, I’m probably more like a guiding hand, haha.

16. What do you think you’d be doing with your time if you’d never gotten into writing?

Well, I do study 3D animation and do art, so I guess I’d be somewhat better at that because I’d have more time to practise. xD

17. Have you ever written a smut piece?

Nope. I'm very bad at romance and smut and stuff like that.

18. What was the first thing you ever wrote about?

Oooh. I remember a story about a tiger and a rabbit :D Also, the Feelie stories above… the first thing that ever got longer than a few chapters had no title and was vaguely like Eragon.

19. What is the most creative creature you’ve ever created for world-building?

Creatures are the best! Hm. The most creative creature… I don’t know, actually? They’re usually very plausible creatures because I want them to feel possible. Like, if that world really existed, it would totally make sense if the creature did, too, you know? I always think of evolution, too, and how it could have been formed by its environment and stuff like that. I have very big folders filled with that stuff :D I have bloodthirsty and very murderous unicorns in Morning Star, though, and for Dreams and Shadows there are tons of different kinds of dragons that I’ve put a lot of thought into. I have rebuilt Alearis’ ecosystem from scratch, and I just vaguely remember the horse-like creatures that exist in the world of Firewings instead of horses. Honestly, there are so many more but I have probably made more creative creatures for art-purposes.

20. Tell me one random fact about your WIP that you have yet to tell your followers.

Dreams and Shadows was born during German class in 11th grade. I had an image of a young boy in my head, standing behind his mother who was crying in front of his comatose body. It was only ever supposed to be a short story, and it was supposed to be this melancholic, sad and beautiful thing. And then I wrote it during NaNoWriMo and the original plot was done after 30,000 words but I still had 20K words left to write in order to win so Ava, his little sister, got a storyline of her own, and angels and demons entered the fray, and now Ava has somehow taken over the story and that slow, beautifully-sad thing has grown and become something else entirely :D It’s also no longer set in our world, the angels and demons have become something else, it’s one of my favourite worldbuildings yet and there are dragons! 200% better ;)

tagging: @madmooninc @romenna @asttralhell @lynnafred @authordai if you want to :D