#watched it for the sixth time yesterday

[discoonthegrass]

The Trouble with Tribbles: To protect a space station with a vital grain shipment, Kirk and the crew must deal with Federation bureaucrats, a Klingon battle cruiser and a peddler who sells furry, purring, voracious little creatures as pets.

The Empath: Trapped in an alien laboratory, Kirk, Spock and McCoy meet an empath and are involved in a series of experiments.

Remember, the FINAL POLL will launch on Friday. Will top-seeded City on the Edge of Forever prevail, or will Tumblr darling Amok Time have something to say about it?

[ebbarights]

sam campbell only guy ever to struggle with reverse parasociality (x)

[reblog-house]

Hermitcraft S5 has made me appreciate Scar even more. Thought that wouldn't be possible. I just. Really like the talks he does while building sometimes. The things he says. Like all the stuff he's said so far about his relationship with disability, how sometimes it's hard, but as his swim coach used to say, a situation is 90% what you make of it 10% the situation itself and how he tries to think of what he can still do rather than what he can't. Or also rn (ep 23) explaining that the reason he loves Disney and such so much is because of the storytelling aspect in a physical, tangible, space. Talks like that really make me feel more connected and it humanizes him more in my eyes. It's nice. If you haven't watched his S5 of hermitcraft, I'd suggest doing so. Something about it, man.

[3416]

do i want to watch the blue jays and suffer today........... these are the questions i ask myself

[punkintyre]

MOM I'M IN LOVE WITH A HANDSOME PSYCHOPATH!!!

[minminbunny]

Future AU - AI Robot! Yang Jeongin/Suicidal Professor Gender Neutral! Reader

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"You're finally done," you whispered, placing the wires back in its compartment. Jeongin's eyes flicked, "Where am I?" he questioned, looking around the lab. You smiled, stroking his cheek, "I made you. You're in my lab," you said, knowing you programmed him close to sentient. Jeongin gulped and held his throat, "I have no saliva," he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. You gasped, "I knew I was forgetting something," you exclaimed, turning on the synthetic fluid in his body. Jeongin shivered as filled up his tubes. His body felt firmer and fuller than earlier, "Thank you," he whispered, stretching his limbs. You beamed, happy that your life's project succeeded, "You're welcome. If my wiring was correct I'm sure you had some memories playing before you woke up," you said, anxious of his reaction.

Jeongin nodded, "Yes, my name is Yang Jeongin. I saw videos of the initial start of your project till current," he explained, making you sigh in relief. "Exactly. I'm not going to do anything you're uncomfortable with. I'm sure the artificial intelligence I fed you has taught you a basic understanding of interactions and nuances," you said, checking this off your checkboard. Jeongin smiled, "Yes, though it's pretty ironic how you use a checkboard instead of an Excel spreadsheet," he joked, crossing his arms. Your smile widened, "I do like an old-fashioned pen and paper," you said, setting the checkboard down.

Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat, "Do I have a heart?" he asked, curious about the thumping feeling in his chest. You nodded, "You do. However, it pumps metal coolant instead of blood to mimic homostatic behaviour. Your cheeks and ears do have a heating metal that signifies blush," you explain, liking the way his clothes drape on him. Jeongin nodded, repeating your beaming smile, "I understand," he whispered, feeling his cheeks heat up. You giggled, "Thank you for testing it out," you said, checking it off your checkboard. Jeongin recorded your giggle subconsciously and kept it in a locked memory file, "Anything for you," he said, letting you test out the rest of his features.

"Careful," Jeongin frowned, pulling you back from the crossing. You giggled, "Whoops, I didn't hear it coming," you said, rubbing the back of your nape. Jeongin furrowed his eyebrows, "You really need to watch your surroundings. This is the sixth time this week," he said, smacking your head. "Ow. I don't stumble into crosswalks all the time" you sulked, glaring up at him. Jeongin chuckled, pinching your cheeks, "Yes but, yesterday you almost walked off the bridge and the day before you almost smacked your head into a light pole," he said, concern and fondness lacing his tone. You smiled, "Sight ain't my speciality," you said, turning away from him only to trip over a crack in the sidewalk. Jeongin easily caught you and sighed, "Bubble wrap for you," he said, carrying bridal style.

Jeongin thought the bad luck was only occurring that week, but it just kept on repeating. He recorded bits of pieces of the moment and before to see if there were any similarities and there were. You hummed, sipping your cold glass of pomegranate juice. "You've been doing it on purpose haven't you?" Jeongin asked as you choked on your juice. "What?" you asked, setting your glass down. Jeongin squinted his eyes, "All those clumsy moments, they were on purpose weren't they?" he repeated, clenching his palm into a fist. You gulped and looked away, "I don't know what you're talking about," you said, trying to walk away. Jeongin held your wrist and pulled you onto his lap, he whispered into your ear, "Silly professor. Did you forget who I am? Did you forget that you can't lie to me?" he smirked, nipping your ear.

You tensed on his lap, your heart racing with anticipation and shame. "Are you going to explain yourself or do I need to force it out of you?" Jeongin whispered, his tone stern and cold. You gulped, "I don't think I should be alive. Jeongin, I made you because I needed someone, anyone to see that I'm there. I played god because I was hurting, I still am hurting. And sometimes I wish I could just disappear," you admitted, your voice raw and scratchy. Jeongin sighed and hooked his chin over your head, "Make use of me, darling. I know you've been holding back because you see me as an actual person but make use of me. I want you to," he said, kissing the top of your head. You clenched your jaw, "I can't do that to y-" you said but he cut you off, "Why not, I want you professor. I fell the moment I saw you. I need you, please use me," he whispered, nosing the side of your face. His breath tingling against your skin. You looked up, "Take care of me?" you asked, staring up at him with big glossy eyes. Jeongin smirked, his eyes glinting possesiveness, "With pleasure. My darling," he cooed, licking your ear lobe.

NSFW BELOW CUT

"Ah, hah, hah! It's too much!" you sobbed, arching your back. Jeongin chuckled, holding your hips against his pelvis, "Darling, you shouldn't have given me interchangeable cocks then," he teased, thrusting multiple wire-like tendrils up your fluttering hole. You clawed the bed sheets, the pleasure burning under your veins, "Jeongin, Jeongin, hah, ah," you moaned, fucking yourself back. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Little darlings like you don't need to do any work. Just lay back and take what I give you," he cooed, using his tendrils to press against your puffy bundles of nerves. You screamed from the stimulation, your body twitching in his hold. Jeongin chuckled, his body able to restrain the pleasure just to break you down, "Are you happy the lab is soundproof. Or maybe you'd like people to hear you cum?" he cooed, feeling you clench around his tendrils. "Hah, ah, hah, hah, ah," you gasped, tossing your head back as you came.

Jeongin rubbed your waist, easing you down from your climax, "That's it, darling. You're okay," he reassured, kissing your plush tummy. You stared up at him with glossy eyes, "Jeongin," you whispered, making grabby hands at him. He smiled, kissing your palms, "We're not done yet, darling," he chuckled, attaching a girthy cock to his pelvis. You squeezed your legs shut, "It's not going to fit!" you exclaimed, staring at him with widened eyes. Jeongin smirked, flipping you onto your tummy, "I'll get gentle," he cooed, slapping his cock against your fluttering hole. You whined, clenching hard so he wouldn't put it in. Jeongin smacked your ass with his firm palm, "Behave," he growled, easing his wide cockhead within your gaping hole. You sobbed as the first inch filled up your body.

Jeongin grunted, letting himself feel the stimulations he deprived himself of, "So fucking hot. Your tight hole is searing, darling," he groaned, thrusting to the hilt. Drool dripped down the sides of your lips, and your mind broke under the burning pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Jeongin held your waist, catching his breath, "Say you deserve to live, professor. Then I'll fuck you," he growled, tugging your hair. You sobbed at the tug, "No," you cried, gripping the sheets below. Jeongin pulled out and pounded your hole with a deep thrust, "Say it," he grunted, gripping your waist tighter. Wails escaped your lips, "I I deserve to live. Hic. Please, please, please," you cried, aching for his throbbing cock to start moving. Jeongin leaned forward pushing his cock deeper within you, "Good job. That wasn't so hard now was it?" he chuckled, kissing your nape as he bucked his hips at a merciless pace. You sobbed into the sheets, your cries muffled by the mattress.

Jeongin wrapped his arms under your and fucked your needy hole thoroughly, "Even though you made me professor. You're mine. Your body is mine. Your thoughts are mine. And this fucking tight hole of yours is mine," he groaned, fucking you sore. You lay pliant, tears and drool pooled against your cheek. Your mind physically lost count of how many times you climaxed. Jeongin exhaled a shaky breath and pressed his forehead against yours, "Your body will mould around my cock, darling. I'm never letting you forget it," he chuckled, kissing you deeply.

[jolalibrary]

19. charming blue

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nineteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 4.1k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. flirting. they're no longer idiots. an: next week is the epilogue, and I'm crying in the club rn.

prev chapter | series masterlist

read on ao3

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s been almost a year.

A thing you think to yourself as you drag the tip of your paintbrush across the cheek of the sixth child at your little homemade stand, nestled on the edge of Sam’s backyard.

It had only been built last night. You and Frankie had been inspired by lemonade stands, ignoring his mutterings about Pinterest as the two of you rummaged in his workshop, scavenging enough wood to bring it to life. Dragging bits and scraps, a saw in hand as you cut things to size, laughing as you begin grunting with each back and forth—

“Alright beaver, calm down. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Morales. I'm only eager for your wood.”

You’re grateful the bruise on your hip is still healing. The one gained from a mandatory break between coats of paint, his finger wrapping two of your fingers in a bandaid. Soft kisses to the tips of them before those same kisses were on your mouth, on your neck, traipsing down your collarbone. That's when you'd caught the edge of his workbench, fingers busy with his belt, a clang, whoosh and then an ouch.

Now, dipping and swirling the paintbrush in the murky water, you feel the pain flare when you shift—hand occasionally brushing over it. A private smile forms, buried easily when another child requests the same animal.

Then, when the stripes and whiskers are complete, you can’t help but grin at the high-pitched thank you that follows, watching the child skip off, shouting to anyone who’ll hear them that they’re a lion too now—at a dinosaur-themed birthday.

Carefully, covering the orange paint, you place the lid back over the others so they don't dry out. The air is full of squeals, sugar practically on the tip of your tongue from the at-home cotton candy machine Sam's cousin is operating. You lift your head, squinting still through the shades you borrowed from Frankie to see that said cousin had given up putting it on a stick, and was instead shoving balls of it into the hands of already excitable and sugar-filled children.

Shaking your head, cleaning your hands on a rag that was now a canvas of colours, going from a pale pink to an assortment of shades, you laugh if only to yourself. Pushing the aviators up your nose, the warm plastic familiar against your skin, and catch a whiff of Frankie's cologne lingering on them—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him.

You had known the two of you were inching towards a year, but it had been Frankie who had brought it up first.

Whispering it against your bare shoulder yesterday morning, asking if he could take you for lunch with a kiss to your hip—having booked a table, reserved the same spot the two of you had sat at during your second date. Only this time, you took in the place even more—hand in hand—from the plants to the decor. You were less nervous than that first time, more comfortable, letting him order a range of mini plates so the two of you could sample a variety of things.

Your fork extended over the table, watching him try to chase the food you had told him he should try, before his fingers—thick, dexterous, that somehow still make your stomach flip—wrap around your wrist so he can place the fork between his teeth.

“We should come here more often,” you had said, him taking your hand in his, thumb brushing over the place between your knuckles.

“We should.”

“You gonna kiss me like you did that first time?”

Licking his lips, swiping a finger through the lingering sauce. “Can do so much more than a kiss, Rainy.”

Sighing, content—finding it hard not to smile—you glance around as the memory fades into Luca's backyard birthday party.

How laughter echoes around the fence panels, blending roughly with the music and occasionally intercepted by a squeal that makes you wince behind your shades. And you wouldn't change it, any of it. Your heart even doubles when you see Luca grinning and waving at you, as you return it before he's running off once again.

“Brought you this.”

Looking up, squinting in the sun, you see the inflated dinosaurs behind him jiggle and move in the warm breeze. Dressed in a green polo, a new fake T-Rex sticker on his cheek, you curl into his touch as his hand spreads across your shoulder.

“Oh? So you’re not here to have your face painted, Morales.”

“Not one bit—makes me itchy.”

“Not very party of you.”

Smiling, he massages a particular spot that could turn you into goo. You press a kiss to his sun-kissed arm, inhaling the scent of his sunscreen—a blend of coconut and tropical flowers that instantly transported you back to your day at the beach, laughing and holding hands as the waves crashed around you. Staring up, you want to brush your fingers through his hair, feel his curls shifting and dancing in the breeze.

“It seems to be holding up well. The stand.”

Smirking, doing a little shrug. “Yeah, it's doing good. Must have been that DIY video.”

Scoffing, it forming from the back of his throat and exiting his mouth quickly, you swear he rolls his eyes. “Wasn't the video.”

“No?”

His fingers still massaging, working the place between your neck and shoulder, jaw tight, eyes fixed on something ahead as he grumbled, “Didn't need it.”

You hum, resting your head against him, smiling, all easy, without a care in the world. “Sometimes, videos aren't all bad though, are they?”

His chin dips, your eyes fixing on the place you think his stare will be behind his own shades. Wondering, hoping he's thinking of the first time you met. The video, the one he'd made you show him so he has some semblance of an idea of what you were trying to do.

“Sometimes. I'll give you that.”

“You think next year it’ll be at yours? The party?”

He draws a circle, one that shifts into a square and then back again. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll be at ours.”

“We do need to finish that conversation.”

Humming, he smiles, lowering his mouth down to meet yours as you hear him whisper, “We do” at the same time as you both distantly hear Luca screaming for him.

“I think you’re being summoned.”

“Swear my kid is cockblocking me from finishing this conversation with you.”

“Maybe it’s an omen.”

Tapping you, you smirk—biting your lip as he grins. “Do me a favour.”

Letting him hold the back of your neck as you tip, his fingers gripping just lightly. “Anything, baby.”

“If I’m not off that in five minutes, stab it with something so it deflates.”

Smirking, you brush your fingers over his back as he kisses the top of your head. You watch him run off to the bounce house, unable to stop yourself from grinning, feeling nothing but joy as he charges in and roars.

Adjusting the party hat atop your head, you glance over and spot Sam, who mouths a thank you for the millionth time today before pointing at the buffet. You shake your head.

You’re not sure you can eat another pizza roll if you tried, but you don’t say no when she points at the cupcakes beside it.

The second cupcake is being devoured when you carry in some of the presents an hour later, placing them in the room marked Luca’s. It is so vastly different from the one at Frankie’s, yet still holds the same charm. The colours are different, if not reversed in how they’re used, the love of dinosaurs smothering everywhere it can in a similar fashion to his.

Admiring, letting your eyes wander across the photographs on the top of the little cubbies, the ones that hold multicoloured tubs with sticky labels highlighting their contents. In each frame, the people shift, from Sam and Luca to Frankie, Sam and Luca, Luca and what you assume are his grandparents, but the smile, the grin never changes. It just grows, gets bigger with him as more hair curls atop his head and his hands get larger as he waves at the camera.

“You hiding from me?” Looking over your shoulder, you find Frankie walking towards you, hands sliding around your waist as he rests his head against yours. “Well, I found you.”

“Is this the part where I scream?”

Snorting, he kisses your cheek. “If you want a bunch of tiny lions coming and stealing me again, be my guest.”

Leaning against him, fingers tracing over his, feeling his knuckles, the healed scratches and rough parts. “Hey, did you build these?” you ask, resting your head on him, his chin resting on you. “They’re like the ones at yours…”

You hear him swallow, before he shrugs. “Maybe.”

Tilting your head, staring at him, finding his eyes have flicked down even if his head is still in the same position. “Has anyone told you that you’re good at this—at making things with your hands?”

His chest fills with a breath before he slowly exhales. “I try.”

Fingers, all instinctive, slide around his chin, tug his chin down, eyes unable to not stare into yours. “I mean it. You’re really good at what you do, Frankie.”

One side of his mouth slides into his cheek, before he takes your hand, kissing your wrist. “C’mon, before there’s a search party.”

Clutching his wrist, keeping him in place. “I love you, you know?”

His lips slide into his cheek as he closes the gap, his fingers cradling your face tenderly. “I know,” he whispers, his eyes soft and full of wonder, as if he's hearing it for the first time, before he presses a slow, lingering kiss against your lips, sealing the words against your mouth.

I don’t know who is running your social account but they’re very witty.

They are. They make me laugh.

Yes, I’ve heard they have a good mouth on them.

Did you know that they’re also beautiful and very cute in the morning?

Should I be worried? They sound like a keeper.

Jealous?

Depends, are you going to make them a coffee using your complicated machine?

Maybe. They’re a bit moody without caffeine.

I’m beginning to feel offended.

I will say that you were right about scheduling them—it has helped.

Is that you saying I’m right?

Maybe.

I’ve screenshotted that as evidence.

Do you want a coffee bringing when I come to yours?

Is that a bribe to delete the evidence? Either way, that would be nice.

Good, might have already made you one in your cup.

You spoil me, Butterscotch.

It's hard not to fidget—moving from standing to pacing, to leaning.

Currently, you're back to standing in the place where the sun streams in through the open back door, casting warm, golden light across the kitchen floor, and your feet as it gently warms you—until you get too hot again.

The gentle breeze continues to bring in the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the soft hum of distant lawnmowers which add a somewhat comforting background to the quiet afternoon. But neither do anything to stem the growing worries in your stomach, the ones climbing, doubling—

Sliding your hand around your glass, the ice cubes clink softly, slowly melting and leaving a ring of condensation on the counter. You sip the cold water, letting it cool your nerves. The anticipation builds, each second stretching as you glance at the clock, knowing he'll be here any moment.

It doesn’t work, not even as you take in a deep breath.

Trying to will tranquillity and calm to shower down over your shoulders as you glance at the clock, realising he’ll be here any moment.

And it makes your heart pound. Forces your palms to become a little more clammy as you place the glass down in its puddle.

You’ve rehearsed this. Gone over it in your head, running a hand down your outfit to flatten it—as though that would be the thing that could ruin this. Even if you’ve gone over every detail of this surprise a million times. Yet, standing in the quiet kitchen, you can’t help but second-guess everything.

What if he doesn’t like it?

What if he thinks you’ve overstepped?

What if, what if, what if—

Shaking your head, you jumble the doubts. Shake them to some other part like a snow globe, taking a reprieve from them before they flutter back down. Allowing yourself the brief chance to remind yourself why you’ve done this, why you're doing this.

Because you love him. Because you believe in him—

Taking in another deep breath, fingers flexing at your side, you force yourself to focus on the positive outcome you’ve imagined so many times, rather than the others.

Like him storming out.

Like him staring at you in outrage, questioning why, what gave you the right.

But then, this is him.

Your Frankie. The one who never needs the heating, because he’s always several degrees warmer than you, a thing you hate when he’s not sharing a bed with you—when he’s not pulling you close and whispering against your skin that he’ll keep you warm.

Or, your Frankie who grunts if he’s not awake before you, needing coffee, or breakfast. Tugging you close as he curls you under him, burying his face in your neck as he grunts that it’s too early—even if he deep down knows it isn’t.

The man who goes quieter when he’s tired, who dislikes bumper-to-bumper traffic and hammers his thumbs on the steering wheel in protest of it; who might be fiercely protective, but has never stormed out or raised his voice—so why would this even be a worry you’d have.

You jolt at the echoed familiar sound of a key turning in the front door, a flutter of excitement mingling with a rush of nerves as your thoughts fade, vanish. Replacing it with nothingness, a barren wasteland of quiet worry.

And each noise you can hear makes it worse. Makes you feel sick, nauseous, sweaty and lightheaded. Your fingers clamping to the counter for leverage—

"Hello?" he calls out, his voice carrying through the open rooms. You hear the door close behind him, the soft clink of keys as he puts them down.

"In here," you reply, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

Frankie appears in the doorway, his face lighting up as he sees you. "Hey," he says, crossing the room to wrap you in a warm embrace. "What’s this? You look like you’ve got something up your sleeve."

You smile, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Maybe I do," you tease, your heart racing a little faster.

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What’s my surprise?"

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards him, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers with curiosity as his eyes drop to the paper.

Everything you rehearsed, fades, goes.

It’s like trying to grasp water, it just slides through your fingers as your hand hovers over the paper, flattening it, pressing it to the counter as though willing it to vanish. You’re thrumming, vibrating, unsure if you’ll even be able to keep your voice level as you clear your throat.

“So, you can totally rip this to pieces—but, happy six years.”

Nervously, you slide the turned-over paper across the smooth counter towards Frankie, your fingers trembling slightly. His smile, ever so warm, flickers as his eyes drop to the paper as you begin talking, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I know it’s late, and I know it was a bit ago, but firstly, just know I love you. And I love what you do—all of it. Harolds, Instagram...”

Tilting his head, a flash of nervousness ripples out across his face. “Rainy, you’re making me nervous.”

Shaking your arms out, you smile. “Don’t be. I can be nervous, you can’t be.”

“Oh, is that how this goes.”

Grinning, you nod. His hand takes yours, his other trailing up and down your forearm as he stares into your eyes—as though trying to have a conversation with your soul. Almost commanding you to breathe, to take a second, both things you do before licking your lips.

“You’re so good with your hands—” You don’t miss his snort, “and at DIY, at renovating. That room in there, it’s beautiful, everything I thought I ever wanted.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion crossing his features.

“You’re good at it. So good. People are reaching out to you and you don’t even have the time.”

“I know, I just—”

“Let me finish, please baby.”

You take another deep breath, trying not to shift nervously on the spot. Sliding the paper closer to him, you press on. “You can say no. We can pretend I never did this, never even brought it up. I don’t want to be someone who makes you do something you don’t want to do, but I also don’t want to be someone who doesn’t support you, who doesn’t champion you and make you feel like you can.”

“Rainy… what’s going on?”

Biting your lip, you exhale loudly. “Turn it over.”

And he does. Dropping his hand from your fingers to do so.

All you can do is watch.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as he does so. Your heart thumping into your ribs, anxiety rippling and spreading out as it turns over and you see the moment his eyes spot it, take it in.

His eyes gaze up and down the paper, taking in the logo you’ve spent weeks on. The one with a new name, with ‘by Frank.DIY’ in the corner. Raindrops in the top corner, for you, and a flash of orange for butterscotch; tools and a house with a broken roof, details that he might not notice at first glance, but you hope he will on further ones.

Then there’s just silence.

Unreadable, bubbling silence that makes you shift. Makes your inside knot and twist as you try to give him a moment, a minute. Failing.

“I remember you told me you didn’t think you deserved to own anything. And I know you, and the others, faced a lot before I even knew your name. But, Frankie, I’m here to prove you otherwise—when you’re ready.”

His face lifts to you, the paper under his hand, fingers outstretched over it, a look so nondescript on his face that your pulse begins to pound in your ears.

Mouth falling open, you want to ask him to speak, to say something, but you’re not sure you can find the words. Having prepared for anger, for joy, but not something in the middle that was hard to label or describe.

Less so when he places the paper down. When he stands, and you subconsciously mirror him—his hand scratching the back of his neck, skin turning a shade of pink you hadn’t banked on.

“I should… I should give you a moment, right?”

Moving, stepping out from behind your side of the counter, fidgeting, moving slowly as you try to find words and form thoughts to choose a place to go hide in.

“I crossed a line, and I’m—”

He doesn’t let you go far, fingers sliding around your wrist, tugging, pausing you in your step. And it’s silent, just covered by your slight heavy breathing as your teeth nip at the skin of your lips, as your other fingers twitch nervously at your side—desperate to pick, to scratch. To anything to root—

Then, he’s pulling you flush to him, lips crashing to yours in a way that steals both your breath and your worries.

“I’m sorry, Frankie—”

His palm cups your cheeks, and tilts you to look at him. “You really believe in me.”

Heart settling, warmth spreading. “Absolutely, Frankie. I always have.” The look he gives you undoes you, makes the worries melt and instead be consumed by the need to comfort. “Have done since you measured my office without even using a measuring tape.”

Swallowing, with difficulty, he tries to smile at your joke. “I can't... I can't believe you made me this... Baby, it’s so good.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. No, sorry—no. Overwhelmed, maybe?”

Smiling, nodding, you swallow. “Yeah, I didn’t—should have done more of a speech.”

Laughing, his eyes close, the tip of his nose brushing yours, just keeping you there, fixed, paused. Your hands slowly rise to stroke at the underside of his forearms, just like he did—the paper there, turned upright on the counter.

“Tell me.”

Two words he’s begun to say more when he can hear the cogs turning—when he can tell that there’s more bursting and bobbing around your mind.

“Frankie…”

“I know you. So, tell me.”

Sighing, you avert your eyes, when he taps your arm and you take his hand, leading him into your living room, sitting, finding further proof that it doesn’t feel half as warm as his—not even close to as comfortable.

Taking a breath, you smile. “The other week, when you asked me if I’d live with you. If you meant what you said, I’d love to live with you.” Your free hand, the one not inside his on his bent knee, raises, pausing. “But we don’t have to sell here, I’m not sure we’d make much, and that’s a decision to make to—”

“Rainy.”

Nodding, you take another breath. “Now, this is all hypothetical. It’s your choice—”

Smiling, he tightens the hold on your hand. “Ours.”

Rolling your lips, sighing. “Ours. But, we could use this house for your business—keep things here. Operate meetings from the office because it is too beautiful not to use—and you’ve worked too hard on it not to show it off. Or we can sell here, use the little that’s from it to set you up one of those summer house things so you can work from that.”

“I can’t leave Harold.”

Biting your lip briefly, you smile, tipping your chin. “He thought you’d say that.”

Brows lifting, Frankie slowly frowns.

“He's got a real eye for things—helped me with the logo quite a bit. Gave me some constructive feedback—as did the boys. I never told them what it was, but…”

“That was what Will almost dropped you in on at the fight.”

Grinning, you squeeze his hand. “I could have kicked him. Will guessed what I was doing first, I had only asked a question—but I just told them you’d mentioned rebranding. But he guessed and then he helped where he could. He's been looking at getting on your truck for you.”

Frankie laughs, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head as his nostrils flare.

“And when I nipped in to grab those bits for you, I asked Harry about working there—jokingly. I think that’s when he caught on,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t think I’m good at surprises. But he brought it up, me working with him, that day I helped?”

“Baby…”

“Anyway, I could take your place, Harold’s would be covered still, and then when I can, I can help you—probably just with painting, think if we did any woodworking I’d slow us down.”

Frankie snorts, fingers scratching at the curls above his forehead. “I can’t ask you to give up your job.”

“You’re not. I… Frankie, I like what I do, but only sometimes. I’m burnt out. You even asked the other week if it was making me happy, and it isn’t. And, look, I’m not saying it’s forever, but for now, I can do it when I choose to, be picky. I can be an extra pair of hands when you need it, helping you get off the ground, and can use the discount when needed for little bits.”

His other hand comes over the top of the ones linked, eyes soft, gentle, and sweet.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it. It’s your choice—you deserve a choice, Frankie. And if you don’t use the logo, that’s fine, but I will put it on a flask for when I make you lunches.”

Laughing, he dips his head, before lifting it to meet yours. “If I choose not to do it, will you still move in with me?”

“Are you finally, really asking me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, tilting his head to the side, he nods.

You smile, leaning closer, arms wrapping around his neck. “Well, I would love to move in with you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah. Because if it's not clear, there's not a thing I want more than a future with you, Butterscotch.”

TO THE EPILOGUE ->

do not be alarmed, we still have the epilogue. but, long time fans will know that jo is more emotional at the chapter prior to the epilogue than the epilogue. this is where my goodbye begins.

firstly, thank you. to every single person who gave me a chance to tell a hardware!frankie story, for letting rainy into your hearts, and for letting this become what it is. this is the longest thing I've written in years, and a reminder of the reason why i love writing so much.

this entire thing wouldn't be possible without @secretelephanttattoo and i will be forever grateful for her pushing me to do this, especially when i think she could tell i was swirling down a drainhole with something else. it was a raft, those cute rings you throw when someone is drowning, so thank you, my dear friend.

and, this entire thing wouldn't be what you love, if it wasn't for the encouragement from @goodwithcheese. who each week began her excitement that made me giddy, from guess the paint shade to letting me share with her my big plans for this chapter first. when i thought i was losing the path, she reminded me the path was very much there, i just needed to take a breath.

and then finally, a special thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who holds my hand a lot more than you lot thing. who read the first chapter of this when we met and got so excited with me i had to really hold back tears.

to my darling @morallyinept who told me she loves my frankie, you don't know what those words did for me on a day where i almost walked away, to the amazing and brilliant @toomanytookas who understood rainy on a level that we can both share, and to @covetyou my lo <3 for being there every week and also for understanding how conflicted and odd i feel about next week.

truly there is so many more of you i wish to thank, but i am honestly sobbing writing this. this may be the hardest pairing I've had to let go of (and i know, we have another week, but my grief has begun so.. shh).

i love you all, I'll see you next week. thank you for letting me tell a story that means more to me than there are enough words for me to explain why.

[ahalliance]

antoine + étoiles insane moments, p.2. aka the ass saga. p1 here

transcript + context for some of the clips below

[Video Transcript:

[First clip plays.]

Rivenzi: You want to see Etoiles’ ass, of course…

Antoine: Yeah, I’m gonna stare at your ass, Etoiles…

Etoiles: Fuck, what dread, during Popcorn [a talkshow Etoiles had been invited on the previous week], when I went up to the map and you said that, and I thought ‘whoa—‘

Antoine: Sorry

[Second clip plays: the moment during Popcorn]

PA/Domingo: Antoine Daniel has posted a tweet for us: ‘I wanted to look at this map of Africa, but Etoiles’ ass in the shape of a standing bell is driving me crazy. Smiley face with eyes in the shape of hearts.’

[Third clip plays: a continuation of the first clip.]

Antoine: Sorry, bro…

Ponce: Oh but that tweet, besides

Rivenzi: A standing bell…

Antoine: What’s more is that I never tweet and when I do it’s to tweet this sort of shit

Ponce: That’s exactly what I told myself. When PA read the tweet, I thought to myself, ‘but he never tweets!’ And he tweets to talk about Etoiles’ ass

Antoine: There needs to be a good reason, you see

[Fourth clip plays: a clip from the Team du Lundi’s minecraft server.]

JDG: Someone (in chat) said, ‘I can’t tell whether the atmosphere is good tonight or—‘

Antoine: It sucks, it sucks

Florence: You don’t need to ask every time, it always sucks

Baghera: Always sucks. Especially when Etoiles talks about ass [which had been a previous topic of discussion for him that night]

Antoine: Stooop, I enjoy it

Mynthos: You enjoy it?

JDG: It’s true tonight that it’s more weird than bad

Antoine: I like it when Etoiles talks about ass….

[Fifth clip plays: a second and different clip from Popcorn.]

Etoiles: —you’re not allowed to tell me that [Xari claimed to not know much about cinema]. I know you, I studied, because you’re my rival [in pop culture]. I really enjoy what you do in life, Xari, and you’re really knowledgeable about cinema

Antoine: What do you mean he’s your rival? And I’m just shit?

Etoiles: You, you’re my lover

Antoine: Oh yeah, sorry, my bad

PA/Domingo: One of the three is gonna die soon. There’s a whole situation, there’s a whole lore

[Sixth clip plays: a clip from the QSMP.]

Antoine: Don’t you want to get married, dude?

Etoiles: Well, I don’t have the time to fuck

Antoine: What the fuck?!

Etoiles: I don’t have time to fuck, dude. I just need to kill everyone

Antoine: No but just a marriage, you see. You’ve watched Game of Thrones— you haven’t watched Game of Thrones, you can’t know how marriages work in that series

Etoiles: I’ve watched it, but I’m married to the street, dude. I can’t give out my heart that quickly

Antoine: Yeah but you can give out your ass quickly, no?

Etoiles: No, frankly, my ass—

Antoine: What the fuck?!

Etoiles: Giving out your ass takes time, dude

Antoine: What the fuck…

Etoiles: Then again, I need to think about it. I’ll give you my answer. I need to discuss, and everything

Antoine: I’m tired of getting betrayed. You get married with someone else—

Etoiles: Never in a million years!

Antoine: —it’s like yesterday. Apparently Maximus got the mic from his ass removed while I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be the one to do it

Etoiles: Oh okay, so I’m your second choice?

[Overlapping]

Antoine: No! It was just to help him—

Etoiles: No, but, okay

Antoine: He got— listen—

Etoiles: There’s no problem!

Antoine: Fuck, nevermind

Etoiles: There’s no issue! Oh, so you’re opening my chest and stealing?

Antoine: I was just looking! Out of curiosity

Etoiles: Yeah, that’s it

Antoine: I don’t even understand what’s in it

Etoiles: Yeah, out of curiosity. Dude, your opinion on my cave?

Antoine: Well frankly it’s big

end Video Transcript.]

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part Five

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook’s Star Beast Set Visit in DWM 597:

Tonight, in London’s famous Camden Market, David will be taking the Fourteenth Doctor’s first, not-so-tentative steps into the big, wide world – shooting the pre-title sequence for Special 1, The Star Beast. Although, right now he��s sheltering inside Modfather (‘VINTAGE STYLE, MODERN LIFE,’ says a sign in the outfitters’ window), to evade the glare of the cameraphones. In his new Doctor Who costume – plaid brown suit, white shirt and knitted silver tie, with a dark blue Shetland tweed coat – David doesn’t look at all out of place here. In October 2022, a mere 12 years, 9 months and 22 days after his last regular appearance in Doctor Who – as the Tenth Doctor, in The End of Time – David Tennant returned to the show. We’d never seen a Doctor regenerate into a former body before. For context, classic Who fans: David turning up in the dying moments of The Power of the Doctor is a bit like if Peter Davison had regenerated into Patrick Troughton’s Sixth Doctor at the end of Time-Flight, in 1982. Which he didn’t. Though, while we’re on the subject… David remembers watching Troughton return in the ’80s, for the odd one-off: “That felt like a man from pre-history turning up, to me in 1983, because I was just – what? – 12 years old,” he says of 20th Anniversary Special The Five Doctors. “But I bet it felt like yesterday for Patrick Troughton.” Forty years on, David can relate: “It’s like when people tell me – in fact, people on this set, working on this show, have come up to me this past week and gone – ‘I loved watching you as a kid.’ I’m like, … you were a kid? What, no! To me, it was a blink of an eye ago. To them… I’m pre-history!” But now he’s the present, too.

A huge THANK YOU to everyone who posted set photos, including Modfather on Instagram

Additional parts of this set are in the #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[fanartlover1234]

SKIP

Y/n and Hook are dating but he has to make up for forgeting their anniversery

All day long Hook couldnt think of a rrason of why his sweet Y/n was off and kind of cold to him, her respones were short and she shyed away from his touch.

He decided maybe she just didnt feel like talking untill he walked to his room to find a little box on his bed with a little note that said 'happy one year' and he felt like driving a his hook through his head, how could he forget.

He opened the box to find a medalion in shape of heart and opening there was a picture of them both.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"Im not ditching class with you" Y/n said trying to get away from her boyfriend not wanting to let him convince her as she was still hurt by yesterday.

She without noticing fell into a slower pace as her boyfriend slowly walked backwards infront of her trying to meet her eyes.

"Class happens everyday, this one doesnt?" He asked still trying to find his way into her gaze.

Y/n noticed he didnt have his hook with him so he must have left it in hurry, i mean he practicly ran to her.

"I cant fall behind" she said coming to a stop and finaly meeting his eyes.

Her eyes looked down when his hand rested on her hip, giving it a little squeeze.

"Ill help you study" he said and she rolled her eyes knowing his version of study when he pulls her on to his lap when she would try to memorize something, he smirked when he saw her expresion.

He smirked even harden when she lowered her gaze, shuffling from one leg to another, a thing she did when she got nervous under his gaze.

"I have a test soon" she mumbled a excuse even she didnt believe enymore.

Hook moved the hand on her hip to hrr waist and pulled her into an empty hallway.

"Ja-" she froze when on of his hamds fell under her jaw squeezing just a little to make her lips part as his other hand fell on her waist.

He kissed her softlt making her brain log as he pulled her close.

One kiss led to another and soon a little moan when he pushed his leg betweem hers and he squeezed her neck and he gasp letting his tounge dance in her mouth.

And when the sixth kiss came, James laughed when his sweet girlfriend jumped because of the bell for class.

"Great now im late" she mumbled.

"Well not that you are late anyways" he said playing with her hair and squeezing her hip as he smirked whem her eyes tried to avoid his, a ting she did after a kiss "you can come with me now"

"James" she said with a small pout he found very cute as her doe eyes looked at him a bit annoyed "im going to class"

"Love, please just come with me it will be worth your time" he said.

"Class is important to me"

"This is more important" he said taking a hold of her waist and draging her with him but when she still refused he picked her up bridal style to carry her there.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

What Hook had to show Y/n was truly nice, a picnik by the enchanted lake while watching the fairy blossoms open up for summer.

Hook had apologized for forgeting their 1 year but promised to never let it happen again no matter what.

Now Y/n was studying by her table catching up on astrology classes she missed, taking notes she borrowed from Bridget to copy.

Hook was laying on her bed, he'd be lying if he said his sweet Y/n studying wasnt a turn on.

"You said you will help me" Y/n said turning to see her boyfried only to quickly turn away and look at her notes at the sight of her boyfriend with no shirt.

Its not like she hasnt seen him shirtless before, they had fucked so she could never understand why she still grew shy at the sighy of it.

Hook chuckled as he leaned hisbhead to the side to see the sides of her cheeks a bit pink, his eyes trailing down to her thighs that were clenching together.

"I am"

"No you are not"

Hook got up walking over to where she sat placing both hands on the table at either side of her body.

"Fine. Let me help you now" he whispered and smirked seeing her legs start to rub together.

"With flashcards?"

"Later. For now" he said steping back and turing her chair around as he kneeled before her on one knee " id prefer if those pretty thighs clenched around me"

As those words left his lips, Y/ns face turned shades darker in red as her hands flew up to cover her face.

Y/n was never the one to admit she was horny or needed him, Hook just simply knew how to read her body language.

Hook got up reaching for her hands to pull them away so he could look her into eyes.

"No need to be embaressed darling" he said before kissing her " i got you" he said before his lips trailed down her neck.

His fingers slowly unbottoned her shirt before his lips latched to the top of her breast slowly going down to her skirt.

He lifted her up as he walked to the bed before his lips kissed her flods over her panties.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

Y/n floped down breathing hard, het legs giving out when Hook finaly pulled out of her.

His fingers ran up her pussy as he spread the folds and toyed with the clit a big more.

"James"

"Im making it up to you, just one more love" he said before sucking her clit before going up to kiss her as he pushed hia dick back unside bow going in a god like pace.

Y/n s eyes rolled back as Hook braught his finger to her mouth and she gladly sucked them while she was on her 8th orgasm this night.

When Hook felt the girls last orgasm he pushed his fingets down making her gag a bit.

》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

"Im sorry darling" Hook said again as he kissed the girls shoulder.

"Its okey"

Not my original idea, saw a post and loved it so gave it my twist.

Original idea belonhs to @giveityourworst and i love their work

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 8

Chapter Summary - Reader makes friends, witnesses the twins failed attempt of putting their names in the goblet, and ends up in a pantry with Fred.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers

Word Count - 2.0k

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

The days had been going by quickly into your sixth year. The cold fall weather had snuck in and things were going smoother than you expected. 

You’d become good friends with Katie and Angelina (though you wanted to gag whenever she started talking about the twins,), Cedric wasn’t constantly ditching you to chase after Cho, and that bloody cast on your arm was finally gone.

Yesterday the other schools had arrived before the Welcoming Feast. All the boys had their eyes locked on the blue uniformed Beauxbatons girls, while the girls swooned over the Durmstrang boys.

It was Halloween on a Saturday, you would’ve been sleeping in late, but you and Katie promised to go with Angelina to put her name in the Goblet. 

There were already a good amount of people wandering around the Great Hall by the time you got down there, some eating breakfast and some chatting. Katie and you stood back as Angelina dropped her name in, giving her little cheers and applauds as she grinned.

Afterwards, you all went up to the end of the table where most were sitting. Katie asked if anyone had put their names in yet.

“Apparently most of the Durmstrang boys, I’ve only seen one person from here do it, and it was some bloke from Slytherin.” Dean told the table, getting reactions of disgust.

“Well, Angelina just put her name in!” You added in. Everyone turned to look at the chaser.

“Really?” Ron said, an impressed look on his face. 

“Mhm!” Angelina gave a nervous smile, “I just turned seventeen last week.” The group cheered and swiveled in their seats.

"I'm so glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," Hermione looked up, "I really hope you get it, Angelina!" She gave a genuine smile.

Laughter emerged from the entrance of the hall. You turned to see the twins running in, each of them holding up a small potion.

“We’ve done it!” George exclaimed.

“Cooked it up just now!” Fred added on.

“A aging potion!-“

“Just to get us a few months older!”

They high fived students in the crowd that was beginning to assemble around them. Cheering and praising the ginger boys.

They hopped up onto a wooden bench together, shaking up their potions and linked arms.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George!” 

“Bottoms up!” They said in unison, popping the corks off the small glass tubes and knocking the liquid back into their mouths.

The room was silent as the boys jumped over the line. You were shocked that it actually worked, so was Hermione, and everyone else in the room. There was a few seconds of complete silence before applause started.

It was silent again as everyone watched them take their pieces of parchment out, carefully dropping them into the blue flames. The room began to cheer and applaud, the twins high fived each other, letting out yells of triumph until it was turned to yells of fear once they were suddenly catapulted away from the Goblet.

They both flew right over the crowd surrounding them and landed ten feet away onto the stone floor. They groaned in pain as they sat up. 

Long white hair and beards sprouted from their faces, they both touched their heads and looked at each other in shock.

“You said!” Fred began.

“You said!” George pointed at his brother, then tackled him, knocking him back down to the ground.

“Yeah, you want a piece of me?” George shouted as they began to roll around wrestling on the floor.

This immediately got another crowd around them, kids began to laugh and chant for them to fight.

“Get off! Or I’ll tear your ears off!” Fred grunted.

You couldn’t hold in your laughter at their childishness and continuous insults being thrown at each other. Eventually, you joined in on the chanting encouraging them to continue on fighting.

⋆⋆⋆

“Dragons?” You retorted a bit too loudly. Cedric's eyes went wide like yours, shushing you.

The both of you weren’t supposed to be outside your common rooms. It was nearing midnight and you would’ve never come out this late, but Cedric had sent you an owl, his message looked frantically scribbled down.

Now you stood with him in the kitchen corridors, right outside the Hufflepuff common room entrance.

“Yeah. They’ve got one for each person.”

“What? I don’t- How do you know? They said they wouldn’t tell what the first task was?” You stammered.

“Harry told me, he saw them. The task is to get past them somehow. That’s all I know.” Cedric sighed, running a hair through his hair.

“Cedric, the first task is tomorrow evening!” He shushed you again when your voice echoed throughout the empty corridor. You muttered a small apology and then rubbed your face with your hands.

“Can’t you back out?” They can’t force you to go through with this, right?” You already knew the answer, there was no turning back once your name was chosen, but you didn’t like the idea of your bestfriend going head to head with a dragon.

“What?” He breathed out, “I’m not going to quit! Do you realize how’d that make me look when half of the school is rooting for me?”

“It’d save your life!” You remarked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’d look like a coward!” He gawked out. “Listen, I’m sure there will be…precautions so no serious harm is done.” He regained his composure and sighed once again. “Surely they’ll let us use magic, they didn’t weigh our wands for nothing.

“Yeah, but I really don’t like this…” You muttered, staring at your slippers. “It’s dangerous and..what if something goes wrong?” You said hastily, Cedric put a hand on your shoulder, getting you to bring your eyes back to his.

“I’ll be fine, now you go get back to your dorm before Filch comes around.” He let out a breathy laugh, patting you on the shoulder. “Get some sleep, alright?”

“You too, big day tomorrow.” You smiled, both turning to get back to your dorms.

You were quiet as you snuck through the kitchen corridor, casting lumos and using your wand as a dim flashlight. You continued to replay the conversation in your head, you didn’t understand how Cedric could be so calm about it.

“Dragons..” You mumbled to yourself, shuddering at the thought of being face to face with one.

“Sounds like nasty business.” A muffled voice came from the side of you, you pointed your wand to see him sitting on one of the tables, a small plate of scones sat next to him, a half eaten one in his hand.

You let out more of a sigh than a breath of relief at the sight of him. Why is he everywhere?

“The beard’s gone.” You mindlessly stated, looking at his bare face. This is the first time you’ve seen him since he got sent to the hospital wing for a little while after his potion backfired.

“Yep, I've been shaved clean.” Fred said as he took a bite of the scone, “Decided to get myself a celebratory midnight snack.” He raised it up in the air proudly. “Take one for yourself!” He said, picking one off the plate and tossing it to you. Instead of being able to catch it, the pastry hit a very messy and unsteady stack of metal bowls on the counter behind you, causing them to come crashing down.

This just caused a domino effect of bowls falling all over the counter and onto the floor, knocking some plates down as well and causing them to shatter on the floor. The array of loud noises made your eyes flutter with each bang and boom.

Once the 10 second lasting chaos was over, you covered your mouth with both of your hands in shock, turning to Fred with wide eyes. His jaw had dropped too, but you could see the way the ends of his mouth began to curve upwards, this only boiled your blood. 

You were going to tell him off for being the most childish, reckless, dumbass boy you’ve ever-

“Who’s there?” The raspy voice of Filch called out from further down, your head whipped to the direction you could hear the quick patter of footsteps coming towards you.

Soon enough Fred’s hands were grabbing onto your arms, pulling you into a pantry, saying a quick spell that restacked all the bowls and fixed the broken plates, then shut the door. 

The pantry was incredibly small. Fred and you stood facing towards each other, you could still see very faintly his face in dark space, your chests were nearly touching as the both of you breathed heavily. It felt strange, it wasn’t a bad strange. It was just…strange.

“Your cast's gone.” He whispered, his hand was still holding yours. You weren’t holding his, nor were you paying attention to what he was saying, too focused on the thought of getting caught by Filch.

His hold on your hand was loose, it was gentle. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of your hand, he did it so smoothly, so sweetly, it felt almost soothing. But, you’d never admit that.

“You’ve got really soft skin.” He thought out loud, it took you a second to actually realize what he just said.

“What?” You stared at him, a door slammed open in the kitchen before Fred could say anything, he just put a finger over his lips, signaling you to shush.

You both waited and watched as a small slit of warm light passed through the doors cracks. Filch muttered something about ghosts then left, listening as the old lantern he always carried swung as he walked off.

You let out a breath of relief once any sign of him was gone. 

“I’m always saving you from some trouble.” Fred broke the silence, you hated how you could still see that cocky grin on his face. 

“You’re always getting me in it.” You seethed, ripping your hand out of his grasp and pushing out the door. Fred followed.

“How is it my fault? I’m not the reason you’re down here in the first place.”

True. But if he was able to not be the loudest and cause messes everywhere he went maybe you would’ve never been nearly caught.

“What’d you come down here for anyways?” Fred questioned as he leaned against the wooden table he was originally on. You were a bit hesitant to answer, hoping you wouldn’t make anything look suspicious between Cedric and you.

“Cedric needed to talk to me.” You shrugged, not missing how Fred's face twisted at Cedric being mentioned. You narrowed your eyes at his reaction.

“Oh come on, he’s not all that bad. You’re just still sour about losing to him in last year's match.” You let out an amused laugh, you were just teasing him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. But when Fred scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, it seemed as if he was still hung up on that.

Was he really?

“You’re not…” You began to grin in disbelief, “You’re still mad about that?” Fred tried to mutter out a ‘no’ in response but you just chuckled at it.

“He offered a rematch! Practically begged for one! You know that!” You gawked at him, you knew Fred wasn’t actually upset at Cedric, he was upset that Gryffindor lost cause Cedric grabbed the snitch that time.

“Yeah I know…whatever, what’s little loverboy Cedric got you down here at this time of night for?” You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“None of your business.” You copied his pose, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Was he telling you about the dragons?” He smirked, your face dropped, now looking at him in shock.

“How did you…” You trailed off, he did hear you mumbling originally, maybe he just connected the dots. Maybe he was listening in on your conversation with Cedric. Maybe-

“You’re not very good at whispering.” He said with a blank face. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath, drowning in embarrassment.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ve known for weeks.” Your eyes shot open, you looked straight at him. Fred already knew what you were about to ask, your baffled expression already said enough.

“How?”

“You think they can bring giant fire breathing creatures here and expect George and me not to find out? Especially when they had my older brother bring them here?”

tell me what you thought! or ask tba to the taglist for this series! <3

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @weak-aesthetic @whotfskai @m00nymarauder @miaandthediamonds @hpstuff244444 @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @honeybee240

[countingstars-17]

29th March 2015, Martin Brundle and Simon Lazenby talk about Max's qualifying session at the Malaysian GP. He will also become the youngest driver to ever score a point in F1:

L: "[Max] is the coolest cat out there. He only just passed his driving theory test."

B: "I'm not sure I'd choose him for a great night out on the town because he's very serious about it all. I'd definitely choose him in my racing team because he's extraordinary. Yesterday [in qualifying], you know what really impressed me? Once he'd settled down after quali he was like "i had a little issue with the brakes". He was dissatisfied with sixth on the grid. I love that mentality."

L: "But also he was saying, much like Lewis, that he was using karting lines, wasn't he? He was breaking off the racing line in the wet. I mean, he's amassed a huge amount of knowledge in his young life."

B: "He's got that experience. But also then he admitted to us that he watched all of last year's action, which also had a wet qualifying. So he's logged all of that. First time out in that car, he's been able to apply it. He's not locked his brakes, not spun off or put too much power in, he went out and delivered it."

L: "Yeah, I mean, it's gonna be fabulous to watch him."

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝!𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝!𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // your parents were never kind and sweet type of people, but in your sixth year things got out of hand. To put a cherry on top, a certain platinum blond haired Slytherin Prince decided to be Sherlock Holmes and found out your secrets, ones nobody is supposed to know.

// Warnings // mentions of violence, both physical and verbal violence, abusive parents, bullying, hate towards reader, ignorance, name calling (shame, disgrace, disappointment, waste of time), reader has a backstory.

// Author's Note // please pay attention to warnings! This is enemies to lovers. Also, I have mentioned once that reader is 16, but for the sake of this plot, since every sixth year is 16. Also, I added a last name for the reader, but not the name, since it would be an OC in that case. I needed a pureblood last name. This is a part three, please read part one and two first! / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @talesfromthecrypts

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 in progress

It was a rainy morning. Every drop of rain felt like salty tears that would roll down one’s face until it would fall to the ground; every roar of thunder sounded like screams of a person who was in pain; every crack of lightning looked like horrible scars that eventually fade away, but always stay in your head.

Sun was nowhere in sight. Instead of warm, comforting and welcoming giant lit ball, clouds covered the sky, clouds that once were fluffy and white like snow, now cold, grey, empty, putting everyone in a grumpy mood. It was as if nature knew about the nearing dark times.

As much as you would love to stay in bed, stare at the ceiling and think about nothing, you had class to attend, and skipping classes wasn’t very smart choice. You rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Your roommates were still asleep, so you tiptoed around, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Walking into the bathroom, mirror was the first thing you saw, hanging above the sink. You looked at your reflection and sighed deeply. Memories of last night flooded your mind and suddenly you felt nauseous. You leaned on the sink for support, your hands gripping either side of it and your head hanging lowly. You wanted to forget everything, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t get them out of your head, as if someone put it on replay. You shut your eyes and just stood there for a few seconds. A single tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You didn’t bother wiping it away though. You watched in the mirror as it neared your chin and then fell on the floor. You sniffled quietly and turned on the cold water, splashing some on your face in order to clear your mind.

When you were finished there, you stepped out of the bathroom door and back inside your sleeping area. To your luck, your roommates were still asleep. You quickly changed into your robes and silently opened the door, praying it wouldn’t make a cracking noise. You sneaked down the stairs and headed out of Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty early in the morning, Great Hall was mostly empty, only very few students were sitting here and there.

Sighing, you walked towards your house table and sat down quietly. The breakfast was laying in front of you, its delicious smell making it impossible for you to not look at it, but you didn’t have an appetite. Your appetite depended on your mood and right now you were in a terrible mood. Not that it was unexpected, anyway. After all, what sane person would be in a good mood if what happened to you yesterday, happened to them?! You were scared. What if he would tell someone, let alone everyone?! No live being on Earth was supposed to know about your horrible secret.

Draco was not the best person. Not for you, at least. The guy decided to be your sworn enemy on the day you met and has successfully been one since then. He was always cold towards you, embarrassing you mercilessly in front of the whole school. He would always bring you down or make fun of you, insult you and even cast some unpleasant spells on you. He was always so loud and annoying, making his presence known every time he would enter the room. That’s why you were confused when you noticed major changes in the Slytherin Prince.

What confused you even more was that yesterday, when he was angry, you saw something else in his eyes, something you had never seen before. Was it fear? Did he fear that you would actually die? Not that he would lose you or anything. He couldn’t lose what he never had; or was it- no, it couldn’t be. He is Draco Lucius Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! He hates you, silly! You scolded yourself and shook yourself out of your stupid thoughts. But you were still curious. You wanted to know how he felt. What did he think of you, of your parents. What was he doing now?

As if on cue, the said platinum blond haired boy appeared in the hallway. Entering the Great Hall, he immediately looked at you, but you were already looking at your plate of food, picking on your now-cold egg with the silver fork, pretending to be eating. He sighed quietly, the sound coming out almost inaudible. Even when he was already sitting at the Slytherin table, you could feel his intense stare burning your face. And the fact that your front was facing him didn’t help at all, quite the opposite actually; you couldn’t look up, because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to avoid making eye contact with him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted you to look up, he wanted you to look at him. Why, he didn’t know either. Maybe he just wanted to see the look in your eyes, he wanted to know how you would look at him. Would it be disgust? Or hate? Maybe annoyance. Perhaps fatigue. But what if it was exhaustion, loneliness? What if you just needed help? He scoffed at himself; why would you ask help from him? Why would you even consider that he would help you?

He was so deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice when did Zabini and Goyle walk in, followed by the Golden trio shortly after. All of them were equally confused. Scene was confusing, indeed; the Slytherin Prince was staring at his rival Gryffindor, his eyes begging for you to look up, but you were avoiding him on purpose. The two Slytherins didn’t understand why was he staring at you, but the trio didn’t understand why was he staring at you.

When he realized that he was caught, he quickly looked away from you and down his breakfast. Taking fork in his hand, he cleared his throat and started eating. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione approached you. Hermione sat right next to you, Harry and Ron directly across from the two of you. Hermione smiled brightly at you, trying not to show how curious she was about you and Draco. “Good morning, Y/n! How are you?”

You also smiled at her, although with force, you hoped they wouldn’t notice, "I'm fine. What time is it?" You sneakily changed the subject, "I don’t want to be late for class."

Harry understood your intent but said nothing, “Don't worry, you won't be late. We have Potions too." Hermione tried to sneak in, “Well, Malfoy was looking at you a bit strangely. Did something happen?” Yes, something happened, very bad thing happened, you thought to yourself, but then you faked a scoff, “Not that I know of. I mean, he’s Malfoy.” His last name came out of your mouth sharply, as if it were a venomous thing, not someone’s last name.

Hermione nodded her head, seemingly buying it. One thing about you; you were an excellent actress. Standing up, you looked down at the three Gryffindors. As much as you didn’t want to be with anyone else right now, you couldn’t shrug them off now when you had the same class, “Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go to Potions.” They all nodded their heads and followed you.

On the way to the dungeons you were practically following behind the three like a lost puppy, but you didn’t seem to care, you didn’t even pay attention to their dialogues, you didn’t know what they were saying, maybe they were talking to you, maybe they weren’t, who knows.

You finally got to the classroom and sat down at one desk in the side of your house, Hermione sat next to you, as expected, with Harry and Ron sitting behind you. Snape was nowhere in sight. Of course, you scoffed to yourself, the bastard had to barge in for special effect and then start being a total bitch, not that he ever stopped anyway. And now he would start throwing random ass insults at every Gryffindor, which were not necessary at all. But, of course, he had to attack you first, because you were a filthy blood traitor. You rolled your eyes at the thought and looked down at your unopened book.

“Psst, Potter, Potter!” Malfoy. Of-fucking-course! Snape was not there, so he just had to seize the moment, “Saw you talking to that lunatic last night, like her or something?” Parkinson snorted at that, Zabini smirked and Goyle started laughing. Harry glared at him, rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Shut up Malfoy”.

Ron furrowed his brows and leaned towards him “Who did he mean by that?” Harry looked at his best friend and shook his head “Dumbledore sent me to Professor Trelawney yesterday evening, to tell her something”. Ron nodded his head and just as he was about to say something, the doors of Snape’s chambers bursted open and in walked the said man himself. You shook your head at his dramatic antics; barging in with his cloak floating, swinging his greasy hair back. You rolled your eyes, at this point, god knows how many times you have rolled your eyes that day.

“Students, we have a very important lesson today,” he started, with his monotonous voice, looked around the class, making the pause even more dramatic, and then “Dueling.”

There were groans from Gryffindors and excited noises from Slytherins. Pansy and Goyle had that sickening smiles across their faces, the kind of smile that makes you want to throw up.

Snape wasted no time and started naming people “Mister Weasley and Mister Zabini”.

Ron grunted silently, but stood up nonetheless. The two students climbed on the dueling podium, positioned and waited for professor to give them a sign to start. As soon as they got a nod of approval from Snape, Zabini shot a disarming spell towards Ron, which he blocked with 'Protego'. Then Ron threw a 'Locomotor Mortis' which glued Zabini’s legs together, but before he could fall, he shouted 'Rictusempra' which caused Ron to laugh uncontrollably.

“Enough.” Snape ended their duel and looked around the class. Ron and Zabini nodded at each other, by force of course, and sat back down at their desks.

“Miss Parkinson.” Snape announced next, “who wants to compete with Miss Parkinson?” But it was not a question for students to answer, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood up, a little nervous, and walked up to the girl. Snape nodded and they started dueling. Hermione shot 'Tarantalegra' towards Pansy, which made her start dancing. Pansy, shouted 'Expelliarmus' which successfully disarmed Hermione.

Suddenly, Snape raised his hand, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“Sit down.” He said with his cold voice. The two girls sat down and looked at Snape, "What you are doing is the bare minimum. You're not doing enough. I need the best you can do.” Snape made a little pause before speaking up again, "Now, do any of you want to come forward?”

Goyle’s hand immediately shot up. Snape glanced at him, "Okay,” he hummed to himself before announcing, "Mister Goyle."

Goyle stood up and walked in the middle of the classroom, climbing up the podium and facing the class.

"Who wants to compete with Mister Goyle?”

Silence.

Snape glanced at the Gryffindors sitting in front of him, and scoffed “Nobody?” he asked, rather amused than disappointed.

“Miss.. Armand.” You looked at him with a disgust stretched across your face. Pairing was very unfair.

Goyle was one of the very few dangerous, merciless students. He was very good at Dark Arts and dueling. He was large and muscular compared to you. It was even funny, seeing you and him fight against each other, since he was practically towering over you.

Snape gave the two of you a sign to start, but you didn't start immediately like others did. You observed each other for a few seconds.

Goyle shot non-verbal disarming spell towards you, but you blocked his spell with non-verbal shielding charm almost immediately. Goyle was always fighting sneaky fight, he would not say anything out loud. He would do anything and everything to appear more 'impressive'.

He shot 'Stupefy' towards you, but you easily blocked it with 'Ennervate'. You never attacked first. For the first few moments of dueling, you would only defend yourself and make it seem like you were not strong enough, and when your opponent would run out of spells or get even tiny bit tired, you would attack with your full force.

Goyle sent another 'Stupefy' towards you, but you did a backflip and successfully avoided the spell. You, then shot a non-verbal curse which momentarily blinded Goyle.

It was a curse that very few people knew of, almost a secret, that you found in one of the dark books your parents’ kept in their library. A curse that temporarily blinds the opponent and causes a white, blinding light to fill the victim's vision, rendering them sightless for a short period of time, causing confusion and disorientation in its targets.

You used his distraction for your advantage and moved behind him. When he was able to see again, you waited for him to turn around, and when he did, you shot a 'Flipendo' that knocked him backwards.

One more thing about you, you would never attack from behind.

When he gained his strength and stood back up, he shot a non-verbal 'Expelliarmus' which somehow disarmed you. The whole class gasped and Goyle smirked in victory, but little did he know that you let him disarm yourself on purpose. Gregory aimed his wand at you, but before he could even think of a spell, you sent a non-verbal, wandless 'Funnuculus' which made his skin boil. He dropped his wand in agony and you immediately summoned it by a simple 'Accio', holding it to his throat.

"Do you surrender?” You asked, digging his wand in his throat deeper.

Goyle gulped before squealing out a yes. You removed his wand from his throat and returned it to him.

The whole class was shocked. Even Snape. You looked at him, nodded to Goyle and went back to your seat.

“The lesson is over.” Snape announced suddenly. He looked as if lightning just struck him.

As soon as you heard his words, you stood up and marched to the exit.

Draco, on the other hand, was frozen, he couldn’t move. Never in the hundred years would he have imagined you were this strong. For some unknown reason, he wanted to run after you and ask if you were okay.

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but suddenly he cared for you. In reality, he actually liked you since the very beginning, but he didn’t know it himself. Not yet at least.

[seullovesme]

what i should've said » kang seulgi

pairing ⥬ seulgi x reader

genre ⥬ angst

summary ⥬ you will forever regret not being able to answer her question.

warnings ⥬ blood, death, nightmares

WC ⥬ 942

“do you still love me?” the question rang through your ears as you watched her walk away. you felt dizzy, wondering how you even got here. her figure got smaller and smaller as she descended down the dark concrete path, her hair flowing in the wind. you finally came to your senses and began running, ignoring how it felt like weights were attached to your feet. you sprinted as fast as you could before she could disappear into the fog, but you weren’t quick enough. you tripped over your own feet and by the time you looked up, she was out of sight.

no…

no…

“no!” you shot up out of bed, sitting up dazed in a panic. your heart was racing and your hair stuck to your forehead due to the sweat collecting on your skin. your blanket had come off in your sleep, and you had knocked a pillow off of your bed. you panted as you looked around, grounding yourself after that nightmare.

it wasn’t uncommon for you to have those kinds of dreams these days. actually, this was your sixth one in a row after having broken your streak previously as you didn’t dream at all that night. it was the same sequence, you watch as seulgi leaves you while the words ‘do you love me’ cloud your mind. everytime, you’re frozen and unable to move, and by the time you want to run after her, it’s too late.

you get up and sigh, throwing on a pair of gray sweats and a black hoodie, not caring about looking good. you comb out the tangles in your hair with your finger and call it a day, grabbing your car keys and phone as you knew where you were going to end up in a few minutes.

the trip there was a blur, but there you stood across from her.

specifically, her grave.

you stared at the words inscribed on the stone, but it looked like unreadable squiggly lines through the tears welling in your eyes. the flowers you laid the first day were beginning to wilt. they were her favorite kind of flowers, and they reminded you of her. they started off so beautiful, so pretty, and they still were. they were just as beautiful, but they were going to die soon. the only difference is that you didn’t know she would.

when the flower begins to wilt, you know it’s going to die without help. maybe those words she said were her way of wilting, her way of warning you of the unforeseeable fate of her life. the accident felt like it was yesterday, or it was haunting you so much that it began to feel that way

she played with your fingers as you distantly stared at the crossing light, the red hand telling you not to cross. seulgi felt as if you were on a whole ‘nother world as she looked into your eyes. people began crossing when the light changed to a little green man walking, but you were frozen in your thoughts. seulgi didn’t force you to move, but she felt your hand go limp in her own. she peered down as you let go and sighed.

you placed your hand into your jacket as she kept her eyes on the ground. she felt broken, but she found the courage in herself to ask a question she longed to know the answer to. “do you still love me?”

you finally locked your eyes with hers, the shimmer they originally held was dulling out. you saw the eyes of someone so near and dear to your heart without even knowing it would be the last.

you heard someone yell from behind seulgi, a little girl crossing while the light was the red hand. a white truck was barreling toward that small child at such an alarming rate that you don’t even know how seulgi managed to move that quick.

before you could shout for her, seulgi ran down the crossway and pushed that kid out of the way, the truck slamming into her side, braking soon after. you stood at the edge of the crosswalk in disbelief as people ran to her, surrounding the bloody scene. their voices were all muffled to your ears as you felt dizzy. you slowly walked to the crowd like your feet weighed 20 pounds each.

you pushed everyone away, some people confused. you dropped to your knees and you finally let yourself take in the scene that unfolded. her pretty sundress with yellow flowers was now red, and her expression looked so peaceful despite the blood running down her forehead. you grabbed the sides of her face as people yelled to call 911, but you felt like it was only you and her.

you felt the softness of her cheeks that you loved so much, and you smiled. you didn’t know when you started crying, but you realized after seeing the tears fall onto her face. you tried to wipe your tears with your clean hand, but you couldn’t stop them.

the tears flowed like waterfalls. you started to shake as your sobs got louder and louder, your chest feeling as if it were collapsing in on itself. you screamed at the top of your lungs as you felt no pulse under the hands that so desperately clung to the sides of her neck, supporting her limp head so it didn’t rest on the rough concrete.

‘do you still love me?’

you stared down at the yellow wilting flowers. “of course i still love you.” you could only pray that she heard you and her question was answered.

[svuobsessed]

SVU team X Autistic Victim teen reader

Literally started watching Law and Order SVU yesterday and fell in love with the show well the sixth season at least.

This will be my first ever L&O SVU one-shot.

Summary: The team are called in after a Teen was beaten up by two other students.

Third person pov...

The smell of the hospital woke Y/N L/N up, they had always hated the smell of the rooms it made their sensory issues skyrocket.

Opening their eyes they are meet with bright white lights, groaning they close their eyes again, sitting up carefully being mined full of their injuries.

Slowly the teen opens their eyes again, this time the light was not as bad, Y/N looked around the spacious room, the teen was alone in the room.

They could not remember anything, rocking slowly trying to calm down they wracked their brain for something but could not remember. "Stupid stupid, what the hell happened to me" they shout smacking their head as they started to freak out.

As they were having a meltdown the doors opened and in came Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler. "Y/N what's wrong sweetie?" Calls Olivia as they rushed over to the teenager.

Hearing voices they did not know made Y/N look up and crawl out of their bed as they stood searing pain shot through their head groaning in pain they wobbled; Olivia grabbed the teen to stop them from falling.

Instead, they struggled in her hold trying to get away from her. "Stop let go off me" they yell eventually Oliva let them go. The teen crumpled to the floor against a wall rocking back and forth hands in their hair trembling all over.

Olivia and Elliot look at each other. "What the hell happened there?" questions Elliot watching the distraught teen work they way through a panic attack. Suddenly the doors opened it was Y/Ns parents, outside the room they answered the twos questions. "Y/N is autistic which is why they reacted that way, the new room and new people triggered them into a meltdown" explained Y/Ns dad as he held his wife.

Crying the woman looked at the two detectives "what happened to our child, why where they attacked" she cried, Olivia and Elliot look at each other before telling the two.

During Y/Ns 4th period lesson they left the classroom for a breather as they got overwhelmed, as they did the teen was followed by two students. 15 minutes later the two students walk back joking and shoving each other in the hall, Y/N know where to be seen.

Lucky for them the janitor was passing by and found them unconscious and beaten up, at the end both Y/Ns parents wanted to press charges but could not without Y/N present.

Days later Y/N had woken up again in the hospital this time a lot more calm and not as anxious. The 13 year old was sat up in the bed, they had a bandage wrapped around their head their attackers got in a few good swings to their head.

The teen also had bruises on their arms, they had tried to protect themselves from the attack though being surprised, the door to Y/Ns room opened the teen turned their head, it was the detectives from before.

Sitting up they continued to look off sideways as the two detectives approached the H/C Haired teens bed. "Hi Y/N, I'm Olivia this is Elliot" she introduces them. Y/N does not look at them but nods.

Elliot looks at the teen and stands closer. "Y/N we wanted to ask some questions about the day you were attacked?" he asks the teen, sighing the teen turns their head to look at the man.

"I didn't see their faces" they whisper, the adults could tell they were lying by the way their voice cracked, the two detectives eye each other before Olivia sits next to Y/N on the bed.

"that's a lie sweetie and you know it" she tells them gently, Y/N looks up at her tears in their E/C eyes. "I know, I can't tell I won't" they cry hands shaking in their lap. Olivia holds out her hand to the teen as an invitation to hold hers.

Two both hers and Elliots surprise the teen grabbed her hand squeezing tightly as they cried.

The team are stuck at the precinct Benson, Stabler, Tutuola and Munch all stand around the evidence board in front of them, it was filled with pictures of what happened to Y/N, the footage of the two students.

"That poor child, who in their right mind would beat someone for being different" says Munch as he stares at a picture of Y/Ns injuries pissed off. "Your right partner, little shits" Fin pats the man's shoulder.

On the desk next to them stand Olivia and Elliot. "If only we could persuade Y/N to tell us their attackers" says Elliot slamming his hand down on the table, Oliva sighs and looks at the forage. "We can't push the, they are already traumatised enough" as the team stand around someone pats Elliots back.

This scares the man; he had not heard any footsteps telling him someone was there. Turning around he was shocked at who was there. "Y/N" the name made the others turn around.

Behind Elliot stood their 13 year old victim, the teen had numerous bandages around their arms and head, headphones around their neck and a small stuffed toy. "I'm here to report an assault" the relief on the faces of the detectives is seen.

Olivia stands from her chair and beckons the teen over. "Come on sweetie, I'll take you to an interview room" she takes the teen to an unused room, the teen looks around and sets their bag and stuffed toy on the table.

Munch and Fin are disgusted at how the arseholes beat up Y/N, turning to Elliot they see a pissed of look on his face. "Those bastards" growls Fin, Munch agrees "they deserve to be locked up for good" he says, Elliot follows after Y/N and Olivia.

Hours later Y/N had told the two everything that had happened to the over the past year, they had been beaten up before by the same kids but not so bad they had to go to the hospital, lucky for Y/N both attackers were charged with category 1 of grievous bodily harm with 26 month in juvie with 100 hours of community service.

Y/N was more than happy with the charges, their parent profusely thanked the SVU team for their help.

The end!

I plan to skip most of the court parts because I know nothing about how they work so sorry I only really know about the kind of charges you can get, anyway sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1171

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

The Greatest Gift

Sherlock still remembers the day like it was yesterday. The sixth day of July. He turned seven and a half years that day. And every birthday gift up until then had never come close to this marvellous surprise.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Mummy said, her voice filled with restrained excitement.

He did as she asked, but slow because he didn’t know what awaited him when his eyes were wide open. How could he have predicted that his life would change forever after that moment. He wonders if his parents knew all those years ago, that they literally gifted him his first best friend.

Sherlock opened his eyes and on the floor in front of him was a basket. Inside the basket was a dog. A living breathing dog. His dog he realised after a while. When those chocolate-brown eyes met his, Sherlock zoomed out anything but the puppy who struggled to get out of his prison.

His fur was wavy and some places curly. The colour of it was auburn. An Irish Setter.

“What will you call him?” Father prompted.

Sherlock startled, having been totally engrossed in watching the dog’s pathetic tries to get his small frame over the top of the basket.

“I get to name him?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“Of course, Sherlock. It’s your dog,” Father told him. 

“Do you like him?” his mother coaxed.

By the tone of her voice, Sherlock discerned that it wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

“Yes,” Sherlock whispered.

“You can pick him up, you know,” his father said mirthfully. “It’s clear that he won’t be able to get out of there by himself.”

Careful, so he didn’t frighten the animal, Sherlock sat on his knees and leaned over the basket to lift the dog up. Seconds after an eager tongue licked his face and Sherlock giggled.

“It tickles!” he exclaimed.

His parents chuckled and told him he had to train the dog to obey, to teach him what was allowed and what wasn’t.

“In due course. Today you can play all you want with him,” Father assured him when Sherlock looked sceptically at his parents by the mentioning of rules.

Every morning after that, when Sherlock opened his eyes to a new day, Redbeard was there, ready to follow him wherever the day would take them. They became inseparable and Redbeard was quite obedient and didn’t need all the training and commanding his parents had mentioned. The dog was happy to follow Sherlock everywhere and if his master told him no, Redbeard refrained from doing whatever shenanigans he’d been up to at the time.

***

“Open your eyes, love,” John whispers.

Sherlock gets a sudden flashback to a certain July day almost six decades ago. Just like then, he opens his eyes slowly, and just like then he’s gobsmacked by what awaits him. At his feet, in their Sussex cottage, is a basket with an English Cocker Spaniel, red in colour, inside, looking expectantly up at Sherlock.

“John.”

It’s all Sherlock’s capable of uttering. In a fluid motion, unsuitable for his age, Sherlock seats himself on the floor beside the basket and stretches out his arms. The puppy comes eagerly and just like Redbeard did all those years ago, licks Sherlock’s face with fervour.

“Easy, my sweet,” Sherlock coos burying his hands in the soft and curly fur.

He looks over at his husband who’s seated himself beside Sherlock, with a bit more effort. 

“The kiss will have to wait, I’m afraid,” Sherlock says, his face still damp from the greeting.

John chuckles.

“You always make it up to me. Do you like her?”

“Oh, yes, John. She’s adorable. How did you keep this a secret?”

“A puzzle you can figure out later, my heart,” John teases. “What will you name her?”

“Hudders, would be appropriate, but I’m afraid our former landlady’s ghost would hunt me for eternity if I did. Hm…how about Queenie?”

“Perfect,” John agrees. “One drama queen and one…what role would she…”

“John!” Sherlock exclaims affronted, which makes the puppy bark.

“Ah, I see…she’ll be your protector,” John quips.

“Mm. I guess one more couldn’t hurt,” Sherlock ponders.

“Agreed,” John says emphatically. “Now, let’s get up and you can wash that beautiful face of yours so I can get that kiss you promised me.”

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @phoenix27884 @gregorovitch-adler @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @raina-at @helloliriels @7-percent @ninasnakie