#wish i could just relive the last two days over and over again where i was tabling at expo

[daandori]

sliding in the sewer vibes are getting stronger by the minute today

[bigtreefest]

New Year Coming In

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake Jensen x Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: You and Jake may have signed up for more than you can handle to start off the new year with a bang.

Word count: 1,514

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, kissing, exhausted sex, aftercare, Jake and his glasses and his hair and his beefy body and his everything

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I hope you all enjoy this Jakey crackfic that took over my mind at 2am. Please, feel more than welcome to screech with me about it. And a special little thanks to @brandycranby for a line of dialogue.

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Main Masterlist

The idea sounded perfect at first. Jake was happy to indulge you. Heck, it felt amazing for him, too. He got to welcome the new year with a good release, pleasing himself and the woman he loves. But oh man, if he didn’t wish he met you sooner before, this was the one thing that would get him pleading for it to be 2001 all over again, even if he had to relive the awkward years to avoid death by dehydration. Never mind how old the two of you were back then, he would’ve time traveled for it to be that year with you now.

A nice year would’ve been 2004, too. Coming four times in one session was something he could do with his eyes closed. Except he hadn’t, his eyes were peeled open, looking at the bright screen, in the times where he remembered being locked in his dark bedroom with his first laptop. Four times, easy. Really, even ten times, 2010. It would’ve had to have been parsed out over the course of the day, but he could’ve done it without complaint. Except, for the year 2025, the two of you had gotten a late start, not realizing how long and how much 25 rounds would take out of you. The agreement being 25 times, for each of you.

Not that he wanted to complain, but Jake Jensen never thought that he would’ve seen the day where he thought it was too much sex. And yet, here he was nearly drained. He laid on his back, cheeks ruddy, glasses crooked, bleached strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. His pupils were dilated in bodily satisfaction, just barely able to focus on you as you bounced on top of him, chasing your 12th simultaneous orgasm.

The sheets had been discarded long ago to the side, leaving you both exposed to the air in the room that was steadily rising in temperature, the sweat on your bodies lingering.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, sore hips sloppily raising to meet yours. Just enough sensation remained in his dick to feel you begin to clench in closeness as you reached down to rub your clit, tipping yourself over the edge with Jake joining you. His eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved, nothing coming out of him despite the sensation of overstimulation that had overwhelmed him. In fact, he had shot blanks for the last three orgasms, too.

While you both came down from your highs, puffs of humid air filling the narrow space between your mouths as you leaned down to kiss Jake, he looked up at you, his face a mix of pure exhaustion, lined faintly with dopey satisfaction, but also a little worry. He hummed against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours to get just enough leverage to speak.

“Baby, I don’t think I can get to 25. We’re at 12 and my dick is gonna fall off.”

You giggled, pulling away and placing a hand on Jake’s cheek, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Okay, okay. How about this, what if we just make it 25 total?”

Jake furiously nodded his head, grateful for the reprieve. Between the two of you now, you’d reached 24. He could get you to 25. Hopefully. He knew his body was past halfway to limp, sucked dry, but maybe you weren’t as much of a noodle. Maybe you had one more in you.

Just when he thought he could take a breather, though, the both of you looked over your shoulder at the TV that had been softly playing in the background. In the top corner by the year’s newest pop sensation was a countdown clock to the new year. It had just reached under ten minutes.

Your head snapped back forward and your gaze met your boyfriend’s, the both of you panicking with eyes as wide as saucers. You had to make your deadline and time was dwindling quickly! But Jake swiftly jumped into action, tugging your hips in a gesture to pull you up his body. There was no way he had the time to recover and go another round, but this was dire!

“Use my face. USE MY FACE!” he urged you as he frantically pulled his glasses off and set them on the bedside table. You shuffled forward on your knees, his limp dick sliding out of your puffy entrance, filled with multiple rounds of your combined release. You moved so quickly to hover over his head that it didn’t have time to seep out of you before Jake yanked you down to his mouth with a firm grip by his large hands.

In an instant, his tongue was inside you, laving at your still spasming pussy, drinking down your wetness as his nose nudged your clit, coaxing it back to a stage of readiness. In seconds, he had you whining, grinding your hips against his face, begging for more attention on your sensitive nub. Jake could tell exactly what you needed, moving his mouth upwards, goatee lightly scratching your labia as he did so, and latched on to your clit, tongue working in tandem with the suction he was creating.

As if he still weren’t close enough to you, he used his hands to press on your plush thighs, squeezing you closer to him when he sucked harder. A new wave of arousal flowed through you, confirmed by Jake’s satisfied hum that sent a shockwave out from your core and across your limbs.

Your arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto, one reaching the headboard, the other drifting down into his damp locks. As you fisted his hair, you made brief eye contact with him, a smile on his face evident by the creases at the corner of his bright blue eyes when he reached up and tweaked a nipple towards the end of his focus range. Jake could just barely make out the scene above him, squinting slightly, when you fought throwing your head back in pleasure.

You might have felt like ecstasy was about to make your body implode, but you would’ve held on for just how pretty the sight of your boyfriend was, enjoying this moment underneath you, trying to feed your insatiable appetite for him. You were so zoned in to his every feature that he caught you by surprise when he did that thing with his tongue, guaranteed to make you topple over the edge every time.

You barely caught the image of him winking at you in reassurance that he wanted you to let go as you squeezed your eyes shut and your fists clenched hard, the headboard creaking. Jake let out a groan against your pussy that sent another tingle up your spine, causing you to call out, “Ah, Jake!” when you careened over the cliff once more.

Jake broke the suction of his mouth, gently easing you off of him, his strong arms setting you into the mound of sheets that laid at his side. He had regained just enough life in his legs to jet to the bathroom quickly to clean himself up, returning with a warm, damp towel which he used to tenderly wipe between your legs. He discarded it, tossing it into the hamper as fast as he could.

Jake settled back into bed, slipping his glasses back on and looking at the countdown clock on the television which had just dipped below 30 seconds, as he pulled your naked body on top of his, a sleepy smile filling your face, eyes closed peacefully. You hummed contentedly, finding comfort pressed against his beefy torso as his one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other hiking your knee up for you to toss your leg over his slim waist. Your head settled on his shoulder, nearly face-to-face with him, just in time for the final countdown.

Both of your gleaming smiles matched each other when the ball dropped and you lifted yourself up to kiss him, lips dancing slowly, reverently. There was no longer a rush. The two of you could just enjoy each other as you rang in the new year with a definite bang.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you resettled yourself down with your ear right over Jake’s heart, your hand moving to idly rub over his belly as the two of you watched confetti fall over Times Square on the screen.

“Got any resolutions, babe?” you slurred.

Jake blew out a contemplative breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his fingertips teased up and down your arm. He clicked his tongue in thought, “Maybe presenting the suggestion to you that we take the square root of the year and do that many orgasms instead from here on out. That way in 2064, when we’re old and wrinkly, we’ve only gotta do eight. And in 2081, our frail bones can settle for nine.”

You laughed along with his warm chuckle that rumbled his chest and nodded. “Good idea, Jakey.”

Bonus A/N: My life’s dream is to drain Jake’s body like this. Thank you.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[fairy-writes]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day:D

Congratulations for 1.6k followers☆♡

Can I request prompt 6 for the event with Gen Narumi

LATER NEVER COMES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “You meant nothing to me.”

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Narumi Gen x Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Arguments, Breakups, Comas, Dreamwalking(?), Angst, Reader is Shorter than Narumi

Notes: The title was taken from the song of the same name as that one Christmas carol musical they did with Luke Evans.

I’m making so much stuff up. Bear with me. This idea has been a worm for DAYS.

__________________________________________________________________________

Today marked day twenty-six of Narumi Gen’s coma. It had been an accident with a kaiju. That was all you knew. 

And day three of you visiting, trying to rouse him out of sleep. 

You weren’t sure why Hasegawa called you. It had been six months since you had broken up. And that was Gen’s fault. Well… That wasn’t entirely true. You had been the one to break up with him. But he was the one who instigated it. 

You just wish you knew what he was thinking…

But you sat next to him nonetheless, hand in his, and after an hour or so, you spoke. 

“I wish you’d wake up, Gen…”

It was dark. And cold. And Gen was alone. 

Where was he? 

He opened his eyes and found himself in his apartment. That was odd… Wasn’t he fighting a kaiju?

“I’m home.” Came your voice, and he jolts and turns to see you closing the front door behind you. You looked haggard, exhausted, and like you were two seconds away from throwing something. 

Ah… He remembered this day. 

The day you broke up with him. 

What was going on? 

“Hng.” Someone grunted, and Gen flinched and turned back to see himself under a blanket and, as always, playing something on his BS5.

Seriously, what was happening? Was he reliving a memory? If so… That was just plain cruel to make him rewatch the day you left. 

“Have you eaten yet today?” You ask, but past-Gen just grunts again. Present-Gen grits his teeth as you set down a bag of takeout. You were so patient with him. But today was the day that your patience ran out. You watch your boyfriend button-mash his controller and sigh. 

“I got promoted at work.” You say, and present-Gen’s eyes widen. You had gotten the promotion you had been gunning for? That was great! But again, past-Gen just grunted, never taking his eyes away from his game. 

That was how it went. You’d say something, and he’d grunt or hum but never gave more than a one-word answer. 

And eventually, your patience ran out.

Present-Gen saw your face darken in anger after the seventh or eighth question. You slam down the mug of tea you had been making as you prepared the takeout on plates. Stalking over, you unplug his beloved BS5 and ignore his shrieks of anger. 

“What the fu—”

“Do I really have to argue with you just to get your attention?!” You demand, past-Gen stands up and explodes. 

“I was on the final boss! You just ruined everything!” He shouted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Is that really more important? I thought I meant more to you than that.”

“You meant nothing to me!” He snaps, and present-Gen flinches. 

“No! He’s wrong!” He pleads, but the damage is already done.

Your eyes widen, and you drop the cable in your hand. He had been so angry that day that he missed the tears welling up in your eyes. You look broken, shattered, like you had just had your heart ripped out of your chest. 

Which, in a way, he supposed you had. 

Past-Gen sneered as you left to your bedroom. 

“What, you running away?” He snapped and you came out with a bag. 

“We’re done.” You said, and before he could get another word in, you left your tea, the takeout, and him for the last time.

Gen’s hand twitches in yours, and you look up in shock. 

His eyelashes are fluttering, the long and pretty eyelashes that you loved so much opened, and you came face to face with your ex-lover. 

Twenty-six days, three hours, and fifty-four minutes later, Gen was awake. 

“Let me get the nurse.” You say and start to get up, but his grip tightens around your fingers. 

“Wait.” He mutters, his voice rough from disuse. You pause. 

Why did he stop you? 

“I want to apologize.” He said, and you frowned. 

“For what?”

“For treating you like shit. I always kept telling you later, but we both know later never comes.” He said, and as he spoke, you felt tears welling up again. 

You hadn't cried since breaking up with Gen. Part of you felt numb. Most of you just felt angry. Angry at wasting your time on this relationship that he clearly didn’t care about. 

“You said I meant nothing to you.” You whispered, and he flinched. 

What?

Nothing made him flinch! He was so sure of everything!

“I know this is probably bullshit to you. But I didn’t mean it. I was angry, but that’s no excuse. So… We don’t have to get back together… But I’m sorry.” He said, hanging his head. 

You were quiet for a beat. Then two.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you right now… What you said really hurt Gen. But… I’d like to start over. If you want.” You said and watched as the words registered in his mind. 

A small, hopeful smile appeared on his lips, and he squeezed your hand again. 

“I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

[shadowkoo]

The Ex Text

→ Summary: The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

↠ jungkook x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, pwp, ex with benefits, minor fluff & angst

→ Warnings: swearing, explicit sex, protected sex, scratching, breast play, spit/saliva play, infidelity (in the case that reader just started dating someone new), soft kissing, soft choking, rough kissing, ball squeezing, fingering, handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, sloppy oral sex (female & male receiving), squirting, praising, teasing, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, doggy, deep dicking, posessive!jungkook has a hard time dealing with his feelings

→ Author note: This is an update of a fic I posted in January that desperately needed some editing (anyone else ever read their old fics and cringe??), I hope you enjoy the newest version bc i personally believe it’s so much better! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

The pillow vibrates beneath your head as the notifications on your phone add up. Knowing it’s nowhere near time for you to get up, you roll over, choosing to ignore whatever, or rather, whoever is trying to reach you. Your plan works for another several minutes as you attempt to drift back to sleep, but your phone soon buzzes again, signaling another notification.

You groan and clumsily reach to turn the ringer off, but instead, your curiosity wins. After a couple of slow blinks, your eyes adjust to the blinding light and are able to focus on the screen; a couple of likes on your latest tweet, a new follower request for your insta, and three new texts from ‘The Ex’…

You groan again and check the time. 2 AM.

“Mmm, right on schedule, ‘Kook,” you drone sleepily to yourself, “Glad to see nothing’s changed.”

Invested now, and unfortunately awake, you unlock your phone to read the full texts.

2:03 AM

‘hey, u awake?’

2:07 AM

‘come over pls’

‘I’ll leave the door open’

Leaving the messages on read, you think about the two ways this could go.

One, you ignore him, just as you have been for the last month, and pretend like he means nothing to you.

Or two, you text him back, agree to come over, and wind up in a self-hate spiral the following days for allowing him to weasel back into your life.

A third groan leaves your body, realizing your heart is clouding your mind, having already made the decision. You type out your message and hover your thumb over the send button, before pressing firmly, unable to take it back.

2:11 AM

‘i hate you…i’ll be there in 5’

His response pops up just seconds later.

‘i’ll be waiting’

This routine is nothing new to you, as much as you hate to say it.

It’s not the first time since your break up that he’s asked you over. And it’s not the first time you’ve rushed to see him, to relive the good times spent between his sheets.

As promised, Jungkook left the door unlocked for you. His tall pup, Bam, meets you with a happy face and a wagging tail the second you crack the door open.

“Hi Bamy-Boo, I’ve missed you so much. How’s my good boy doing?” you ask after stepping into the quiet apartment, bending at the knees to give him a quick kiss on the head and some chin scratches.

“He’d be doing a lot better if you joined him in bed.”

Turning your head, your eyes land on Jungkook. He’s leaning against the wall outside his bedroom, with one of his hands combing through his tousled hair. And he’s wearing the beige-colored sweat set he knows drives you wild.

Damn him.

Your eyes wander to the waistband of his pants, where the faintest patch of skin shows through with his raised arm, before moving upward towards his face.

He’s grinning now.

“We need to stop doing this,” you sigh, not even attempting to deny that you were ogling him. He’s hot, you both know it. No point in sugar-coating or avoiding it. “You can’t keep texting me this time of night and expect me to come over.”

“You can leave any time you want, you know that,” he says taking a step closer to you, “Just like you know you don’t have to text me back. But you do.” He extends a hand, which you accept, and you stand up, letting him pull you up against his chest. “Because you want to come over. Because you know you want this.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second before placing his lips on yours. He’s warm and comforting, smelling of sage and citrus, just like always.

He pulls you away from the front door, which he locks, and leads you towards his room. Even in the dark, you remember the path to his bed, your body has it practically memorized.

“Come here,” he whispers softly while his fingers dance along the edge of your wrinkled pajama shirt, before lifting it over your shoulders.

You didn’t even bother changing out of your stained and slept-in pjs. Jungkook has seen you in far worse conditions. Plus you figured they wouldn’t remain on for very long, and much to your pleasure - you’re right.

Jungkook admires your breasts with his hands once your shirt is on the ground. “You’re gorgeous like this,” he whispers, cupping them and letting his thumbs rub across your nipples. Between his touch and the cool air, they harden almost immediately.

You lean into his body and your lips collide, meanwhile, his arms move around your body, crushing you against his chest.

He moans into your mouth, loving the way your fingers run through his messy hair. He doesn’t hide the fact that his cock twitches against his sweatpants when you tug lightly on his locks.

Jungkook could come in his pants just from simply kissing you and having you play with his hair, but he needs more. So much more.

He reaches for your pants, ready to remove them next. He’s desperate to undress you, to have your naked body pressed up against his. You’ve been ignoring his texts for too long lately. Even though he would never admit it, he’s missed you. A lot.

You help him take off the rest of your clothing until you’re bare before him, and Jungkook looks at you like he’s always looked at you. Like you’re the only person in the universe, you captivate his entire attention.

Nothing else matters when he’s with you.

He tears only his sweatshirt off before sitting down on the bed. Stretching back, he pats his lap with that same old smirk you’ve grown to love and hate simultaneously and motions for you to climb on top of him.

You do as he requests, resting each leg on either side of his hips so you’re straddling his waist.

“Come here,” he says quietly, pulling you closer to him, so he can leave wet kisses trailing down your neck from your earlobe to the dip above your collarbone.

His hands travel down your side as his lips move closer and closer to your breasts, his hot breath tickles your skin as he hovers over your sensitive nubs. He flicks each with his tongue, before closing his lips over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

The sensation pulls an explicit moan from deep within your core. Jungkook’s ears perk up, loving the sounds coming from you, wanting to hear you make sounds like that all night.

Your thighs tense around him as he does it again to the other side, and you massage the growing tent in his sweats to tease him just the right amount.

Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, pushing your bare center up against his hardness as you continue your circling torture. It’s his turn to lose himself. Fuck, he can feel your heat through the thin fabric, your readiness soaking into his sweatpants. His hands curve around the swell of your ass as your tongues twist together in harmony.

Grabbing his face, you kiss him deeply while slowly moving off the top of him, your hand replacing where your opening was previously. You moan into his mouth this time, feeling how hard he is for you as you rub him through his pants.

Your hand dips underneath the waistband and wraps around his velvety length. His length throbs in your hand while your thumb glides over his needy head. You’re stroking him slowly enough to drive him into a maddening frenzy.

“Fuck baby, I need more,” he rasps.

You give him exactly what he begs for.

He cries out when your hand dips lower to squeeze his balls without warning. You smirk, watching the emotions overtake his face as the pain mixes deliciously with pleasure while you hold him tightly in your hands. You wait a few seconds before releasing them and then work to take off his pants.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, catching his breath from your dangerous game. “What was that for?”

You take a mouthful of him to avoid answering. He doesn’t press the issue further as you gag over his thick cock.

Jungkook grabs a fistful of your hair as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. He helplessly watches as your reddened lips glide over him, your saliva dripping everywhere in the process.

“Mmm, just like that,” he hums, caressing your cheek as you bob your head up and down.

Pulling yourself from him to catch your breath, your mouth then leaves wandering kisses that lead you to his balls next. Sucking each into your hollowed cheeks, you take your sweet time and watch intently as Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together.

“Shit baby, I’m about to lose it,” he breathes deeply, before moving your bodies so you’re below him.

You smirk, your legs open and ready with your fingers teasing your wet and inviting opening. “Then lose it.”

He groans. Leaning across your body, Jungkook opens the drawer on his nightstand and rummages through until his fingers land on the very familiar foil packet. He smirks for a moment at the thought floating around in his head, and then lets the male urge win and rips it open with his teeth.

“You did not just do that,” you laugh, “That’s so cheesy. What are you, a horny teenager?”

He grins wolfishly as he rolls the condom on, “Might as well be.”

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room, engulfing Jungkook, and making him ravenous for you. He’s starved and only your heat will tame his hunger.

Unable to wait any longer, his thick length dips inside you just enough to wet his tip. He pulls back out of you, sliding your wetness through your folds, preparing you for what is to come. Then, without a moment’s notice, he takes you hard and fast, thrusting into you with all his power.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails from where they slide down his back and grip his ass.

The veins in Jungkook’s neck pop out as he slams into you again and again.

“Holy fuck, ‘Kook! Oh my god,” you cry out, holding onto him.

He looks so fucking hot with his hair stuck to his damp forehead. Your eyes follow the bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

Jungkook’s soft moans tickle your ear, while one of his hands creeps up to wrap around your neck. The pressure is gentle but firm, his fingers are placed exactly where they need to be to make you feel lightheaded and slightly delirious - everything you want and more.

“Do you still love me?” he pants as he thrusts into you harshly.

You blink, hesitating to answer that question.

“Fine, then answer me this, do you still love my cock?”

“Jungkook…” you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “Please don’t go there.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear you. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands after flipping you over. Pulling your ass up towards him, he realigns his length with your center and thrusts back into you. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gets lost in your hair.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear as he slips out of you, only to ram back into you with all his strength.

Each thrust pushes you further into the bed and brings you closer to the edge. You’re biting the sheets to stop yourself from screaming out from the sinful pleasure.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” You moan uncontrollably while Jungkook continues his sweet torture. Lust, and possibly another L emotion, dripping off the words spilling from your mouth.

You couldn’t lie if you tried at this point. You’ve really missed this and him. And holy fuck, his cock too. “Oh my god, oh god!” you cry out. Waves of euphoria wash over your quivering body as you unfold around him.

The coil snaps deep inside you, your walls pulsating around him, sending shockwaves through his body as he finishes.

Jungkook moans your name one last time before feeling himself swell, and he fills the condom with his load. His thrusts slow down but don’t stop just yet.

It’s almost too much to handle, yet it’s still not enough. Jungkook knows this and reaches down to rub his thumb along your swollen clit, causing you to see starts as your next release comes, it sprays out of you involuntarily.

You freeze, not sure if you should embrace it or be embarrassed.

He grins, “That was fucking hot. I’ve never made anyone squirt before.” You feel a sense of pride hearing that. Good. You don’t want him to have it like this with anyone else. Woah, where did that thought come from?

Without missing a beat, Jungkook lifts your legs over his shoulders as he bends down so he’s face level with your heat. He admires your slit that’s still slick from his undoing. You moan uncontrollably the second he licks through your damp folds, lost on cloud nine while he buries his face in between your legs, hands on either side of them, holding you in place.

You’re writhing beneath him from the glorious torture of his tongue teasing your entrance, his nose purposefully rubs against your sensitive nub and two of his long fingers slide into you, curling at the right pace.

His rhythmic licks turn you into a quivering mess. Your insides twist and clench around his fingers as you come again, unashamed and all over his face this time.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, moving back up toward the top of the bed and collapsing next to you, totally spent.

You kiss him messily, tasting yourself on his lips, and cuddle into his side as you both drift off into the night, sweaty and exhausted, just how it should be.

It’s early. You’re not sure how long you’ve both been in and out of sleep, but you know it’s almost time for you to leave. This is the longest you’ve spent in his bed since your break up. All the other late-night extravaganzas we’re just a couple of hours, if that.

You’re laying on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat and your synced breathing, working up the energy to sit up. His fingers draw small circles on your back as you two rest. It’s surprisingly…peaceful. These are the moments you miss the most when you’re apart.

“I have a thing with the guys around tomorrow, well technically today. Want to come?” Jungkook asks out of the blue, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Can’t,” you decline, worried about where this conversation is about to go.

“And why is that, exactly?” he asks, even though he very well knows. You know he knows. He knows that you know that he knows. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

The previous peace you felt is short-lived. You sit up and lean on your elbow to look at him. “You know I’m going out with Taehyung now. You liked my Instagram pic of us together from earlier this week.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that if you’re here with me, that must mean he’s either very boring or is terrible in bed. Or maybe both?” He leaves the question open-ended for you to answer.

You roll your eyes and start to get up, not in the mood to discuss this with him tonight, or ever really.

You don’t need to explain to him that Taehyung deserves so much more than someone who’s willing to cheat on him, and with an ex-boyfriend at that. You two haven’t exactly made things official but it’s still unbelievably inconsiderate of you to waste his time while you pine after Jungkook, a guy who dumped you four months ago but still refuses to give you up.

“No, don’t go,” he groans. “What I’m trying to say is-” he pauses, fighting whatever is going on in his brain. “I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” he says bluntly.

“Why?” You press, begging for any sort of answer.

“‘Cause…,” he says, holding back.

“Because why Jungkook, I need you to say more than that. I need you to be more, we can’t keep going on like this.”

“Because I love you, dammit!” He runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “Can’t you tell? Isn’t it obvious? I’m still hung up on you and don’t like seeing you moving on when I’m, I’m…stuck,” he breathes.

He loves you.

A moment passes.

He. Loves. You.

“Please say something. Anything.” He’s nervously searching your face for any sort of answer.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’re still hung up on me,” he whines, pulling you back onto his chest.

Your voice softens, “You know that I am.”

He kisses you gently, making your heart flutter with the possibility.

“Then what’s stopping us?” He asks once your lips part from one another.

It’s your turn to huff, you have so much to say yet it’s all lost on you at this exact moment. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

“You’re the one who ended things.”

The streetlight shines in through his window, its light illuminating your body, highlighting your beautiful features that he just can’t get enough of. Why did he end things again?

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. What’s new?” he jokes, crawling over top of you, completely mesmerized by how gorgeous you are beneath him. He kisses you sweetly, his lips massaging yours as his heart pounds loudly in his chest. You didn’t say no. To Jungkook, that means there’s still a chance, and he’ll gladly take it.

One of his hands holds the back of your neck, tilting your head just the right amount for him to deepen the kiss. He moans into your mouth, his tongue playing with yours while his other hand finds its way between your legs.

A soft gasp escapes your lips when his fingers dip inside you. They twist and curl with perfect accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to bliss.

He has you practically begging for more, you’re already a panting mess. You reach for him, craving more, needing him closer but he refuses.

“Nope,” he grins playfully, pushing your chest gently so you lay back onto the bed, “I want to watch you come undone this time. I want to see you lose it when you come for me.”

Your back arches off the bed as you dance along the edge, squeezing your eyes shut you let his words do their magic.

“Be a good girl and come all over these fingers.” Your hips move helplessly, matching his speed as you chase the high.

“You’re luminous, absolutely divine, and all mine. Nobody can worship you as I do. Nobody else can make you feel this good.”

“No one compares to you,” you moan sensually as pleasure overtakes your body yet again, turning you into the mess he wants to see.

Your lips touch again after what feels like an eternity. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, leaving another lazy kiss on your cheek, before moving to clean up the aftermath of your pleasures.

“Me too,” you say sleepily, pulling him back into your arms after he disposed of the condom. You feel yourself drifting off, about to fall into a soft slumber with your bodies entwined.

Jungkook grins, knowing he’s one step closer to convincing you to try again. He kisses you softly, lovingly, one more time before you both drift off into the early morning light.

©shadowkoo 2024. All rights reserved.

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 11 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

masterlist | AO3

notes: :') We've come to the final chapter. Short and sweet. I still want to write an epilogue (yes I've seen the Thunderbolts* trailer) but this is the official ending of the fic! Thank you for riding this ride with me. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, depressive states, wwii) (word count: 1.9K)

eleven: sunrise

The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His best friend, in a sundress, his jacket around her shoulders.

Bucky had dutifully ignored all of Sam’s quips and eyebrow wiggling as much as he could, but he couldn’t ignore this. As a familiar, melodic tune filled the summer air, his feet carried him half against his will to where she was sitting, his hand offering something he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

He hadn’t taken a girl to dance in seventy-some years.

But alas, a song was playing and he could feel the warmth of her body as they began swaying along the dancefloor, danger and elation wrestling for the main spot in his chest but finding no room. She’d taken all of it.

While they were like this, muscle memory kicking in as Bucky led them as a pair across the dance floor, it was like 1945 and beyond had never happened. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier, or the ghost of it. She wasn’t a WASP WWII hero with too much baggage and responsibilities. Just a boy and a girl, how it should’ve been if things were simple and fate wasn’t cruel.

He could’ve found the courage to ask her to dance, again and again, and ruin their friendship with a romance. They’d have a little house by the coast to go for the summer, and she’d laugh at how much sand he’d gotten in his shoes. Jimmy Barnes would’ve given her his last name, and by 2023 they’d both be not much but memories in their grandchildren’s heads.

“Buck.”

Her voice brought him back to a reality where two people who should be memories from the past were still alive and kicking. And what a blessing it was, to have her be more than just a memory or a photograph.

What a curse, to want to kiss her so badly and spoil the one good thing he’d gotten out of all of this bullshit.

He took Sam’s interruption and ran with it, literally, leaving her standing alone on the dancefloor as shame and self-consciousness creeped in. Because he could handle losing everything else, but not this. Not her.

Seventy-something years and Bucky was still a damned coward.

He reflected again on this many hours later, staring at the rising sun as if it was mocking him. A new day so he could do exactly what he’d been doing: eat around the edges, careful not to take too much but never really savoring anything.

He’d almost done it back at her house, her having the grace of smoothing over the awkwardness like the good diplomat she was. It was like he never learned; here we was again, being pulled in her direction like a magnet, his body aching and his insides burning for her in a way he didn’t remember ever feeling.

What used to be a sweet teenaged infatuation evolved into a ground-splintering love, not for the girl she used to be, but for the woman she was now.

It’s what drove Bucky up the stairs, leaving the laughing sunrise behind him, as if a new day wasn’t to come and the chance of his world being shattered wasn’t imminent.

He should be content with the bickering and the gentle, lingering touches; he should be fine with meeting once in a while to catch up on each other’s lives, admiring her from afar as if she was a star he could only wish upon. He wasn’t.

Bucky wasn’t content with much, lately.

Any doubt was vanished when he stepped into the corridor of rooms 302-316 and found her still standing there, wide eyes mirroring his, wet with longing and desperation.

In the spam of seconds, he took her face in his hands and did something he should’ve done seventy-something years ago: he kissed her.

Your fingers found his wrists, seeking leverage from them as a lifetime of fantasizing turned into reality and threatened to make you float away. Your name fell from his lips in a shaky whisper and he almost dared to pull away, but you didn’t let him. You should’ve kissed him that day in English soil, before you both died to the world and the time you belonged to. You kissed him in the present for your younger self, as if you were running out of time.

You weren’t. You knew you weren’t. But rational thinking could not reach you, not there in between his arms. You kissed him for your present self, who loved him so quietly for so long you forgot how loud your heart could be. He took it in stride, tangling his fingers in your hair and making you sigh.

He whispered your name again, pleading, but you shook your head, unsure what you’re denying him of; you tasted the salty tears before you could feel them on his face, or yours, it’s all the same at this point.

“Sugar, please look at me.” He said, still holding your face and planting kisses over your closed eyes. “Please,”

You looked up at him and his silver-rimmed eyes, your own spilling over despite his effort in wiping the emotion off your cheeks. “Bucky—”

You needed to tell him that you could not bear to have him explain himself; that you understood, that you would never hold this moment against him, but he didn’t let you. He ran his thumb over your trembling bottom lip, and you quietened.

“I should’ve done this such a long time ago. I’ve been so afraid to lose you I couldn’t bring myself to tell you how much I love you. I love you like crazy, because that’s what I am,” You’d be ready to disagree but sobs filled your throat, your hands fisted on his shirt the only thing tethering you to earth. “So much has changed but not this— never this. If anything this only grew. I’ve loved you for a lifetime, so please, please, be mine.”

Your hand reached up, tracing the line of his brow, his nose, his lips. He leaned into it, free from any previous inhibition. You’d been so blind in your fear. In your denial. Bucky Barnes now laid open on your palm, crying like the boy he once was and asking you to do the very thing you’ve been doing all of these years.

“There hasn’t been a single minute in this in this life where I haven’t been completely yours, James Barnes. I’ve loved you for a lifetime,” His shoulders sagged in relief, and he smiled brighter than the rising sun. Brighter than two suns, even.

Early morning bled into afternoon. The heat of the New Orleans air made your bare skin feverish and sticky, but neither you nor Bucky could bring yourselves to untangle your tangled limbs or move. His metal arm was the only solace against the heatwave, running up and down your back and making you shiver.

“This feels like a dream,”

 “I don’t think we’d be so sweaty if it was, Sugar.” He tightened his arm around you. “This is real. ’Sides, it’s so much better than any dream my fucked-up head could have concocted.”

You hummed a protest, raising your torso to look at him. “Don’t say that.”

“Mean it,” He cupped your face with his human hand, and you sighed. “I’ve got permanent damage. There is going to be bad days. This is why it took me so long. I just don’t wanna be more trouble than I’m worth,”

“Bucky…”

He insisted.  “I know you’re stubborn enough to stick around, I just—”

“I spent two weeks in bed when you resurfaced as the soldier.” You blurted out, sitting up fully. There was concern in Bucky’s eyes, and he kept you in place as you searched for a piece of clothing to cover up. Your eyes burned with the promise of more crying. “I’ve worked for S.H.I.E.L.D for decades and you were right under my nose,”

Your voice broke, then you finally found the shirt Bucky discarded early on the floor. “I took orders from the people making you a slave. I couldn’t find you because they kept you from me. Peggy, Howard, everyone. If I’d known—”

“None of that was your fault.” He said, urgent hands reaching for you to get back in bed with him. “You were just as much a weapon as I was. I never held that against you and I never will,”

“I felt like a fraud. Steve had to come and help me bathe, eat, brush my hair.” You mumbled, wiping the stray tears with the back of your hand. “I felt like I didn’t deserve the privilege of having you in my life again. And I was terrified that you wouldn’t want to be. I’m so sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, sitting up with you. Leaned close so he could rest his forehead against yours. “And I was a coward for not saying I loved you before you went on that fuckin’ mission in ’42. Acting like a prick because I was too scared to lose you.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t listen.”

If you had, you wouldn’t be here. You’d never take the serum, and both Bucky and Steve, your boys, would be too further in time for you to catch. You’d be nothing but a face in each other’s memories.

“You never listen…”

You both chuckled, a pathetic, half-drowned thing on your end. “Exactly. So quit saying I’m too good for you. We’re exactly the same,”

Bucky shook his head again but gave in, kissing you sweetly then placing a kiss on your shoulder. You doubted he’d truly let that go, and you were ready to argue with him about it for the rest of time. He wrapped his arms around you and you did the same, staying like that for a while. Doing nothing but breathing in one another and allowing the past and the guilt to dissolve away.

“That’s why I’ll still complain about your terrible coffee.” Bucky scoffed at that, tightening his hold on you as if it was a punishment and not the best thing ever. “And make fun of you for being terrible with technology. Help you through the bad days and enjoy every minute of the good,”

“My coffee’s not that bad,” He grumbled, not addressing anything else and knowing you’d read between the lines. You both laughed.

“Just because this is going to be a long, winding road, doesn’t mean I don’t want to walk it with you, James.”

“’Till there’s two suns in the horizon?”

You hummed.  “I don’t think this world is caving in anytime soon. You know it, people’ve tried.”

He grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s live, Bucky Barnes. You and me. Just… live.”

Bucky’s eyes were warm under the dim lights of your motel room. This moment wasn’t the world wasn’t at its end. It probably never would.

This… this was just the beginning.

He smiled. The crooked, perfect show of teeth Bucky brought from the past just for you. “We ain’t getting any younger, Sugar.”

[winniethewife]

In Reverence of the Duke.

(Duke Leto Atreides x F!Reader)

Chapter 3: Foolish

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Words: 850

My darling,

Is it silly to write to you while residing in the place? Quite possibly. But is this the best way to speak with you with my whole heart without anyone over hearing. The difficulty of being such an important figure. Always under observation. Someone is always listening. A sealed letter is the best way for us to communicate undetected.

I’m still reliving the moment you stepped onto the castle grounds again. The way you looked, enchanting as always. I forgotten how beautiful your eyes are, the way they look in the dawn, when the sun is just beginning to rise over the hills. I’d forgotten how lovely you are in the moonlight. The way it brings out your features. I can’t help but be ever so grateful that you have returned to me after all this time.

I hope to hear back from you soon, and see you this evening.

I am yours for all time

L.A.

My Dearest,

I will admit I was a little surprised to see your letter. But happy to read it. I understand the need to keep our conversations private. I wish it wasn’t the case. The days of carefree talk in the halls of this castle are far behind us, like the days of our youth. The days in which our conversations are considered nothing but the fantasies and musings of children are far behind us. I wish now I had cherished the last time we spoke so freely, savored the moments we could love in the open. No one tells you when you’re young how quickly all the freedoms will slip away.  You spend so much time wanting to grow up, not realizing what you lose with age.

As for seeing you again after all this time apart, I couldn’t be happier to have you near me again. The sight of you after all this time, I was sure I was dreaming th moment I saw you. There was a moment where I thought of doing something ever so reckless, to take your hand and run with you. Run as far as we could, as fast as we could. Leave this world far behind and never let them catch us. Live a life where we never have to answer to anyone but ourselves. Just the two of us, no obligations, nothing to tie us down. Of course, that couldn’t be the case. I will have to be happy with our lives as it stands currently, be thankful for the fact we can even be together. It is both a blessing and a curse, to be so close, and yet unable to be what we so yearn to be.  I should not linger on what we could be, and enjoy what we have. Please do not think less of me for my desires and dreams being so foolish, my dearest, they are but the remnants of a childhood dream that I have yet to grow out of.

I am yours most sincerely.

Y.D.

My Darling,

If I were to call you foolish or to think less of you for this type of thinking it would be unjust of me seeing as I feel the same way. I am always thinking of running, of taking you somewhere where there would be no expectations of either of us. Somewhere in the far reaches of the galaxy where we could be free to do as we want. To be whoever we want, however we want, no rules, no expectations. If that is foolish thinking than I am the king of fools. I want nothing more than to live that life. To turn back time, to play games again, to love you in the way we did as children. I could never ask you to stop dreaming that way, I never want you to. These dreams, however impossible are worth dreaming. I want to lay beside you and gaze into your eyes in the way we would if we were husband and wife, I want to believe that is how we are meant to be, two fools, deep in love. I would have it no other way.

I hope it is not too much ask you to keep that childlike dream alive. For us, for our future. Keep it alive and remind me of it when the days grow colder and the nights seem endless, for the times we can barely spend a moment with each other while duty pulls us apart. Please keep being foolish, even when we are far apart, by distance or by ideals. Is it too much to ask, that you keep the love of two naïve children in mind when you look to me, while the pressures of the choices of rule dig their claws into my flesh, keep the man who wanted to run with you across the galaxy in your mind, and guide me back to being him when I stray too far. Please my Darling, never let me stray so far from your heart that I forget how to be foolish.

I am yours for all time

L.A.

~

Masterlist

Tag:@silver-night-m @asherlockfandom

[alexusonfire]

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Seven

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

A/n: In collaboration with @daydream-cement 🖤 If you wish to be added to the taglist please send me a DM!

Summary: Unbridled Rage.

November 6th, 1856

There will be no salvation for me. 

Time and time again, she came back to me. She begged for my love and what did I do? I called her a harlot. I degraded her and told her she was tarnishing my family reputation. 

Marjory refuses to speak to me and I cannot blame her. I hate myself as well. I know this is due to the hatred I have for myself due to my love of the fairer sex. I thought I had stamped out the flame of internal hate when I began loving the seamstress, but yet it was still glowing bright within me each time that sweet face brightened my doorstep. 

I am tortured as I relive those moments. She told me she regretted ever loving me. How I must have caused her such agony for her to ever say such a thing. 

This household is my personal hell. My only friend finds me despicable, my brother is proud of me for ‘remaining strong in my virtues,’ and my one true love hates my entire being. She deserves so much better than me, but I feel the need to rush to her and apologize. I want to crawl on my hands and knees through the depths of Hell in order to prove my repentance. She must understand that I have meant none of what I have said. 

Far too long, I have been held under my brother’s control. I must break free of this hold. I am not who I wish to be when he is near. I am not the woman my darling little violet deserves when I give his opinion more weight than is deserved.

I must find her. I must fall to my knees and let her know she is my one and only true love. I must do everything in my power to earn back her trust and love.

- J.M.

It had been over a week since Jane had seen you last. She could hardly eat, nor sleep, since her brother arrived nearly two weeks ago. The only task she found herself capable of was to reread her diary over and over, reminiscing the love you had shared.

After tonight’s diary entry however, she was feeling far less helpless. Her words filled her with a new sense of urgency - the need to be at your side and beg for forgiveness.

The next morning she awoke with the same vigor, gathering herself as best she could. She pinned her hair into place, put on her best dress, and gathered some of your favorite flowers from her garden before striding down the gravel walkway towards the shop. Her knees felt as though they would give out at any moment, her breathing rapidly increasing the closer she got to you. Her mind raced with every possibility, good and bad; you forgave her, you didn't forgive her, you loved her still, you hated her, you rushed into her arms, you spat in her direction-

Whatever the outcome, she knew she was responsible for it, and now it was her time to fight for you.

The shop loomed over her, and she felt a great weight in her chest just looking at it. She briefly recalled the first time she stepped foot inside, the first time she met you; how her heart had stuttered, her cheeks had flushed, how she couldn't get you out of her thoughts no matter how hard she tried. In this moment she longed for those early days, carefree and falling in love.

Unsure whether she was still welcome to use the back entrance, she chose instead to enter through the front door, the bell above it seeming far too loud. The shop was quiet, and Jane was surprised to see your workbench empty.

Much emptier than usual.

Odd.

She waited for a few moments, her stomach twisting in knots at the thought of seeing you again, still unsure what your reaction to her would be after she'd been so cruel-

"You're too late, I'm afraid."

The thick scottish drawl pulled her attention towards the back of the shop, where Mary was cleaning up after a day's work.

"I'm sorry?"

Mary laughed, continuing to wipe down surfaces and tidy up loose threads and needles.

"Well, perhaps if you'd said those words a little sooner you wouldn't be in the mess you are now, now would ye?"

Jane held her tongue against the blunt retort that lay on it. She knew she was in the wrong, and if getting to you meant getting through those around you, then so be it.

"Well, I'm here now, with every apology I can think of prepared. Is- Would I be able to see her? Please?"

The "please" caught Mary off guard- Jane Murdstone was not one to ever start or end a request with "please". Mary felt her resolve soften towards Jane, only a little, enough to be more upfront with her.

"Unless you're willing to hop aboard the next train, I'm afraid not Lass. She left for France shortly after you two had your final falling out. Said she couldn't live in a place where you existed and didn't love her anymore."

Jane had to steady herself on the nearest wall, a sudden wave of nausea overcoming her at Mary's words.

But I do love her.

I love her, I love her, I love-

"Thank you, Matron."

Jane all but stumbled out of the shop, the flowers she held in her hand tossed to the dirt as she strode back home.

You'd left. You were gone without so much as a goodbye- and why would you say goodbye to her? All of the cruel, hurtful words she'd thrown at you, the way she'd turned her back on you; she'd left you first. No explanation. No closure. The only difference was you'd seen fit to separate the two of you by countries. Could she really fault you for that, after all she'd done to you?

Upon returning to her cottage, the ravenette slammed the door behind herself. Her hands repeatedly combed over her hair, frantically thinking over what Mary had told her. How could you have gone all the way to Paris in a matter of days? Perhaps if she were to speak with Marjory, she could-

“Where have you been?”

The voice startled Jane from her thoughts and she was immediately filled with unbridled rage as she lay her eyes on the intruder who had opened her front door: Edward Murdstone.

“I find that it is really none of your business where I have been.”

Edward strode into the room, almost as if it was his own home, “Lord Barclay was here waiting to meet you Jane, but you deliberately ran off, no doubtably to commit some heinous sin.”

“Lord Barclay? Whatever for?” Jane snarled, remembering the older gentleman from moments in passing when he came to work with Edward.

“To marry you, of course.”

Jane saw red.

“You bastard! How-” Jane’s hands found the upper right hand corner of the bookshelf, and with a flourish of extreme strength, the ravenette pulled the ornately carved bookshelf to the floor. The right side of the shelf hit the wood table a few feet away, both pieces of furniture cracking and splitting upon impact. The sound of shattering glass of picture frames and the loud thuds of books hitting the floor filled the air, but none of it was as loud as the silent rage that radiated from Jane. The raging woman finally finished her thought as the sounds died down, “DARE YOU?!”

Edward was taken aback, unable to respond to his sister's rage; never had he seen her act in such a manner.

Jane’s volume only increased, her voice a full fledged scream, “YOU TOOK HER FROM ME! YOU ROBBED ME OF LOVE! AND NOW YOU DO THIS?! Are you so desperate in your need to control me that you must ruin my life at every turn?” She was snarling and spitting as she kicked though the mountain of books, wading closer to her brother.

“I-I-”

“ANSWER ME!” Jane roared, reaching out to a nearby decorative hurricane lamp, pushing it to the floor with a swift motion resulting in a crash of glass shattering.

Edward’s choice of response was to yell in return, grasping Jane by her wrist in an effort to keep her from breaking anything further, “Pull yourself together!”

“PULL MYSELF TOGETHER? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PULL MYSELF TOGETHER WHEN YOU CONTINUE TO KEEP ME FROM LOVE? I am so lonely, Edward... or at least I was until I MET HER AND YOU FORCE ME TO SEND HER AWAY. For what, Edward? Why?” Jane’s tone fluctuated as her thoughts flew from her mouth, tears beginning to spill from her eyes at the pure anger and sorrow she felt. She wasn’t withholding anything from her brother any longer. Today, he was receiving the full force of her wrath, “First it was Sarah, and then Elizabeth, and then mother and you forced me into a-a SOLITARY CONFINEMENT where I was forced to be at your side as you made a mockery of father’s name.”

With two long strides, Jane crossed the room of her home, eyes settled in on the China cabinet as she was determined to destroy every last bit of beautiful ceramics in her home.

Edward followed after her, his own rage building at her insinuation that he could be a disgrace to their family name, “You are the one making a mockery of our family’s name by- by... choosing to be so unnatural!”

His hand wrapped around her forearm, and in her frenzied rage, Jane’s free hand swung around at full force, clawing at her brother’s face and sending him to the floor. She loomed over him, her mind racing as she searched for an additional way to harm him. Jane needed him to understand the agony she felt inside.

Swiftly she gathered two of the fallen books from the floor, lifting the novels over her head and launching them downwards at her brother, “UNNATURAL? UNNATURAL? DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE FACED YEARS OF INCCESTANT ABUSE FROM YOU AND MOTHER IF I HAD CHOSEN TO BE LIKE THIS?”

Edward shifted away from Jane, scrambling across the floor as the books hit him. He was in utter fear of his sister. He had no excuses for his past or present behavior, and even if he did, Edward knew Jane had no true interest in hearing them. He had yet to notice the blood dripping down the side of his face from where Jane had struck him.

“GET OUT!” Jane blared, her voice becoming raw and hoarse from screaming louder than she ever had before. She repeated those same two words as she reached out and lifted piece after piece of fine China, throwing each of them against the far wall, “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT-”

When Edward lifted himself from the cottage floor he launched himself towards the front door, quickly throwing it open and spinning back to attempt to steal back some of the power away from his sister, “You will marry Lord Barclay by the end of the month and that is final.”

His bravery was only momentary as he quickly slammed the front door shut, saving himself from the pieces of china being hurled towards him. As Edward stalked away from the home, he could hear Jane’s screaming from inside, but her words were hard to make out. Her cries of despair and the sounds of breaking glass and furniture would continue far into the night as Jane mourned for the loss of her love and freedom.

--

Tags: @weemssapphic @bitch-we-have-a-hulk @yourlocaldisneyvillain @renravens @thegoddamnfeels @dvrkhcld @blessmysouljessisonaroll @opheliauniverse @ahsfan05 @ness029 @carnivorousflowers @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @myzzjolanda @bigolgay

[lunerna21]

***I meant to do a post for Chapter 1 of Book 7 earlier but it’s been super chaotic with the holidays 😭***

***Slightly longer post but I just want to get my feelings out lol***

BUT I do wanna vent about specific parts of this chapter cause I’m constantly on edge waiting for the release of Chapter 2 (even though I’ll be crying and hyperventilating throughout the next chapter)

First of all, let me start off with how much I love seeing Sebek have a bitch fit from us calling Malleus Tsunotaro

Like dude basically had an aneurysm and tantrum over it and I fucking love his reaction 😭

(Also totally not loving the attention from Malleus in the very beginning of the chapter 🙈)

Being such a huge fan of Sleeping Beauty I’m thriving on the focus of it for this Book and I can’t wait to see where it takes us ❤️

BUT BUT There were two parts that had me almost to the point of losing my goddamn mind

1. The idea that we could be leaving Ace, Deuce and Grim

When Deuce and Grim started reminiscing and getting upset about us leaving and Grim being alone again

JUST THE ABSOLUTE HEARTBREAK I FELT IN THIS SCENE WAS AWFUL LIKE TWST WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME

CAN WE GIVE OURSELVES A BREAK WE KEEPING GOING THROUGH SO MUCH SHIT TOGETHER

BUT THEN ACE'S REACTION IS SENDING ME TO THE HEAVENS

I'M SO CONFUSED AT ACE'S REACTION LIKE CMON TELL ME HOW YOU ACTUALLY FEEL

Throughout the whole series we've always seen Ace consoling us and keeping his positive outlook, and I'm DYING to see how he reacts to us leaving when we have a guaranteed way home

I feel like once he know's our time is coming to an end, Ace is gonna be inconsolable and just completely break down and beg us to not leave

AND I WILL NOT BE OKAY

IF I SEE ALL THREE OF THEM CRYING ABOUT US LEAVING OR THE OTHER STUDENTS IM GONNA BE IN THERAPY FOR WEEKS

I wish we got to see him more vulnerable but I feel like Yana is just cooking something up to DEVASTATE the fandom

AND THE ACEYUU LOVER THAT I AM IM HOPING WE GET SOME DEVELOPMENT CAUSE THIS LITTLE SHIT IS SO GOOD AT MASKING HIS FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS

LIKE CMON ACE TRAPPOLA LET ME KNOW HOW YOU FEEL

2. Malleus speaking about this past

LET ME TELL YOU MALLEUS DRACONIA NEEDS SO MUCH GODDAMN LOVE

THE AMOUNT OF TIME MALLEUS WAS ALONE AND HE WAS USED TO IT IS ABSOLUTELY AWFUL

(Also screw that last option like why would I ever pick that after what he told us)

Just the fact as he was telling his story and we pointed it out and he was just like "Oh, I guess I was" and acknowledged it

Does everyone need to be so traumatized by their past in this game like goddamn the whole goddamn school needs a therapist

Just reminiscing on his reactions to spending time with us in the main story and side stories, and how much he enjoyed being included just makes the past events more special with him 😭

....And his reaction afterward we told him we'd found a way home...

WE'RE JUST ADDING ON MORE TO HIS LONELINESS AND I HATE IT CAN'T WE GIVE MALLEUS LOVE AND A BREAK

AND THEN THE WAY IT ENDED JUST SENDS ME INTO OVERDRIVE EVERY GODDAMN TIME

.....Malleus facing the horrible reality that everyone is slowly fading from his life and he has no way to prevent this is just....

When I tell you I'm going to be in therapy after Chapter 2, I will be so inconsolable that I will be in shambles for a while

I'm glad I'm also caught up to the Chapter 6 on the JPN server, but having to now relive everything in the EN server I will not be okay

Now I will sit in and cry impatiently as I wait for a date for the newest Chapter (ALSO MANIFESTING MORE CHAPTERS NEXT MONTH FOR BOTH SERVERS EVEN THOUGH IT HURTS)

Enjoying the rest of your day~~!! *walks off in tears*

[nrdmssgs]

Hi! I'd like to request something about my OC and Ghost if it's alright with you and you're still taking requests. No pressure and absolutely no rush. If I missed that you're not taking requests at the moment, I'm sorry.

I'm writing a fanfic about my OC, and to know her better I'll link my headcanons of her https://www.tumblr.com/gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot/718834905462751232/sergeant-christine-riot-vega-task-force-141?source=share

I'm feeling a bit down with life and my fic so I thought I'd request something about them to cheer me up. Of course feel free to not answer or not do it, it's perfectly ok!

If you decide to do it, I'd prefer something fluff/smut (smutty fluff? fluffy smutt? :D ) or just fluff/comfort, whatever is fine, really. My fic is a slow burn and although there are signs (and I have their first kiss already written), I'd love to see something with them already established. In my head, although both are deeply traumatised (both having undergone torture and lost their families) their relationship is surprisingly healthy.

Again, should you have other questions, or just discard this completely, it's completely fine. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist Fluff with a sprinkle of smut in the end Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x OC of @gamergirlbones

Summary: Just a quiet evening with a silly game.

TW: A bit of smut under cut

Authors note: I hope, this makes you smile for at least a minute. I really wanted to keep things fluffy and comforting. This all is taking place long after their first kiss (and maybe confessions).

One of those evenings

“Your turn, Lt.” 

Ghost blinked and looked around. If it wasn't for his mask, all others would see his puzzled expression right now. “Where were we?” Ghost voice is calm and steady, as if he wasn't desperately trying to remember, at what point of discussion his mind drifted away somewhere far. 

“Ehm, we are all captured and sentenced to death. Each of us gets a last wish. No limits, but no cheating like ‘i wish for a 1000 wishes’ either.” As Gaz was reminding him of what were they discussing, Simon silently looked from one face to another, trying to guess, who came up with such an idea. Ghost was mentally betting on Johnny, but deep inside he knew that Riot could also offer such a grim game theme at the end of the day.

“So what would you wish for?” “A gun.”

A collective sigh of disappointment swept over the campfire around which they had all gathered. “We agreed to not cheat,” groaned Gaz. “Hey, I'm ok with that answer. It means, mine is still the best!” Soap is shining with pride, but Riot protests. “Hey, that's just not fair. We were competing to find the funniest of us - not the most strategic-minded. Ghost deserves a second chance on this one.”

“You want my last wish to be absurd?” Simon scoffs. “What am I supposed to ask for? A fucking cup of tea?”

“Na-a-ah, the parade in my honor is still funnier.” Soap winks at Riot and adds ‘Ok, Lt, last chance. Give us your best shot’.

Ghosts eyes travel down to his side, where Riot sits, but he stops himself. “I'd wish to relive one of those evenings.” Silence reigns around the campfire. Everyone seems to be waiting for him to elaborate.

***

Simons mind drifts to one of the memories, he values the most. That time, he managed to sneak her from the base, keep her to himself for some time. It was a dream come true: a few days of peace in her loving hands. From the moment, she exited his car and stepped into tall grass, coming closer to his remote cabin, till the moment she kissed him goodbye a few days later - this was heaven. On the first evening they made a bonfire, just like the one, they were sitting around right now. Only that time there were just the two of them.

The crackle of burning logs mingled with the din of crickets at sunset. He crawled over to her chair, hugged her from behind, and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

"It turns out I needed it." Her voice was tired and soft. “Of course you did. You've been burning that candle at both ends for too long.” Ghost felt, he should have made her go on this brief vacation earlier. “I know, how stressful it can get. Mission after mission, then obstacle courses back on the base, advanced weaponry, physical training…” Ghost reached for her hand, held it lightly, and barely touched his lips to the top of it. “And at the end of the day, you are left with a shittone of paperwork.” Christine winced. 

“Oh, don't get me started on that one.” His croaky voice left a tingling feeling somewhere deep inside her chest. As if they communicated now not only verbally, although his touch was still pure and undemanding. Her body was exhausted, her mind - drifted to sleep. “Come on, let's get you to the bed,” Ghost whispered, not wanting to distract her peaceful state of mind. But when she refused and asked to ‘leave her right on this chair under the stars’, he rose without letting go of her hand and added: “Make your lieutenant proud: get up.”

“So many ways to abuse your rank, Lt. And still, you choose the most innocent one…” Christine murmured, but stood up and let him lead the way. It was only when she was undressed, bathed and nicely tucked with a cozy blanket, when Ghost finally answered her: “I'll use and abuse my rank in every most unholy way once you get a nice sleep, love.” Maybe it was banal fatigue, or maybe it was a burning eagerness to find out how he could ‘abuse his higher rank’, but she felt asleep quickly enough in his arms, catching the last seconds of her waking moments as he softly kissed her temple.

***

“One of those evenings?” Someone around the campfire finally vocalizes the question, that hung up in the air, since Ghost made his ‘last wish’. 

“Ahem, how about we all agree that Soap won and call it a night?” Riot looks around and, without waiting for their answer, gets up and moves away towards one of the small shacks that served to 141 as temporary shelters before the start of the operation.

Ghost waits for a while, he always does. Just to stand up a bit later and disappear somewhere in the woods, tangling his traces. Their bond with Riot may be obvious to others, but he still keeps it all low.

He comes in to her cabin so quietly, it's almost impossible to hear his steps. But Riot always knows, when Simon gets closer to her, as if she feels his presence with some kind of the sixth Sense. So when he stops before a small sink to freshen up, it's actually her, who surprises him, sliding her fragile palms under his shirt.

“One of those evenings? Care to elaborate?” Simon practically hears her smiling, as she asks that. His hand covers hers under his shirt. “Go wait for me in bed, love. I'll be there in five.” Their voices are muffled, his fingers sink into the rye-gold of her hair, the other hand cradles her body in the most careful loving embrace. “Evenings, when I can steal you for myself alone.” His lips are brushing against her jawline. “Evenings, when you can feel safe in my hands.” His body is radiating with heat, making her pull off her shirt after a short time. “Evenings, when you don't need to be strong and composed, and can lose yourself under my touch.”

Eventually her pants are too so warm and uncomfortable. Simon helps her out of them. They stay snuggled as he keeps describing her his last wish, his chin resting on top of her head, his fingers slowly drifting up and down her spine. Christines mind slowly drifts as he purrs his most treasured memories of them two into her ear. At the back of her mind, she questions herself, how many of those evenings are there left. But his heat and the hardness beneath Christine make her forget those fears. The way he, a hardened soldier, a living breathing legend of the battlefields frowns under her touch… The way his breath hitches every time her fingers casually slide up the inside of his thigh… This is all too much to still count their coming evenings. Simon too eventually stops reminiscing on the past and concentrates on what is important right now: her in his hands. His fingers slowly caressing her through the underwear, his lips forming the most beautiful, yet unspoken words along her ears and neck. Christine - not Riot, but his Christine looses her quiet and a tad bitter demeanor the moment his mouth slants over hers, pulling her into his lap, her panties pulled to the side. He makes her forget that stupid game, forget her doubts and pains with a first solid thrust. Rolling her over, cradling her body underneath his, dragging small whimpers and moans from her lips - this is another night to remember. Another night, he'd wish, he could relive again and again. 

After her first release Simon lowers his mouth to her ear and asks “Any particular wishes for your second round, dear?”. Her eyes are wet, darkened with a thick veil of desire. “You were so gentle… I'd love you to be bolder this time.” “How much, love?” His smile is loving, but his voice grows somewhat sinister.

She grits her teeth and exhales. “I want it rough. I want to feel every vein, every single inch… But not your mercy this time.”

His chuckle is low, and dark, and not at all soothing as his palm slides up to squeeze her breast. “Is that all?”

She shudders a breath, realizing what a deep void she has just discovered.

[natedogx15]

Miraculous Descendent Chapter 73: Picture Day

Previous Chapter

Picture day. A day to help students relive their past in the far future by looking into a yearbook. Being allowed to remember what it was like to live as a student with their family when they randomly find a yearbook under their bed or in the attic. Today is the day for the various classes at Françoise Dupont. Still, most don't seem to care, especially those who are part of or are aware of particular secrets.

Marinette and Nate walk toward the school, wearing slightly more improved clothes. Nate tried to go to school in his usual clothes, but Marinette stopped him. Marinette is wearing a pink jacket over a long-sleeve beige polo shirt and a dark blue skirt that matches her hair and eyes. Instead of her usual pink shoes, she's wearing brown over-the-knee boots. In comparison, Nate is wearing a short-sleeve light blue button-up shirt with a nice collar to go with black pants and his regular shoes.

While they walk, Nate notices something is on his cousin's mind. He can tell because it doesn't look like she slept well, even with her nicely applied makeup.

"You alright?" Nate asks, causing Marinette to flashback to when she met her ancestor.

Ladybug stares at the ghost of her ancestor in shock as he floats there for her to see.

"Are you Cheng Fu?" She asks nervously, causing the ghost to let out a good-natured laugh.

"The last time I checked, yes." He says kindly.

"Do you know who I am?" Ladybug asks after she realizes he called her Ladybug.

"Of course. How could I not know the girl using a Miraculous to protect people after being the first in our family to unlock the Miracle Box in a long time? Many of your other ancestors are quite jealous of you. Though, there are also quite a number who are proud." Cheng Fu tells her in the same kind yet wise tone. But there's a hint of amusement to go with it.

"I, I, I have so many questions," Ladybug says as she tries to wrap her head around the current situation before Cheng Fu places a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure you do. However, now you must rest. You have been through a lot today and should enjoy a good night's sleep. Don't worry. I'll be there the next time you call upon me. But I would like you to get at least a day's rest." Cheng Fu says in a grandfatherly tone.

Hearing his soothing words, Ladybug does feel her body wishing for sleep.

"Will you really be there?" Ladybug asks in a hopeful tone.

"Always." He promises before disappearing, leaving Ladybug seemingly alone to go to bed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nate asks, jolting Marinette out of her thoughts.

She looks at Nate with a smile before saying.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about something. We have to talk to a few people today, though." She warns Nate, confusing him.

That memory of meeting her ancestor had been playing in her head the entire day yesterday after she woke up. She took her ancestor's advice and didn't contact him again the day before to try to calm down.

"Who are we meeting?" Nate asks, having not seen her yesterday due to being busy with fencing practice and other things.

Realizing she forgot to tell him what happened, Marinette quickly explains the events of a couple of days ago. Hearing this causes Nate to stop walking as he processes this information.

"So, let me get this straight. Three of our classmates are the other heroes and know about everything? Then Max and Kim also know about the Miraculous?" Nate asks more than states, begging Marinette to reiterate to ensure he knows he got it right.

Luckily for him, Marinette nods, causing Nate to groan.

"How did this even happen?" He can't help but ask in genuine confusion.

Marinette can't answer. She's still having trouble believing it herself. After that revelation, the two end up walking silently, Nate still trying to understand the chances of that happening. It doesn't take more than a few minutes for them to finally arrive at the school, where they can see a class already see people standing around the courtyard in preparation for picture day. They soon walk past the people to get to their classroom. Upon entering, they see some of their classmates also dressed up.

That isn't the only thing, though. Sabrina, Alix, and Adrien stare at Marinette in a new light from when they usually get to class. Max and Kim aren't far behind. They look like they're trying to figure something out while staring at Marinette. They're probably trying to figure out how they didn't realize Marinette is Ladybug sooner.

"Well, this is awkward." Nate thinks as he and Marinette walk to their desk.

Chloe, noticing Sabrina staring at Marinette strangely, tries to figure out what happened between the two. She, luckily, didn't see the stares of the others.

"Are they dating or something?" Chloe can't help but ask in her mind.

"You okay, dude? You were staring at them until they took their seat." Nino tells Adrien, causing the teen to jolt before giving him a nervous grin.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking about something." He tells his friend, causing Nino to shrug before returning to his music.

In the back right corner of the room, Juleka is nervously fidgeting in her seat while looking into a decorative wrist mirror every once in a while.

"Don't worry, Juleka. Everything will go great, and you'll be in an amazing photo." Rose promises to her friend, causing her to look at the shorter girl worriedly.

"Y-you think so?" She asks nervously.

"Of course, any mistake the photographer makes today will need them to retake the photo. They can't take photos for the yearbook when you're not in them, right?" Rose asks, causing a wave of relief to hit Juleka.

"Right." She nods.

But she's still worried about today since the universe always seems against her when she tries to get a photo of herself. Even school photos seem impossible for her. She can only hope Rose is right.

Later that day, Miss Bustier's class is in the school courtyard, preparing for the photo. Right now, Ms. Mendeleiev's class, which includes Aurora, Mireille, and Jean, is having their picture taken. The students paying attention to the class note how the other students try giving Aurore and Jean a wide birth while Mireille is as far away from Aurore as possible. That causes some to give them a look of pity.

Another interesting fact is that half their class is on one side and seems to be talking about something while the others are doing their own thing.

"So, let me get this straight. Not only are four of us superheroes, but half of our class know about the Miraculous?" Nate asks in genuine confusion as he stares at those who know the secret.

"That's correct. I'm still trying to calculate the statistics of this outcome." Max explains with a slight nod.

"Man," Nate says while rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thinks about that.

"It is a crazy coincidence. Are you sure Nino doesn't know you're Cat Noir?" Sabrina asks Adrien, causing him to shake his head.

"No. But I'm tempted to tell him." Adrien admits.

"Can you hold off on that until we've figured everything out? Plenty of people already know, two of which Hawkmoth has gotten to." Sabrina says while pointing at Max and Kim.

"Hey!" Alix snaps at her as Kim and Max wince while remembering watching videos of what they did as Akumas.

Sabrina raises her hands placatingly.

"I'm not blaming them or angry with them. I'm just saying that Aurore has already been akumatized three times, once while supposedly not feeling negative emotions. We're already in a fair amount of danger because you revealed your identity to them." She explains to help calm Alix and the other two down.

Alix doesn't look satisfied with that answer, but Marinette cuts in to stop a fight from happening.

"Can we not fight right now?" She pleads with the two, causing Alix to finally back down, but not before throwing a few more words at Sabrina.

"I will if she watches what she says about my friends," Alix warns, causing Sabrina to sigh slightly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to start anything. I'm just making a point." She promises to the three.

"It's fine. You're not wrong. The fewer people who know, the better the statistical chances of your identities not being exposed." Max agrees with her.

"Still, can you not bring it up?" Kim pleads with her, causing Sabrina to nod while giving him an apologetic look.

Deciding to change the subject, Sabrina looks at Marinette.

"Did you talk to your ancestor?" She asks, causing Marinette to nod.

"I did, but he told me I shouldn't talk to him until I can think straight. I should be able to talk with him tonight." She promises.

"Do you think we can be there for the talk? Since we're teammates, it might affect us too." Adrien suggests, wanting to meet a ghost.

Marinette pauses and places a hand on her chin as she thinks about that.

"I'm not sure—I think he'll be alright with meeting you guys. He seemed really nice when we talked." Marinette explains.

"Are you sure it's a real ghost?" Max curiously asks while pushing up his glasses.

Alix rolls her eyes at her friend's question.

"Max, after everything that's been happening, do you really think actual ghosts are weird?" She asks, causing Max to shake his head.

"It's not that I don't believe it. As you said, a lot has happened because of the Miraculous. However, there's no proof of what happens after you die. Spectral beings like ghosts are just one of the many theories. For all we know, the Miraculous could have made a magic construct to look like Marinette's ancestor." Max explains in a matter-of-fact tone.

His explanation causes a few people to pause to think about it. One of which is Marinette. After a moment, the girl opens her bag and asks Tikki a question.

"Tikki, is what Max said true?" She asks the Kwami, causing Tikki to shake her head.

"There's no need to worry, Marinette. The spirit you met was truly your ancestor." Tikki promises the girl, causing Max's fascination to grow.

"Fascinating. So, we living beings become ghosts once we die?" He asks the Kwami as he walks over to her.

Once again, Tikki shakes her head.

"It doesn't have to be ghosts. Many things can happen. Life and death are complicated concepts." Tikki explains, furthering Max's interest along with Alix's.

"Can we talk about this later when it doesn't look as suspicious?" Marinette asks, feeling paranoid about the idea of people watching them.

Her paranoia isn't unfounded, as Chloe is curious about the group. She didn't think they all got along enough. It makes her more suspicious about what Sabrina and Marinette are hiding. She's not fond of the new girl, envious of everything Marinette has. Her hand tightens on her phone as she feels this emotion rise. 

She quickly looks around for a way to exert some of this feeling to get rid of it, but realizes she can't up and bully anyone right now when the principal is near. She'll have to be patient and wait for a chance. However, she does note a potential target.

A nervous Juleka looks into her wrist mirror to see if she looks good before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Next to her, Rose is trying to comfort her with words of encouragement.

"It's going to be alright. We're almost ready to take the picture. Everything will be okay." Rose continues to promise the panicking girl while grabbing her hand comfortingly.

Feeling the smooth touch of Rose's skin, Juleka finally seems to calm down slightly. However, she wants a better look at her makeup.

"I-I'll be right back." She tells Rose before rushing to the bathroom, causing Chloe to smirk.

After she sees Juleka enter the bathroom, she looks around and sees no one is watching her. With that in mind, Chloe slowly and stealthily moves toward the bathroom. When she reaches the door, she cracks it open to listen in on Juleka while waiting for an opportunity.

Back with the rest of the class, they can see the photographer seeming to finish up with Miss Mendeleiev's class.

The photographer is a tall, well-built man with light skin, short, fluffy, reddish-brown hair, brown eyes, and a reddish-brown soul patch under his lip. He's dressed in a v-neck, short-sleeve white shirt, red and green plaid pants with black suspenders, black boots with white soles, and black fingerless gloves with holes on the knuckles.

Everyone around him can't help but find the man strange and eccentric.

"Bravo! You're all doing wonderful! That's it, give me smiles like when your mom is bringing in the spaghetti!" The man enthusiastically says as he continues to take class photos to ensure at least one good photo.

No one can tell if he is doing this to get a few laughs from the students because it looks like a few of them are having trouble keeping themselves from bursting out. But, at the same time, it seems like he may do this because he's eccentric.

"I don't think I can keep a straight face if he does this to us," Kim says with an amused grin as he stares at the photographer.

"Someone seems to have issues." Nate nods as he watches this next to Marinette.

Soon, Miss Bustier walks up to her class and has them gather.

"Alright, students. Listen to whatever the photographer says when he's arranging us for the photo, and try to show great big smiles for the photo to show how happy this year made you despite everything happening. If you're having trouble, try to think of something that brings you joy while he's taking it." Miss Bustier requests of her class with a kind smile of her own, as if leading by example.

No one seems to take her too seriously—not even Rose. She's too worried about where Juleka is. She quickly texts the other girl and tells her the class photo will be soon.

In the bathroom, Juleka is using one of the stalls when she gets the text from Rose. Seeing it causes her to panic. But before she can do anything, she suddenly hears a small bang on her stall door.

"Someone's in here!" She shouts in alarm.

After she shouts that, the banging stops, and she soon goes to open the stall door. However, to her horror, it won't open. Her attempts grow desperate, but it's not helping.

"Is anyone still out there!? The stall is stuck! Please help!" She shouts out for whoever was banging on her door earlier.

Outside the stall, Chloe smirks while listening to Juleka's pleas as she tries to open the stall door. When Juleka entered the stall, Chloe sneakily brought a chair into the bathroom and propped it under the door handle. Now, Chloe watches as Juleka continues to beg for help while she desperately tries to open the door with a smile. Without saying a word, Chloe exits the bathroom and returns to the class without a care in the world. She does so in time, too, as it's the class' turn to take the photo.

"Alright, Little Meatballs, form up and show me what I'm working with." The photographer commands.

With that, the class bunches together for the photo. Students either sit or stand around benches, one bench behind the other. Well, most of them, anyway. Rose doesn't see Juleka and walks toward Miss Bustier to bring it up.

"Miss Bustier, Juleka isn't-" She starts before getting cut off as Miss Bustier ushers her to join the others.

"Later, Rose. You need to listen to the photographer and join the others." She commands the girl while lightly pushing her to the other students.

Rose looks to the bathroom worriedly and pulls out her phone again before suddenly finding it snatched away by Miss Bustier.

"Please don't look at your phone when we're trying to take the photo." Miss Bustier pleads with the girl before putting the phone in her back pocket, planning to return it after the picture.

Realizing she can't escape and go check on Juleka, Rose reluctantly follows the rest of the class as they randomly move around the benches while sticking with their friend groups. The photographer looks at this with judgemental eyes before waving his hands and shaking his head in dissatisfaction.

"No, no, no, this is all wrong. All of you, move to the side." The photographer orders while making exaggerated move motions with both arms.

The students follow his orders and line up on the side. The photographer sizes them up while Principal Damocles sighs. He's been taking photos with all the classes and grows tired of the photographer's perfectionism.

"Is this necessary every time, Mr. Vincent?" Mr. Damocles asks, feeling Vincent is going too far with what he feels is necessary.

"Photographer is like cooking. Every step needs to be perfect to make something delicious. Otherwise, it'll be something horrid." Vincent says with a voice full of conviction while putting his fingers together and shaking his hands toward the principal.

"It also takes a chef who knows what they're doing," Chloe quietly mutters with an eye roll.

If Vincent hears her, he chooses to ignore her words. Instead, he's focused on studying the group.

"You, you, you, you, and you. I want all of you sitting up front." Vincent commands while pointing to Marinette, Max, Rose, Alix, and Myléne.

The quintet of students follow his orders and sit with Max on the far right side of the bench, Alix next to him, a nervous Rose in the middle, Marinette next to her, and Myléne next to her. Vincent stares at this group for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

"Alright. You, you, you, you, and you. I want all of you to stand in the back." Vincent orders after pointing to Nathaniel, Alya, Chloe, Nate, and Sabrina.

Chloe looks unhappy at being in the back but doesn't say anything and reluctantly follows the others. Nathaniel stands behind Max while Alya stands beside him, Sabrina is in the middle, Nate is next to her, and Chloe is next to him. After another moment, Vincent nods again before looking at the remaining students.

"Now, the rest of you. I want you all to sit in the middle." Vincent orders while motioning to the back bench.

Kim, Adrien, Nino, and Ivan follow his directions. Kim and Ivan, being the tallest, take the ends of the bench while Adrien and Nino are between them. Overall, it's a nice-looking setup. With the tallest members sitting in the middle, it gives a good view of everyone's faces.

"Perfecto," Vincent states, but Rose raises a hand while trying to tell him something.

"Mr. Vincent-" She starts before Vincent waves her off.

"All questions and complaints come after the picture, my dear. Now give me big smiles, like when your parents make your favorite dishes." Vincent commands as he takes his camera and begins taking pictures of the class, with Miss Bustier on the right of them and Mr. Damocles on the left.

The teens do as he says, and most give their best smiles, aside from Ivan, Rose, and Chloe.

"What is the problem? Do some of you dislike your placements?" Vincent asks after a moment.

Chloe is the first to speak up.

"I would prefer to be upfront," Chloe tells him with a glare while Ivan shrugs.

Vincent glares at them before looking at Rose.

"What about you?" He asks her.

"W-well, my friend isn't here. She went to the bathroom and hasn't come back." Rose explains, causing Mr. Damocles to narrow his eyes before looking at Miss Bustier.

"Is this true, Miss Bustier?" Principal Damocles asks.

Miss Bustier nervously does a headcount. She's sure everyone was here when she took attendance this morning and didn't notice anyone walk off while waiting for the picture. However, she now realizes Juleka is indeed missing and gasps in worry.

"She's right. Juleka is missing." She tells the two men, causing Principal Damocles to glare at her.

"We will be discussing this later. For now, someone go and make sure Ms. Couffaine is alright." Principal Damocles commands while pointing to the women's bathroom, causing Rose to bolt for it with Miss Bustier following behind her.

In the stall, Juleka is crying while hugging her knees. It seems like no one is answering her calls for help or texts.

"S-stupid curse!" She cries out between sobs before she hears something shifting on the other side of the stall door.

In the next second, the door opens to show a concerned Rose and Miss Bustier.

"Are you alright, Juleka?" Rose worriedly asks.

Juleka looks at her friend before her instincts scream at her to leave. With that, she pushes past Rose and Miss Bustier and runs out of the bathroom. After exiting the bathroom, she shoves past the other surprised students until she's off the school grounds to find somewhere to cry about what happened.

Seeing this causes Principal Damocles to panic slightly before looking at Vincent.

"I'm sorry, but we'll have to put the pictures on hold until I've notified her parents about what's happening and we find her." Principal Damocles tells Vincent before rushing for his office.

"Juleka, wait!" Rose shouts as she runs out of the bathroom and school to find Juleka.

With Gabriel, he can feel the growing despair and anxiety from Juleka and can't help but pity the girl. He has full intention of using her emotions, though. He quickly transforms and uses Kaleidoscope to fly into his base, never noticing the mischievous smirk on Nooroo's face as he enters the brooch. When the window to his base opens, he gives a sad expression.

"A girl who only wants to be seen but is denied the chance by a strange curse that prevents her from being captured by a camera. I should offer her my help. Everyone will see you now." Hawkmoth promises while creating a butterfly.

"Fly, my butterfly, and make this one's dream come true."

The butterfly flies off and soon finds its target crying on a park bench after losing Rose. When the butterfly enters her wrist mirror, her tears cease, and she can feel Hawkmoth's voice and influence.

"Reflekta. I'm sure you know who I am. I'm here to offer you the chance to have all of Paris watching you. Everyone will follow your style and be like you. No one will forget you ever again. All you must do is bring me a Miraculous. Do we have a deal?" Hawkmoth asks despite knowing the answer.

"Yes, Hawkmoth." Juleka nods with a smile before black smoke envelops her.

When the smoke vanishes, it reveals Juleka's... unique transformation. It's pretty clear Nooroo messed with this transformation like he did with The Bubbler's.

As Reflekta, Juleka now has pinkish-white skin with brilliant red circle markings around her brown eyes, green orbs on her eyelashes, and purple lipstick on her smiling lips. Atop her head is a crown-like vibrant red helmet with purple lines, with thick cylinder horn-like objects growing on the sides of the back of her head. On the forehead of the helmet is a purple-outlined, pink-pupiled white eye turned ninety degrees so the edges are pointing up and down. It also has flaps that fall before Reflekta's ears. Matching with this helmet is a vibrant red dress with a ruff collar, poofy shoulders, a poofy skirt, and platform boots. The skirt has purple lines on the waist and the same eye as the helmet running along the shoulders and skirt. There is another eye on Refleka's right hand, where the mirror used to be. However, it's different from the others. It has a thick black outline with butterfly-like wings, a vibrant purple sclera, and a silver pupil that sticks out.

With a confident smirk, Reflekta announces to the world.

"With this power, no one will forget about me again!"

Hawkmoth doesn't say anything to her declaration. He's too busy trying to remain calm and not try to strangle his Kwami for their horrible fashion sense. It's not going too well. One of his eyes is twitching violently, and he's gripping his cane like he's trying to snap it in half while imagining it's Nooroo. It doesn't help that he can swear he hears the Kwami giggling in the back of his mind.

Next Chapter

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 63

Chapter 63: “Help”

What better way to understand a character than to learn about their trauma. Those Ray parallels are starting to surface. No doubt our geezer has relived this nightmare for the past thirteen years.

I love how Demizu shows how exhausted the duo is by not only their tired eyes, but their worn out jackets and how messed up their hair is. Also one of the rare moments Emma’s antenna isn’t sticking upwards.

For a dude who was just awoken from a nightmare and has to constantly deal with demons and RE, Yuugo is certainly in a surprisingly good mood.

And y’all do get just as good as the geezer! Or maybe that’s just me being biased. But the two of them really are learning so much in just last couple days and if Yuugo won’t be proud of them, then I will be!

What do you mean you don’t need food?? .. girl, what? I’m surprised Ray didn’t knock you on the head for that comment. Thankfully Gilda is that Mom Friend.

Sigh.. I once wished the anime would’ve expanded on their trip to A08-63 a bit more, just to really show how much our duo was improving, but of course, the second season never even had this arc, so there goes that dream!

I wanna say the cliche “age is just a number”, but it is fairly impressive how well they’re both holding up. Then again, they do have a pretty decent teacher, even if he’s not actually giving them any advice up front. They’re also determined as hell and living up to their fullscore reputations. Totally not alive because they’re the protagonists, nope, not at all.

I know Ray’s got some pretty serious stuff on his mind that would definitely be worth chatting about, but look at her! She is so darn proud of herself, she’s got several sparkles shining around her. She’s literally so excited and it’s so cute that there’s no way someone could be annoyed at her.

I really have no problem with us seeing Emma having some doubts as it makes her feel more human, but I guess the small issue I have with it is the “how” and/or “why” whenever we see her hit a low point. I’m not faulting the manga here, but it’s the few pages here that reminded me of that one moment in s2ep5 where Emma woke up in the middle of the night and stands against the wall. While I do love that Ray came over to cheer her up a little, hearing Emma say that she hates herself and wondered if escaping from the house with everyone was worth it when that was the one decision she was always so certain was correct in manga is just.. weird to me. Her doubts sorta feel outta place in that episode since we skipped so much story and saw nothing of the time skip, but here in manga, we know exactly what this Emma has been through and all her concerns which makes her doubts believable and valid I guess. (I dunno, this makes more sense in my head.)

Prepare yourself geezer, you got some talk-no-jutsu coming your way.

Favorite panel/moment:

The way he looks at her!! Fuck! It is so precious I wanna cry.

[jmagnabo92]

It’s a Twin Thing - Ch 1

A few weeks after Hetty’s almost banishment, Trevor’s in for a surprise when his twin brother comes by for a visit.

AO3

***

Trevor sighs, contentedly, as Hetty cuddles into him.  Despite it being earlier than usual for the aftermath of the rendezvous, Hetty doesn’t immediately leave.  After nearly being sent to the woods for a year, they’ve both been rather clingy … not that either of them would admit it.

Instead, they just cuddle together sometimes quietly – they’ve fallen asleep on more than one occasion – and sometimes they’ll chat quietly about random things.  They usually take turns talking about what’s on their minds and sharing stories of their pasts.

Lately, he can’t stop thinking about his brother.  Although everyone knows that he has a brother now, Hetty’s the only one that he had mentioned Jeremy being his twin brother to (although Flower had guessed ages ago).  Their rendezvouses in the last month or so since the heir nonsense happened usually led to cuddling and Trevor talking about some story where he and Jeremy had attempted to pretend to be each other until they failed at it.  It was always a competition between the brothers to see who could last longer pretending to be the other – Trevor always claimed the crown unless it involved someone asking him to draw something.

He loved those moments.  He loved those stories.  He wishes that he could relive those days, those times.  He misses Jeremy something terrible and he wishes more than anything that he could see him, again.  Talk to him, tell him that he feels like a part of his soul is missing and that he wishes that he’d come to the memorial, but he appreciated that he sent Tara Reid (even if that had been a disaster).  It showed him that he knows what Trevor would want even decades later, even decades without him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hetty questions as she looks up at him, lifting her head from his chest.  Their clothes hadn’t returned yet, so he knew that she hadn’t fallen asleep despite how quiet she was being.  

Trevor hums.  It’s his turn to tell a story.  “Just thinking about Jeremy, again.”

“Are you going to tell me another story about the two of you switching places?” Hetty questions, somehow looking excited.

Trevor grins.  “That depends.  Would you like to hear one?”

Hetty hums in agreement.  “I would as I am waiting on a particular story.”

Trevor laughs.  “Oh yeah?  What story would that be?”

Hetty grins.  “I have decided that you two switched so often that you are secretly Jeremy.”

Trevor can’t help bursting out laughing.  “You really think that Jeremy and I switched the day I died and I’m not Trevor, but I’ve been pretending to be him for over twenty years?”

“Well, no one would have any idea, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Thus, theoretically, you could have decided to be Trevor while actually being Jeremy for your entire afterlife.”

“I love J-dog and it’s undoubtedly fun fooling everyone, except our parents, but I can’t imagine doing that for twenty years – it’d feel wrong.  I love him, but that was a game we played together – we never did it without permission from the other,” Trevor states.  Not after the one-time that got them both in major trouble.  “Besides, I like being T-money instead of J-dog.”

“It is hard to take you seriously with those ridiculous monikers,” Hetty states, somewhat teasingly.  

Trevor laughs.  “Oh, please.  I know you love it.”

“I do no such thing,” Hetty states, but the smile on her lips says otherwise.  

He gives her a quick kiss and says, “Uh-huh, I totally believe you.”

“You should as I am being sincere.”

“Sure, you are.”

“It is impolite to suggest a lady such as myself would lie.”

“It’s impolite for a lady such as yourself to lie to her lover about something as silly as liking my T-Money moniker,” Trevor teases.  “And continuing to lie just means you’ll have to suffer the consequences.”

He shifts so that he can move his hand down Hetty’s side since she’s ticklish there.  

Hetty clearly knows what he’s thinking of doing and tries to wiggle away.  “Don’t you dare, Trevor!”  

“I won’t if you admit you like it,” Trevor teases.  

“Never!”

Laughing Trevor begins to tickle her, and it takes no time at all to get Hetty all giggly and begging for mercy, even as she shifts on top of him and pins him down.

“I win,” Hetty says, gleefully.

Trevor smiles.  “I’m right where I want to be – so I think I win.  Now, admit it.  You like my T-Money thing.”

Hetty leans down as if she’s going to kiss him but stops just out of reach.  “You are correct, Trevor, but do not let that go to your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Trevor teases, just before she closes the distance for the kiss.  

“Good.”

***

He knows that it might not be a good idea to come here.  Probably a terrible one, but he figured he had to – he had to know – had to see him – had to deal with these things he’s been avoiding.  It was ridiculous that he couldn’t summon the courage to visit during the memorial, but he hadn’t been expecting his parents to throw one and he wasn’t – wasn’t ready to face the reality of losing his twin.  

While it’s true that he had known – especially with his ability to suddenly see ghosts around the time that his brother had obviously died and those dreams of this very familiar mansion – but there had still been a part of him that ached for it not to be true.  He had had such a hard time with the loss, with not knowing where he was, and worse knowing that he was likely a ghost somewhere.  The dreams he had were not helpful as he wasn’t sure if they were real or not – and some, he certainly hoped not.  His – their – parents had tried to reassure him.  Tell him that Trevor was not stuck on as a ghost, but he knew – he could feel it.  

They hadn’t really accepted the possibility until the weekend where they discovered exactly where Trevor had died – everything that had happened, the woman owner of the house acting so strange by encouraging the memorial for one, and the final moment where she said, ‘what if he was here – what would you tell him?’.  They had believed then that not only was he there, but the woman could see him like Jeremy could see him (and other ghosts).

Despite this, they didn’t think it would be a good idea for Jeremy to visit until and unless he was ready, but how do you ever get ready for that?  He had nearly made this trip a dozen times in the last few months, and every time he turned around.  

Every time he found himself afraid and overwhelmed.  He thought about what Trevor would say, if he’d be angry that he hadn’t come sooner, if he’d blame Jeremy for being the reason he’s stuck.  If he resented Jeremy for being the cautious and careful twin, rather than Trevor as the reckless and risky twin.

It was illogical, he knew, but it was how he felt.  

And he couldn’t stand the thought of Trevor hating him.  Blaming him.

Because he blamed himself.  

He should’ve been there – done something, somehow.  

Stopped him from falling into the lake or whatever.  They had no idea what actually happened, his bones – waterlogged as they were – told them nothing.  And Trevor’s so-called bros had been less than helpful.  

Jeremy was always sure they knew something – gut instinct and what not, but that didn’t mean squat to the authorities who had nothing to go on.  And after twenty-two and a half years, there wasn’t any evidence of anything other than an accident.  

Still, if he’d been a better brother – maybe he would have been there or helped him find better friends.  What if he had somehow gotten in good with Trevor’s friends and been able to stop him from doing reckless and risky things all of the time?  What if he had convinced him that he didn’t need to do risky and stupid things to be the life of the party?  What if he had spent more time in the city with Trevor rather than hide out in the country where he’s more comfortable?  What if he convinced him that he was better off leaving Lehman Brothers and branching out away from those douchey bros to be with his actual bro?

There were so many things he could have done, so many words left unsaid, so many what ifs.  

Maybe he would finally get answers here.  

He could feel Trevor’s presence as soon as he pulls up, but it takes a minute and several deep breaths before he gets out of the car before he can convince himself to drive back home and not face his brother.  

The front door was open, probably due to the nice weather and to encourage random drop-ins for the business. Given that he hadn’t exactly planned a visit (if only because he had attempted and failed to make this trip a dozen times), this is probably a good thing.  

Still, it’s as nice and homey as his parents told him (they had attempted to reassure him that if Trevor was there at least it was homey – the fact that his drawings and paintings matched a house that he had never set foot in helped assure him that Trevor was definitely there).  He can’t help looking around, and hoping to just spot Trevor rather than have to talk to the owners and explain what exactly he was doing here, but despite noting two obvious ghosts – a captain and a  Lieutenant colonel from opposite sides of the revolutionary war in the library kissing, interesting, he only sees two other ghosts in the living room – a hippie and a Native American, who have appeared to have noticed him.  

No Trevor.  

There’s plenty of land, obviously, so Trevor doesn’t necessarily have to be in the house at the moment, but he’d somehow been hoping that Trevor would be the first person that he would see.  That he wouldn’t have to go searching.

Although, it was entirely possible that his brother had ascended, and he would never know it – would he lose this ability if his brother ascends?  Did the fact that he has this ability even mean that his brother was ghost?  How did it work?  

He had no idea.  Yet, due to the memorial and drawings, he was convinced that Trevor was here – at least, he has been for twenty years.  He could be gone by now.  What if the memorial got him to ascend?  Maybe he’d been hyping himself up to do this all for naught?

What would he do, then?

“SAM!  There’s someone here!” the Native American yells from the living room.  

He doesn’t react.  If his brother isn’t here, then he doesn’t want to give away his ability.  The last thing he wants to do is talk to more ghosts who are less than helpful to his plight of seeing dead people and trying to play at normal.

He’s sure the other living that can clearly see ghosts – Sam – probably wishes the ghosts here would let her play being a bit more normal.  Of course, neither of them were.  Not with this ability most people don’t have.  

He hears footsteps on the stairs, as the hippie woman says, “He looks awfully familiar.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” her companion offers.  

Ignoring them, he looks up at the woman on the stairs, who stops on the landing with two other ghosts behind her – one that’s clearly a Viking and the other who is wearing a scout uniform and an arrow through the neck – ouch.  He’s seen some brutal deaths – that’s a rough way to die for sure.  

It’s at that point that it occurs him that maybe he should’ve gone by the lake, maybe if Trevor died drowning – he’d hang out there?  Before he could leave the house awkwardly – like he’s prone to do, the blonde, clearly alive woman, says, “Trevor?”

“How did you know?” he asks, without thinking.  It had been common practice for he and Trevor to just answer to the other’s name.  They switched so often when they were younger that half the time, he forgot that his name wasn’t Trevor.  

Of course, these days, the name causes an ache his chest.  

He can see the ghosts all reacting confused and excited.  They had clearly put together that he was Trevor’s brother and that he probably came seeking closure about his brother the way his parents had.  

They chatter about seeing him and someone realizes that they should go get Trevor because he should be here for this – both the hippie and arrow man immediately mention that they hadn’t seen him all morning – midafternoon, but that they’d split up and look for him in his usual haunts.  

Several minutes pass before Sam says, “Uh, lucky guess.  You sort of remind me of someone.”

“I get that a lot – were you thinking about them just now?” he asks, giving her an out for awkward silence since he knows what it’s like to be overwhelmed by ghosts that don’t understand what it looks like for her to be silent and trying not to react (and failing) to their commentary.  

A couple of the ghosts mention that it was interesting that he had offered her an out when Sam nods.  “Oh, yes.  He was – uh – a good friend that – uh – recently passed.  My apologies, I’m probably seeming all sorts of weird to you.”

“Weird should be my middle name – I’m quite weird myself,” he offers.  He’s waiting for her to mention anything about his brother or something, while the ghosts continue commenting.

But luckily as the arrow man and the hippy return with yet another ghost with news that they had not found Trevor, he hears, “Jeremy?” from his left.  

He turns to see Trevor standing there in a half suit – interesting and unfortunate death outfit – with a Victorian woman with red-hair.  Those dreams were definitely real.

He doesn’t hesitate (and neither does Trevor) to move forward to hug him.  He could hear surprised voices behind him and the one beside them, but he doesn’t care as he envelopes his brother in a hug for the first time in over twenty-two years.  He puts one arm around his back, while the other goes to his hair to ruffle it, like always.  Trevor mimics him, and to be honest, he finally feels completed for the first time in years – like a piece of himself that had been missing was finally locking into place.  

[onionanddeadgaywizards]

Sirius had never been so alone. Even when in Azkaban at least he had the opportunity to relive parts of it, even if it was the worst part. But now he’s all alone in the house he was supposed to have escaped. He has nothing to do but look around for the traces of his life before everything went wrong.

Sirius went up the rickety stairs, ignoring the malevolent stares from the family portraits.

He ended up in his old room, dust covering all the surfaces but miraculously untouched thanks to his layers upon layers of wards. The spells were made to only let two people in, Sirius and his brother. then later only

one.

Sirius walked through feeling like a giant stepping carefully into the sanctity of the past desperately trying not to move things for fear that everything would come crashing down to join the rest of his life from before. He lays on his childhood bed, feet sticking out past the baseboard and no matter how much he contorts himself he simply can no longer fit. So he rolls off and slumps onto the floor, wondering how many more hours there are left in the day before Remus comes back.

Things are still weird between them but Sirius tries his best to ignore it and cling on to the morsels of comfort he can attain. But never too much, never too close. Because when Sirius gets too close he ends up hurting people. Trying to hold them but ending up closing your fist and shattering them. Thanks for that Mother. Sirius thinks bitterly.

Turning his head Sirius spots the edge of a familiar red box under the slats of his bed. He pulls it out and sits up bringing the box on his knees. He sets the lid aside to peer at the contents long forgotten.

At the top, a note. Written in the familiar handwriting of his long dead best friend, messy on purpose but the years of calligraphy taught by most pureblood families still bleeding through.

*Don’t read until after we win the war ;) -13/9/1978*

Sirius sets it aside next to the lid and reaches for whats underneath. A photo album. Decorated in red and golden sparkles stolen during on of their trips to muggle London before they understood that they needed muggle money. On the inside cover their silly nicknames were written out, so self-important. On each page was a photo or two of their last year at Hogwarts. Mary, Marlene and Lily drunk dancing in a huddle, Peter holding on tightly to a giant stuffed bear fast asleep, Marlene and Dorcas cheeks blown up with air like pufferfish kissing during a round of truth or dare. James somehow caught up in the common room chandelier after practicing for a prank, Remus covered in five different blankets he stole from their beds five empty chocolate wrappers spread around him, Sirius himself applying lipstick in a mirror. And pages more of photos

Under each and every photo the handwriting of everyone dear to them commented. Having dumb conversations, jokingly insulting people, or even writing heartfelt messages.

And on the very last page James’s handwriting again.

*I don’t know who’s reading this, I don’t even know who survived. But it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that after everything love does exist and it’s the strongest thing on this earth. This is the only page no one else has seen, they’d all think it’s cheesy or unnecessary but I know there is no war without casualties. So hey even if everyone that loves you has died, think of me as the one person left that loves you.*

*---James---*

So Sirius cries. Because he so desperately wishes it were true. No matter how much he loves Remus, James has always been first. The other half of his soul, the only reason Sirius has made it this far. He loves him so much and that love has no where to go so it just sits and sits weighing more and more and still it keeps growing.

James was the first person to show Sirius that he could love without pain. And now even that isn’t true, the only fully pure love he ever felt over powered by his grief. And so sadness turns to guilt, for disrespecting what James gave him. And guilt turns to anger that James had to die and ruin the one perfect thing in his life.

So when Remus gets back it’s to the empty husk of Sirius sitting in a room silently with a book in front of him. Except Remus can’t get inside. He bangs against the wards shouting out in fear, calling Sirius’ name.

Sirius looks up at him, bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. For a second it almost seems as if he doesn’t recognize him. Then there’s a flash of light in his gray eyes and Sirius lights up in a way he hasn’t in years.

“Mooonyyyy!!”

Sirius cries out passing through the wards and hugging Remus. Remus is taken aback, they haven’t touched like this in a decade.

“Sirius are you okay?” Remus asks worriedly.

“Of course I am. James and I just pulled off this amazing prank. You should have seen the look on Snivellus’ face. Oh Moony you would have loved it.”

Remus holds back every wave of emotion that menaces to crash down on him. And instead he does what he wished to do every time he felt like this, and hugged Sirius. The long-haired man saw nothing unusual in this still lost in his stupor. Remus holds him in his arms, close to his beating chest, reminding Sirius of the people that are alive. And they stay there. And at some point the shorter man seems to come back, tensing up in in his arms and pulling away.

And they don’t talk about it.

Even when it seems to happen more often, Sirius mistaking Harry for James or randomly antagonizing Snape or even flirting with Remus. They move on to other subjects and chores. Mission after mission keeping Remus busy and away. And like the first time they were in a war, Remus and Sirius don’t talk about it until it’s too late.

[never-enough-whump]

Out Of Spite

Whumpril Day 6: Bad Coping Mechanisms

Summary: In the midst of her divorce, Milah seeks out Killian and starts to open up about having been abused. Set in the same modern AU as Second Time is Not the Charm but can be read as a standalone.

Read on AO3

--

Killian answers the knocking to find Milah standing outside his front door. She's wearing a formal pants suit, a large glass bottle in one hand, and her eyes are puffy as if she's been crying.

"Hey," she says, voice hoarse.

"Hello," he responds, giving her an encouraging smile. Are you all right? he almost asks, but it's too obvious she isn't.

"Can I come in?" she asks. Killian nods and opens the door wider, just as she lifts up the bottle, already open and drinken out of. "I brought rum. Thought it might help me convince you."

"You don't ever have to convince me to hang out with you," he says earnestly.

Milah gives him a long, hard stare. "Of course I do," she grumbles and pushes past him into the apartment. Killian closes the door behind her and doesn't argue. He's had his own "of course I do"s over the years (still has a few of them), so he knows it's better not to fight the issue.

Killian leads Milah into his dining room and sits with her at the table. She wordlessly passes him the bottle of rum. He takes a distracted drink, recognizing it instantly as the cheapest variety the liquor store sells, something he hadn't had to resort to for a long time. “What are you doing here?” he asks when it becomes obvious that she isn’t going to volunteer an explanation on her own.

“I’m getting drunk to spite my husband.” She spits the word "husband" with disgust and immediately takes a drink as if to wash it away. Then, her shoulders slump, making her look even more defeated than she already had. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced,” she says. “But I can't have alcohol where I'm staying and the bar's too public, so I figured here…"

"You're always welcome here," he reassures her, looking deep into her eyes and wishing there was some way he could communicate just how much he means it. "But," she breaks the gaze quickly, eyes darting to the side then fixating on the bottle of rum where it sits on the table between them, “how, exactly, are you going to spite him by being self destructive?" In Killian's extensive experience, drinking never actually helps as much as it seems like it will. Sure, it makes him feel better for a time, but once it wears off he's always left with not just the problems he started with, but also the despair of knowing that "feeling better" is so far out of his reach by any other means. And usually a headache. Not that any of that usually stops him, and he knows he should feel worse than he does for his hypocrisy in challenging her like this.

"Self destructive my ass!" Milah bursts out, finally meeting his eyes again, anger flashing in her own. He places a hand on her arm just below her shoulder, trying to comfort her. She sighs and leans slightly toward him, then continues in a much calmer voice. "I haven't gotten drunk in two years because the last time I did, my husband beat me." Killian inhales sharply, unable to entirely contain his shock and horror. He's suddenly acutely aware of his hand on her arm, and his stomach turns with the unwelcome thought of did he hit her here? The thought is almost enough to make him pull away, but he doesn't, knowing she'd see it as a rejection. "And after I had to relive those memories, after I had to humiliate myself by saying that out loud in court, he said 'that means it worked'." Her voice pitches higher but doesn't waver. "If I let him be right, that would be self destructive."

Killian can't argue with that. He understands the need to prove people wrong. He knows what it's like to have someone say something so terrible about him that he'd do anything to make it not be true. He knows what it's like to hear someone try to justify hurting him. His heart aches at the thought of Milah having those same experiences.

"He was never right," Killian says softly. "Even if you never touched another drop of alcohol, it wouldn't mean he should've done it. But," he grins, trying to shake off the seriousness of the moment, "a little spite never hurt anybody. Should I get us something nicer for the occasion?" He pulls back, letting his fingers trail down her arm as he prepares to go into the kitchen for a bottle of higher quality rum. Before he can stand, she catches his hand with hers.

"This is fine," she says. She takes another drink, as if to prove her point, and doesn't let go of his hand.

They pass the bottle back and forth, hands still clasped, and Killian does the one thing that has never failed to help Milah relax. He talks. He tells her about driving home late at night from an evening repair up north earlier that week - how he had noticed the sunset and stars so much more for just that slight change of perspective. About the one and only vacation he and Liam had taken as children - a camping trip to the desert in New Mexico with their one and only decent foster family. How ironic, isn't it, that for someone who loves the sea as much as he does, his happiest childhood memory would be of the driest place he'd ever been? He tells her about storms he's been caught in and has her laughing along to the most fascinating ways he's seen people try to fix their boats with duct tape.

He could keep talking for hours more, but when the bottle runs out, so does Milah's contentment. "I should go," she says fretfully and Killian feels a pang of disappointment.

"You could stay," he offers. "You should, in fact." Their hands are still joined and despite his words he uses the contact to help her to her feet. She spins toward him but stumbles with the momentum. He hurriedly grabs her shoulders, swaying with her as he squeezes her to his side to keep her upright. For a brief, flustered moment once they've regained their balance, Killian notices how good it feels to have her tucked under his arm like this, but, given the circumstances, he doesn't dwell.

"And why should I?" Milah asks playfully, and it takes Killian a second to remember what words of his she's responding to. "Do you think my husband's lurking outside your door?"

"But of course," Killian says, feigning seriousness. "Lurking like a crocodile." The statement isn't funny, but the laughter it elicits from them both has them nearly toppling over again.

Milah forces a sigh, keeping up the game of exaggeration. "I suppose I'll be sleeping on your lumpy old couch, then," she says, casting an entertainingly dubious look at the cracked blue leather of the couch that's just as lumpy and old as it had been accused of. Killian gently angles her away from the couch, toward his bedroom door.

"Ah! Now what kind of gentleman would that make me? You can sleep in my bed and I will graciously take the lumpy old couch."

He's reluctant to let her go, but he does, promising "I'll get you something to wear" as he goes to grab a t-shirt and pair of flannel pants from the dresser. He turns to see Milah sitting on the bed and is about to make another joke, but stops when he sees the way she's looking at him. Her eyes are shining with that same astonishment, almost confusion, at being treated kindly that he remembers from the night they met. The more he learns about her husband, the more he understands that look. And the more he hates the man responsible.

"Thank you," she whispers as she takes the clothes from him.

Milah hadn't been drunk in two years, is the thought he can't get out of his head that night. Laying on his couch in the dark, Killian thinks back to all the times he'd drank with her during those two years, and the times before, trying to pinpoint when she had started caring if she got drunk. When had she gotten more cautious, started ordering fewer drinks? Were her drinking habits the only thing that had changed? If he can just pick out the point at which it happened, then - what? The knowledge won't help him. If he can work it out in retrospect, it won't absolve him of not noticing at the time. It will do quite the opposite, because the real question isn't about the alcohol. It's: when had she come to the bar covered in bruises of her husband's doing? It's: how could he have helped if only he had realized?

–

Milah gets up while he's making breakfast the next morning. She comes into the kitchen, dressed again in her pants suit with the jacket over her arm, and leans against the counter.

"Thanks for keeping me company last night," she says. It sounds stiff and Killian winces internally. They were friends, at least as far as Killian was concerned, and he'd even go so far as to consider her his best friend (his best friend who he'd been falling in love with for as long as he'd known her, but that might or might not be relevant). Nights like last night were what friends did, but maybe Milah didn't see it that way. Maybe she really had only come for a place to get drunk and really thought he'd only sat with her because she was in his home. "I'm sorry," she adds, catching him by surprise.

"What ever for?"

"For last night. Getting drunk like that was a bad idea and I shouldn't have done it."

"And why does that mean you need to apologize to me?" She snorts at the question like the answer should be obvious.

"Because you had to deal with me, of course." Suddenly, it clicks. Why she'd been so quick to try to leave, why she was acting so odd about it now - it wasn't that she didn't want to be here. She genuinely thought he didn't want her here.

"Milah, no, there's no 'dealing with' about it. I like spending time with you."

"Even when I do stupid shit like drink half a bottle of rum because I'm too caught up in how I'm apparently just some kind of trained animal that can be beaten into - " she stops and furiously wipes tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. You don't want to hear this."

Killian leaves the stove to lean across the counter towards her. "If you want to tell me, I will listen," he says, taking her hands in his. She shakes her head."That's the thing. I don't know if I want to tell you. I don't know if I was ready for you to know… that. I don't want it to change things.""It doesn't have to." Killian gives her hands a light squeeze and turns back to the stove, checking the bacon and starting to get dishes out of the cupboards. "Breakfast?" he asks.

Milah smiles. "Yes, please."

[angelojamal]

When I was married, I knew I was not being replenished, I didn’t think that was supposed to occur. I felt then, if you pour into a spouse, they automatically pour into you. Not everyday, but often enough, so I could continue to pour into my spouse. When I knew I chose wrong, it was the first marriage anniversary. After a fight over my plans for our anniversary (probably because it was a planned event with her, my son, and myself and not a tangible item she can brag about online) it turned into a nasty argument where my ex spouse was breaking items in the house such as fans, due to her having a temper-tantrum. Then she left the house for more than 10 hours with my 6 month old son. She just left me in the house sulking in my own thoughts. The pain felt that day, I don’t care to relive and wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. The Holy Spirit revealed then, I had a spouse that lied, cheated, stole, gossiped, was a angry, angry person. The Holy Spirit removed them from my path but I still needed to guide my children. The plan for my life was already set at seven years old. Once I had my children at 26, I kicked up my effort to be the best version of myself. Work smarter, not harder. If I stayed married and didn’t ask for a divorce in February 2016, I would not be who I am today. After the separation and the divorce was finalized in July of 2017, I have moved forward carefree of the ex spouse. I believe that my growth, thru the ruach’ha kodesh, has led the ex spouse to see me differently now. And I know my son and daughter need me present for them, however I can never be present for there other side of the family. I have had multiple attempts on my physical person verbally from them and the ex spouse and even narrowly evaded multiple attempted assaults on my person. I was ready for every attack, however, that displays what low vibrational people appear as. I moved on once I asked for a divorce and I was denied a divorce on terms I set with the court which was in my opinion very amicable and fair. The divorce was later brought up again once the ex spouse did enough fralicking around town, and once she finally researched the process enough to make it hurtful for myself. I didn’t care I wanted it over. I believed that if you didn’t want someone, you’d just go away, this woman stayed, kept my last name, and now after she is a single mom, with no man around that cares about her, her father just recently ascended RIP; now her negative and lonely mother has just moved into the house that was intended for my kids. Why are people attracted to what they claim they hate. It is wicked work. They believe my love for striving to be more like Yeshua/Jesus, makes me gullible. Shame on them. Retribution is YHWH/God’s, not mine. One things for sure and two things for certain, every dog has its day, and a good one might have two. Forgive others they trespasses, sometimes forgiveness, in a particular area or about a particular thing, may take years to master. And since our flesh is inherently sinful, we can relapse and have to ask God for more forgiveness about something years, and years later. Yet, YHWH is faithful. Anyone in need of scriptural basis of why forgiveness is needed and how it looks when YHWH forgives, just read the entire book of Micah, but right around about the 7th chapter is where the spirit enlightened me of how to move past a failed marriage attempt, with a harlot, in 2016. If your ex spouse was a harlot when you met, no judgement just clarifying, read the entire book of Hosea. I struggled financially due to child support. I struggled mentally due to not seeing my kids, as often as I’d like, and I continue to struggle at times emotionally because I’m in court again, almost 8 years after the divorce was finalized, which the ex spouse won (not me and certainly not the kids). I look to marry again, def not to this ex spouse, that’s tired, over, and done with. However, my next marriage will have the family, the home, the children the furthering of the legacy, but it will be done peacefully, and within the confines of peace.

”“For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.“

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭14‬-‭15‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

To learn more about Forgiveness through YHWH’s example read the book of Micah in the Old Testament:

[aleburton]

fuckzachariah​:

@aleburton​

There was a certain effuse to their little bubble. The satin of the air coalesced with the syrupy scent of far too many cookies for two people with tight appetites, and it moved around them like clouds streaking a muddy sky. It was a surreal sensation he only ever seemed to feel in moments like these - the two of them, sealed in alone together and blissful for it. He had spent one too many fitful, cold sweat nights alone not to value these ones, few and far between as they came. And, too, they were charmed with a certain childish coyness. His gaze skirted too-high up her thighs, but they didn’t linger there, snatching away before his heartbeat grew too quick. Their eye contact was often, stark and intentional but short-lived. He suspected, though wasn’t certain, it was the same for her. This embarrassed but breathtaking need for each other. In the simplest of ways, he knew was true, too. Zach had made his way through most of the cookie, and though the indulgence was savored it was over quickly. He picked at the final bites. Nourishing himself in this way never did quite come natural to him.

He ran a hand through still-wet hair, beads of water slipping from the nape of his neck, over his shoulders and down the hard, inked lines of his chest, then finally disappearing into the loose lapels of his robe. A slow-moving, cool fingertip fending off the midsummer Californian evening. Alex took the cookie he proffered and her face, though bare and he often thought astonishingly innocent-looking in this state, managed to twist into something coquettish. It stirred something in him. He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, tongue too, corners of his mouth turned up into a bitten grin. A small, silent laugh pushed through his nose. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered low, pushing up from his elbow to lean on his hand. The concoction in his stomach felt like liquor and magic. He never did quite know what the fuck they were doing - how do you define friendship? Zach had friends. Zach had a best friend. Alex was somehow both of these things to him, and simultaneously neither. And then, a third, much harder to define thing. The type of thing that twists up your guts and makes your heart sick and your thighs twitch. “Why don’t you taste it, describe it to me,” he went on in a sticky drawl, witnessing quick flashes of crowning the ground with his bashed knees and breathing hot between her thighs, “and I’ll tell you?”

@fuckzachariah

Alex slowly drew out her index finger, now rid of the pink, sugary frosting and varnished with a sheer coating of saliva. Her eyes coasted up the length of his body, finally pinning to his and she laughed. Somehow they always returned here. It was all instinctual. Practically coded in their DNA. There was no way to avoid the magnetism that existed between them. The universe could be so cruel. Bonding two very disturbed souls together, only to toss them into an environment where they were not meant to survive. They were both they poison and the antidote to the other. And each time they attempted to detach, something managed to unite them once more. Perhaps one day, they would learn to stop resisting their fate. Whatever that may be.

“Sweet,” she answered. “The kind of sweet that makes your mouth water before you’ve even taken a bite.” Her memories were vivid, stirring the arousal within the depths of her stomach. They had done a terrible job at being inconspicuous the last time, Eden and Ryan stationed just outside of the bathroom door as Zach spread her thighs wide. The unease of being caught or watched only intensified the pleasure she received. Despite the risks, he brought her to the most Heavenly orgasm. One she wished to relive over again and had inside of her mind a number of times since. Alex gazed at him, centering her focus on his lips. She leaned inward, perched upon her knees as she closed in. She raised her free hand, sweeping the pad of her thumb across the corner of his mouth to rid of its chocolate smudge.

“If I tell you much more, I might be the one doing the distracting. You’ve got another big day tomorrow.” Her eyes returned to his, admiring the delicate flecks of gold contained within them. She smiled, tossing her cookie back onto one of the silver trays. There was much to discuss. His abbreviated portrayal of how he had reunited with his mother felt hollow. His reasoning for not sharing it with her was still unclear. Where they would go from here now that she had returned was also undetermined. What did he want? Alex sat back, crisscrossing her legs with her hands folded neatly into her lap. “I’m not going to be blamed for anything you do or say if you end up tired.” Voices could still be heard from down the hallway, the sound of music pulsing softly between the walls. “They’re all fucked.”