#you’re telling me they’re all the same

[ozzgin]

Now that I think about it, probably the only reason the reader doesn't gets kidnapped in Yandere school is because the school is literally filled to the brim with yanderes.

So it's like having a bunch o people trying to get through a door, but never being able to, because there are loads of other people trying to do the same at the same time... and this just makes me laugh.

This is very much the case! To your great luck or misfortune, depending on how you want to view it.

Imagine feeling somewhat lonely because all the students are rather formal and distant. Sure, they’re friendly. They always answer your questions and help you when you’re in trouble. Yet you can’t help but desire more.

You’ve been reading a lot of romance lately, wondering if someday you’ll also encounter someone special between the walls of Yandere School. So, you open your locker secretly hoping to find a love letter. You linger after class, quietly praying someone will offer to walk you home.

Alas, nothing ever happens.

In reality, the entire school is simply sabotaging itself. Your locker is broken into every half an hour, as one jealous student discards the previous confession, replacing it with his own. The cycle continues.

Unbeknownst to you, a group of students violently wrestle each other in the school yard every time you melancholically sigh and await for a companion. Sadly, it’s another evening without a clear winner. One student wipes at their bloodied nose, vowing to be the one walking alongside you next time.

"Maybe one day", you tell yourself, closing the gate behind you.

You briefly glance at a large pile of crumpled notes toppling over the trash. Colorful envelopes, flowers, boxes of chocolate which seem to be untouched otherwise.

"Someone should clean that up already."

[Yandere School Masterlist]

[fastandcarlos]

Helping Hand : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: what was supposed to be a nice dinner for the two of you is ended with fans waiting around. with your nerves growing, max is there to protect you

“There’s a slight problem,” Max whispered across to you as he rejoined you at your table. 

Nervous eyes looked to him as Max took a hold of your hand, unable to sit anywhere near as still as he saw before. “What’s that?” You asked, noticing how panicked he looked. 

“Before I tell you, I just want you to know that I’m sorry,” Max frantically told you, eyes darting everywhere as he tried to find the answer to the problem that he was facing. 

“Max, you’re worrying me,” you sighed. 

He took a deep breath as you squeezed his hand, encouraging his eyes to look across at you. “It turns out some fans have found out where we are and they’re hanging around outside the building.” 

“Shoot,” you muttered. 

Your heart began to quicken, fear racing through your body as you imagined the sights outside. Even just a couple of fans was enough to terrify you, the way they threw themselves at the two of you, particularly Max, and gave you little space. You tried your best to get away whenever possible, constantly worried about what might happen. 

Max could tell as your body tensed that you were panicked, his heart sinking with a feeling of guilt that he was the reason you were feeling this way. 

For him it was part of the job, he wouldn’t say that he was used to it, but he accepted it. You on the other hand, you hadn’t done anything to get all the attention, you couldn’t help who you had fallen in love with. 

“We might not have a choice but to try and race through them.” 

“We’ll do whatever needs to be done,” you weakly smiled, trying your best to assure Max that you were alright. 

“I’ll be there the whole time,” Max insisted, bringing his free hand to cup against the side of your face. “We don’t have to stop and chat, we can just head straight to the car and get home as quick as we can.” 

Your head nodded as Max briefed you on what his plan was, mapping out every stage to keep you safe. He’d had enough unexpected encounters to know exactly how to manage these things. 

“I’m sure we’ll be alright,” you whispered, picking up your bag as Max helped you to your feet. The grip that you had on him was tight as Max neared the door to the restaurant where you had headed for the evening. 

“Stay close,” Max instructed, “I’m right here.” 

As you neared the door with your hand intertwined in with Max’s, the volume quickly got louder, the lights getting brighter. It wasn’t the biggest crowd that you had ever seen, but even just a handful of fans were enough to sometimes do a lot of damage when you least expected it. 

Max’s eyes glanced back at you one final time before opening up the door, moving his hand out of yours and wrapping his arm around your frame instead to shield you. Your body flinched at the high-pitched shrieks that came from beside you as your eyes remained on the floor, making sure that your strides matched Max’s so that you could get to the car at the exact same time. 

You were unaware of Max’s protective eyes on you, refusing to look anywhere else. He weakly smiled at the fans who were trying to get a glimpse of him, focusing on getting you from A to B instead. The driver had the door open as he saw you coming, with Max hurrying you to get inside. 

“Watch your step,” Max told you once you were at the car, holding your hand as he made sure you were in. He rushed behind you and slammed the door shut, immediately watching you relax as the wave of noise quietened down, the fear coursing through your body subsiding at last. 

It took a moment for you to regain your composure as you sat back in your seat, watching Max sit beside you. His hand came down to rest on top of your thigh, squeezing against it gently. His eyes studied you closely, checking you over several times just to make sure that you were alright. 

“You good?” Max questioned as your eyes met his, offering you a warm smile. “I don’t want to tempt fate, but that wasn’t too bad for once.” 

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” you grinned, nudging against his side. “You’re like a man on a mission sometimes when it comes to getting me out of places like that.” Max proudly smiled as you spoke, it was a role that he took incredibly seriously and took pride in doing a good job of it too. 

However, your eyes soon rolled as Max flexed his bicep beside you. “When you’re as ripped as I am, protecting your girlfriend is the easiest job in the world.” 

“Do you hear yourself sometimes? I think I might’ve just got the ick.” 

“I gave you the ick?” 

“Only weirdos brag about how strong they are Max.” 

“After protecting you, I’ve been told I give you the ick and that I’m weird,” Max chuckled, “why do I bother looking after you sometimes? Next time I might just leave you to fend for yourself.” 

“If I was by myself, I’d probably be able to walk without a care in the world.” 

“That’s true,” he whispered, “I guess all of this does happen because of me.” 

“Well, I’m certainly not a world championship winning driver.” 

The car fell silent as your body shifted to glance out of the window as the car set off. Whilst you relaxed yourself again, the words you said played over and over in Max’s mind. It was all because of him that you needed to be protected, without him, you could live a normal life and go about your day without having to worry about someone shouting in your face or a camera going off and blinding you. 

As the journey continued, you could feel how tense Max was beside you, flickering your eyes back to look at him. “What are you thinking?” You asked, noticing the dark shade in his eyes as he stared down at the ground. 

“I just feel bad,” Max admitted as he looked up and across to you. “These things don’t happen to normal people, you never asked for any of this, to have to be shielded to keep yourself safe to simply be able to leave a restaurant in peace.” 

Your eyes narrowed as he spoke, his voice full of sincerity, a rare occasion for Max. You could see in his expression how concerned he was, wondering whether keeping up with his lifestyle was something you could truly see yourself doing. 

“You don’t need to feel bad Max.” 

His head shook back across at you, “I do feel bad though, it’s because of me that this is why your life is like this.” 

“I know, but why do you think I live like this? Because it means that I get to be with you Max,” you smiled, taking a hold of his hand. 

A soft sigh came from Max as he shuffled closer towards you, allowing his head to rest down on top of yours. “I wish that I could be with you and not have to worry about your safety all the time.” 

The corners of your mouth turned up as Max allowed his feelings to pour out of him. “It would be nice, but that’s not the way it’s ended up. And I’m alright with that. Just as long as I have you.” 

“Really?” Max queried, “do you really never think about going back to how your life used to be?” 

“My life without you? You must be joking,” you scoffed, “despite all that, this is the happiest that I’ve ever been, and that’s all down to you.” 

Max hummed, finally believing in what you said to him. “Even though I can give you the ick sometimes?” 

“Even with the ick, you’re still the best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[foxtrot91]

shovel talk

“So,” Maddie says, eyes squinting as she looks Tommy over, wine glass cradled in one hand while the other rests on her hip. 

They’re in the hallway of Bobby and Athena’s new place, and Tommy doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that she’s catching him in the bathroom hallway just as Tommy’s about to return to the party. Remembering another conversation at another party, he suddenly wishes he was holding a slice of cake; though he gets the feeling Maddie wouldn’t be easily deflected with it, Hen certainly wasn’t. 

“Are you looking for the bathroom?” He asks instead, tossing a glance behind him. “It’s right over there, second on the left.” 

He gives her his best grin; just because he knows this conversation is inevitable doesn’t mean he has to make it easy on her. Her eyebrows raise and Tommy thinks someone so small shouldn’t give him the same feeling as being dressed down by his sergeant once did. He hopes for Chim’s sake that he doesn’t find himself in the doghouse too often. 

“So,” she says again, ignoring his directions to the bathroom. “I was just thinking that we haven’t really had a chance to properly meet.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, still suspicious about where this conversation is going. “I guess we haven’t.”

It’s true, it’s only been a couple months since he and Evan got together and between their differing schedules and the drama going on behind the scenes at the 118, there hadn’t been much time for larger get togethers. For the most part, Tommy and Evan have either spent their time just the two of them or hanging out with Eddie in an effort to keep his mind off of Christopher’s departure. Which, thank god that has since been resolved, for awhile there Eddie had been a bit of a basket case. There had been the wedding, of course, but even a normal wedding doesn’t leave time for the bride and groom to spend much time with individual guests, and there’s had been anything but normal. 

“You know, Buck was really nervous when he told me about you,” she says, eyes glittering as she looks him over before taking a sip of her wine. 

“Coming out to someone you care about will do that to a person,” Tommy says simply, eyebrow raised. 

“Of course,” she says with a soft chuckle before continuing, “it made me realize that he’s never told me about any of his other relationships before.” 

“Oh?”

“I mean, I knew they existed and I knew their names, but he never once talked about them, I barely even knew a thing about Ali. Even Taylor, she was his longest relationship and I barely heard a word about her. Then there’s Natalia who was barely a blip.” She pauses here and takes another sip from her wine before shifting her gaze back to Tommy. “Actually, there was one person I heard a lot about, even if I never got the chance to meet her.” 

“Abby,” Tommy says, figuring with what he knows of Evan’s relationship history that she’s a safe bet. 

“Mmhm,” she hums, nodding in agreement. “But since that first day he told me about you, you’re all he talks about now.” 

Tommy feels warmth bloom in his chest at that admission, the thought of Evan feeling happy and secure enough in their - admittedly young - relationship to talk about it with others leaves him feeling pleased. 

“It kind of reminds me of how he was with Abby, actually,” she continues, “before he’d accepted that she was gone I got to hear all about her, almost felt like I knew her.” There’s a bit of a wistful edge to her voice, though Tommy can tell it’s less about Abby and more about Evan's happiness. “He hasn’t been that way with anyone since, at not least until now. So I guess you could say that as his big sister I thought I'd better check to make sure that he’s not going to wake up one day and find you’ve suddenly discovered a burning desire to – I don’t know, Amelia Earhart your way around the world and leave him behind.” 

Her voice grows firmer on that last bit as she pins Tommy with her gaze, eyebrow raised. Despite the teasing edge still present in her voice, Tommy can tell she’s serious, and truthfully, he can’t say he blames her. Eddie once told him over a shared six-pack that Evan has abandonment issues the size of the moon, and everything he’s learned about his past relationships - both romantic and familial - supports that. If Evan has avoided talking about past girlfriends, Tommy wonders if it had anything to do with a fear that they’d leave him behind too. He wonders what that says about the fact that he apparently talks about Tommy with those closest to him.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Amelia Earhart's disappearance is a pretty strong deterrent for that. Also— can’t do Muay Thai in the sky,” he says, unable to resist responding with his own personal brand of humour. Maddie doesn’t respond during the pause he takes to gather his thoughts, her face giving nothing away. “But... the truth is, that I can’t tell you the future, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, let alone six months from now.” He pauses, suddenly wishing he had his own glass of wine to occupy his hands as he contemplates his next words. “What I can tell you is that I didn’t step into this lightly, and that I care about him a lot.” He takes a moment to let the truth of that sink in before adding, “and for what it’s worth, if you talked to any of my friends, I’m pretty sure they’d tell you the same thing, which is that I talk about Evan so much that they’re probably sick of hearing about him now.” It's true, Sal barely manages to repress the eyeroll whenever Evan's name comes up, and Angela and Jenkins have started a drinking game during Trivia Night based on how often Tommy says his name. It's made them terrible at trivia. 

The beat of silence that passes between he and Maddie isn't exactly uncomfortable, but he does find himself holding his breath a little wondering if he passed. He has the idle thought that she’d be good at poker with how little she’s giving away with her facial expression. But then, a smile stretches over her face, and Tommy finds himself sighing in relief. This was different than his talk with Hen and Karen that had obviously been more teasing in nature. While Maddie may have done a good job in keeping her tone overall light, Tommy’s under no delusions that she wasn’t serious in sizing Tommy up to determine if he was fit to date her brother.

“Good,” she says simply, and then tilts her head slightly towards the kitchen. “I need a top-up, and you seem like you could use a glass, have a drink with me?”

“Absolutely,” Tommy agrees, his own grin stretching across his face.

He follows Maddie into the kitchen where she grabs a second glass for him before pulling out the wine she and Chim brought – a merlot – and pouring him a glass before topping off her own.

“So, you’re a pilot,” she says, a statement, not a question.

“I am.”

“Could be handy having a pilot in the family,” she comments, eyes twinkling, “Chim said you flew Eddie to Vegas.”

It's said nonchalantly, with a hint of expectation but before he can respond, Evan’s rounding the corner, clearly having heard at least part of their conversation. “Oh no,” he groans, “you do not get to commandeer my pilot boyfriend so that you and Chim can have some private date weekend in Vegas.”

“I said no such thing,” Maddie claims, hands raised, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“But you thought it,” Evan says accusingly.

Tommy watches them, barely suppressing his own laughter as he grabs a potato-chip from a nearby bowl to munch on. He lets them go back and forth, trading verbal jabs in the way all siblings do before he takes his moment to jump in.

“I’d be happy to fly your sister to Vegas,” Tommy says, grinning at Evan’s indignant look and Maddie’s triumphant one.

“Thank you,” she says, voice overly sweet as she pats Tommy on the hand before picking up her glass. She starts towards the door, presumably to rejoin the others, but he doesn’t miss it when she leans in and whispers to Evan, “he’s a keeper,” before smacking a kiss to his cheek as she heads out the door. Evan’s face softens at Maddie’s approval, and Tommy’s does too.

Evan joins him at the table, cheeks pink as he swipes Tommy’s glass to steal a sip.

“You disappeared on me,” he says, looking up at Tommy. “How bad was it? She give you the third degree?”

“It wasn’t bad at all,” Tommy says honestly, “I like that you have people who care.”

“Hm,” is all he says, though Tommy can tell he’s at least a little pleased by it too. “Still, we need to have a talk about how you’re supposed to take my side in arguments with my sister,” he adds, semi-serious.

Laughing, Tommy stands from his seat and comes around the table, offering Evan his hand before pulling him back towards the door. “Evan, the only useful relationship advice my dad ever gave me was to ‘get in good with the family.’” He adds air-quotes and deepens his voice for effect. “Of course, he thought my relationships would look a lot different, but the advice is still solid,” he says, before adding, “besides, I like your sister, and flying Maddie and Chim to Vegas for a weekend would also mean flying you and I there.”

Evan perks up at that, “yeah?”

“Separate hotel rooms, of course,” Tommy adds, letting his smile take on a suggestive edge as they open the door to the balcony.

“Separate hotels,” Evan says, his own lascivious smile spreading across his face.

Whatever their faces are doing as they join the others must make it obvious what they’re both thinking about because the next thing he hears is Chim saying; “Mm, I don’t like that look, too reminiscent of Buck 1.0. Does anyone have a spray bottle? Gotta squirt him like an overgrown tomcat before he gets outta control.”

Tommy lets the subsequent laughter at Evan’s indignant squawk envelop him, somewhere in the background he hears Christopher question what Buck 1.0 means and Eddie insisting he doesn’t want to know. Tommy finds he’s enjoying himself, even if the laughter is at their expense. He wasn’t lying to Evan when he’d told him before that he’d been jealous of the family the 118 had become but for once, Tommy isn’t jealous. He doesn’t need to be, because this time he’s a part of it.

Read on ao3

[awkward-walking-potato]

I do hope you’re still doing Wolverine requests!

if so, mayhaps I request a Logan x mutant!gn!reader where the reader is much older than Logan (and has more experience of history than he does), and Logan likes to ask questions (asking if they’re comfortable with it at first since he doesn’t want to bring up some unpleasant memories) about things that happened before he was even alive? I’d like that, but if not then that’s alright!

Echoes of Time

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the cabin’s cozy interior. Logan leaned back in his chair, a glass of whiskey resting on his knee, his eyes flicking between the flames and you, sitting across from him. The quiet moments between missions, when it was just the two of you, always seemed to settle something deep in his chest.

You sat comfortably, your gaze distant but serene, as though you were caught somewhere between the present and the distant past. And Logan knew that, in some ways, you were. After all, you had been alive for far longer than him. Decades, maybe even centuries — your experiences far surpassed his, both in length and in breadth.

It was something that had always fascinated him. Even with his extensive, albeit fragmented, memories of the past century, Logan felt like a child when it came to the sheer scope of your experience. Yet, despite your age and wisdom, you had always been patient with him, never treating him as though he were lacking in some way.

Tonight, though, something stirred in Logan’s mind. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, glancing at you once more before speaking up, his voice soft, almost tentative.

"Can I ask you something, darlin'?"

You blinked, your gaze snapping back to the present as you looked at him. "Of course, Logan. What’s on your mind?"

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to tread on sensitive ground, but his curiosity was strong. "I was just wonderin'... if you're comfortable with it, could you tell me about… y’know, things from before? Stuff that happened long before I was around."

Your expression softened, and you could see the careful way he chose his words. Logan had always been considerate about your past, understanding that someone with your history might have painful memories. But at the same time, he couldn’t help his fascination with the things you had seen, the world you had lived through before he was even born.

"I don't want to bring up anything unpleasant," he added quickly, his gruff voice tinged with concern. "But if you're alright with it, I just... I like hearin’ your stories. Helps me understand things better. Understand you better."

You smiled, a warmth spreading in your chest at his sincerity. "You don’t have to worry, Logan. I don’t mind talking about the past. Some parts of it were hard, sure, but others… others were beautiful."

Logan nodded, setting his glass down on the table beside him as he leaned forward, his full attention on you. "What was it like, back then? The world, before all this madness with wars, and mutants, and everything?"

You paused, gathering your thoughts as you sifted through centuries of memories. "It wasn’t always easy. The world was harsher in some ways, and simpler in others. People were the same, though — always struggling, always dreaming. I saw empires rise and fall, entire civilizations come and go."

Logan’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Did you ever get caught up in all that? The wars and the politics?"

You chuckled softly. "It was hard not to, sometimes. But I tried to keep my distance when I could. I learned early on that being a part of human conflicts rarely ended well for someone like me."

Logan grunted in understanding, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, I get that."

There was a pause, the firelight flickering across the room as Logan studied you, the weight of your words sinking in. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Did you ever meet anyone… famous? You know, like historical figures?"

You smiled at the question, your mind drifting back to encounters long past. "A few. Some of them weren’t as impressive as the history books make them out to be. But there were a handful who were truly remarkable — people who made you believe in change, even when it seemed impossible."

Logan nodded thoughtfully, processing everything you said. His hand absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck as he continued. "I imagine you saw a lot of good people come and go. That must’ve been tough."

You exhaled softly, the sadness of those memories weighing on your chest. "It was. Losing people is never easy, no matter how much time passes. But I try to hold onto the good memories, the ones that make it all worth it."

Logan’s eyes softened as he watched you, sensing the deep emotions you carried. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the roughness of his touch gentle, grounding. "You’re a tough one, you know that?"

You smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. "I’ve had to be."

Logan studied your face for a moment, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Must’ve been lonely, though. Goin’ through all that on your own."

"It was," you admitted softly. "But it’s different now."

Logan’s gaze held yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He knew what you meant — that in this moment, with him, you weren’t alone. And the weight of the past, while still present, didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

He let out a slow breath, leaning closer. "I’m glad you’re here with me now. I’ve seen a lot, too, but not like you. It’s... comforting, y’know? Knowing I’m not the only one with a messed-up past."

You chuckled lightly, appreciating the way he could make even the darkest subjects feel lighter. "We’ve both got our scars, Logan."

He smirked at that, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Yeah, but I like yours better."

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, but your heart warmed at the affection behind it. Despite all his rough edges, Logan had a way of making you feel seen, valued, even with all your history.

Logan shifted in his chair, his voice turning more serious again. "You think about the future much? Or does the past keep you too busy?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I used to dwell on the past more, but lately… I’ve been thinking about the future. There’s still so much to see, so much to experience. And it’s easier to look ahead when you have someone to share it with."

Logan’s lips quirked into a soft smile, his thumb still tracing patterns on your hand. "Glad I could be that someone."

The fire crackled quietly between you, the warmth of it wrapping around the two of you as you sat in comfortable silence. Logan, despite his hardened exterior and often gruff demeanor, had a deep respect for you — for the life you had lived, and the strength it took to carry all those memories with you.

He broke the silence one last time, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the question had only just dawned on him. "Do you ever regret it? Livin’ that long, seeing everything?"

You looked at him, his question hanging in the air for a moment. Then, with a soft smile, you shook your head. "Not anymore. Not since I met you."

Logan’s smile widened slightly, his eyes softening in a way they rarely did. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his rough hands cradling the sides of your face. "Good," he whispered. "’Cause I ain’t lettin’ you go."

And in that moment, as you leaned into his touch, the weight of centuries seemed a little lighter. The past would always be there, but with Logan by your side, the future seemed brighter than it had in a long time.

[the-curious-butterfly]

Today just feels like a day for firsts so this is for them.

Chloe was sitting on her bed doing schoolwork when Red came, more like barreled, in. She had thought to greet her roommate or say anything really, but all the words got caught in her throat as soon as she looked up and saw the look on her face. There was this intensity to her eyes that would have been frightening if it wasn’t for the fact she was also smiling. Though their eyes met for only a second before she beelined it towards Chloe. Taking the Charming completely by surprise as all she could get out was a “Red, what-“ and then she couldn’t speak anymore. Suddenly her lips were too busy with something soft and tender and…oh.

Funny, she originally thought of herself as more resistant to give in but the minute she felt those lips she was done for. Her body gave a quiet sigh as it went limp, the only thing holding her up was Red who had wrapped her arms around her the moment she sat upon the edge of the bed. Pulling her closer and closer to the point Chloe felt like she would break, but also that it wasn’t close enough.

Chloe has heard and read about first kisses. None of that had prepared her for this. Where first kisses are described as slow, soft, and sweet. Red is quick, intense, and yet still somehow so sweet. While her movements may seem erratic Chloe could tell she was being rather mindful, especially with her teeth. At one point Red even bit her bottom lip, though only enough to tease not to hurt. Her hands, which travel up and down her back now, feel more soothing rather than needing.

How is it possible that Red is kissing her senseless, yet reassuring her that she isn’t losing her senses all at the same time.

It’s so Red. So very very Red. Just like this first kiss.

This perfect first-

…Wait.

After what felt like a lifetime, but was really only moments, Chloe had found the strength to place her hands upon Red’s arms and slowly push her away. Breaking the intensity but not the kiss, not completely anyway. Red’s lips chased hers, though she wasn’t the only one to blame.

“Wait, wait.” Oh good, she hadn’t completely lost her voice. She had been worried about that for a minute. Before she could say anymore, however, Red took her breath away once more for a completely different reason. Something was being held before her that she swears wasn’t there a second ago, something circular that looks oddly enough like a-

“What, Red?!”

“No this isn’t me proposing, not yet at least, this is me saying I don’t mind the thought of marrying you either. Someday.”

All Chloe could do was stare at Red, because really what is she suppose to say to that? Was she suppose to reach out and take the ring? Which was silver and plain looking, but that’s not what mattered. Chloe wouldn’t have cared if it was plastic, what she cares about is the person offering it to her and saying they’re fine with her.

“I talked to Principal Uma and she helped me realize a few things. Number one being, Chloe, if I ever get to the point where I do marry you. It’ll be because I chose to, and how could I regret choosing the first person who believed I was more than what I seemed?”

Chloe stared at the ring then up into Red’s intense yet genuine gaze. “But…I also told you that you weren’t more than what you seemed when we met.”

The answer came after a spot of laughter. “I told you the same thing too, I called you a privileged little princess.”

“I am-was a privileged little princess.” Chloe could admit that now. Red on the other hand was never evil, not the way her mom is…or well was?

“You sure you’re not still are?” She raises a perfectly constructed brow as she teases Chloe. Prompting said girl to shove her off the bed, ring still in hand. “Hey, at least accept this first before you kick me off.”

“Nope, keep teasing me and I might never.”

Red feigns a rather audible gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

Chloe looks down at the pouting child before relenting with a sigh. “You’re right, I wouldn’t, I love you too much to do that.”

There it was, Chloe said it. It was the first time she told Red that she loved her. Six months after you start dating, even if you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, was enough time right? She sure hoped so, except Red isn’t responding nor can she read the expression on her face.

Oh fairy godmother, this was a mistake wasn’t it?

It was a mistake. It was a mistake.

“It was-“

She couldn’t even finish as a pair of lips had defended upon her once more. Though this kiss was a lot different from the first. It was much more like the ones she’s read and heard about. It’s so very soft, slow, and sweet. It’s fireworks and fairy song and everything she’s ever imagined. Red’s arms are sitting on her shoulders this time so Chloe places hers around the other girl’s waist. Something small falls onto one of the sheets of paper scattered around her bed, but she’s too focused on Red to care about what it is.

She takes this to mean a good thing, even if Red hadn’t said it back. The fact that she’s kissing Chloe like this must be a good sign.

That thought gets reinforced when Red pulls away to rest her forehead against Chloe’s. “I’m not very good at the whole feeling thing so I didn’t know how else to respond. Just, know that it wouldn’t feel enough to say that I like you.”

Chloe’s smile in response is so radiant she’s pretty sure she should have gotten the name Charming for that alone. Red herself could barely look at it, but she couldn’t look away either.

Except suddenly that radiant smile turned into an amused frown. “Did you say you went to Principal Uma for advice?”

“Yes…look, I had to go to someone and Maddox is a whole kingdom away.”

“So you went to the Principal? Shouldn’t that be something I would do?”

“What can I say, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Or maybe you respect certain authority more than you like to let on.”

“Chloe Charming, you take that right back this instant.”

“Or else what?” At this point Chloe unconsciously starts rubbing Red’s back through the fabric of her riot jacket. Red’s response is to rub their noses together.

“Or else I’ll stop hanging out with you.”

“Hanging out? Is that what we’ve been doing?”

“Have we not, that’s what people do isn’t it?”

“Red, you really do need more friends.”

Red gently bites Chloe’s left ear causing Chloe to give out a soft yelp. “First of all, rude. Second, why would I need more friends when I have you?”

“That’s exactly what someone who needs more friends would say. Wait, don’t you dare bite the other one!”

Too late, she bit the other one too.

[stormyelliotwritez]

do u think that like dating poolverine would you meet one over the other first or both at the same time and like how would that happen like omg the thoughts in my brain are thinking so hard rn. like. who falls first. how do yall get tgt. that kinda stuff.

i feel like theres so many ways this could go but i wanna hear your opinions… c:

okay okay okay, i have thoughts and thanks for this!!!

so if you’re a merc/hero like them and you meet after dp&w:

you meet deadpool first and you guys playfully flirt and you against your better judgement find yourself falling for him

hes oblivious af coz he can’t stop thinking about wolvie

he invites you over for like dinner and some drinks coz he wants wolvie to make friends

logan can smell the want and the affection on you and he can hear your heartbeat racing when you talk to them

he tells wade and it clicks for him and he realizes wait he can like you too so he falls for you and then logan does too

you get together by play flirting and then it becoming real flirting and then they’re inviting you to stay the night and soon enough you’re moving in and being cuddled all the time

if you’re in the void and you’re like a hero ig

they meet you in the building with elektra and gambit and blade and laura

you’ve been there so long that you don’t even care about romance and all that coz who has the time when smoke tries to eat you

wades so taken in by everything that he doesn’t really notice you but logan does and hes like damn that guys hot and emotionally dead so just his type

he starts initiating conversations and flirting with you like an old man by offering you a beer and teasing you

if you die at cassandra’s, he asks b-15 to bring you back and them wade falls for you when he sees how you and logan are so good for each other

if you go with them to go to wades home, wade falls for you when you help them fight the other hims (totally not mostly coz you’re hot when you fight)

you three get together after the events of the movie when you and logan have moved in with wade and it just kinda happens

If you’re their neighbor:

wade sees you around and mentions you to logan every so often

they kinda stalk you, well normal people would call it stalking but they just make sure you get home safe and nobody annoys you

after a while, you start noticing them around and you end up with a crush on them

so if you make it look like someones scaring you, then that’s your own business

they save you and then Wade immediately starts flirting with you and logans just like wanna have a beer and like any slightly not sane person, you say yes to the two men who’ve technically been stalking you

you guys get together by just the normal way of talking, then going on dates and then dating

those are what i can think of at the moment but if anyone wants to know my opinion of how you’d get with them in other scenarios, please ask me!!!!

[sanakiras]

DISTRACTION

PAIRING — xu minghao x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.5k

SYNOPSIS — you can’t help staring at your best friends’s hands. when he pushes you to tell him why, things in your relationship take a turn.

TAGS — minghao in a suit, explicit sexual content, pure self-indulgence, porn with no plot, fem!reader

NOTE — there’s something sooo attractive about a man having long fingers. also i just have a crush on the8. no i will not elaborate. might delete this later bc i don’t like it. oh well. enjoy :o

lately, whenever being around your best friend, you’ve been... distracted.

for some reason, you’ve always liked it when men have long fingers. obviously the best known reason for that is a lewd one, but for you, it’s more than that. long fingers are hypnotizing to you.

of course it was minghao’s face that drew you in first. plump lips, eyes that could both kill and make you melt under their gaze, a strong jaw, dark hair often slicked back with a pair of sunglasses sitting on top.

then you noticed his figure. minghao is tall — long legs, long arms, long torso. what drew you in about him was the control he has over it, alongside his flexibility. his movement is always swift, sharp and coordinated. not one to stumble over his own feet.

he became a close friend to you in no-time. within the first months of meeting him, you developed an admiration towards him, and that continued to grow into a crush you feel nothing if not insecure about.

because despite knowing him well, he’s far from an open book.

he’s not once given you the idea that he likes you the same way you like him, and now that he’s become such a good friend of yours, the last thing you’d want is to lose the friendship you’ve built with him.

so you keep it to yourself.

or, well, you try.

his current outfit makes that ridiculously hard. you’ve never seen him in a suit before.

while you weren’t all that excited for the black-tie event hosted by your faculty, just the sight of him has changed your mood like a whole day’s worth of caffeine.

and when he walks over to you, all you can do is admire him. the fabric suits his body like a glove, with several silver rings adorning his fingers and his frequently worn small hoop earrings to match them. the beautifully subtle black eye pencil brings out the colors of his eyes and styled hair.

“you look like a dream,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth when he steps before you, the tone of his voice as gentle as the smile he gives you.

heat rushes to your cheeks. “so do you. never expected to see you in a suit, but you clean up nice.”

he chuckles at your sarcasm. “thank you.”

as he tells you about — whatever it is, you honestly hardly remember a thing of the conversation — you suddenly come to the deafening conclusion that you’re nowhere near as subtle with your glances as you thought you were, which certainly bursts your bubble a bit.

“you keep doing that.” he muses, tilting his head as he looks at you with curiosity.

“what?”

“staring at my hands.”

“i’m not—i don’t stare.”

“what else would you call it? constant-looking?”

“hilarious. really.”

when you don’t say anything else, he purses his lips, hoping to get a little more out of you. you’ve got to give him credits for his determination. “so, what’s so interesting about my hands?”

with a simple shrug of your shoulders, you pretend to be casual, like he didn’t catch you staring at him. “they’re not interesting, just… nice.”

“nice?”

“can’t we just drop this? and by ‘we’ i mean you.”

he chuckles, shaking his head. “we’re friends. you can tell me, i won’t judge.”

“you? not judging anyone? that’d be almost suspicious.”

the retort makes him smile to the point it hurts his jaw. “i won’t judge you.”

a sigh rolls past your lips. “it’s no big deal, i just… like it when people have nice hands.”

“and why’s that?”

“does everything you like need to have a reason?”

"no, i guess not."

a playfulness that stirs doubt in you flashes behind his eyes, and you’re forced to put a halt to the conversation when one of your fellow faculty members walks up to the two of you with a glass of champagne, which you could not be happier with.

all you can do is hope minghao won’t bring up the topic again, the redness in your cheeks betraying you.

unfortunately, he does eventually bring it up again, once he’s gotten you home.

what his exact words were is difficult to remember, but now that he’s pushed you back onto your bed, you can’t find it in you to give a damn.

your brain feels foggy and a thin layer of sweat begins to form on your neck while he uses his hands to unbutton the white dress shirt, his impatience getting the best of him for once.

even though you’re busy pulling your top off, it’s hard to divert your gaze from his hands and chest, which brings him to tilt his head at you. “you’re staring again.”

“if you don’t want me to stare, don’t give me a reason to.”

“oh, so this whole thing is really just my fault?” he taunts, getting so annoyed with the damn buttons on his shirt not working with him that he leaves the bottom half like it already was, only the upper half of his chest peeking through.

once he lays his eyes on your half-naked form, you spot a growing desperation and impatience in his features, which is rare on him.

much to your surprise, he’s eager and quick, refusing to waste a single second. his hands have already pulled you towards him by your thighs before you can even comprehend it.

the thin silver necklace touches your warm skin when he leans down to kiss you, the last thing you’d imagined you’d be doing tonight — and it’s better than you anticipated.

he pries your legs open with a nudge of his knee, and just when you want to look down to his hand on your skin, he pushes two fingers into you, curling it upwards.

your hands immediately fly to his upper arms in response to the sudden intrusion, but it only makes you crave more.

his lips latch onto your cheeks, jaw and neck, placing wet kisses everywhere he can reach while his long fingers move in and out of you.

“just two and you’re already so tight — you can take another one, though, can’t you?”

how sweet of him to pose it as a question, an offer.

you both know damn well he’s gonna keep going either way.

minghao doesn’t know what it is about you that just utterly sets him off. it might be your constant pessimism, your snarky delivery of sarcastic little comments, the way you needlessly tease him all the time — or maybe it’s that whenever he sees you, he wants nothing more for you to get the fuck on top of him, moaning his name.

who knows.

“why don’t you just try me?” you ask rhetorically, accidentally clenching around his digits when he moves them again.

minghao chuckles, baffled that you’ve still got such an attitude, even when you’re at his mercy. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, though. “right. maybe i should just do that.”

a third finger prodding into your hole makes you whine the loudest you have so far. he smirks a little when noticing the way you’re fighting so hard to maintain your composure, and the noise of your squelching wetness begins to become embarrassingly loud.

but it isn’t enough for him.

usually, it’s not at all like him to be insatiable or greedy. but all he can think of right now is that he wants more — to be closer with you, deeper.

he feels his own lust in every motion, every thrust of his fingers, every twitch of his cock. it makes him wonder if he’s ever wanted something, no, someone this badly.

his next move goes unnoticed by you since you’ve got your eyes closed and head back, but then you feel it, and it’s like you snap awake, an electric jolt making you jerk forward.

when you look down, he eagerly runs his tongue up and down your pussy, fingers remaining buried inside you.

“oh my god—” you stutter out, hand clutching onto the pillow but quickly moving down to grab his hair.

lost in your own pleasure, you push his head down, the lower half of his face coated in your arousal — fuck, he wants to do this for hours.

he proceeds to curl his fingers again, and he must’ve hit a good spot, because your legs are beginning to tremble, moans shorter and higher-pitched. “fuck, hao, it’s too much, i’m too close—”

“are you?” he rhetorically asks, pushing his digits as deep as possible, sucking on your clit, hollowing his cheeks. even when you try to close your legs, he firmly keeps them open.

your hips buck into his face when you cum, knees shaking, and he presses his thumb on your pussy, which makes your eyes roll back.

propping yourself up on your elbows, you suddenly feel his fingers slowly sliding out of you, and just that feeling alone already turns you on again. he sits across from you, still between your legs, and his fingers are completely coated in the sticky wetness that’s still dripping down your cunt.

he pushes them in his mouth, licking them clean, some of your arousal remaining on his lips.

“please say you’ll let me do that again.”

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[heavyhitterheaux]

“If you roll your eyes one more time.” For First Lady and Jack

From the moment you had woken up, it seemed as if you had an attitude with everyone and everything including your loving husband who was thoroughly confused by the entire thing. The previous night, the two of you had taken a bath together and watched a movie after putting all the kids to bed in their respective rooms. You fell asleep halfway through the movie and cuddled up to Jack the rest of the night. 

He guessed that he could blame it on your pregnancy mood swings, but he wasn't so sure. One minute you couldn’t keep your hands off of him and the next moment, you wanted to be by yourself surrounded by a tower of cheese curls. You were now in month seven of carrying your twins and everything on your body hurt and you were constantly annoyed.

Jack felt like he was walking on eggshells the entire day thinking that you were mad at him and it started when he told you that he was leaving out for a meeting and that he would be back in about an hour or so.

“Baby, I'll be back soon. But if you need anything just call me, okay?” He told you as he reached down to place a kiss on top of your head. You instantly let out a huff and rolled your eyes which made Jack turn up his nose.

“Is something wrong, babe?”

“Nope.” Was all you responded as you then turned on the TV to watch Netflix.

“Obviously there is because of that huff you just let out.”

“Jackman, you have somewhere to be so I suggest you get there. Don't be late on my account.”

“Yes, I will be late on account of you. You're my wife last time I checked and I want to make sure that you're okay.”

“I'm fine. Bye.” You said as you were struggling to adjust the pillow behind your back and Jack quickly did it for you. 

“Not leaving until you tell me you love me.” Jack said and you rolled your eyes once more.

“You know I do.”

“So? I still want to hear it.”

“I love you, Jackman Thomas, now get out of my sight.”

“Um, okay. Not what I was expecting. I love you too.”

It was now ten at night and there you were sitting with your arms crossed against your  chest as Jack walked into your shared bedroom from checking on the triplets and Nova.

“Baby?” He started to say and you instantly rolled your eyes, for Jack that was the absolute last straw.

“If you roll your eyes one more time….” He said and your eyes immediately snapped up in his direction.

“You’ve had a damn attitude from the moment your ass opened your eyes this morning and I’m tired of it. So what the hell is the problem? Are you mad at me? I obviously did something because every time I open my mouth, you roll your eyes at me. I will fuck that attitude out of you. So, out with it. NOW.”

“You got me pregnant…..”

“Um, yes? I know, babe. I was there when it happened the last time I checked. I was an active participant."

“I should roll my eyes again for you saying that. You got me pregnant and my body fucking hurts and I’m swollen and look like Shamu the whale.”

“And you’re mad at me about that? And you do not look like a whale so stop saying that.”

“Well who else can I get mad at? You’re the one who did it. And when you did the laundry last week, you shrunk my fuzzy pink socks that I’ve had since I was pregnant with the triplets and you know that those are the only ones I wear when I’m pregnant! I’m so just fat and tired of this. My belly is so heavy, I crave KFC all the time and I want to throw up at the thought…”

“Not too much on KFC now….”

“Shut up, Jackman and let the pregnant woman finish. As I was saying, carrying a mixture of genders is different than carrying just one. When it was the triplets, I was swollen but not like this. Nova, I didn’t even know about until it was damn near my due date, these boys are kicking my ass. I am DONE after this.”

“Baby, I’ll buy you more socks. I can fix that problem, but I can’t make them come out any faster. They still have to bake.”

“Did you just compare our children to bakery items?”

“They’re in a warm, safe environment, so same thing?”

All you did was stare at him as you sighed.

“Is there anything else I can do for my wife to make her feel better?” He asked as he scooted closer to you and kissed your cheek.

“No, and I’m sorry that I was a brat earlier. I just wanted you to stay with me all day, but I know you can’t do that.”

“Uh, yeah the hell I can. Meetings can wait. I have one wife and if she needs me, she needs me. Not you getting mad and having an attitude because you wanted me all to yourself today.”

“I always want you to myself. I can’t wait until this pregnancy is over.”

“It’ll be worth it, babe.”

"Sooo.... are you still going to fuck the attitude out of me?" You asked as you glanced over at him and he immediately smirked.

"Lay on your back."

[shy-writer-999]

Something makes either Ace or Sabo (whoever you think fits this more) go, just, completely feral. Maybe some kinda aphrodisiac or they’re just really fucking horny, either way, they’re all over the reader- grinding their leg up against their cunt to make them whine, dry humping, frantically talking about how bad they need to fuck the reader, whatever works. I dunno, I’m just suddenly very horny for these two, lmao.

you said you’re suddenly very horny for these two? that’s crazy bcuz same… *eye twitch* anyhow, here’s what I came up with :3 i read it through a couple times but i'm certain there's many typos and overused words... please turn a blind eye... (*≧ω≦*)

---

His knee grinded on your cunt through your pants. It was harsh. Every time he jerked his knee up it hurt a bit, but the friction also felt good. His breaths were shallow and quick already, and his bulge was huge and visible though his boxer briefs.

“Ace, what’s gotten into you?”

He shifted himself and started rutting his erection into your thigh, humping you like a dog in heat. Each thrust of his hips elicited a groan from him—he was going fucking crazy. “Need you so bad, baby. Wanna put my cock in you.”

He paused to suck on your neck forcefully, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys down to your exposed shoulder. He bit it, the speed of his hips increasing. “I’m gonna stuff you full, sweetheart, gonna fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.”

“Ace,” you whined his name and he brought a hand down to grip your clothed core through your pants.

He must have taken something. Maybe it was an aphrodisiac? Did he go sniffing around the cabinets again when he shouldn’t? Or was he just really horny? You didn’t know what the answer was, but you knew he needed you bad right now.

His eyes were glossy and flooded with lust already. Every word he said burned you like the fire he was made of. “Can’t wait to stretch you out then make you cum on my cock, angel. Want you to take all of me.”

His hand squeezed your core again and you squirmed at the pressure. He started to rub his fingers back and forth on the fabric, stoking the heat that was building between your lips.

Ace resumed grinding his hard cock back and forth on your thigh, dry humping you in a frenzy. “Baby, will you milk my cock like you always do? Will you make those pretty sounds for me?” Moaning and grunting carelessly now, fully lost in pleasure, Ace was barely cognizant of how desperate and needy he was being.

You started to whine. The caresses of his rough fingers through your pants felt great. You wished he’d stop rutting and saying dirty things to you and get to fucking you instead. “Ace, I want it.”

“You want it? Want me to creampie you, gorgeous? Want me to shove my cock inside? Fuck you senseless?”

“Ace, quit teasing and fuck me already.”

He snuck his hand into the front of your pants and played with you for a second, running his middle finger back and forth on your lips and then pushing it in and out of you. You were so wet for him already and it only drove him crazier. You wondered how much he could grind his cock into your thigh before he came all over himself.

His voice was gravelly and husky. “So needy for me baby, you want it so bad. Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Ace, please. I want it.”

He worked your pants and panties off of you then freed his cock and slowly pressed it into your folds with a shudder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me.”

Ace slammed his hips back and forth, rolling and fucking into you. He knew you so well, knew where your g-spot was and how to hit it just right.

Out of breath, he was heaving his words out with his face all scrunched up. Those freckles were to die for—absolutely charming no matter what he was doing. But during sex they looked extra good. The same goes for his long lashes, his dark hair, his muscles… he was perfect.

“Pussy feels so—so good on my cock, baby, I want it, want you to cum for me, love, wanna feel it.”

After a few more blissful thrusts you went over the edge and spasmed around him just how he wanted. He got off on that feeling so much, that throbbing feeling of you under him, convulsing from pleasure because of him.

When he came inside of you it was explosive. The noises and whimpers he made were delicious—you could savor them forever, ruminate on how badly he needed you. When he collapsed on top of you and gave you more kisses, his smile was sweet and a little bit giddy. “You’re the best, baby. Love you so much.”  

You asked later what on earth had gotten into him and his response was at the same time comical and endearing. “Ate a bunch of oysters then got a look at your ass on deck. Couldn’t help myself, sweetheart.”

[nevermorgue]

I'd love to hear your headcanons with Ada and Annabel and Ada and Wil. Their relationships interests me, and I'm curious what you have in mind with roommates, and two people who find admiration in the same guy. (Hopefully two in the same ask is okay--)

Okay, you’re so right. I do love both of those dynamics a lot. And of course I’ll do two, I love these

Ada and Annabel

- It’s complicated. Annabel finds her irritating, but she wouldn’t wish for anything bad to happen to her. Ada envies Annabel terribly, but admires and respects her greatly.

- Ada keeps begging Annabel to help her try the rag curl method out, but Annabel is trying to drag it out because she knows it won’t work with Ada’s hair type.

- Annabel hates how Ada tries to flaunt her ‘friendship’ around like an object. It’s how she was treated when she was alive; pretty object.

- Annabel had to resist every urge to roll her eyes when Ada told her she could ‘have Prospero to herself now’ once she got with Montresor.

- Ada tried to take her tea the way Annabel does but it was far too bitter. She sneaks sugar in when nobody is looking.

- Ada loves walking with her in the garden, pointing out flowers that ‘her darling would definitely pick for her’. Annabel is so tired of it, but she puts on a smile and goes along with it.

- Annabel has woken up to Ada hyperventilating/crying. She usually pretends to stay asleep, but on one occasion she actually sits up and offers comfort. Ada refuses to tell her what is upsetting her, wiping her eyes and insisting a lady would not react like this. Annabel says nothing to that.

Ada and Will

- cannot get along. They’re too similar, and they both hate it.

- Will is passive to literally everyone but her in canon. He talks back to her all the time. I think he sees her on his level of pathetic.

- They will tell the other that Montresor doesn’t care about them, even though they both know deep deep down that it’s true on both ends

- Will is further in denial than Ada. Ada kinda knows what she’s doing + pursues Montresor in a time of vulnerability. She wants to like…see someone as messed up as she is. Meanwhile, Will is just desperate for someone to call a friend.

- Ada finds out that he writes and insists that she is made into a character. So he makes a very ugly, evil hag.

- She tried to use ‘Fear Itself’ on him and couldn’t find one thing. It kept changing, as if his brain couldn’t decide what was worse.

- She was genuinely uncomfortable seeing him wear her face for the first time. It was too accurate. It made her wonder how often he’s watched her to be able to do that.

- Ada laughs in his face and jokingly says he probably turns into her to pretend that he gets Monty’s romantic attention too…and he can’t even deny it.

- They have a big fight after that. Ada always hits harder.

- They really cannot even sit in a room together alone without arguing unless someone is supervising them.

- Will remembers when she complimented her eyes. One day they’re just existing in the same room and he just quietly goes, “…did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said my eyes were nice.”

And then Ada is confused- when did she say that? When she remembers, she ends up speaking without a filter.

“Duh, gray is a rarity for eyes you know.”

And that’s the only time they can ever truly speak to one another because Montresor is such a heavy blanket over them both that he’s the factor that keeps them from forming any sort of bond.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Floo

Words: 996 😮‍💨

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

It was like James had a sixth sense of when Sirius brought a man home, because the last eight times, he’d tumbled through the floo, needing help with something, or wanting to hang out or to check in on Remus. Each time Sirius had been utterly cockblocked by it.

The ninth time it happened, he’d had enough.

“How do you do it?” He snapped when Davey suddenly remembered that he had an early start in the morning. “How do you do this every time?”

James, to his credit, played dumb, “Do what? I’m just here to return Moony’s book.”

“Where is it?” Sirius said, looking at James’ empty hands.

“Where’s what?”

“The book.” Sirius growled, “The book that you’re returning to Moony, Prongs.”

“Oh, would you look at that? I left it at home.” James chuckled, “Oh well, no harm no foul.”

Sirius strode past him into the hallway and James heard his bedroom door slam. Remus poked his head into the living room a few seconds later.

“I think he’s onto you.” He said wearily.

“No idea what you mean, Moony.” James sat down on the sofa.

“What is it?” Something in the wards?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” James smiled as Remus dropped into the armchair.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing it.” Remus frowned, “I’d ask if you fancy him, but you’re getting married in three months so I almost don’t want to.”

“No, I do not fancy Padfoot. Jesus.” James groaned, “But you do.”

Remus’ face dropped, “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Moony.”

“Prongs.”

“Remus.”

“James.”

“Look, I know sometimes I can be… unobservant, let’s say. But not this time.” James pointed at him. “I saw the two of you at our engagement party.”

Remus’ face suddenly went from very pale to very red. “Ah.”

“Yes, ah. It looked like the two of you were finally getting your shit together.” James looked at him over the top of his glasses. “So what happened?”

“Well, we came home, we… spent some time in Sirius’ bed. I woke up alone in Sirius’ bed and we’ve just… never spoken about it.” Remus shrugged, but James recognised that sad look in his eyes.

“Would it kill the two of you to have a conversation?” James sighed.

“Possibly.” Remus said, “It’s definitely been too long to bring it up now, though. And he clearly has no intention of doing so. If anything he’s bringing more men home than he was before.”

“But they’re not staying long are they?” James feigned confusion. “Fascinating.”

“This won’t end well.” Remus couldn’t help but smile. “I'm going to deny all knowledge. Wait, would me bringing people home trigger the same thing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” James smirked.

“And that’s why I go to their place whenever the opportunity arises, instead of bringing them here,” Remus said.

“Well, that, and you’re not an asshole.” James’ smirk dropped. “I don’t get what he’s doing.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been over and over it in my head.” Remus said quietly, “If he regretted it, he could just tell me. It would suck for a bit, but I’m not a dickhead.”

“Maybe you just need to get drunk together again.”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Remus curled in on himself, tucking his feet under him. “Maybe I should think about moving out.”

“No!” Sirius stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and covering his mouth. James and Remus stared at him. “I don’t want you to move out.” He said quietly after an awkward silence.

“But you understand why he’d want to?” James frowned at him. Sirius nodded. “So, why?”

“I met Emmeline.” Sirius mumbled, “The morning after the party.” Remus’ mouth dropped open.

“Oh, fuck.” His head was in his hands, “Oh shit, oh fuck.”

“Yeah. She turned up for your coffee date wearing less than I enjoyed seeing on a Sunday morning.” Sirius came and sat on the arm of the sofa. “I may have been a bit snippy with her, honestly.”

“Wait, who’s Emmeline?” James asked, looking between them.

“She’s the woman that Remus brought home three days before your engagement party,” Sirius said, not looking at Remus, who was trying not to smirk.

“On a Wednesday, Moony?” James was bewildered.

“Sometimes trivia night is a good way to meet people,” Remus muttered. “I completely forgot that we had plans. Well, that explains why she blocked me.”

“That, and Sirius playing jealous boyfriend,” James added.

“I was not— I didn’t— Shut up, Prongs.” Sirius looked at Remus, “I figured it out afterwards that it was arranged before we… you know. And then I just felt gross for how I reacted.”

“You could have said something, you know.” Remus sighed, “You didn’t have to pretend it never happened and return to your carousel of men.”

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded, “It was shitty, and the shittier I felt about it, the more I spiralled, and then I thought you’d arranged this thing with Prongs to cockblock me, and then I was petty about it. And then I felt guilty about how petty I’d been, and then I spiralled some more, and yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Moony had nothing to do with it,” James confirmed.

“Yeah, I know that now.” Sirius pointed to the door. “Moody would have something to say about your awareness of your surroundings.”

“Moody can kiss my arse.” Remus shook his head, “We probably should talk about it then?” Sirius nodded.

“Well, that’s my cue.” James stood up. “You’re welcome. I’ll be around to fix your wards tomorrow. Please be clothed.”

“You’re lucky we love you, you know,” Sirius said as James waved before stepping into the fire.

“So at what point do we tell him that we’ve been together for six months?” Remus said as Sirius came to squeeze into the armchair. “He really thought he was onto something.”

“He means well.” Sirius kissed Remus’ forehead. “Love you, Moons.”

“Love you too.” He said, “Tell Davey we owe him a pint.”

Notes:

ha.

Also my headcanon (is it a headcanon if it's your own fic?) is that the first time it happened it was completely innocent, Sirius was just bringing a friend round for a drink or something, but then James showed up and was so pleased with himself that they concocted this plan

[britcision]

Technically it’s not Wednesday anymore and technically I should only be writing the next chapter, not several chapters down the line, but Jazz grabbed me by the throat so y’all get a rough draft on something that’s gonna be like, 2-3 chapters away 👀

Maybe 👀

Enjoy!

———————

Dan’s lips curled into an unpleasant snarl, pointed fangs suddenly more prominent.

“Oh, really, Danny. Did you think this was going to work? Some stupid illusion and I’d fall to my knees, sobbing for reconcilliation? Or did you bring me the real thing so you could watch me kill her in front of you this time? It might not stick but I’m sure I can try.”

Part of Danny nearly lunged forward, Obsession throbbing down to his core… but he held it in check. After all, this wasn’t the Jazz Dan had known; she wasn’t just a teenager anymore.

And she certainly wasn’t impressed.

“Daniel James Fenton, you know better than to talk about someone when they’re standing right in front of you,” she snapped, her hip cocked out and arms folded in an entirely done big-sister posture that only got scarier with age. “If you have something to say, say it to my face.”

And Dan… froze, for a moment. And Danny knew he’d been right in that second, that microsecond of hesitation. Of inactivity.

Sure, Jazz might be well past six feet tall herself now, but she looked like their mom enough to make his Vlad severely uncomfortable. More than that though… Danny had never gotten over the thought of her dying. Dan had broken the world about it.

And he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.

It was covered up a moment later, in bluff and bluster as he scoffed and glared in her general direction.

“What, are you going to psychoanalyze me? Tell me how sad and tragic I am too? Give me a break, I’ve got some lovely coping mechanisms,” he snapped, aura flaring in a burst of green fire.

But Jazz had never been scared of Danny’s aura, and frankly? He was the Ghost King. Dan’s was a drip in the bucket by comparison.

She marched straight up to him, ignoring the flames completely, and grabbed him by the chin. Forced him to face her, even as his eyes widened, face freezing.

Danny had never heard her voice so cold.

“Is that supposed to be scary? Am I supposed to be impressed, Danny? Honestly, I’d like to say that must be the Fruit Loop’s influence, but you’ve always been a drama queen.”

And then she twisted him into a headlock, all 6’9 mountain of muscle like he was still a ninety-pound twink, and noogied him.

“You’re such a fucking dork, Danny.” She sounded almost fond now, exasperated, a tone Danny was painfully familiar with. Even knowing she wasn’t talking to him-him, the cringe was automatic.

Dan sure as hell had no idea what to do about it, panic flaring madly across his face and his aura, trailed by a lacklustre attempt at anger.

“Get your hands off me,” he roared, turning intangible and going to jerk himself away… and then Jazz’s eyes flashed teal and she reached after him, her own hand changing to pull him straight back into the noogie.

Something about that broke Dan completely, his entire body suddenly limp and held up only by Jazz’s continued grip on his head. He seemed almost catatonic, completely zoned out… which Jazz completely ignored, grinding her knuckles into the top of his head.

Danny was pretty sure he knew why though; it was the one thing which had always been able to calm him down, back when he was approaching his twenties and the possibility of Dan started giving him panic attacks. Jazz had snapped him out of it in a much gentler way, but it amounted to the same reminder.

Jazz was his big sister. His beloved mentor, his voice of reason, his rock. And after living in Amity Park for almost twenty years, directly on top of the Fenton Portal, she was liminal as hell and about one near-death experience from a halfa herself.

There was just no way he was ever going to lose her, until she decided she was good and ready to move on. It wasn’t possible, and a little thing like dying wasn’t going to slow Jasmine Fenton down.

If it happened before she graduated, Danny was pretty sure she’d rise before Finals Week even if she died the night before.

(And given her self-care habits, he did occasionally worry about it actually happening… but she promised her ghost-envy days were long behind her and she’d never get that bad.

Belief: pending.)

Danny wasn’t actually fully sure if her ghost-grabbing abilities extended to anyone else or if she could just always wrangle him, but he and Dan were the same person; enough so that it sure as hell worked on him.

Dan wasn’t going down without a fight though - Danny was almost a little impressed with how quickly he fought past the blue screen (it might have been Vlad’s influence, given the sudden haughty tone) as he began to shove at her arms, quickly working up to a shout.

“Get your hands off me! Do you have any idea who I am! I am the great destroyer, breaker of worlds, and you will not treat me like a small child!” He bellowed, struggling viciously against her grip.

If they were in the real world, it’d probably have worked. If he had access to any of his ghost powers, it wasn’t a fight Jazz could possibly have won.

But this was a dream, and either Nocturn had a damn good idea what’d happen to him if anything happened to Danny’s big sister in his realm… or he just plain liked Jazz better.

(Most people did. Danny was fine with it.)

Because the more Dan struggled, the more Jazz began slowly increasing in size, getting bigger and bigger until she entirely dwarfed him and had him cuddled like a doll under her arm. Watching him struggle at this point was just a little embarrassing, actually, and Jazz finally took pity on him.

And settled him on her hip like an unruly toddler, grinning down at him.

“Now, do you think you’re ready to actually talk to me?” She asked him gently - and if she found the sight of this full sized man so relatively tiny as funny as Danny did, it didn’t even show.

Dan glowered up at her.

“You may be favoured by the fool who runs this domain, but you will never be my equal in anything but dreams,” his snarled viciously, his anger apparently stoked by indignation.

(Danny made a note. Still definitely some Vlad tendencies.)

Jazz just chuckled softly, bumping him up to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, baby brother, you know that’s never going to be how it works,” she said brightly, then paused, glancing around. “Uh… Danny, we never talk about this again, alright?” She asked, squinting down at him.

Mildly offended that he was about the height of her ankles, Danny raised both hands in immediate surrender.

“Dude, I am not letting anyone try and get freudian on me for Jumbo-Jazz. My lips are sealed from self preservation alone.” And he’d have to make sure to emphasize to Nocturn just how valuable his own silence would be. Vital to survival, even.

Apparently satisfied, Jazz nodded, sitting carefully cross legged and settling Dan in her lap, her chin on top of his head.

“So… you told me about your future once, y’know?” She said slowly, while Dan struggled and once more surrendered to the indignity. “And Danny told me some more later. And, obviously, we all actually know that taking over and destroying the entire world isn’t actually a healthy way to process grief…”

“Fucking spare me,” Dan growled, looking about a minute away from taking a bite out of her hand.

Jazz ignored him.

“But… in spite of all of that…” she paused for a moment, leaning back and smiling down at Dan, who couldn’t quite help craning back to look at her… if only to know where the next attack was coming from. “It’s… really sweet to know that you’d break the world for me, Danny. I just really wish it hadn’t broken you, too.”

And once again, Dan froze… and for the first time, Danny could feel a crack in the impenetrable wall around his core. Between all of the performative rage and theatrics and what he really, truly felt.

Even his rally only managed to produce a vaguely sulky “I’m not broken!”

Jazz sighed softly and turned him gently in her arms, lifting him to hug tightly to her chest. She might have been shrinking now, either by Nocturn’s will or her own, but she held him close anyway.

[imaginesbymonika]

She's electric | Part 6

Pairing: Liam Gallagher x fem!bassist reader

Plot: Liam's hatred for Blur runs deep. However, no matter how much he hates them and their stupid music - he cannot seem to hate their bassist.

Last Part

Liam finds her standing outside, hiding from the rain underneath the extended rooftop. He didn’t even look for her, yet there he was: leaning against the brick wall while lighting up a cigarette, contemplating whether or not he should approach her. What a fucking stupid déjà vu. He scoffs while his heart beats violently against his ribcage. She always had this effect on him, there was no denying that.

He sighs, before eventually walking up to her:” You’re alright, Princess?”, he mutters while putting the coffin nail between his lips. He watches how she shakes her head:” Can’t believe you have the nerve to call me that.”

“Right, sorry.”, he mumbles, while he turns his head. He watches how big raindrops fall to the ground and disappear down the drain:” Force of habit, I guess.” Y/N however doesn’t answer, something is lingering in the air and neither one of them knows if it’s hatred or longing. Maybe both have always been the same.

The singer takes another step toward her, holding his breath while he waits for some reaction. But when she doesn’t move away, he inspects her features for any signs of softness. There have to be some left. “Look.”, he starts:” I- I am sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to act like a jealous dickhead. Seeing you again just brought back some memories, it’s-.”

“What memories?”

“Memories of us.”

Y/N closes her eyes and scoffs:” It’s been over twenty years, Liam.” Her voice is quiet and peaceful, but it sounds rather forced than anything else. The man in front of her takes an uneasy drag of his cigarette before answering:” I know. I know. It’s been such a long time and I know I shouldn’t care- but I do. Makes me wonder what could’ve been.”

Y/N furrows her eyebrows as she runs a hand through her hair:” This is unbelievable.” “What? Don’t have any feelings left for me? After everything we’ve been through you’re just apathetic like that?” At this point, he is almost a hundred percent sure that he’s going to suffer a heart attack- or possibly a stroke. Perhaps even both at the same time.

“How are the children?”, Y/N asks, tearing her gaze off the man. There’s a smile forming on his lips, and for a second he doesn’t care about the quick change in topic:” They’re good, yeah. All grown up now, can you believe that?” Y/N chuckles, while staring at her nails:” Happy for you.” Liam’s smile fades away when he suddenly remembers that she doesn’t have any of her own. Was that his fault? He can almost see the wall between the two of them; tall and thick.

“Can we talk? Properly?”

“About what?”, her voice is suddenly foreign and he catches a glimpse of how another brick is put on top of it. “About us.”, he replies and tosses the finished cigarette into a puddle, the rain consumes the grey smoke:” There’s just some stuff left unsaid- we need to sort that bullshit out.”

“Need to sort it out?”, she recites staring at him with wide eyes:” Now?! God, fuck, this is so pathetic!”, she laughs out loud but it sounds rather panicky. “Why is it so pathetic?!”, Liam retorts, he is putting his heart on a platter and she just throws it on the dirty ground all together:” You’re telling me you don’t regret a single thing?”

Y/N annoyingly blinks at him:” Of course, I have regrets, Liam. Fuck you! Remember how I tried to talk to you and you fucking ignored my calls?!” She shoves him away from her, while hot tears arise in her eyes:” Fuck you. Two months later you had your ex knocked up with your oldest. How do you think I felt when I read that in the papers?!”

Liam sighs and leans back against the wall, he crosses his arms and looks down at the woman he thought he’d marry one day. Everyone thought he would.

“You moved on like it was nothing, Liam.”, Y/N’s voice is unstable. She walks past him towards the exit and quickly opens the door:” Goodbye, Liam.”

“I didn’t.”

If the rain hadn’t stopped falling, she probably wouldn’t have heard him. She lets the door fall shut again:” What?” Her head twists in his direction and her eyes linger on his back. The green parka almost looks brown.

“I didn’t move on from you. Why do ya think all my relationships have failed?“, he scoffs:” I’ve tried everything to get over you; alcohol, drugs… women. You know… it never worked.” He lights himself a new cigarette:” Nothing ever worked.”

Y/N doesn’t answers she simply just stares.

“And I know I hurt you. It’s one of my biggest regrets in life. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I threw it away because at the end of the day i’m an angry and insecure twat.”

Y/N walks back to her original place in front of him, while holding her hand out. Liam follows her gaze and hands her the cigarette when he realizes what she’s asking for:” That’s it? No shouting?” “Do you want me to yell at you?”, she raises an eyebrow at him.

He scoffs, but there’s a bit of enjoyment to it:” No, of course not…No.” “You know, I do…I do still care about you.”, she suddenly says, feet kicking away a few small stones on the ground:” But I don’t know what mending things…talking about what happened would change. I am 46 and you’re 51.”

Liam moves closer, his eyes are scanning her features. They move over every wrinkle, yet he couldn’t imagine thinking anyone could ever be more beautiful. “I don’t care. And I know deep down you don’t care either. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here with me.” There’s some truth to that and Y/N is very much aware of it. Another thing she is painfully conscious of is how close the two of them are standing together. “No one.”, he mutters:” No one has ever come close to making me feel the way you did.”

Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat while she stares up at him through her lashes:” No one?”, she whispers. And he nods:” You can’t forget the love of your life like that, can ya?“

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (yes I did twice)

YEAH! More BuddieShannon! 129 sentences:

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“Eddie, come on. I thought we were trying to be better about talking through our crap.”

“This isn’t our crap, though, Shannon!” He protests. “My stupid sexuality crisis is my crap!”

Shannon’s eyes widen. It takes his brain a moment to realize what his traitorous mouth has said. Fuck. 

“Oh,” Shannon replies. “So it’s not, like… A kink thing?”

Somehow, that question serves to make this even more embarrassing. 

“What? God! No!”

“O-okay,” Shannon stammers. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know this about you.”

Eddie sighs, deflating. 

“Yeah… Neither did I.”

Shannon scooches a little closer to him. She moves her hand from his wrist to his shoulder. 

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she says. “You know that, right? It’s okay to be attracted to him.”

Something stirs in Eddie at this. Like a wilting plant dragging itself towards a light source. But he shakes that away. 

“That’s not true,” he replies. 

“Why isn’t it true?” Shannon asks. “You’ve never cared about that kind of thing before.”

“For other people,” Eddie agrees. “But I’m not… That’s not how it’s supposed to be for me. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

Her lips part a little. 

“You love him?” She asks. 

He freezes again. Fuck. He needs to stop talking. 

“Of course you do,” she says. “I mean, how could you not?” 

Right. Because she’s into him, too. Jesus Christ. What a pair they make. 

“I love you, Shannon,” Eddie replies. Firm. Unflinching. Because no matter what else is going on in his brain, and in his horrible heart, that is still true. 

“I don’t…” She frowns, struggling to choose her next words. “Eddie, one doesn’t make the other not true.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “But isn’t that fucked up? That’s wrong. That’s… It’s like emotional infidelity.” 

“It’s not,” Shannon replies. “We’re separated.”

“Well, that wasn’t my choice.”

She sighs. 

Right. Probably not a great point to focus on right now. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Even if we weren’t, Eddie… It’s not bad,” Shannon says. “I mean, there would still be nothing wrong with you.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Eddie asks. 

Shannon bites her lip for a moment. 

“Eddie, are you upset that you’re attracted to a man or in love with two people at the same time?” 

“Both!” He bursts. “Those are both things I am not supposed to be.”

She sighs again. He wishes she’d stop sighing.

 “According to who?”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t know how to answer that question. According to who indeed? 

“Your parents,” Shannon says. “The church they made you go to?”

The one they had to get married in.

Eddie nods sheepishly. “Yeah. I guess that’s it.”

“And if Chris has this same question about himself in fifteen years? What will you say?” 

“Don’t go there, Shannon.” Eddie feels a rise of frustration in his chest. “You know what I’d say.”

“Yeah, I do,” she agrees. “Say it for me anyway, Eddie.”

Eddie groans. “I obviously don’t care who, if anyone, our children fall in love with one day, Shannon. As long as they’re happy and safe, I don’t care.”

“But that doesn’t apply to you?” Shannon asks. 

“Shannon…” Eddie complains.

“No, Eddie, come on,” she presses. “Why do Chris and-and this baby get the freedom of your values, but you get the restriction of your father’s? That’s ridiculous. You know it’s not bad or wrong. You know that.”

He knows. He does know. He… He just can’t.

“They get to be whoever they want, Shannon.” Eddie tells her.

“And you don’t?” 

No! No. Doesn’t she see that? He has never got to be anyone at all. What he wants doesn’t even exist. He’s never been able to explore that. He is no more than this. This automaton on a set path. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else. 

“No,” he replies. “I don’t.”