#Cap who uses the fact that he's small and cute to just casually hang around private spaces

[kakusu-shipping]

I can't decide if I should be funny and write Cap as a leering Perv possessive kind of guy or stick closer to his personality and have him be a gentleman/chivalrous kind of guy.

[pascalpanic]

Fixer Upper PART THREE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Now you’re faced with an option after Frankie left a tool at your house. How do you make your feelings for Frankie known?

W/C: 2k

Warnings: language, Benny is a menace, fluff :)

A/N: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION! Thank you all for tagging along!

You hardly slept last night. Your mind was filled with the handsome repairman, his smile and his laughter and the fact that he left a vital piece of his equipment in your house. It had to be a sign, right?

Whether or not it was a purposeful move is the question that tormented you until the early hours of the morning. He was a great man, most definitely, but did he mean his jokes and assistance in a way beyond the professionalism he had to have? You couldn’t figure out, and it left you tossing and turning like you had when the air conditioner was broken.

In the morning, you still aren’t quite sure what to make of it. You’d thought that sleeping on it might bring some sense of clarity, but it really hasn’t. Enjoying the cold air of your newly fixed air conditioner, you stare at the wall as you sip your morning coffee. Is there even a solid answer? You’re not entirely sure.

Well, whether or not you’re going to make a move, you suppose he’s going to need that wrench. Lifting your phone, you dial the shop’s number, which is now saved into your speed dial list.

“Standard Oil and Heating,” a man’s voice sounds from the phone, “this is Benny.”

“Hi,” you say with a somewhat cheerful voice. “Uh, is Catfish in today?” You ask the man.

“Gimme one second,” the man murmurs. You can hear paper flipping, as he looks through something on the desk. “Uh, can I ask why you’re calling?” He clarifies.

“Oh, of course. He fixed my oven yesterday and he left one of his tools behind.”

The man- Benny- chuckles. “Oh, you’re the one with the fucked-up house! We’ve heard about you.”

That makes you laugh, but more importantly, makes your stomach flutter nervously. Frankie’s mentioned you to his coworkers. Whether it was in passing or in depth, you don’t know, but he’s mentioned you. Talked about you. “Yeah, that would be me,” you shrug and sip your coffee.

There’s another shuffling of paper and the man makes a small noise of discontent. “Well, it looks like he won’t be in today for whatever reason, but he’ll be here tomorrow. If you wanna bring it in, I can give it to him.”

You pause, then shake your head. Even though he can’t see it, you’re sure he can figure it out. “That’s alright. I’ll just bring it in tomorrow then.”

Benny chuckles a little. “I think he’ll like that. Do you want me to let him know?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just pop in when I have the time,” you say casually, as if you’re not about to rearrange your entire day around to do so. The note from Benny- I think he’ll like that- makes your smile widen.

“No problem. We’ll see ya then,” he tells you and nods before hanging up.

Well, now you have about twenty four hours before you have to return that wrench. The decision before you still hangs heavy in the air. There’s a good chance he likes you, especially if the man who answered the shop phone was right. His words were subtle but hinting, and the idea was that Frankie has talked about you.

But what if he hasn’t? What if he just mentioned that you have a chronically disastrous house and that was the end of the story? God, there are so many questions, and it makes you annoyed to no end. You groan aloud, grateful to live alone, and drop your head to the cool wood of your kitchen table.

Love is too complicated. Can you even categorize it as love right now? Maybe it’s more of an affection situation. There are too many labels for things, too many variables and ifs and whens. Too many reasons things can go right or can go very very wrong.

Worst of all, if Frankie doesn’t feel the same, you lose a damn good repairman. Well, he’s a good guy. You’re sure he’d still help, but that banter and laughter would certainly be gone. The relationship you have now would be thrown out the window, which you may one day need him to fix.

You have a job, and you do your work as the day progresses, but Frankie’s face takes up permanent residence in the back of your mind, unable to let you focus well. Even as you snag a spare monster cookie during your lunch break, you think of him and how warmly he helped you after you burned yourself.

Your decision wavers back and forth. You have periods of definitiveness, moments where you’re certain you’re going to make a move and moments where you decide you’re going to do nothing at all. It’s agonizing, your inability to make a decision.

Finally, you reach the best conclusion you think you can have. When you drop off the wrench tomorrow, you’ll just read the room. You’ll carefully observe his body language, the way he speaks, and try to take the clues you can find in person. Yeah, that should work. It’s probably the best option too.

Settling in bed, you take a while to fall asleep, pondering possibilities. Eventually, you fall asleep and even your dreams are filled with confusion and twists, a theme of uncertainty filling your unconscious mind.

Then the morning comes. You get dressed into something you’d normally wear to go out running errands. You don’t want anything too cute, anything too casual or sloppy. Even then, you change t-shirts three times until you remind yourself it’s nothing of consequence.

You drink your to-go coffee as you drive to the shop, which you’ve surprisingly never been to in person. For as much as you use their services, you’ve never seen the building. Walking inside, you peek around and find no one. Taking a deep breath and making yourself relax, you ring the buzzer on the desk that sounds in the back.

A man comes to the front, wearing working clothes and a tool belt. His outfit is similar to Frankie’s, but he’s omitted the ball cap. “Hi,” he comments, slightly confused.

“Hey, I’m here for Catfish?” You ask, looking through the window behind the desk that shows the back of the shop. You hold up the wrench, hoping that gives a little indication.

“Oh! You’re her!” The man nods, blue eyes brightening and blonde scruff moving with his smile. “I’m Benny, the one you talked to yesterday.”

He offers his hand and you shake it, smiling and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too! Fish loves when he gets sent to your place,” he chuckles. “Are you here… just to drop off the wrench?” He asks, implying the very thing that you spent the whole night pondering.

“Hopefully not,” you shrug nervously, an awkward smile on your face.

Benny nods and shoots you a knowing smile. “Fish really likes you.  I’ll just spoil that one for you,” he laughs. “The guy’s like a brother. I can read him damn well. Okay, enough of that. I’ll send him out here, or do you wanna come on back?”

“I’ll come back with you?” You say, half-questioning and half-stating. The man waves you along and you follow him into the back.

“Fish,” Benny calls, and Frankie’s head pops up from a tool bench. He’s facing away from the two of you.

“What do you want?” He grumbles, not turning. He’s too focused on whatever he’s tinkering with, using pliers and wire and tape.

“God, you’re an asshole, Frank. Sure you don’t wanna leave?” He asks you jokingly.

At the question being directed elsewhere, Frankie turns and his eyes widen as he spots you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks.  Benny respectfully backs out of the room without saying anything, allowing the two of you to have your conversation.

“You left your wrench,” you chuckle and awkwardly hold it up.

“Oh, that’s where I left it,” Frankie says, though you learn that he’s a terrible liar through the tone of his voice. “Thanks for bringing that back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him and smile.

There’s a beat of silence before the both of you try to speak. Neither of you manage to get anything out before you realize the other is speaking. Then you stumble over your words, each of you assuring the other that they go. Then there’s more of that, letting the other speak, and silence, then he breaks it.

“I, uh, left that on purpose,” he admits, face reddening beneath the brim of his blue ball cap.

“Well, I wanted to bring it back specifically to say that I really like you,” you admit and fold your arms awkwardly.

His face practically lights up, looking up at you with a mixture of love and shock and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod and place the wrench down on the work table in front of him. “What time do you work until tonight? Would you like to come back to my cursed house and I’ll make dinner?” You offer, leaning against his table.

Frankie grins. “I’d love that, yeah. I’ll bring my tool belt just in case,” he chuckles, which makes you genuinely laugh and in turn widens his smile. “You don’t have to make anything though.”

“I will though,” you shrug, your body loosening now that the tension is gone. He feels the same. “Now that my oven is working, we’re all good.”

He chuckles and looks down at the wiring piece he was working on before looking back at you like he’d look at a gorgeous work of art. “I work until 5. Sometime after that?” He offers.

“Seven it is. Do you have any food restrictions?”

He shakes his head. “I eat anything and everything in massive amounts,” he chuckles. “I’m sure anything you make would be great.”

“Well, I’ll text you what I’m making if I can have your phone number,” you offer, a little confidence boosting from the fact that he clearly reciprocates your feelings.

“Yeah,” he grins and takes your phone when you hand it to him, entering his contact. Fix-it Frankie: cell, 589-283-1975.

“Fix-it Frankie?” You laugh and beam at him. “God, you’re a dope.”

He shrugs and blushes but he’s still clearly happy, more than willing to take your teasing. “Alright, I gotta keep working on this, but I’ll walk you out,” he offers and stands.

The two of you walk to the front and Frankie opens the door for you. You walk outside and he follows. “Well, see you tonight,” you grin at him.

“See you then,” he nods.

The two of you go for the hug, but awkwardly dodge to each side, trying to figure out the proper angle. When the gap between your bodies finally closes, you realize neither of you considered your faces. They’re awkwardly smushed together, lips on lips. You’re kissing.

“Oh no,” you laugh and back up, cupping Frankie’s face and softly scratching at the stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie mutters, embarrassed but laughing as he looks into your eyes.

Your face is still close to his, your bodies in a hugging position. “Well, we better do that right,” you giggle.

Frankie nods, his cheeks hurting from how much you’ve made him smile. It falls as his face closes the distance to yours, kissing you gently and sighing into your lips.

The moment is short, soft and sweet. You’re in public and fully conscious of it, and you don’t want to seem weird. When you break away, you kiss his cheek, admiring the scratch of his beard against your lips. “See you tonight, Fix-it Frankie,” you tease and walk off to your car.

“See you!” He calls and raises one large hand in a wave. He’s still flustered as you drive off and wiggle your fingers at him in a similar wave. His eyes follow your car until it’s out of sight.

Frankie walks back inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of his blonde best friend staring at him. “Don’t you even-“

“Hell yeah!” Benny whoops and holds up the wrench as if it were a victory prize.

“Shut the fuck up,” he frowns and snatches it from his hand, tucking it back in his tool belt.

As annoyed as he is by Benny, he can’t be mad. He has a date tonight with a woman he already knows can cook and hold her own in such a shitty house- well, aside from repairs. Thank God for faulty air conditioning.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @sugarontherims@floraandfrost @donnaa @heythere-mel @sharkbait77 @mrs-ghuleh @ubri812 @punkerthanpascal @booksandcoff-ee

[awanderingdeal]

Hi! I was wondering if you can write coops and the cubs hanging out together and bonding?

Hiya, thanks for the prompt! I puffy heart love thinking about coops and the cubs hanging out.

Fun fact: several of these lines are misquoted from times I have done escape rooms with people.

Rating: T

Cw: couple of sexual innuendos, jokes about violence and some food mentions

Let me know if you think I need to change the rating or add any content warnings.

These characters are from the Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

"Oh look, you can pedal this thing."

Logan bit back his berating reply, having been told twice already that he was taking this too seriously.

Attends!" he yelled, eyes widening at the screen that had lit up. "I think -" The backlight faded before he could comprehend what had been there. He jogged the short distance to the door they had just managed to get open, craning his head around the frame. Finn had crammed himself into a small rowing boat that was sank into the wooden floor, his knees tucked up against his chest. "Harzy, pedal again?"

"Yes! Pedalling the boat makes the screen light up. It looks like an, putain -" Logan growled, "- Sirius, comment dis-tu énigme en anglais?"

"Don't ask me, I don't speak English," Sirius said, his eyes knitted into a focused frown as he attempted to move a key through a Perspex covered maze using a magnet. The problem was the key was hidden under a layer of sand which made tracking its movement difficult.

"Enigma works; a puzzle or riddle is probably closer to what you mean though," Leo answered, squeezing Logan's hip discretely as he passed by.

"A puzzle, a riddle, whatever, somebody just needs to pedal the boat so we can solve it."

"Loops!" The chorus rang through the room unanimously.

"Why do I have to -"

"Mon loup, now is not the time for modesty." Sirius cursed as he lost the key again.

Remus rolled his eyes, but the smug smile set on his lips told a different story. Once he had began pedalling, they moved through the puzzle pretty quickly, managing to open the treasure chest and get a key.

"Sirius, are you still doing that maze?" Remus laughed as he re-entered their half of the room. "Maybe somebody else -"

The sound that left Sirius' mouth could only be described as a growl.

"Alright, be stubborn, Black," Remus kissed the back of his neck.

"I found something!" Logan turned to see Finn his head buried in one of the distressed cargo crates scattered around the room. "It's a message in a bottle," he stood, hands clutching the item. He shoved it in Leo's direction. "Here, get this open. I'm going to see if there's more things to find."

The tinny sound of metal hitting the floor, grabbed Logan's attention, looking just in time to see Sirius' discreet fist pump before he bent to pick up the key.

"You did it then?" Logan teased, "took you long enough, Cap"

"Shut up," Sirius huffed, smiling softly. "Don't think I won't have you skate laps until you puke."

"Loops, your fiancé is bullying me. Make him stop."

"I'm not getting involved," Remus chuckled, not lifting his eyes from the puzzle he and Leo were trying to solve.

"Finn, where did you get a pen and paper from?" Leo's question stopped the inevitable squabble about to break out, the four of them turning their attention to Finn. He was crouched over a typewriter, his eyes flicking between the metal buttons, a yellowing shred of paper and a newer lined piece.

"I brought it with me," Finn shifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose, cocking his head a little. Shit, he was hot.

The four of them looked between themselves. "Is that allowed?" Logan broke the silence.

"Nobody's shouted at me yet?" Finn shrugged again, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the camera.

They looked at each other again. "He's got a point," Remus muttered, going back to the bottle.

"What the fuck was that?" Logan jumped, spinning around. The door of the previous room was shut. "Oh no, no, no, no." He rushed over, pushing against the thick wood. His hands searched, looking for some way to open it.

"I think it's locked, Lo." Thank you Leo for that incredibly helpful input.

"Why is nobody else panicking?" Logan rubbed at his temples. "What if we needed something in there?"

"Tremblay," Sirius' hands found his shoulders. "Get it together. Even if there was something in there then there's nothing nothing we can do about it now. We've just got to keep our heads and push forward."

"Aww, look at Cap go," Finn cooed. "Loops, does he give you pep talks in bed too?"

Remus' eyes tracked to the camera, casually moving another mechanism of the puzzle. "I wonder if they've ever had a murder in this room"

"Can we murder people later, please?" Leo's next words were muttered so Logan couldn't hear them, but Remus gave a loud snort. "We've only got 15 minutes left on the clock," he continued.

The next 13 minutes went by with multiple successes: the bottle was opened revealing a note with a series of numbers they had no idea what to do with; Logan and Sirius managed to find a third key on a small hook hidden behind some giant palm leaves, and Finn's tapped his deciphered code into the typewriter unlocking a battered looking wardrobe that contained a treasure chest. There in, lay the problem.

The games master had told them at the beginning they needed to find the chest because it contained a 'flare' which would be there only hope of getting off the island they had washed up on. Except, the chest had four padlocks, one of which was numerical and the other three opened with keys.

"I guess we just try them?" Leo mused.

"We don't have enough time, surely there's a logic to it"

"Stop wasting time chatting and starting trying codes."

Finn's fingers worked quickly at the combination lock, groaning each time he didn't hear the click he was after.

"The keys the wrong way round, Logan," Leo said.

Logan hissed. "Sssh! I can't concentrate with you all shouting at me."

"I wasn't shouting. I was trying -"

A speaker crackled, an ominous voice filling the room. "Would you like a clue?"

"No!" It was the only thing they had all agreed on in what seemed like a long time.

Seconds later, there was a joyous click and the padlocks popped open.

"Congratulations, you managed to escape the island with 4 seconds left." The same brunette man who had briefed them earlier was back. He might have mentioned earlier that his name was Kyle. What Logan knew for sure was his smile was too wide and it was setting him on edge. "Would you like a photo?"

"Yes," Finn nodded eagerly. "The other boys will never believe us other wise."

The games master nodded, scrawling their time messily on a chalkboard proclaiming they had successfully escaped. A light flooded the room and maybe-Kyle swung a camera up from his hip.

Several photographs later, he asked for an email address to send them to, any pretense that he was even vaguely happy to be there lost now.

"Aww, it's cute," Leo said, thrusting his phone in Logan's direction. "Look at Finn," he laughed, pointing at their boyfriend, smile wide, and his fingers thrown up in a v.

"Merde, we're so lucky. Do we have to go to dinner with Cap and Loops?" Logan whispered.

"Oi! We can hear you. And no ditching, you owe me a pizza," Remus shot him a playful glare.

"Sid's?"

"Sid's," an agreeable chorus returned.

[rintarous]

since ur angsty text BROKE my tiny heart (which it was rlly good btw good job 👏) how about some cuddling hcs with ur favorite bnha boys 🥺👉👈

a/n: i hope this fixes ur broken heart that i caused 😔 i got too carried away with kiri bc kiri rights kiri bEST BOY p.s kaminari’s hc turned into PG 13 im sorry 😔

bakugo katsuki:

this mf right here

he’s that rough cuddler

cs mans never cuddled in his LIFE

and also the fact he’s a big ass tsundere

he’d probably give in once you hit the puppy eyes on him

which he can’t resist btw even if he won’t admit it

at first he’d be literally so stiff like kirishima’s quirk

and grunts every now and then

but as your cuddle sessions turned into weekly sessions which then turns into daily sessions,,,

he’d grow use to it and be the softest human alive

probably takes it up a notch and tell you to just lie down on his chest instead of being cuddled up to his side

!! HE’S BIG ON RUBBING CIRCLES ON YOUR SKIN !!

like at some point in your cuddle sesh, expect this boi to rub circles on your back, your sides, ANYWHERE HE CAN GET HIS HANDS ON

which lulls you to sleep if you’re being honest ,,,

he’d be like: huh??? once you stop babbling about your day

and he looks down at you to find you sleeping peacefully

he has this satisfied smirk on his face

and don’t tell anyone but he steals a kiss every once in a while when he knows youre knocked out cold

he doesnt want you to know he’s just too soft for you and tease the living daylights out of him 

uwu 

todoroki shoto:

another mf who can’t cuddle to save a life

as someone who,,,, didn’t experience much affection at all

he’d be clueless on what to do

so i believe he’d be the small spoon when you two just started cuddling

mans would literally FREEZE in your arms, not knowing what to do in this position

but he really likes the feeling of his hair being brushed away

he’s just a kitty stuck in a human body alright !!!

he’s kinda stoic and not keen into showing emotions but you can feel the love radiating off of him

and once he finds the courage, he looks up at you saying “can i try being the big spoon?”

AND UR HEART DID FLIPS 

ur brain: ADSJKHDADUAHDAJAKJA

and just like bakugo, he’d be stiff and doesnt know what to do

as he is pretty dense at everything 

and you just tell him to relax and be comfortable at what hes doing

and sooner or later, he’d get the hang of it

when it’s cold outside, you cuddle to his left side

and when it’s hot, to his right side

most of the time tho, you’d cuddle up at his right side

cs you like it cold 

overall, he’d be an okay cuddler

and because of this, you prefer to be the big spoon

A+ for effort tho 

uwu

kirishima eijiro:

AH YES KIRISHIMA THE BEST BOY

unlike the other 2, this dude right here,,,

god at cuddling

knows his shit!!!!!!

MY MAN WOULD BE SO SOFT AND UWU

YOU’D PROBABLY WANT TO LIVE IN HIS ARMS FOREVER

even if you didn’t ask, he’d throw his arm over your shoulder casually no cap no cap

then he’d pull you to his side 

since he’s naturally a warm person so sooner or later you’d lean to his side

till your cheek is now squished against his side

which makes him go uwu mode

and almost stranggle you cs you were too cute 🥺

i swear im a bakugo stan-

kiri is just,, the manliest of the manly 

n e way 

he’s the type to trap you in his arms

if that doesnt say anything to u idk man 

he’s so loving that you might start crying whenever u think about this man

he’s the type to throw in that puppy eyes whenever you leave 

expect to cuddle with him literally when classes end

!!! THE TYPE TO SAY/WHISPER SWEET SHIT WHILE YOU CUDDLE!!!!

FUCK DUDE I’D CUDDLE WITH KIRI ANY TIME ANY DAY 

just a natural sweet sweet boi 🥺

uwu

midoriya izuku:

izuwu here, probably thinks he knows what hes doing

but in reality he doesnt know what the fuck hes doing

he probably did his research about cuddling and all that shit the moment he got in a relationship with you

but thats okay!!! cs its the thought that counts !!! lmfao

he’s painfully stiff and tries really hard to make you comfortable

making you giggle 

cs izuku is just the cutest bean ever

he’d probably make that face when he was moving his head up and down when he was staring at his computer when he was a kid unironically as he cuddles you

“izuku, just relax!!!” you laughed at his distressed state 

“ehehehehe…. how”

so you end up being the big spoon

showing him how it’s done

and izuku just wanted to hide embarrassment cs he didn’t learn shit abt the stuff he’s been reading online 

he’s open to suggestions tho!!!

so once you hold him like the baby he is,,,

he gradually gets the jist of cuddling and wants to try it for himself

in his head: man being cuddled is way better 🥺

you find that he’s a bit comfortable now 

so every once in a while, he’d cuddle you but most of the time its you who cuddles him

but thats okay!! cs thats izuku who ur cuddling

and everything is just fine with you if its izuku

uwu

kaminari denki:

another dude who knows wtf he’s doing

mostly bc he experienced this before hand

since denki is kinda flirty,,,,, he’d put his hand under your shirt

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

naturally a good cuddler

plus you get to charge your phone when you’re with him LMFAO

be careful when he sneezes tho,,,,

prepared to be shocked,, 

literally

anyway

cuddles with him would usually mean endless gossip about anything or anyone 

when he’s feeling it he’d put his hand on your chest

with no malice or whatever, he’s just that type of dude to just hold ur bo*b

might give it a squeeze if he’s feeling brave LMAO

but mans doesnt mean any harm

it’s just he cant keep his hands to himself KJADSHAJHDJKA

since he’s pretty open about your relationship,,,

he’d cuddle with you in the common room

making everyone passing by lowkey gag 

“get a damn room” bakugo grumbles as he goes to the kitchen

ENDLESS SIDE KISSES

my man kaminari cant live without physical affection y’all

and he’d probably brush ur hair away too damn what a man

uwu

tamaki amajiki: 

PROTECT THIS LIL SHIT !!!!!

cuddling with tamaki would be a damn miracle

cs it happened rarely

due to his,,,,, nervousness and shit

even asking you out almost made him pass out

if it werent for mirio and neijire, you two would never become canon at all

since he’s a nervous bub,, expect to be the big spoon

which is a good thing tbh cs all you wanna do is PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS

he’d intertwine your hands together and probably do that one face: (￣～￣)

but its okay!! cs it means progress amirite!!!!!

this boi mustve felt so sorry to you cs he’s the man in the relationship right?? so he gotta be the big spoon

so like overtime he’d muster all the courage he had left and ask to be the big spoon

you can literally feel him shake from the other side of the room when he asked you so quietly

“c-can i…. t-try to be the…….. ᵇᶦᵍ ˢᵖᵒᵒⁿ“

AND WHEN I SAID YOU SCARED HIM SHITLESS WHEN YOU LITERALLY JUMPED IN HIS ARMS

YOU SCARED HIM SHITLESS

again,, he almost passes out when he barely catches you

so you two ended up cuddling on the floor

buT IF IT MEANT TAMAKI BEING THE BIG SPOON,, YOU’LL TAKE ANYTHING 

you can still feel him shake under you

but you squeeze his hand around you reassuringly and kiss his cheek

“you’re doing so well my baby”

and my dude turns into a dark shade of red

“t-thanks?”

uwu

[joonie-beanie]

Of Nudes And Praise

Pairing: Asmodeus x Reader

Word Count: 6,071

Preview: You've been feeling...needy...and decide to ask Asmodeus for some help.

And by that, you mean if he can spare you any toys.

However, when the Avatar of Lust is involved, you tend to get more than what you bargained for.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 3/8/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

When you’d first arrived in the Devildom—overwhelmed with the new situation and all you had to learn—you’d accidentally forgotten about some important, basic tasks.

Like doing laundry.

You hadn’t thought to ask about cleaning your clothes until 2 weeks in, when you’d had nothing to wear but a pair of pajamas. Thankfully, at that point you’d been comfortable enough around Mammon to ask him if they had a place to do their laundry (which of course they did), and you’d spent the entire weekend washing and folding clothes.

And then, when you started to break out, you’d remembered that skin care was a thing too. Asmodeus had been kind enough to give you some products to use, and you were always grateful for all of the boy’s hospitality.

Now, months later, you’ve mostly remembered all the little things you should be doing. Except…

Your fingers reach between your legs, pressing at your aching clit. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten off, and ever since the realization struck you a few days ago, you’ve only managed to work yourself up.

“C’mon,” you hiss, biting your lip as you lean forward, your forearm resting on the vanity in your bathroom. The room is humid from your shower—fog coating the mirror in front of you, but even so you can see the look of desperation on your face.

You really need to cum. Just once. Once is all you need, really. Just enough so you can clear your head. Then, you bet you’ll be fine.

“Come on!” you huff, your hand still working between your legs, but you know it’s no use. With a sigh, you give up—head hanging in defeat. You’ve never been good at getting off without a trusty toy, and at this point you’re just starting to rub yourself raw.

Frowning, a little disgruntled, you stand tall and run a hand through your damp hair. There’s an unsatisfied ache in your gut, and you try your best to ignore it as you return to your bedroom and rummage around for clean clothes to wear. However, the more you attempt to ignore it, the more you crave release, and it doesn’t take long for you to break down.

Pulling on a hoodie and a pair of leggings, you exit your room—making your way to the one person you’re sure will help.

…one way or another.

Knock Knock

“Oh, who could it be~!” A sing-song voice calls from the other side of the door, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes.

“It’s me!” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hear footfalls getting closer. After a few seconds, the door is opened, and you find Asmo grinning back at you.

“Oh, my dear~ This is an unexpected, albeit welcome visit. What can I do for you?”

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and strides back into his room. You assume that’s his way of inviting you in, and you step inside—closing the door behind you. For a moment, you simply watch him. He’s dressed only in a robe—makeup sprawled across his vanity, and his hair pinned on his head thanks to a butterfly clip. From the look of it, he’s going out tonight—which doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Hmm, I don’t mind if you stare, Y/N—I do know I’m beautiful—but I have to get going soon, ya know?” the Avatar of Lust pipes up, staring at you through the vanity mirror. When you flush red in embarrassment, he winks.

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“I, um…,” you start, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes scan the floor at your feet, and Asmo’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He’s never seen you quite so flustered before.

“I…was wondering if you can hook me up with some…toys?” you say, although you end in a squeak. Honestly, on your way here you had been determined to just be casual about it. After all, this is Asmo! He loves to talk about sex, and anything of the like! So there’s no reason for you to be feeling so…shy, but you can’t help yourself.

You’re basically admitting that you’re horny and need some help.

At your words, stars light up in the Avatar of Lust’s eyes.

“Ehhhhh~? So you do have those kinds of feelings?!” he speaks, surprise in his tone. You pout your lips at him, glaring a little.

“Of course I do! It’s just…I’ve finally reached the point where I need to do something about it,” you admit. You move to sit against the edge of his mattress, and Asmo’s gaze follows you through the mirror. “At first it was easy to ignore, but…now I seriously need an orgasm, if only for my own sanity.”

You laugh a little, feeling more comfortable as you talk. Asmodeus hums.

Standing, the Avatar of Lust reaches up to undo the clip in his hair—tossing the piece of plastic back onto the vanity—and then moves to join you. You shiver as his fingers crawl against the back of your neck, his grip settling on you he pulls you in—pressing a soft kiss to your heated cheek.

“You’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” he giggles, his other hand moving to rest on the upper part of your thigh. He gives it a little squeeze, and you feel a bit of heat flare between your legs in response. Even if Asmodeus’s powers don’t work on you, that doesn’t mean you don’t feel attraction towards him.  You’ve listened to his tales of passion countless times over the last few months, and while at the time they hadn’t affected you, now—if you think of the way he described his hands on a woman’s body, or the things he had made her say and feel—now…they definitely make your heart skip a beat.

“But!” he continues, disappearing from around you. You blink, eyes following him as he bustles across the room. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few gifts from admirers set aside!”

Asmo disappears into his closet, and you hear him digging around in what you can only assume is an overwhelming amount of clothes and personal items. After a minute, he reappears, a gift box in his grasp—topped with a bow and everything.

“Do you…get a lot of gifts you just ignore?” you ask him, lifting your arms to take the box from him when he stops in front of you and holds it out.

“Mmmm, I mean, how can I possibly keep up with them all?? Sometimes they just get put aside to be used at a later date. But now they’re yours!” he says cheerily, rocking on his heels. “And don’t worry!” He swoops down to hug you tight. “I picked the items I think you would like~!”

Asmo cradles your face against his chest, and you can smell the sweet perfume on him. It’s almost intoxicating. However, before you have a chance to think to hug him back, or comment on how good he smells, once again the Avatar of Lust is gone from your side. He returns to his vanity, picking up a tube of crimson lipstick. He raises it to his lips, but doesn’t apply it. Instead, he pauses, his eyes landing on you once more—contemplative.

“Actually,” he twits the lipstick back into place, caps it, and then tosses it towards you. By some miracle, you manage to catch it, and Asmo winks at you. “Take this too. The color will look good on you. Now--!” he finally gets back to his work—immersing himself in applying makeup and dolling himself up for his night out.

“—as much as I would love to personally stay and help you, I do have plans I should probably keep, and I need to finish getting ready. Feel free to text me to let me know if you’re having fun while I’m gone though~”

He ends with another wink—that same, teasing sparkle in his eye—and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sure, we’ll see,” you say, and Asmo giggles as you show yourself to the door.

In all honesty, you never intended to text Asmo.

You’d gotten back to your room, opened up his package, and unloaded the contents—of which included: a vibrator, a tube of stimulating lube, a sheer set of pink lingerie, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. The items had made you flush red despite your brain trying to convince you they were all fairly normal to receive in a “hope this helps with your horniness” gift basket.

Perhaps it was just the fact that Asmodeus had given it to you that was really the issue. He was only being a good friend, but…realizing that the Avatar of Lust had given you a package of naughty things to use…it managed to light a fire in your gut.

Too needy to be shy, you had immediately grabbed the vibrator and lube. Within minutes, you managed to bring yourself to climax—Asmodeus’s name hanging on your tongue as you rode out the waves of pleasure. It only seemed right to think of him. After all, he was the Avatar of Lust. (Or, at least, that’s what you convince yourself. In reality, you’ve likely got some more intimate feelings for the demon that you still need to work out��but that sounds like a lot of work).

After cumming, you bid your time—lazing in your bed with your D.D.D, and trying to keep yourself occupied. However…it doesn’t take long for your attention to shift over to the opened package on your dresser, the rest of it’s contents still inside and waiting to be used.

Well, maybe I can have a little more fun, you think to yourself, and hop out of bed. You gingerly remove the pink lingerie from the box and inspect it. The material is completely see-through—a two-piece set. Both the tops and bottoms have a cute lettuce trim—the top looking to be off the shoulder and elastic lined, and the bottoms a little too small for comfort—a classic tie-able bikini type.

You bite your lip.

You actually want to try them on.

So—still naked from your previous round of self-love—you hurriedly pull the top over your head. It takes a minute to tie the bottoms correctly and evenly, but once you do, you step in front of your floor length mirror and give yourself a once-over.

Asmo obviously wasn’t lying when he said he had picked them with you in mind…the lingerie fits like a dream, and as embarrassed as you are, you feel very pretty.

Humming to yourself, you begin posing—surveying yourself from different angles. There are still certain areas of yourself you’re not totally confident about, but overall you feel…good.

Good enough to begin taking selfies.

You’re not exactly skilled in the art of taking lewd photos, but you’re not unfamiliar with it either. You know a few good angles.

Grabbing your D.D.D, you open the camera app and begin your photoshoot. Within the span of minutes, your camera roll is filled with dozens of new photos—ass pressed out, and tits squished together. You pout your lips as you begin scrolling through your gallery—deleting the photos that don’t piqué your interest. However, in the end you still have a handful of good pictures to choose from, and your heart begins to beat unsteadily in your chest as the idea of sending one to Asmodeus resurfaces.

He’d probably like it…, you reassure yourself, clicking on your favorite photo. Your body is sideways to the mirror—the curve of your ass accentuated, and your tits round and perky beneath the mesh lingerie.

Squashing any of your self-doubt, you open your chat with Asmo and send the photo.

Not knowing what to say, you don’t say anything. Simply…wait to see if he notices your message.

You’re about to close the app and head to Devilgram (hoping to keep yourself busy and not worry), when all of the sudden dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You immediately freeze, gaze locked onto your screen as Asmo types out his message.

Asmodeus: Ara~ Looks like you’re having fun without me. How rude of you~

Asmodeus: You do look scrumptious in that lingerie, though. I definitely picked well!

Asmodeus: If you’re willing, I’d love to see more~

You roll your eyes at his flirting, your cheeks feeling warm.

You: Maybe if you say please~

His response is immediate.

Asmodeus: Look at you, teasing me when I’m not there to put you in your place~

Again, you’re tempted to roll your eyes, but instead you dig out your next favorite photo and hit send. This time you’re facing the mirror—thighs shyly pressed together, and an arm wrapped around your torso beneath your bust line—causing your breasts to squish together.

You: I’ll tease you as much as I want to.

This time, there’s a beat of silence before he responds.

Asmodeus: Are you sure you want to do that? I am a man, you know.

Unconsciously, your legs rub together—arousal swirling in your gut.

You: I’m very sure of what I want, Asmo.

You stare at your screen, waiting for him to respond, but he doesn’t. A check mark letting you know that he’d seen your message pops up beside the bubble, and you feel your heart sink a little. Had you said something wrong?

Frowning, you stare at the chat for a little too long, hoping to see the ellipses appear at the bottom of the chat, but they don’t. Asmodeus is silent.

Sighing, you press to your feet, and head into your bathroom. You survey yourself in the mirror, wondering if perhaps your self-image is off, but shake your head. You’re sure you look cute like this, Asmodeus is probably just busy. He went out tonight to have a good time—he’s likely partying and doesn’t have time to respond.

Nodding, silently holding onto the notion that he’s likely preoccupied, you pull out a face mask and decide to pamper yourself. Really, anything that will take your mind off the Avatar of Lust and help you to not overthink the current situation.

Once the mask is in place, you heft yourself up onto the sink counter, and continue scrolling through your phone. You click into Devilgram, laughing when you swipe past a photo of Satan deadpanning at the camera. Mammon can be seen over his shoulder trying to put the moves on what looks to be an older, richer female demon.

“One day Mammon will turn into a sugar baby”, the caption reads, and your shoulders shake.

Thanks to Satan's comedic post, you actually forget about all your worries for a few minutes.

Once the face mask has started to dry out, you hop off the counter and peel the damp sheet from your face. You toss into the garbage and yawn as you head back into your bedroom. Maybe you should just sleep soon—

“Ara~?” a hand suddenly covers your eyes, an arm wrapping around you just beneath your breasts, and you gasp. The warmth of a body appears behind you—soft kisses pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders.

“I was hoping I’d find you writhing on your bed moaning my name~ Did you decide to wait knowing I’d come?”

“A-Asmo?” you breathe, shivering in his hold as he hugs you tighter against him. You can feel something poignant and hard rub against your ass, and you stiffen—heat scorching the inside of your stomach as you realize how aroused he is at the moment.

And it’s likely all thanks to you.

“I…,” you struggle to respond, your voice shaking as he moves his hand to grip your breast—giving it a soft squeeze.

“Mmm~ you look even better in person. The lingerie fits you so well,” he purrs, tongue tracing a wet strip up your neck. Again, you gasp, your ass curving against him as you attempt to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Your neck has always been sensitive, but somehow your current lack of sight has raised the stakes ever higher.

“W-Why are you here? I thought—”

“How could I stay out knowing that you’re at home playing with yourself and looking so delicious?” he responds, not bothering to let you finish. His hand releases your breast—his fingers coasting down the front of your torso. You feel his touch brush against the edge of your lingerie bottoms, and you inhale sharply.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, noticing your reaction. His teeth nip at the lobe of your ear. “Or aroused?”

“Both,” you respond honestly, face feeling like a tomato.

Sure, you had hoped to tease Asmo and get a reaction out of him by sending your lewd selfie, but you had never expected him to abandon his night out to come and find you!

“Why are you nervous?” he questions, his hand not sinking lower. Instead, his fingers move to tug at the ties of the bikini. You feel the fabric loosen ever so slightly, but it’s clear he has no intention of undressing you until you answer him.

“I…didn’t expect this,” you tell him, biting your lip when he peppers your neck with more kisses. The soft sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“I can stop if this isn’t what you want,” he says, breath fanning against you. You’re quick to shake your head, and Asmo giggles.

“Okay, so you don’t want me to stop then. That makes me happy~ Because I really don’t want to.”

His fingers tug a little harder at the ties to the lingerie bottoms, and you startle. As much as you want nothing more than for him to touch you—

“Are you sure I’m good enough?”

His movements halt, the world standing still.

You blink as Asmo removes his hand from atop your eyes—the Avatar of Lust gently using his hold on your hip to spin you so you’re facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks seriously. Your gaze darts away, too many emotions plaguing you at once. You’re standing in front of him, practically naked—flustered beyond belief thanks to his touches—and now he’s seriously trying to embarrass you more with his question.

“Y/N.” Asmo’s hand moves to cup your cheek, and he coaxes you to look at him. There’s a perplexed look on his face, like he’s confused and frustrated at the same time.

“I just…you’re the Avatar of Lust, and you’re beautiful,” you tell him quietly, one of your hands raising to press against his own as you lean into him. “I’m sure you could have the most attractive people in the world if you wanted to. You’ve already had so many. I guess…I’m just worried I’ll be forgettable.”

You laugh a little, closing your eyes as you flash him a bitter sweet smile. You’d seriously been trying to have confidence in yourself tonight, but—

“Mmph!” You startle as his lips crash into yours—his hand leaving your hip and finding purchase in your hair instead. As Asmo tugs at your roots, he deepens the kiss—his tongue sneaking into your mouth and stealing your breath away. You’re helpless but to moan against him, the daintiest of the brothers suddenly overwhelming you with his presence.

“You have no idea—,” he speaks against your lips, taking a step forward and in turn causing you to stumble back. “—how long I’ve wanted to touch you.”

You gasp when your legs hit the edge of your bed—your knees giving out beneath you, and your body landing on the mattress unceremoniously. Immediately Asmo is kneeling over you, his lips once again finding yours.

“You’re so adorable,” he tells you, his kisses straying from your mouth—trailing across your cheek and onto your jaw. “So pretty, so cute—and you really think you’ll end up being forgettable?”

“I--,” you struggle to find your words, your brain feeling like it’s in overload. At your obvious dilemma on how to respond, Asmo pulls back, glancing at your face. You’re redder than he’s ever seen—your eyes wide, and lips parted. A twinkle appears in his gaze as a lightbulb clicks on in his brain, and he grins, one of his hands moving to rest against your waist.

“Do you not like being praised?” he asks, although his tone is teasing. “Does it embarrass you hearing that your skin is so delicate and supple—that I want to touch you all over and feel every inch of it?”

Asmo’s statement has your heart hammering against your ribs—and you instinctively raise your hands to hide your face.

“Asmo~,” you whine, and the demon giggles.

“Mmm, I think I’ve been neglecting praising you. I guess I’ll have to play catch up tonight~”

You whimper, both extremely shy and aroused at the idea. You’ve always been the type to get flustered at compliments, so the thought of being praised (and by Asmo, of all people) has your heart feeling like it may beat straight out of your chest.

“First things first though—”

You feel something soft and fuzzy secure around one of your wrists, and suddenly your hand is yanked away from your face.

“Hey!” you cry, watching as Asmo forces your arm above your head. He threads the pair of handcuffs through one of the slots on the headboard and then tugs your other hand upward—fastening the free cuff around it tightly.

All of the sudden, you can no longer hide yourself from his view.

“That’s better~,” he sings, leaning down to kiss your flustered face. “It won’t be much fun if I don’t get to see all of your delectable little reactions.”

“You’re seriously trying to kill me,” you whisper against him, and the Avatar of Lust attempts to kiss your worries away.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he admits. He leaves your lips, his head moving to nestle between your breasts. Asmo makes a contented sound as he nuzzles the squishy flesh.

“But—you can always tell me to stop. I’m not a monster who disregards safe words.”

His tongue flattens against your nipple through the thin layer of lingerie, his half-lidded honey colored eyes staring up at you.

“Stoplight colors?”

“S-Sure,” you swallow, still in disbelief that Asmo is seriously about to have his way with you. Humming in acknowledgement of your response, the Avatar of Lust finally indulges himself.

He sits back, his fingers curling under the elastic hem of your top. You watch him as he keeps the band tight along your skin—dragging the hem upwards and subsequently gathering your breasts together. The elastic catches on your hardened nipples, causing your breath to catch in your throat, and Asmodeus licks his lips at the sound.

“Look at that,” he says, his gaze trailed on your tits as the mounds finally pop free—the mesh top bunched around your upper chest. Without wasting time, Asmo captures one of your nipples with his mouth—his hand moving to fondle the other. As he sucks and squeezes, you can’t help but writhe—tiny, embarrassing sounds bubbling up in your throat.

“God, your tits are so gorgeous,” he moans, being sure to press kisses to every inch of the soft skin. “I just wanna leave marks all over them.”

Asmo takes your nipple into his mouth once more—his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud—and your chest curves into his touch. He smiles at the instinctive movement, his gaze settling on your face as he gives your nipple a small bite—watching as your eyelashes flutter, lips parting in a gasp.

“You’re just so pretty,” he speaks, one of his hands remaining on your chest while his mouth trails down your torso. He pauses to leave a few teasing kisses to your tummy, but as he does so, he suddenly freezes. He sits back slightly, blinking up at you.

“Where’s the lipstick I gave you?”

Your eyes shift to look at your dresser, and Asmodeus disappears from atop you. He quickly moves to retrieve the tube of lipstick, and your eyes sink to look at the obvious bulge trapped beneath his leather pants.

“Don’t you want to free yourself?” you ask him, motioning to his crotch. Asmo looks down at himself, and as if on cue, you see his member twitch.

“I’ve been denied a lot,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

As your mind momentarily detours to imagine what an orgasm denied, begging Asmodeus would be like, the Avatar of Lust opens the crimson colored lipstick. Within seconds, his lips are coated red, and he smiles down at you sweetly.

“When we’re done here, I want you to be able to see every place of you I’ve touched, and loved,” he says. As you flush once more at his words, Asmo leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You can feel his lipstick smear against your skin—a moan leaving you when he deepens the kiss, slotting his mouth against your own.

“Mmm, you look so good like that,” he tells you as he pulls back. The lipstick is messy on his face, but the sight only serves to arouse you.

“Touch me more,” you whisper, your hands tugging against the cuffs. You want to feel him too, but you can’t. As you pout, Asmo giggles, slinking down your body. He tracks light kisses down your sternum, his hands squishing your breasts together as he peppers the sensitive mounds with lipstick marks.

“Ahh~ I have a succubus friend who has the cutest markings,” he mumbles, once again reaching over to grab the tube of lipstick. He holds your breast with his free hand—a grin on his face. “You’d look so good with little tattoos all over you—my own personal love bug.”

Asmo presses the lipstick to your tit, drawing a perfectly shaped heart around your nipple. He then mimics the heart on your other mound—looking thoroughly satisfied with his work.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he breathes. You can see the hunger in his eyes—like a switch has finally been flicked in his brain. Up until now, he’s been totally content with moving slowly—teasing you—but now he looks like he’s craving more.

“You know, you can stop with the praise and just fuck me,” you tell him, hoping for a little bit of relief yourself. Not only are his words embarrassing—your heart feeling like it may explode out of your chest—but they’re arousing too. Each praise off his tongue has caused more arousal to pool between your legs, and you can feel that the skimpy lingerie bottoms are already soaked.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Asmo grins right back, and the sparkle in his eye tells you that despite his own desires, he doesn’t intend to stop praising you anytime soon.

“Besides--,” suddenly, he reaches down, his fingers scooting beneath the hem of your bottoms and finding your womanhood. You gasp as his fingers nestle between your wet folds, gathering your arousal.

“—I think that despite your outward reactions, you get off on my praise.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You can only stare at him, thighs shaking with need as Asmo rubs his fingers against your clit—his eyes carefully watching your reactions.

“Have I mentioned that you taste good?” he says, once again leaning down to press kisses against your torso. His mouth slowly sinks lower—his tongue licking a hot, wet strip from the edge of the lingerie panties to your navel.

“Mmm, I’m sure you taste even better here, though.” He accentuates his words by rolling your clit between his fingers, and you whine, wrists once again tugging against the cuffs.

“Please, please fuck me already, Asmo,” you beg. However, Asmo simply ignores you—moving to reapply lipstick his lips. He also pauses to draw a heart around your belly button, along with an arrow pointing down towards your most intimate area.

“There we go!” he giggles, a cute “Asmo’s <3” scribbled beside the arrow. The possessive nature has you whining even more, and the Avatar of Lust clicks his tongue.

“I promise I won’t leave you hanging~”

His fingers leave your womanhood as he scoots his way down between your legs.

“You’re leaking so much of your precious juices everywhere,” he pouts, noting how wet your bottoms have become. “But I guess I can’t complain, considering it will be so easy to put my cock into your pretty little pussy~”

“Asmo,” you try again, a shaky breath leaving you as he spreads your thighs apart. His mouth works at the supple flesh—leaving an array of kisses and bites across the skin.

“You’re shaking,” he teases, glancing up at you with a shit eating grin that honestly makes you want to kick him. You’re not exactly sure how long he’s been praising you, but it’s been too long. While he may be used to being denied, you are not, and you’re really going to lose your shit if he doesn’t put his dick in you soon.

“Please. Please fuck me,” you breathe, desperation painted clear on your face. Asmo’s fingers tug at the strings holding your bottoms in place.

“Do you admit that you’re good enough for me? That you’re beautiful, and should have never been worried?”

“Yes, yes! I’m fucking adorable and I know you want to stick your dick in me, so do it already,” you whine, your hips wiggling in his hold. He giggles.

“God, you’re so fucking precious.”

With that, he finally tugs your bottoms loose. The sheer fabric falls away, and Asmo is quick to get to work. He sits back, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor beside your bed—his pants following soon after. As he pulls the tight leather pants down his legs, you watch his cock spring free—curving up against his stomach.

“Worth the wait?” you ask, tongue darting out to lick your lips as he kicks the fabric from around his ankles.

“Definitely,” he responds, a little breathless as he drags the head of his dick between your folds. It’s obvious that as much as he was holding himself back, he was beginning to near his breaking point as well.

Before you can think of anything more to say, Asmodeus is thrusting himself inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden stretch—but the tension held in your body is quick to melt away—a sense of satisfaction settling in your gut. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“More.”

And the Avatar of Lust is happy to comply.

He fucks into you with just the perfect amount of roughness—enough to have your toes curling, and the bed rocking—his cock brushing up against your g-spot with every movement. The sensation quickly has you coming undone—your spine curving off the mattress and your mouth hanging open—quiet cries sneaking past your lips.

“God, just look at you,” he speaks, his hands settling on your waist as he grinds against you. You look so pretty beneath him—arms trapped above your head, and colorful kisses littering your entire body.

“A-Asmo,” you plead, wishing you could hide your face, but he only continues.

“Seriously--,” he fucks into you particularly hard, and a moan is ripped from your throat. “—If I could make you into my personal little succubus, I—ah—would.”

The idea has the already tightly wound coil in your gut winding tighter, and you find Asmo’s eyes. Your gaze is filled with lust—a mindless desire for him to make you cum—and his dick throbs.

“Fuck, you feel too good, Y/N,” he hunches over, sweat beading on his brow as his messy hair falls into his face. “You really might make me cum too soon.”

“I—mmm—just t-touch my clit. Please,” you tell him, the bundle of nerves pulsing with a need to be touched. “I’ll cum w-with you.”

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his fingers moving to press between your folds. He rubs at your clit faithfully—a side to side motion that quite literally has your legs shaking—and you quickly feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh fuck, Asmo,” you cry, your skull pressing into the mattress as your orgasm builds within you. All the while, the Avatar of Lust picks up his pace—little moans of pleasure rolling off his tongue as he fucks you.

As much as he loves to tease, he’s enthralled that he’s finally getting to take you like this. To feel your pussy clench around his dick—to see your tits bounce—to watch you struggle to find words to say. Your body is right on the brink of release, and it’s all thanks to him.

It honestly feels like a dream.

“I—I—”

Your brain feels like jello, your eyes struggling to stay open. The muscles in your lower abdomen begin to tense, and Asmodeus knows what’s coming.

“I’m right behind you, princess,” he says, biting his lip, and you can’t wait a second longer. With a high-pitched cry, you come undone.

Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave—your pussy contracting around Asmo’s dick as you ride out your release. The sensation causes the Avatar of Lust’s pace to falter, a quiet curse leaving him as he loses himself. He fucks into you one last time—full seating himself within your heat—before he cums as well.

The next few moments are a blur—the two of you lost in your combined bliss as exhaustion replaces previous feelings of need. However, the first to speak up is you.

“Let me touch you~,” you whine, puppy eyes trained on Asmodeus as he focuses his gaze on you.

“Ara~ Still needy, I see,” he giggles, pulling his length from inside of you. You feel his seed slip from your pussy, and your face gets warm once more. Luckily, Asmo doesn’t bother teasing you. Instead, he moves to grab the key to the cuffs. Within seconds, you’re free from your restraints, and immediately you’re reaching up to hug him.

Asmo melts into the embrace, pressing a few gentle kisses to your cheek.

“Was I as good as you dreamed~?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes a little.

“I enjoyed it a lot,” you respond honestly, and Asmo presses onto his forearms, staring at you sweetly. You can’t help smiling at him, your hands raising to cup his cheeks.

“You’re cute.” You drag him into a kiss, and he grins.

“Oh? Is it my turn for praise now?”

“How about--,” you push him from atop you, and Asmo blinks in surprise—watching as you scoot to the edge of the bed and stand. Immediately, more of his cum slips from inside of you and begins dripping down your thighs, and you have to fight off another blush. Asmo snickers.

“How about—,” you try again, extending a hand to him. He takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet. “—we take a shower, and I can tell you all about how pretty you are as we wash each other?”

“Oh, yes, you’re speaking my language!”

Not waiting for your lead, Asmo tugs you along to your bathroom. However, just before you step inside the tiled room, the demon pauses. He grins, tugging you in front of him, and facing you towards the wall. You wonder exactly what he’s doing, when he gently grabs your jaw and directs your attention to the floor length mirror you’re now stood in front of.

From head to toe, you’re littered in kisses—bright red lipstick painting your skin.

“You know,” Asmo speaks, his tone playful as he rests his head on your shoulder. “I know some witches who can probably whip up a potion that will leave you with cute little breeding marks.”

“No--,” you say, embarrassed, and head into the bathroom. Asmo pouts after you.

“Oh c’mon~ What if they only appear when you’re horny, that would be fine, right?”

“…maybe.”

Asmo giggles.

“Just wait. I’m very good as persuasion~”

And somehow…you don’t doubt that at all.

[just-jordie-things]

hi! could i request prompts #39, #45 and #74 for a zuko x reader fic with a modern au that takes place on halloween, with the gaang and everyone dressing up for halloween? with the reader and zuko already being really good friends and a part of the gaang?

prompt 39: spin the bottle kiss prompt 45: passionate kiss prompt 74: kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap ___

You’d been chatting with Katara, complimenting her cute 70′s themed costume, and just blabbering on in tipsy delight.  However in the middle of your conversation about one of your classes, your eyes caught sight of the door opening, and in walked your favorite person.

“Zuko!” You cheered, grabbing your drink off the counter and excusing yourself from Katara so you could be the first to greet him.

He smiled sheepishly as you bounded up to him, the hood of your alien onesie flopping your head.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” You said happily, giggling as you threw your arms around his neck.

He nervously reciprocated the hug, not wanting to spill your drink or overstep his boundaries.

“Did I miss anything?” He asked, glancing around the room, but inevitably looking back down at you, because nothing could capture his attention like you did.

“Sokka and Aang are in a competition to see who can do the most casual backflips,” You said in all seriousness.  “There’s still time to catch up if you want to join” 

Zuko just laughs, and shakes his head, and you’re quick to jump topics.

“What are you dressed as, anyways?” You asked, poking at the leather jacket he wore.

“I’m an emo phase,” Zuko said, looking down at his black clothes and ripped jeans combo.  “Is it not obvious?”

“It’s more of a sexy bad boy vibe,” You giggle.

His face flushes pink at the comment, but you don’t notice.

“I have a great idea though! Come with me” 

You grab his hand and you’re pulling him into the apartment.  He barely had time to greet Suki and Ty Lee in passing before you bringing him into the bathroom.

“How do you feel about eyeliner?” You asked, setting your half empty drink on the counter so you could pick through your makeup drawer.

“Uh...” 

“Sit,” You prompt, softly pushing him down onto the toilet.  “You’re too tall, I can’t reach your face and keep a steady hand” 

He does as you say, and forgets that he should go say hi to his friends while you carefully pull the brush from the black tube.

“Is this really necessary?” He asks, but bites his tongue as you lean in close to him.

You smell sweet, like fruit or candy.  He wonders if it’s your shampoo or your perfume, or it’s both and it’s just your natural splendid scent-

“Absolutely,” You murmur, vote quiet so you could keep your focus.  “Now shut your eyes” 

Again, he complies, and you steadily drag the brush over his eyelid.  For being fairly tipsy, your hand his still, and the liquid applies smoothly.

“Perfect,” You hum, proud of yourself, and Zuko opens his eyes.

You’re so close it’s impossible not to think about kissing you, but at the thought a blush crawls up his neck and he wishes you would move away so you wouldn’t see.

“Now look up,” You direct.  “I’m going to do some under too, make sure the goth-ness really stands out” 

He nods, speechless, and looks as far up as he can.

But then your hand slides over his cheek so you can maneuver his face properly, as well as keep yourself steady, and he’s looking back at you again.

“Hey, up” You scold teasingly, and hastily he’s following your order.

He’s not sure that you’re aware of it, but as you apply more makeup, the thumb on his cheek is caressing him in smooth circles.  It’s somehow calming, while still making his heart race.

You did that to him a lot.

You’re slower this time, worried about getting it in his eye, but it’s over all too soon, and you’re pulling away from him with a grin.

“Perfect!” You cheer again, capping your eyeliner and putting it back into the drawer.  “You look very edgy” 

Zuko stands to look in the mirror, and it’s odd, but he can’t deny that you did an excellent job and it definitely makes him look more emo.

“Do you like it?” You ask, picking your glass up and taking a tentative sip.

He looks down at your hopeful eyes, and smiles before nodding.

“You’re right, it’s perfect, thank you” 

“Great! Let’s show the others!”

And so you’re taking his hand again and weaving through the small crowd in search of your close friends, Sokka and Aang in particular, because you know they’ll get a kick out of it.

“Who are all these people?” Zuko asked after passing too many unfamiliar faces.

“Katara and I invited some people from school,” You told him nonchalantly.  “I didn’t think a halloween party would be such a hit, but I guess people love ‘em more than I thought!” 

“Well if you invited them then I’m sure they do” He mutters.

It’s a vexed comment, but you look up at him with a bashful sort of smile, and the implication in his words has him blushing again.

You giggle, and do him the favor of not saying anything about it, instead finally catching sight of Sokka and quickly pulling Zuko over to him.

“Sokka, look!” You say eagerly, pushing Zuko forward to show the boy the excellent job you did on his makeup.  “I gave Zuko eyeliner!” 

Sokka cheers loudly, and hugs you with pride.

“Zuko, you look beautiful,” He gushes playfully.  “You should be so proud of your date here” 

Sokka’s, well, hammered, but still the comment throws Zuko off, and he begins to stammer.  No real words came out, but luckily you came to his defense.

“Sokka, stop teasing,” You say, and bring your hand up to Zuko’s arm.  “We’re gonna go get a couple drinks and then let’s hang out, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll find Suki and the others, meet in the living room in a couple minutes?”

You agree, and then you’re bringing Zuko with you to the kitchen.

You tended to do this at parties, even ones where it’s just your small tight-knit group of friends.  You stuck by his side and rarely ever broke off from him.  At first he’d thought you were doing him a kindness, because he was award and not always great at small talk.  But after a few parties, he started to get the feeling that you genuinely enjoyed his company, and chose for your own reasons to stick by his side.

“What’s your poison?” You asked him as you reached the kitchen, which was littered with every alcohol known to man, as well as dozens of red plastic cups, some used, some new, Zuko wasn’t sure it mattered.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having” He says, and you grin.

“Suit yourself” 

He realizes quickly as you pour a generous amount of shots into a cup that you’re making your drinks strong, and he takes over for you.

“Why don’t you let me do that?” He says, taking the bottle from your hands and setting it down, before pouring half the alcohol in your into a second cup for himself.

You make a face, but don’t protest while he adds in the soda, and hands you your weaker drink.

You take his hand again as you both make your way to the living room, where most of your friends have already gathered.

Sokka and Suki share one corner of the sofa, Aang and Katara on the other, both couples hogging the whole space.

Ty Lee had claimed the recliner for herself, sitting in it sideways, her legs thrown over the arm rest.  Mai was at her feet, the girls sharing their drinks and whispering amongst themselves.

That left the loveseat, if you could call it that because it was so small, but you didn’t mind as you dragged Zuko along and plopped down onto the cushions with him.

Without a second thought, you moved in close to him and threw your legs over his lap.  You did it so casually you’d think that you always sat this way.  But that wasn’t the case, in fact Zuko’s not sure you’ve ever been this close to him before, and his heart does a somersault.

“So what are we playing?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink, and then a longer more dramatic drink while making eye contact with Zuko because you could barely taste the alcohol.

He rolls his eyes and playfully flicks your arm, before turning his attention back to Sokka, who’s deciding on a game.

“Let’s play something old fashioned,” He decides, and he’s smirking at everyone as he raises his beer bottle, before pausing dramatically.

Suki nudges him, prompting him to continue his thought since no one knew what he was talking about.

“I say, spin the bottle!” He declares loudly, enough to get a few other people’s attention, and now the group grows a little bigger.

“Really?” Suki mutters, glaring at her boyfriend.

“Well I won’t be playing, I'll just be moderator” Sokka argues.  The girl rolls her eyes, but goes with it anyways.

“Spin the bottle? Isn’t that kinda immature?” Aang asks.

“I think it’s fun!” Ty Lee chimes in.  “I’ll play!” 

With that, a couple more boys come to sit around in the living room.

You stifle your giggle in your hand at the way Ty Lee so effortlessly had men flocking to her.  You always admired her for it.

“Fine.  I’ll play” Mai sighs, leaning back against the chair Ty Lee sat in.

“You guys in?” Sokka asks, looking to you and Zuko.

“Oh, no,” You shake your head and put your hands up in defense.  “It’s not for me, I’m spoken for,” 

Zuko perks up at this, turning to you with a confused look because since when did you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? You were seeing somebody and didn’t tell him?

He’s about to ask you a multitude of questions, probably all at once in a messy fashion, but you’re speaking up before he can.

“But you’ll play, right?” You ask him eagerly.

He wants to say no, because games like these are stupid and the only person in this room he’d actually want to kiss just said that she was spoken for, but you give him an encouraging nod, so he shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess” He mutters.

As Sokka goes over the rules and sets the bottle in the middle of the floor, you notice Zuko practically deflating into the sofa.  When you give him a worried look, he doesn’t meet your gaze, so you’re not sure what his issue is.

You decide to wiggle in closer, your legs bent at the knees and resting against his chest comfortably, and your head laying on the sofa cushion right next to him.

At your close proximity, he can’t help but look over at you, only to find your eyes already set on his.

“It’s just a game, Zuko,” You whisper cheerily.  “Lighten up a little, have some fun” 

You give him a sweet smile, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that some old school kissing game isn’t what’s eating away at him.

He returns your smile, albeit faintly, before putting his attention back on the game.

A couple of strangers kiss, Mai and Ty Lee share a kiss, and Aang spins the bottle once, using his airbending to make sure it lands on Katara.  That gets a laugh out of everyone as the waterbender gives him a dramatic smooch on the cheek.

The game is dumb, but it’s amusing to Zuko because you keep giggling and cheering for everybody, and everytime you laugh, the sound vibrates through him, and he forgets that his window of opportunity for asking you out had been shut.

He’s kicking himself, but he knows he shouldn't be.  Deep down, he knew that he never would have made a move, no matter how affectionate you were, or how much time you spent together.  The fact of the matter was he was too anxious about ruining a great friendship to make his feelings for you known.

But still, his heart ached a little as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He can’t help but wonder why you’re so cuddled up to him if you’re spoken for, but he’s not so big of an idiot that he’d ask you such a thing.

You whisper something, but he doesn't catch it because he’s so lost in thought.

“What?” He whispers back, eyes flickering down to you.

“You should stay over,” You repeat yourself.  “Katara and I thought it’d be nice to have everyone stay over for scary movies- not everyone, just, you know, us,” You tell him, and he knows what you mean.  “But you should stay” 

His eyebrows furrow in the slightest, and you lift your head to ask what’s wrong.

“What about your boyfriend?” He asks, quietly, and although it’s subtle, you can hear the venom in his voice.

Despite the comment, you giggle quietly, shaking your head at him.

There’s a crease between his brows now from how much tension he has in his face, and you fondly reach out to rub your thumb between them, easing them from their furrow.

There’s no time to ask you what is so funny, because suddenly Sokka is snapping in his face.

“Hey! Lovebirds! You spinnin’ or not, Zuko?”

Your hand falls from Zuko’s face, and you sit back into your comfortable position now that the whole room has their eyes on you.

Not, he wants to say, but he grumbles in agreement as he reaches his leg out, kicking the bottle into a spin with his boot.  You, among a few others, are giggling at the action, and while Zuko is distracted by the sound, Aang sends a little burst of wind at the bottle.

A couple people notice it, but they keep it to themselves as the bottle slows to a stop.

It’s pointed back at you and Zuko, and he flusters.

“Okay, s-someone else’s turn” He stammers.

“What? But it’s pointed right at (y/n)!” Sokka shrieks, gesturing wildly at you.

Zuko turns to you for a quick moment, almost apologetic, but as soon as he meets your eyes, he does a double take.

You’re smiling at him, and you lean up off the couch and straight your posture.

There’s whispers around the room, as well as music blasting and the chatter of the party goers who weren’t playing the game, but Zuko couldn’t hear anything over his heart pounding.

You get closer to him, your eyes noticeably flickering down to his lips before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, painstakingly slow.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before you glance back up at Zuko, a nervous blush dusting over your cheeks.

For once, you’re the one blushing over him, and it brings him so much joy.

So in a quick move, his free hand reaches up to your face, thumb proving your lip from your teeth, instantly, you shoot forward, meeting his lips in a heated kiss.

All thoughts and reason flew out the window, and Zuko could barely set his drink down before taking you in his arms and bringing you as close to him as you could be.

Whoops and hollers surrounded you both, mostly from your friends, but a few bystanders were just happy to see someone getting some.

When you pull away, you’re winded, and Zuko’s hair is all over the place, but neither of you care.

As soon as the kiss ends, the game picks back up, and your peers go back to their meaningless conversations and dancing.  It gives you a sense of privacy, even in the crowded room.

“I just didn’t want to kiss anyone else,” You explained yourself in a murmur, your hands cupping around Zuko’s face.  “That’s why I said I was spoken for”

He chuckles, pushing the hair out of your face and bringing you in close again.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” He asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Cause I didn’t think you’d kiss me if I’d asked you to” You replied.

“Well, you must have had more to drink then I thought,” He says teasingly, making you laugh as your forehead rests against his.  “Because I don’t want to kiss anyone else either” 

Your lips curl into a smile as your eyes flutter shut so he could kiss you again, this time softer, as you both took your time getting used to the new and exhilarating feeling.

You spent most of the rest of the night on that little sofa, lazily making out and drinking, as well as being made fun of by Sokka for it taking so long for the two of you to fess up your feelings.

Of course, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.  ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[belovedbangtan]

Dive

Pairings: Jungkook x y/n, Yoongi x oc

Word Count: 3.1k

Description: Camping with your ex, sounds horrible right? The camping trip was planned and payed for long before y/n’s shitty boyfriend broke up with her. Her best friend Abby, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are there to make sure she has an amazing time. However, sharing a tent with a smoke show like Jungkook is bound to lead to some complications.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of anxiety, drinking, that’s is for this chapter!

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

“I just don’t think we’re the right fit,” His voice was calm. Too calm in your opinion. You didn’t bother to ask questions, but he insisted on explaining why. Of course, he was trying to make you feel better about the situation, but him rambling on about how your lifestyles didn’t align was not something you wanted to hear. He wanted to get drunk every weekend and spend daddy’s money, while you were too tired to even think about drinking. You didn’t have a safety net to rely on and that was something that he would never understand. It didn’t make the blow hurt any less. You knew the relationship was getting rocky. When it was bad, he turned a blind eye, but when it was good, it was really good. Your mother told you that the way you ignored serious problems would end up biting us in the ass. You groaned as you realize that means you have to tell her she was right all along. He handed you your box of things and you can’t believe there wasn’t more in the box. After a year of sleeping at his house, you could fit everything in a small box. Part of your brain knew this would happen; it anticipated your flame burning out.

You close the door behind him and you sift through the box. You scoff picking up the frame that held a picture of you both. Remembering when he showed it to you. You were in awe as he complimented your figure, claiming “That’s when I knew I loved you”. You take the frame instantly throwing it into the trash can, along with the other keepsakes he assumed you would want to keep. You laugh to yourself finally being able to realize what a pretentious douche bag he was. The tears staining your cheek are confusing you. You did love him, you just weren’t in love with him. It hurt nonetheless.

You throw yourself onto the bed letting the memories of the past year overwhelm you. You might as well get this out of the way. You decide to call your best friend, Abby, the one who introduced you to Ben. The dial tone rings out and you still try to sort out how you feel. Within minutes of talking on the phone, she decided she’s coming over. Even though you insist that you’re fine, she knows you well enough, and you’ll never say no to ice cream.

“What a fucking douche,” Abby mumbles shoving a spoon of ice cream into her mouth. You reach over dipping your own spoon in. You were adults now; you didn’t even bother with bowls.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes, leaning back onto the couch, “I’m pissed I have that whole camping trip next week paid for..”

She cuts you off immediately, “No, fuck that. You’re still coming.”

You sit up quickly, eyebrows scrunching together, “You’re delusional if you think I’m coming on that trip.”

“You’re delusional if you think you’re going to let him control your life, you’re coming and that’s that!” she points a finger in your direction.

“I don’t even have any camping gear. He was the one that had all of that stuff.” You explain as you pick up the quart of ice cream, walking it over to your freezer. Of course, you were excited to go on this trip. Abby couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it had been last year. Tons of people all camped out, getting drunk out of their minds. She told me about how the last night they would all skinny dip in the river at midnight. You cringed when she first told you about it, but now it sounded revitalizing. You couldn’t get past the fact that Ben would be there. He would without a doubt try to make you feel bad for coming since it was mostly his group of friends. Not to mention how would you feel watching him as he throws himself at the single chicks.

“I can ask Jungkook if he’ll share his tent. His friend was supposed to come but bailed,” She instantly started to text him.

“No, no, no,” You rush over trying to take her phone from her hands, but she was too quick, “Abby, I’ve only met Jungkook once and it didn’t seem like he liked me very much.”

She looks down at her phone as it dings, the corners of her mouth raise as her brows do, “Well, he doesn’t mind. It’s settled you’ll come. You can sleep in Kook’s tent, and you’ll hang out with me and Yoongi’s friends.”

You see, Abby was dating Yoongi. Through Yoongi, Abby met all of his friends from College. To be honest you still didn’t quite understand how Ben and his group of friends became friends with Yoongi and his group of friends. A year ago, Abby invited you to a birthday party and Ben was there. He was so persistent about taking you on a date, you gave in. He turned on the charm, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. As soon as you fell for him, it was like he didn’t feel the need to try anymore. So, he stopped. He stopped planning dates for you, and simply started going out with his friends again. That was about seven months into the relationship. Eight months into the relationship you found messages from a girl he claimed to work with. Clearly that was all bullshit. You wondered how a relationship could go from good to bad in a matter of months, but it happened; and you regret falling for him in the first place. You had met Yoongi’s friends before and they were always pleasant, you just hoped that they would be more authentic than Ben and the group of uptight assholes he calls his friends.

It was confusing to you but Abby explained that there where about 25-30 people coming, but they would mostly stay in their own friend groups. You assumed you would know most of the people in Ben’s group, you just hoped they would ignore you.

You zone out, you mind flooding with all of the worst possible outcomes. Abby rambles on about how you’ll love getting to know all of the boys. How they’ll welcome you with open arms. You had met them before, they were incredible humans. However, it didn’t make you forget that your ex-boyfriend would be there too. You finally focus on her words, and you listen as she brags about all of the exciting things to look forward to.  After a while her enthusiasm makes you forget the bad. Genuine excitement starts to run through your veins. She was right, you deserved this trip just as much as he did. You were going to have a good time despite him and that was that.

 Friday came faster than you anticipated. You threw yourself into work, leaving your brain little time to think about your broken heart. Or the potential disaster this weekend could be. Abby calls you letting you know that they’ll be outside to pick you up shortly. You grab your luggage and give yourself a once over in the mirror. It was particularly hard deciding what to wear today. How do you dress when you want to make your ex jealous, but you’re also in the woods and sweating your ass off? Cut off jean shorts, a plain white crop top, with a buffalo plaid tied around your waist. Your hair in loose waves, you tousled it with your fingers before sliding the black baseball cap over your hair. Before you have the chance to freak out and change your entire outfit you hear honking outside. You grab your bag filled with blankets and a pillow and you toss your backpack over your shoulder.

The door to the SUV flings open to show a beautiful blonde man on the other side, Jimin. You remembered Jimin the most from previous gatherings, he was always attempting to create a conversation. He yells your name in excitement, instantly making you feel more at ease. Last thing you wanted was any additional drama or tension between you and whoever. He pulls you into a warm hug. After he puts your things in the trunk, you both hop into the back seat.

Abby turns around and looks you up and down, sliding her sunglasses down her nose slightly.

“You’re cute. I like it… it’s like,” she tilts her head as she scans her brain for the right words, “casual, but still make my ex kinda jelly.” You nodded in response, laughing to yourself. Sometimes you felt like you shared a brain cell. With that Abby punched the Campsite address into the GPS and we were on our way.

“So are you nervous?” Jimin asks quietly.

“Kinda,” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, “but honestly I just want to have fun. It’s really not about making him jealous or anything. I just want to do me, and he can do whatever he wants.” You shrug before looking up to Jimin, a devilish smile starting to take over his face.

“I’ll make sure you have the best time. No unnecessary ex- boyfriend drama,” his smile is sincere, and you can tell that he means what he says, “I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about stupid shit. Just have a good time.” His hand lightly grazes your arm.

He barely hears your ‘thank you’ as Abby turns the radio on full volume, then Yoongi instantly turns it down. She glares at him and his stoic face shows he’s unfazed by her ferocity. You giggle at their interaction; you’ve never met two people who leveled each other out more. They were perfect for each other and exactly what you hoped you and Ben would be. It was never like that though, your chemistry was never something anyone would be jealous of.

A few hours, and a many snacks later you finally pulled into the camp site. Your stomach drops when you see your ex’s car lined up among the rest of them. You take a deep breathe, staying in the car a moment longer when everyone else gets out to unpack their things. In the middle of giving yourself a pep talk, your door is pulled open by the one and only, Kim Taehyung.

His smile is one to make you forget, and that’s exactly what it does.

“What’s the hold up, beautiful?” He reaches across you to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you don’t have time to panic, “Don’t worry, Jimin briefed me. Operation ‘Good Time’ is a-go.” He quickly looks left and right over dramatically. You can’t stop the laugh that surfaces. He was fucking hilarious and you thanked the heaven that you didn’t need to explain yourself or your situation. Even though you were sure that Abby had probably blabbed about the entire situation to all of them. It didn’t matter though, they were making this experience exactly what you wanted it to be. He takes your hand pulling you from the car, making obscene secret agent sounds as he rounds the car to the trunk, Yoongi and Jimin both giving him the weirdest look.

You scan the area around the campsite, your eyes wanting to find him, but your head and heart knowing that you wouldn’t like what you saw. Suddenly your eyes were frozen on someone else. His long hair in a tiny ponytail on top of his head as he rolled the tent from the bag. The tattoos on his arms giving him an edge that he didn’t have before. His entire demeanor was making your body warm. Of course, you remember Jungkook, you remember how rude Ben was to him. You sigh before taking your bags and deciding to walk over, the least you could do was help him set it up.

“Hey roomie.” You say instantly regretting it as it left your lips, he made you forget how to think.

He chuckles as he looks up, brushing a few stray hairs away from his face, “Hey! I should be done in a few minutes.” He says popping together the pieces of the tent like a pro.

“Let me help!” you set your bags down and you move to his side. He hands you a piece to put together, and he demonstrates how to do it. The muscles on his forearms making your knees weak. What the fuck was happening here, it had been so long since you’ve felt this way for someone. Another reason to be thankful that things had ended between you and Ben.

Almost as if he heard your internal dialogue, you hear him. Your eyes shoot up to see him shot gunning a beer with his close circle. You groan, mumbling ‘fucking douche’ under your breath, but apparently loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

His eyes peak over at you and he can’t help but laugh at your response, “You’re not wrong.” He agrees quietly. You nod your head agreeing with him.

The tent is finally together and you start to put your things inside. Jungkook rolls out a queen size blow up mattress and you instantly regret the tiny sleeping bag you brought. You might have fucked up.

“Are you sleeping on that?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he kneels next to the mattress using a battery powered pump to bring it to life.

“Uhm, yeah. I guess I didn’t get the memo,” You giggle at your pathetic 5th grade sleep over set up.

He looks at his mattress then looks down as if he isn’t sure of what to say, “Well this is a Queen, we can share if you want.”

“Oh my gosh, no. You’re already sharing your tent,” You shake your head, even though you know deep down that’s exactly where you want to end up.

“The offers on the table,” His tongue pokes the side of his cheek as the corners of his mouth turn into a smile, “Besides, having you in bed with me wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He turns his head biting his lip gently as he laughs quietly. You giggle nervously in return because it’s all you can do. You’re positive your cheeks are burning red, and there’s a wetness between your legs suddenly. You excuse yourself to get your other bag, and possibly smack Abby for failing to brief you on the smoke show that is Jeon Jungkook. Asshole, you knew he was attractive but, what the actual fuck.

Abby was sitting on Yoongi’s lap while Taehyung and Jimin were setting up the tent. A tent fit for royalty. It was massive compared to the one you were sharing with Jungkook, but you definitely weren’t complaining about the smaller shared space. Frankly, you were thankful for it. You walked over to your friend and flicked her on the back of her head. She ducked down and covered her head, “What the fuck was that for?!” She screamed.

“For many reasons!” You start yelling at her in a whispered tone, “one, you didn’t tell me to bring one of those blow up thingies.”

“Oh fuck. My bad, what else?” she rolls her eyes, still not feeling the abuse was necessary.

Your eyes widen and you point your head in a different direction, she quickly got the hint. You grabbed her arm once she was safely out of Yoongi’s lap, pulling her to where no one could hear you.

“So, I met Jungkook. He might have asked me to sleep with him?” you say questioning yourself entirely. Now that you say it aloud… were you dreaming that happened?

“Excuse me… what?” She scrunches her brows together grabbing your arms.

“Not like… sex. But to sleep on his mattress… but he could have meant sex?” You were genuinely confused.

“Ah!” She squeals and quickly checks her surroundings, “Okay, so he’s single and YOUR single. I’ve been waiting for this!” She squeaks, speaking too fast for anyone else to comprehend what was happening. She starts to ramble on about setting you and Jungkook up and you quickly stop her. That wasn’t what you came here for. You didn’t come to rebound in a tent a few feet away from your very recent ex-boyfriend. You came to have fun. Simple as that. She lets it go but insist that you shouldn’t deny it. ‘It’ being the undeniable connection Jungkook and I apparently had. You rolled your eyes but, you hoped she was right. You hoped that you left this weekend with more than memories. Hopefully the connection you made with Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi would be something that would make all of the awkwardness worth it.

 As the sun fell behind the tall trees, the temperature dropped quick. Around what felt like 11 at night, mostly everyone was done for the day. Maybe not everyone but you certainly were. After watching Ben hit on every girl with a pulse you were exhausted. Tae and Jimin distracted you for a bit with a game of sand volleyball, but that only contributed to your exhaustion. You told everyone you were going to sleep. You unzipped the tent and you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a swapped your crop top for a t-shirt. As you unzip your sleeping bag you look at the air mattress. For a half a second you debated on falling asleep on it, but then deciding it might be awkward when Jungkook finally comes to sleep. Maybe he was kidding about sharing the bed with you. You really didn’t know him well enough to decipher when he was being sarcastic or serious. Even if you knew he was serious, would you do it? You snuggle up in your sleeping bag, wishing you would have at least brought another cover with you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t imagining what it would feel like to have Jungkook as your own personal heater. Having is arms pulling you into his body, maybe feeling his lips against yours. Eventually your exhaustion takes over and you fall asleep with some not so PG images in your head.

You’re woken up a few hours later to the sound of the tent being unzipped. You see Jungkook climb inside through the slits of your eyes. You’re eyes close as you hear him rustling around in his bag, probably looking for pajamas. You turn away from him, realizing how cold you are you start to shiver. You take the edges of the blanket and pull them up to cover your nose. You forget about Jungkook until you feel a large blanket covering your body. You hear him shuffle back onto the air mattress and you want to sit up and give it back to him. Maybe tell him you can both use it. You’re too tired to be that ballsy though, you slowly start to fall asleep again.

A/N: So float trips are really popular where I’m from, so i’m sorry if you have no idea what i’m referring to! Hopefully our mood board helps with some imagery! Please let me know what you think!!

[starrybethany]

Clayton Keller: Part 3

Word count: 2201

A frown covers my face as I wake up with confusion. I was having such a great dream, why did I wake up? Another kick to my thigh answers my question and I look to see Clayton curled up on his side of the bed, his left leg the only limb to be far away from his body.

And it’s digging into my thigh. I groan at the predicament, covering my eyes to help me wake up more calmly, then uncover my eyes to look back over at Clayton.

I will admit, he is a good looking sleeper. His jaw is dropped open slightly but no drool is coming out- it just looks like he’s in a little bit of shock. His eyelids are closed peacefully and apparently I didn’t notice that he fell asleep without a shirt last night. I admire his torso for a while before the sun begins to rise, streaming through Clayton’s sheer blinds into his bedroom. The orange light lands on his calm body, portraying him as some kind of angel.

Yeah, well, I bet an angel wouldn’t pay a girl for sex.

I reluctantly reach for my phone, see that it’s six o’clock and figure out that I should leave if I really want to make it to my morning class. I think about skipping it. I really think about skipping it, especially after sneaking another glance at Clayton’s naked upper half.

The bed frame creaks quietly as I step out of it. I clench my teeth in anxiety, looking back at Clayton’s still body and sighing in relief when I realize that he’s still out. I pull on the clothes that I came here in, making sure to grab my phone and wallet before heading towards the bedroom door.

But something stops me. I don’t know what it is but I feel myself being drawn back towards Clayton, where I brush back his shaggy brown hair to plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

Then I leave. I want to take care of myself before I have to spend all day listening to my teachers go on and on about wars and the periodic table so I go for a jog, shower, and eat before driving over to campus. I barely make it to class on time but I do make it.

Somehow I make it through a full day of lectures and instead of going out with my friends for a drink like they beg me too, I decide to go home and sneak in a nap before I make myself some dinner.

I’m just about an hour into the nap I’ve been dreaming about all day when I wake up to the sound of a vibration.The sleepiness begins to fade as I locate my phone on my nightstand. I groan, reaching over to grab it. “What?”

“Well hello to you too,” a mocking voice calls through the phone.

“Oh my god, Clayton, I was sleeping.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner with me,” he requests.

I pause. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight.”

“Clayton it’s already,” I look over at the clock, “Eight o’clock and my bra is off and my bed is warm and-””Fine, then lunch tomorrow,” he decides.

I let out a loud groan. I don’t have anything going on tomorrow, my class was cancelled and I don’t have a job or any plans with my friends. But I was looking forward to staying at home the whole day watching movies…

“Rule four.”

And that does it. I guess I have to obey him, right? “Fine.”

“Send me your address, I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“Make it noon?” I try to convince him.

“See you at eleven, Y/N.” Then he hangs up.

~

Clayton: I’m here

Y/N: I’m not ready yet, I’ll buzz you in. Front door’s unlocked, I’m in apartment 401.

I click the buzzer and wait until I think he’s gotten in before walking back into my bathroom, picking up my eyeshadow to make it look perfect.

“Y/N?” His familiar voice calls out after the front door creaks open.

“In here,” I holler back. I hear him walk down the hallway and see his silhouette standing in my door frame but don’t look away from my task, giving it all of my concentration.

“Well don’t you look gorgeous.” I put the eyeshadow brush down and look up to see him leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, casually watching me with a smirk on his face.

I roll my eyes at him but don’t respond, finishing up with my lipstick. “I just need to choose my shoes. Where are we going, somewhere fancy or casual?”

“What? Why would that matter?” He questions as he follows me to my closet.

“Well if we’re going somewhere fancy I’m wearing my wedges, if we’re going somewhere casual I’m wearing my Converse. Where are we going?”

“Why would I know that?”

“Well didn’t you choose the restaurant?” I give him a ‘duh’ look.

“Yeah but it’s not like I notice those things,” he defends himself.

I sigh, looking him up and down to see what he’s wearing. Some tan shorts and a patterned, short sleeve, button up. Guess I’ll wear my wedges. Clayton tries to make small talk with me as we walk towards the elevator, and when we step in I almost gag at the sight of who’s already here.

“Hi, Y/N,” Debbie gives me another fake smile and a look of judgement to Clayton. “Is this your new friend?”

“Sure, you can say that,” I give her a knowing look and she suddenly gets uncomfortable. Good.

The elevator is tense as we go down and I’m just waiting for her to mention something about my rent money. She brings it up just as we’re stepping out. “Oh, and by the way, we’re still expecting your money for rent-””I’ll give it to you soon, Debbie. Bye bye.”

And I pull Clayton away before she can respond.

“Who is that?” Clayton asks, laughing at my annoyance. Great, just what you want in a partner, someone who finds joy in your pain. Not like we’re dating or anything…

“My dumbass landlord,” I grumble. “Where’s your car?”

“Right here,” he motions towards the luxury vehicle in front of us.

I raise my eyebrows, not wanting to show him that I’m impressed but on the inside I’m feeling it. I know that he’s watching me for a reaction so I do my best to mask my face. “Are you going to open the door for me?”

He steps forward, pulling open the passenger side door and holding out his hand for me to balance on as I step inside the car. He leans in, hovering over my body with his. I can feel the heat radiating off of him and all I want him to do right now is to press his body against mine and bang in the backseat of his car.

“You’re a tough cookie, aren’t you?” And before I can respond he’s closed my door.

~

“Wine?” The waitress asks, looking between me and Clayton.

Clayton gives me an expectant look and I shake my head, so the waitress walks away to put our orders in.

“No wine?” Clayton asks in confusion.

“I’m not really a drinker,” I smirk, taking a sip of my water. He gives me an amused look, obviously remembering me ditching him for drinks.

“You expect me to believe that?” “Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not really a day drinker.”

He laughs and we make small talk as time goes on. I can tell he’s trying to learn more about me since he asks questions about my family and where I grew up, but I try to keep my answers to a minimum. I don’t know how long this will last and I really only want to see this as a business transaction, no matter how hot Clayton may be, and I know the moment I start telling him about my family pets that I’m gone.

The waitress comes back with our meals and we eat in silence, admiring the taste of our foods and the nice weather this afternoon.

“It’s only been an hour,” I say once I check my phone.

“Really?” His eyebrows furrow, causing a cute dent in his forehead. “Guess I have to plan something else to take up your time.”

“You wanna take me to get my nails done?”

He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Let me see your shoes.”

I stick out my foot, showing him my wedge that’s worn out at the toe by how often I stumble.

“Yep, we’ll do that,” he confirms as he waves to the waitress for the check.

“What?”

“Let’s go shopping.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “You want to go shopping? With me?”

“It’ll be a nice thank you for the other night,” he sends me a cheeky smile.

“Then let’s do it, Keller.”

~

I laugh loudly, attracting some attention from fellow shoppers. Clayton gives me a weird look at my laugh and I give him a look.

“You can’t be serious, Clayton.”

“I am,” he emphasizes.

“I seriously doubt that you don’t have a limit of what you’ll spend on me,” I challenge him.

“Why would you doubt me?” He questions instead.

“Clayton, we just met,” I point out, “You’d be straight up dumb to not put at least a cap on how much I’ll buy.”

“I trust you,” he responds simply.

I sigh, heading into the first store determined to prove him wrong. I don’t know why I’m so annoyed at him not putting a limit on how much I’ll spend- maybe it’s because of how it shows how much he thinks he knows me.

And I don’t want him to know me. This whole situation is a lot more personal than I thought it would end up. I thought it would be a lot more sex and a lot less socialization, but it’s turning out to be half-and-half.

Clayton spends two hundred dollars on me at the first store without batting an eyelash. I’m surprised at the fact that he sticks by his promise and the fact that I found two hundred dollars worth of clothes that I like.

Maybe my eyes are opening to more things since I have a broader budget to spend.

He spends two hundred and fifty dollars on me at the next store, but I’m actually kind of relieved this time since it’s all on expensive makeup. Makeup is where I like to spend my money and if it’s not my money to spend, well, the more the merrier.

“Keep going, princess, we have all night. Or at least until the mall closes,” Clayton smirks at me, connecting his hand that’s not full of bags with mine.

I don’t make a comment about the hand holding but give him a look, tugging him into a lingerie store.

“A treat? For me?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He looks taken aback at the question but replies, “Blue.”

I walk towards a matching bra and panties set, holding it up in my size. “Like this shade of blue?”

His eyes darken and he nods slowly. I start to head towards the changing room and look back at Clayton, who’s still standing where I left him.

“So are you coming or do I have to put this on by myself?”

He closes the door behind him once he’s in the changing room, turning around to see that I already have my top off and I’m pulling my shorts down my legs.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” He questions.

I pull the straps of the bra up my arms, turning my back towards him. “Clip it for me?”

I watch him in the mirror as he carefully takes the clip in his hands, connecting them so the bra is hooked. His hands travel down to softly rest on my waist and we examine the bra in the mirror.

“How do I look?” I ask softly.

He shakes his head, letting out a laugh of disbelief. “Amazing.”

Our eyes connect and we just stare at each other for a while, enjoying each other’s company. I don’t know when we’ll get a moment so intimate again so I’ll make it last as long as possible.

A voice comes over the loudspeaker informing us that the mall will be closing in an hour and although Clayton doesn’t think I notice, I catch it when he mouths a swear word to himself.

~

I roll over to straddle Clayton’s naked torso and he grabs my hips to help balance me, a small smile on his face as he gazes up at me.

“So I was thinking maybe we could try out the new lingerie that I got today,” I say softly, leaning down to play with his hair.

To my surprise he shrugs, then pulls me down into a hug. “I don’t know, I’m kind of tired. Let’s just cuddle tonight.”

I don’t respond, still in surprise by his rejection. But by the time I get over it he’s already sleeping.

[oneirataxxiaa]

WITCHES AND DRUIDS

a little gift for @silverdecepticon93 for their amazing writing. some klarion content!

written by Persephone. Anastasia did some editing and helped me write Klarion correctly. It's a bit of a slow burn, and I probably got some story facts wrong, but I hope you enjoy!

requests are OPEN , remember to specify who you would like to write your oneshot. Anastasia, or Persephone.

• • • •

It's not that the weather wasn't pleasurable, it was, really. the sun was out, reflecting off the oceans subtle waves and warming the grey pavement just enough for beach-goers with no shoes to begin to hop from foot to foot. The wind was perfect, swaying the tall palm trees that lined the coastal road, every now and again, causing a hat to fly off in its cool breeze, making it's owner run after it with calls of protest. A girl in her late teens leaned back on a uncomfortably tacky faux beach chair just outside the open air cafe. Her hair moved slowly, partially from the outside breeze and partially from the squeaking old metal fan making slow rotations just inside the door. It blew no dust, so it was clearly well used considering the heat.

Happy Harbour seemed just that, happy. Everything had been calm the past few months, villain attacks were incredibly low, no major plots had been uncovered, and the group known as The Light was seemingly inactive after the league and teams triumph over them. The lack of attacks had Robin and Kaldur on edge anticipating something being planned in the shadows, but Y/n, Artemis, Megan and Wally had taken the opportunity to enjoy Rhode Island for what it was. In the ginger speedsters words, a paradise just waiting to be explored.

Zatanna Zatura was across the round table from Y/n, in casual clothes with a black baseball cap and a vanilla milkshake in hand, sipping on the straw slowly. Y/n herself had her favourite flavor smoothie resting on the table, her phone in hand as the camera on the device recorded what was happening in the small grass patch to their left. Wallace West swore on his life that he had landed a back flip the day before, which the rest of his friends refused to believe. In trying to prove his ability, he was attracting some strange stares from passers by, and rather ice filled glare from a mother who corralled her three kids, most likely in their early preteens, away, hurriedly muttering about 'unethical teenager'. Quite an interesting thing to be thrown their way, but the teen heroes had had worse hurled at them in their exploits as protectors of justice.

"Wally" Megan laughed, a short snort escaping her lips as she watched the boy try to land another flip. " You're going to break something". The Martian was resting on the grass, watching what was happening unfurl.

"cheers to that! please do!" Artemis' words were filled with sarcasm. The blonde teen making her way towards the table and picking up her drink to take a sip. Wally dropped to the ground again and sprawled out on the grass, crushing the green blades under his body. Y/n cringed slightly.

"you girls are no fun, even Connor is more fun to hang out with, at least he encourages me to improve my wicked moves" Wally pulled himself to his feet with a bounce and brushing off his pants with little success, the mucky dew soaked dirt already staining them brown at the knees. Y/n was glad he did his own laundry, she didn't want to be the one to wash those stains out. The girl stopped the video on her phone with the press of a button, dropping her hand to her side and turning the object off.

"I'd like to argue with that" Connor complained, he seemed to have appeared out of no where, walking towards them, ebony shirt still sporting the superman signal. He seemed a little happier today, perhaps it was the immaculate weather. Y/n reckoned it could put anyone in a good mood, even Connor, who hadn't been as happy has he could have been lately. His relationship with Megan had be strained.

"The man, the myth, the legend, how could you betray me my main man? You're really going to let the girls pick on your best friend?" Wallys drama queen was showing as he rested a hand on his head in a damsel in distress motion.

"Wolf is my best friend, you are" Connor faked a thoughtful expression, "an unfortunate acquaintance". Y/n could see the joking sparkle in Connors eyes. It was strange. Strange, but good. He deserved some joy in these darker days. "anyways, the reason I'm here for two reasons, reason one being because Robin decided to have an identity crisis, he's changing his name"

"Please tell me it's not another bird, I don't want it to be a bird" Artemis groaned, dropping heavily into one of the chairs. It groaned in protest from the sudden and violent weight.

"I don't know what he's gone with, but second reason I'm here is because we've got a new team member, Batman just made a visit and brought someone with him-"

"Batman was at the cave! and you didn't tell me! is he still there?" Wally began to vibrate from excitement, sparks ran down his arms and legs.

"When I left he was, bu-". Wally was gone in a literal flash, leaving the remaining team looking around frantically, glade the citizens of Happy Harbour seemed content in being too interested in their own lives to notice a super-powered boy and his friends.

"we should probably make sure he doesn't break anything, and welcome the new team member huh?" Zatanna said with a sigh, getting to her feet and stretching her arms up, elbows cracking slightly. As the group collected their drinks, waving goodbye to the cafes owner, who they knew well due to their frequent return to the place, Y/n saw something that peaked her interest, making the girl pause and turn towards it.

"Y/n, you coming or what girl?" Zatanna called out. The group somehow was a good ways away from her now, standing, ready to cross the pedestrian crossing at the coastal road. The curious frown on her face must have given something away.

"um, I'll catch up, yeah? say hi to the newbie for me?" the uncertainty in her voice made Zatanna pause, but nod, turning back just in time to walk with the others across the road.

Turning back towards the curiosity, it stared at her with dark eyes, watching her movement. Y/n walked over and bent down, petting the feline behind it's ears, coaxing a purr from the familiar cat-daemon.

"Hello Teekl" the teen greeted, "what are you doing here?" her hand continued to pet the creature, before it shook it's head, pushing your hand away with the action and going to work on licking its paw. Cats were always strange, but she supposed their sudden mood changed were due to their nature.

"I feel like you're just in this for the cute cat" the voice was monotonous and Y/n recognised it immediately. Turning her head slightly, she spied the source of the voice. He looked different, slightly older, taller, and dressed in more civilian esque clothing. Perhaps to attempt to blend in with the surrounding crowds of people.

"The cats a bonus" Y/n gave one final pet to Teekl before walking to the table she was sitting at previously, Klarion Bleak now occupying Zatannas previous location. "How are you? I haven't seen you since the whole light thing". I'd been about five months and the league was still recovering. Klarion got a sour look on his face, pausing, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, a neat black button up dress shirt. He looked, perplexed.

"I've been keeping my head down I guess, Savage lose his mind after we lost, been hounding anyone who talks to about it" the strange look remained on his face. "I've been banned from annoying the justice brats, no offence, until he comes up with something new"

Y/n dismissed the nickname for her team and frowned herself. "Robins noticed, it's got him freaked out, running crazy circles trying to figure out what Vandal Savage is planning" a small grin rose on her face. Klarion noticed movement, seeing small clovers begin to crawl their way out of the cracks in the pavement. That caused the small smile that few saw to appear.

"your magic is getting better". That was how they met. Before the team. Both of them were young magic users, each pulled down a different road. One good, One evil. But between them there was balance, peace. Order and Chaos meeting in the middle for a calm chat and shared news on a sunny day.

"I've been getting better at it, but there's always room for more practice as Aqualad says" Y/n laughed. Silence entered their conversation. It wasn't awkward however, as it sometimes was among friends or co workers. It was a comfortable silence of enjoying a summers day without the chaos of the world. It be nice if things stayed like that, balanced, forever. But soon, Unfortunately, their friendship would burn and break. Being torn to their sides, ripped from the comforting friendship, forced to fight each other to prove loyalty to each side. No. Order and Chaos were balanced, but wars tended to tip that scale and break it. In the process, something much more important was shattered.

fin

[blitheringmcgonagall]

The New Sailing Master

Another day in lockdown so may as well post this here:

(A silly Wolfstar pirate AU in which all that happens as I told @malfoy is that Remus meets everyone and then they (Wolfstar) snog...)

“Good Lord, he’s damned cute.”

The voice is smooth, smooth and polished, and dangerous, and he sounds like a Lord.

“He’s half drowned.”

Another voice, nearly as posh, but mischievous and warm.

“Still thoroughly dashing,” the posh fellow states, with finality, as though he’s used to getting his own way, as though he’s the boss.

“Fuck off, twat,” the second bloke says carelessly, laughing, as though he thrives on annoying the first bloke. “I bet he thinks you’re an idiot.”

“Captains are never idiots, Prongs!” Poshest Bloke says in a scandalised voice. “By default, they are always intelligent, resourceful and sexy.”

A group of female voices cackle loudly, sounding like they are falling around the deck laughing.

“Ha ha, hilarious, Marlene,” he replies sarcastically. “Are you implying I’m lacking any of those qualities, you pest?”

He sounds like he’s smiling though.

“Nope!” a rich, confident drawl. “I’m implying you’re too easy to tease. It’s such fun, and we’re so bored!”

More merry laughter, and the sound of bottles clinking.

“Fuck you, Mc Kinnon!” the posh voice is definitely amused, and he can’t help being annoyed with himself for finding it so attractive.

He hates rich bastards.

“It’s nearly as much fun as teasing the Quartermaster.”

This voice sounds very close to him, it’s cheeky and her laughter is infectious. The accent is familiar, local, Jamaican perhaps?

He smiles.

“By Jove! He’s awake!”

He opens his eyes and blinks repeatedly. He’s staring up at a pair of startlingly beautiful grey eyes, the colour of sunlight glinting off calm seas, a rugged half-smile, a raised eyebrow, wet black hair cascading onto broad, tanned shoulders, though his skin will burn in the midday sun. It should be illegal to be so handsome.

“Fuck,” he rasps, attempting to sit and coughing up copious salt water.

Handsome Bloke clears his throat, looking concerned.

“There, there!” Cheeky Voice says behind him, giving him three hard slaps on the back. “That’s better!”

“Thanks,” he says croakily, turning around to look at her.

She has beautiful dark skin, high cheekbones, hair plaited in cornrows and dyed with henna, giving it a reddish tint. She has startlingly unusual eyes, almond shaped and a deep vibrant green colour. He can’t help staring into them.

“Evans,” she says casually, extending her calloused hand. “Lily Evans. Master Gunner.”

She wears a man’s white shirt with rolled up sleeves, fitted waist coat that shows off her curvy figure, and flared trousers. She has a long knife on her belt and a pistol strapped onto her hip.

“Lupin,” he says, his voice hoarse and thin, shaking her hand firmly. “Remus Lupin.”

“Lupin,” grey eyed Handsome Bloke repeats, licking his dry lips. “Welcome aboard the Blithering Idiot.”

“And you are?” Remus says stiffly.

This man is far too posh and dandy to be a nice fellow.

“Sirius Black, the Sirius Black, pirate lord extraordinaire?” he winks at Remus and plays easily with a knife, twirling it from hand to hand, attempting to impress. “I’m world famous apparently. Legendary Scourge of the British Navy and best-looking pirate to boot?”

Remus notices the elegant long fingers and veins tracing the back of his hands and forearms, the tattoos that encircle his upper arms and peek out under his sleeveless top.

“Never heard of you,” he lies, calmly folding his arms.

There isn’t a single soul from Kingston to London who has not heard about the fabled exploits of this famous pirate and his crew of outrageous marauders.

Sirius Black stares back at him, stunned into silence.

“Ha! Priceless! I like you already. James Potter, Quartermaster,” the second posh bloke jumps up grinning at Remus and hops onto the rigging, hanging off it carelessly. “Meet the rest of the crew!”

He waves his arm towards a blonde woman dressed entirely in black with a black hairband and gold hoop earrings.

“That’s Marlene Mc Kinnon, Master Rigger.”

She grins roguishly at him.

“Dorcas Meadows, Striker.”

Dorcas nods her head, her hair is also braided like Evans’, she is willowy and tall and looks imposing and stern until she sends him a friendly smile. He smiles back. She salutes him and rests her head on top of Mc Kinnon, who plants a besotted kiss on her lips.

“Mary Mac Donald, Master Cooper.”

Mary is petite, and has fair hair curled into sweet ringlets with rosy cheeks from too much sun, she wears a cap to screen her face.  She smiles politely as Remus scratches his head, trying to imagine how she ended up aboard this pirate ship. He notices two long daggers hanging from her waist, and makes a mental note not to make any assumptions about this motley crew.

“Peter Pettigrew, Master Cook.”

The blond-haired smaller man laughs aloud.

“More like only cook!” he says, rolling his small blue eyes good-naturedly.

“Trifling detail, my good Sir!” James Potter calls back, jumping off the rigging and somersaulting back onto the deck.

“Show-off!” says Lily Evans, rolling her eyes, as he lands right in front of her, ruffling his wild black hair.

James Potter’s hazel eye shines, he’s clearly smitten with her.

“You’re just jealous, Evans,” he quips, squeezing her shoulder fondly.

His eye patch is oddly attractive.

“You’re an idiot,” she sighs, but her eyes dance with longing as she stands on tiptoe and presses her lips softly against his.

James Potter presses her closer to him and returns the kiss.

“Oi! You forgot about me, lovebirds!”

“My deepest apologies, this is Benjy Fenwick, Master Carpenter and Occasional Surgeon, whenever the need arises.”

Remus winces at the idea and Benjy has the decency to shrug, his gold front tooth flashes in the sunlight.

“You’re lucky we rescued you, Lupin,” the Captain grumbles, adjusting the sails, he’s been glancing at Remus covertly during this entire time.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone near as gorgeous in his entire life. Remus Lupin is tall, taller than him, annoyingly. He’s slimmer, looks a bit underfed in fact, his eyes are a wonderful amber colour – liquid, enigmatic, soulful. His skin is a deep, golden brown colour and his soft, wavy hair a russet brown. His lips are full and the pirate desperately wants to kiss them. Lupin, with his capacity for calmness in the face of the most feared Pirate in all the Atlantic. He’s angry at himself for being so pathetic. Usually he has no time for such ridiculous tomfoolery, good looks be damned, wouldn’t lend his heart to anyone, for fear of losing it. Besides, he never learnt how to love, not properly. He’s scared to, damn it, terrified, in fact.

Sirius Black does not do love.

“That depends,” Remus shoots back.

He looks proud and dignified and as though he couldn’t give a toss what Sirius or his crew think.

“On what?” Sirius Black finds himself saying, surprisingly.

“On what you plan to do with me,” Lupin answers.

He doesn’t look scared, yet he must be, at least a little.

“That depends,” Sirius Black says, with a glint in his eyes.

“On what?” Remus Lupin replies.

“On how annoying you are, Lupin.”

The Captain of the Blithering Idiot is hard to read, and Remus has no idea whether he is threatening him or joking.

“I’ll wager you’re more annoying on a daily basis than I’ve ever been,” he says, staring Sirius Black straight in the eyes.

Evans and Mc Kinnon guffaw loudly as James Potter hands Lupin a bottle of rum, grinning wildly.

“Never a truer word spoken!” Mc Kinnon says, as Evans pats the Captain’s arm affectionately.

Sirius Black’s scowl deepens as he continues staring at Lupin. He’s equally attractive when he scowls, if not more so. Lupin seems undeterred, he raises his right brow, takes a long swig of the vicious tasting alcohol and winks at him. The pirate blinks in surprise. Lupin’s mouth slowly turns upwards into a warm smile.

“I can be pretty infuriating too,” he says, by way of an apology.

“You never thanked us for rescuing you,” Black says, looking decidedly flustered and still irritated.

“Thank you so much for rescuing me, Captain Black, I owe you my life,” Lupin says, gushingly, his smile growing too wide.

He’s teasing now, and the pirate has no idea how to respond.

“He jumped into the sea himself, which is unheard of, Sirius Black leaving his ship!” Meadows calls out as she polishes the ship’s compass.

“To what do I owe this honour?” Lupin asks Captain Black.

“Never you mind, Lupin,” mutters Black, swiping the bottle of cheap rum from Remus’ hand and gulping an inordinate amount.

Mc Kinnon doubles over in silent laughter and Sirius Black curses her, giving her a dig with his elbow.

“Ouch! You bastard!” Mc KInnon shouts, still chortling, as she hops onto the rigging to get away from her grumpy Captain. “Shall I tell our lovely Mr. Lupin why you rescued him, then?”

Her eyes are sparkling with amusement and Lily Evans’ face is lit with delight at her Captain’s discomfort.

“Fuck off, you renegade!” Sirius says hurriedly, and in one quick movement he lifts himself up beside Mc Kinnon with a warning glare.

 Continue reading The New Sailing Master ...

[hamitome--imagines]

A Trick or a Treat

John Laurens x Reader

Modern

Prompt: person a meets person b when they are handing out candy on halloween and opens their door to see person b taking their kid trick or treating [x]

A/N: So I used this prompt for inspiration but it’s strays a little. It’s a Halloween story! I was excited to write something for this season, it’s one of my favorite holidays. So enjoy this little story. I may slow down stories even more soon, I’ll let you know what that’s about soon but it won’t be until January. So for now, enjoy!

Word Count: 1,927

~~

You tugged on your dress clothes to make them lay correctly. You decided to go to a Halloween party as a stereotypical red-carpet celebrity. You didn’t have a costume and didn’t want to pay for a cheap on you’d only wear once. You weren’t a fan of Halloween parties but this one was being thrown by the Schuyler sisters. They were fairly good party hosts. Angelica would throw a crazy party but Eliza would reign her in while Peggy made sure that everyone was having a good time. So you figured this party would be alright.

You walked into the Angelica’s house. It was pretty much like you expected it to be. Loud music and a plenty of drunk people. But once you retreated into the dinning and kitchen, it was much quieter. You could still hear the music from the large living room, enough to enjoy it but not enough for it to be bothersome and louder than conversation. This was were Peggy and Eliza were hanging out. It was peaceful. Then, in from the living room burst a short, drunken man. He ran right up to Eliza and hugged her.

“Eliza, we should go dance.” He said. He was dressed as what appeared to be a soldier from the colonial era.

“Alright.” She agreed around giggles. They walked out of the room as another man walked in.

“I tried to stop him, I promise. But you know how he is when he gets a few drinks.” The man in question went to the counter and grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper. You studied him. He was wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants and a polo shirt that had the logo of the nearby zoo on it. Sticking out of one of his pockets was a stuffed turtle.

“What exactly is your costume?” You blurted out. He glanced down at his outfit briefly.

“It isn’t obvious?” He asked. You shook your head. “I’m a herpetologist. Basically a turtle researcher.” He patted at the stuffed turtle’s head for emphasis. He walked up to you. “Never thought I’d meet a…” He paused while he studied your attire. “Red carpet celebrity at this party.” He commented with a confident smirk. “Then again, Angelica is the host. If any of us knew famous people then it would be her.”

“Is my costume that bad?” You asked.

“No, I think it’s that good. I could actually tell what it was.” The man replied. He held out hand. “John Laurens.” He introduced.

“Y/N L/N.” You responded. “How long have you known the Schuylers?” You asked.

“Oh, my closest friend is dating Eliza. They have been for a little over a year. Angelica had a party a few months back and my friend, Alexander the drunk idiot from before, asked if his friends could come. His friends are me; Lafayette, a tall Frenchman; and Hercules, the meanest looking kind tailor you’ve ever seen. How about you?”

“I met Peggy when we worked at a coffee shop together. That was about six months ago.” You said with a shrug. “So, a turtle researcher?” You asked.

“I like turtles. That’s all.”

“So why don’t you just become a turtle researcher. You’re an adult.”

“My dad thinks it’s a dumb career path.” He shrugged.

“Sounds like your dad is dumb.” You muttered., not looking at the man. He, however, shot you a look. He was smirking.

“Yeah, he kinda is.” You looked up and noticed his smile at your comment. You gave a small smile too. “Wanna go dance?” He asked with a nod toward the living room.

“Only if we stay outside of the mass of drunken people.” You conditioned.

“Deal.” He agreed with a small smile. So he set his drink down, grabbed your hand, and pulled you into a living room with loud music blasting in your ears. But it was more manageable while dancing with John. You were laughing and enjoying his company. At some point, he glanced at his watch. “Oh, I need to go soon.”

You looked at the time as well. “It’s kinda early.” You commented.

“Sorry, I have something planned for tomorrow. It’s Halloween after all.” He said. “Don’t worry, it’s not a date.” He said with a wink.

“Does this mean I can have a phone number in order to make a date with you?” You asked. John smiled and held out a hand for your phone. He sent himself a text via your phone.

“Let me know when you’re free. But not tomorrow. See ya, Y/N.”

“See ya, John.”

—

The next day you were sitting in your living room, watching dumb and not scary Halloween movies, with a blanket tossed over your lap. On a small table by your door was a bowl full of candy. And in the kitchen was extra bags of candy. Every time the doorbell rang you’d go to the door and pass out a piece of candy to little kids dressed in adorable costumes.

You stood up, in the middle of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and walked to the door. You grabbed the bowl and pulled open the door. “Trick or treat!” A cute little girl cried. She had curly pigtails sticking out from under a green stocking cap. She was wearing a long sleeve yellow shirt with a green cardigan and green jeans. On her back was a cardboard circle, a homemade turtle shell.

“Well, you’re probably the cutest turtle I’ve ever seen.” You commented. “I made a friend the other day who liked turtles.” You grabbed a piece of candy at random to give the little girl and dropped in her green bucket.

“Oh yeah?” Someone behind the girl spoke up. You just now noticed her chaperone. “Was he cute?” John asked with a smirk. He was dressed in the costume from the other day, but no stuffed turtle today. His turtle was the little girl he was with. The little girl who was most likely his daughter. A daughter he failed to mention in the few hours he spent with you last night.

It wasn’t a deal breaker, but he could’ve mentioned it. He wasn’t exactly being secretive last night, he was open and honest when you asked questions. So why not mention the little girl? You knew he might be reluctant to share information like that, but he could’ve told you. At least mentioned it. Hell, he told you he had plans today. He could’ve casually mentioned he was taking someone trick or treating.

“I don’t know.” You responded. “I thought so but certain things are making me reconsider.” You said with an even stare. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Good night, guys.” You shut the door after that. You huffed angrily. You continued handing out candy to kids in costumes. But you kept being angry at John. You just wanted to know why he didn’t tell you. Was that too much to ask? When the flow of kids slowed down you turned off the porch light and ate some of the remaining candy that was left. Way more than you’d like to admit.

—

Your phone pinged. You were at work a few days after Halloween. Peggy gave your a small wave of the hand, telling you to go ahead and check it. You saw a test from John Laurens.

John: You free to meet up?

You rolled your eyes, not exactly wanting to deal with him yet.

Y/N: Work.

You forgot that you told him you met Peggy at work. He walked in and flashed a bright smile to both you and Peggy. He walked up to the counter where Peggy was waving at him. They spoke in low voices for a moment. Then Peggy walked up to you. “It’s slow, go on break.”

“Why don’t you go on break?”

“You got here first, you break first.” She gave you a light, barely there, push toward the lobby. You sighed and untied your apron and walked out into the lobby of the cafe. You dropped into a chair at a table and pulled your phone out of your pocket and started scrolling on social media. Someone lightly rapped their knuckles twice on the top of the table. You looked up and saw John standing by your table and giving you a gentle smile.

“Hey.” He said softly. “Look, I know it’s shitty to come to where you work. But I wanted to figure out what was going on here.” He waved between the two of you. “You seemed really interested at Angie’s party and then totally shut me down on Halloween night. I just wanna know what’s going on. Then I swear I’ll never track you down on purpose again. I can’t promise I’ll stop coming here, after all, this is a great coffee shop.” He paused for a minute. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Might as well sit through this. What’s the harm?

“So what’s up? Why did you shut me down the other day?”

You sighed. “Look, I sort of get it. But I just…why didn’t you tell me I had a kid?”

John blinked in confusion. “I don’t have a kid.”

“John, you took her trick-or-treating!” You nearly shouted at him

“Oh, Martha!” He said in realization. “She’s not my daughter. She’s my niece.”

Now you were slightly confused. “Why were you taking her trick-or-treating?”

“Oh her older siblings refused to be seen with their younger sister. My sister couldn’t take her cause she had to stay home with the littlest baby, it was too cold for him to go out. And She wanted to go trick-or-treating with her cool Uncle Jacky anyway. The coordinating costume was pretty cute, huh?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Sorry…I jumped to conclusions.”

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I can understand.”

“I want to explain. It wasn’t exactly that you had a kid. It was the fact that I thought you had a kid and didn’t tell me.” You told him.

“Oh I swear I would’ve told you if I had a kid. Especially if the kid was as cool as my niece.”

“She did seem pretty awesome.” You admitted.

“So…do you think we could maybe have that date now?” John asked and leaned forward across the table.

“I’m off in a few hours.” You answered with a smile.

—

1 Year Later:

When you got to Angelica’s apartment, you pulled your jacket off and smoothed down your polo shirt with the zoo logo on it. “Y/N!” Someone shouted from behind you. You spun in time to see the stuffed turtle flying in your direction and catch it. You stuffed it into a pocket of your cargo pants.

“Well, you look pretty good as a herpetologist.” John said walking up. He pulled you close and kissed you soundly. He was wearing a matching costume.

“Are we that couple now?” You asked, gesturing to your matching outfits.

“Oh definitely. But I had to make sure we that we looked great as turtle researchers if we were gonna take Martha and her brother  trick-or-treating tomorrow.” John commented. “I’m glad we can dress her brother as a turtle cause she refused to dress as one this year. Apparently kimono dragons are cooler.” He said with an eye roll.

“Well, dragon is in the name. They might actually be a little cooler than  turtles.” You said teasingly.

“Oh, you are so lucky I love you.” He said before kissing you again.

[deadagainmaevepetre]

— yet (moment by painful moment, breath by painful breath) one got through things.

SUMMARY: on behalf of titania, maeve begins pushing il sangue di faerie to the wealthy, young elite of verona. she kills two boys in the process. in addition, she secures test subjects for faerie’s ring, a new capulet drug in development.

dates: april 14 — 23 trigger warnings: drugs, murder, rape mention featuring: @la-bella-falco / @dukemassetti​ / @oliviorivera​ / @theodoramoreaus​

APRIL 14. 

For the most part, Maeve doesn’t love being a Capulet. But there are, admittedly, some perks — namely, access to some of the most famous teenagers of Verona. They have no idea that their opulent house party is her target, and that she is gunning for their wallets as surely as she is aiming for their souls. With her makeup and outfit masterfully orchestrated by Bunny, Maeve slips in with a group of influencers as if she’s one of them.

She takes a selfie in front of the elaborate entrance to enhance the illusion. Instead of uploading it to Instagram, Maeve sends it to Orion: dad, i’m an influencer! she texts. Her lips tick as she walks toward the crowd. It makes her feel like Orion is there with her; she can almost hear him insisting that it will all be okay.

Maeve nearly stumbles when someone steps in front of her. “Hey, I’m Luca.” He nods down at her phone, brows raised inquisitively. “Texting your boyfriend?”

Is this the part where she flirts with him? She summons her inner Lucrezia, hoping that she will make her superior proud with the subtle shift in her body language. Imagining her jaws cracking as it opens for a taste of him, Maeve leans in. “I’m just texting my friend, she’s supposed to meet me here.”

Her phone dings, and Maeve pulls it out and scans a text from Orion. She smothers the smile that threatens to paint her mouth and instead, for Luca’s pleasure, she pouts. “She’s not coming. Damn.”

“Let me introduce you to some people, then.” He begins to move towards her, and Maeve angles her phone away from Luca before he can see the screen. As his hand rests on the small of her back, she slides the phone back into her pocket and follows his lead. She meets his friends, the small circle of Verona’s youthful elite. Laughing at their jokes, rolling her eyes as she speaks of her made-up, flakey friend, Maeve pretends to be one of them.

And isn’t she close enough to be one of them, truly? She is Maeve Petre, the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Verona: privileged and pampered, beautiful as if she is one of Aphrodite’s chosen. But she lacks their ignorance, that naivety that sparkles like gold under the light and becomes a bullseye in the dark.

“This party is so boring,” Camilla whines, leaning against Mia’s arm. “Let’s leave.”

Luca laughs. “This is your party, Camilla.”

“Shouldn’t that tell you how bad it is?” she snaps. Mia tenderly pats her girlfriend’s arm until Camilla curls back into her, piercing glare melting to a merely unhappy frown.

It’s her opening, and Maeve doesn’t hesitate to seize it. Like she’s presenting a secret, she meets Camilla’s eyes and confesses, “I might have something to make things more fun.”

“Yeah?” Luca puts an arm around her shoulders, and Maeve fights the urge to shrug it off. She is working, though he doesn’t know it. It makes her feel unprofessional, or like this whole mission is a joke. But it’s not a joke; it’s her chance to prove herself, and Maeve isn’t going to waste it.

Her teeth are clenched behind a close-lipped smile that Maeve hopes passes off for flirty. “Yeah.” When she’s sure that they’re all watching her, she casually brushes her finger below her nose, flicking her finger up at the end for emphasis. It takes only one try for Camilla and Mia to get the hint, and they look impressed; it makes her heart pitter-patter with pride.

Luca is a little denser. “What is it?” He looks from Camilla, to Mia, to Maeve.

Mia rolls her eyes. “Come on, principessa delle fate. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

This time, she doesn’t hide her pure elation. Mia doesn’t know how fitting of a nickname that is.

—————

APRIL 20.

In almost a week, Maeve has expanded her circle of three clients to twelve. Word about il sangue di Faerie has spread quickly among Verona’s teen gods, gilded and gifted and glorious. Her reputation is beginning to precede her; Mia’s nickname has caught on, and they call her principessa delle fate. With a wild grin, Maeve accepts the crown they offer her and wears it with glee. She’s gotten used to their gratitude and how they lick the palm of her hand in hopes that they’ll find a delicate, powdery residue that will fill their minds with madness.

They are only the troubled and poisonous youth, with tongues made of polished gold, fingers and necklines laced with diamonds. They sit on their man-made thrones and consider Maeve beneath them. Just a deliverer of pleasure, a messenger of fantasy.

They never look past her bright eyes and splattered freckles for the gleam of something wicked and silver.

Each day, Camilla sends another friend her way. Then they send their friends, and their friends — and the circle expands. It’s as if she’s breathed life into clay, and they cannot stop coming back to her. Maeve grants them small doses at a time, until she says, with a petulant frown as if it hurts her to say it more than to hear it, that she’ll have to increase the price for how quickly they want it.

It almost makes her giggle, how quickly they agree.

She texts Olivio frequently, asking for his advice on how to create demand and desire without removing the illusion of access. Every word from his mouth is taken to heart, and Maeve executes it as if it’s law. Maeve promises to bake him cookies and a cake as a thank you; already that number is piling high, as Olivio helps her navigate tricky situations and complex requests.

She doesn’t think to ask Olivio for his advice when Luca asks to meet with her in private — she regrets it, later on.

"We used to go to this other guy, you know?” Luca says, a joint casually hanging from his lips. He shakes off the ashes, not caring if it marks the carpet. Maeve internally screams.

He offers her a hit, and Maeve shakes her head politely. Not at work, and not even with her friends, which Luca is certainly not. He seems to think her success is his own, as if he discovered her. How many times has Maeve bitten her tongue until she drew blood to stop lashing out at him? You only discovered me because I let you. You found me because I wanted to be found.

Instead, Maeve feigns interest. “What do you mean?” She shifts her position on his couch to face him, one arm propped up, chin on her palm and knees tucked beneath her.

“He used to deal us this other thing every once in awhile. Nothing fancy, just standard shit. I told him about you though, and he’s interested.” Luca inhales, deep into his lungs, as Maeve steels herself for the worst.

Luca exhales. “He’s interested in helping out. You know, help deal your shit and give you a cut of the profit.” He looks at her blankly, as if he doesn’t care for her answer at all. “You in?”

It can’t hurt to meet him, Maeve thinks. It might even show some initiative. She did well enough to get the general public interested in il sangue di Faerie. A quiet thrill hums through her veins, the thrill of exceeding expectations a different kind of drug entirely.

She smiles sweetly at Luca, liking him for the first time since she’s met him. “Sure. Sounds interesting.”

“Meet us tonight, then. I’ll text you some directions.” Luca grins, stupidly high. 

Maeve almost laughs at how dumb he looks and is. “Okay. See you tonight.”

———

APRIL 20, BUT NIGHT.

She doesn’t expect the night to end like this.

One bloodied body at her feet, the life slowly seeping out of him as the crisp night air fills her lungs.

Another bruised but breathing one facing her, crouched and tense with a mere pocketknife extended towards her.

Maeve might have smiled at how cute it was that he thought a pocket knife was good enough, if not for the fact that she’s drenched in Luca’s blood. As awful as he is — was — he was still just a boy. He made her laugh. He reached out to her when she was a new face, and let her into his inner circle without a second thought.

“He didn’t have to die,” Maeve warns the other boy, with the gentleness and concern of a mother telling her child not to eat a scorpion.

“You’re the one who killed him, baldracca.” His voice shakes, and Maeve feels a pang of pity for him.

She’s sorry. He may not believe her, but regret and grief both overwhelm her now. She’s just become better at withstanding it, is all. She knows how to carry it now: the way the shadow plays with the light, how pain intermingles with pleasure, how love and loss are long friends who always stop to chat and hold hands. She knows how to suffer it quietly. 

“You came to attack me. To steal from me. And,” now it’s her turn to tremble as she considers the worst, “who knows what else.”

“You were charging way too much—”

“Luca was a rich little boy, mommy’s favorite,” Maeve interrupts harshly. “This has nothing to do with money, and everything to do with power. You wanted to teach the little girl a lesson. You wanted to see if you could make her cry and scream.” Her grip on Little O turns white. “You wanted to make her weak.”

He doesn’t say a word — for a moment.

When he finally speaks, he seals his death.

“You’re not a drug dealer,” he says slowly, as if coming to the realization himself. “You’re a Cap—”

Maeve’s knife sinks into his chest before he can finish the word. She holds it there for a moment, meeting his eyes and hoping he sees the tears in her own. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers one second before she pulls the knife out.

———

APRIL 23.

It’s a testament to how far buried the old Maeve Petre is — how quickly she returns to normalcy.

She attends another party, keeping an ear to the ground as Verona mourns the death of Luca and Angelo (that was his real name, Angelo). They’re not sure who murdered them, or if it was a murder at all.

Maeve doesn’t have to pretend to be too choked up to speak. The others go as far as to comfort her, patting her back and saying awful, horrible things like, “We all know Luca was your favorite, Maeve. We know he loved you.”

Loved me? She swallows back a scoff, and it burns her throat on the way down. He wanted to rape me.

When they ask her for something to ease the pain, she summons everything Olivio taught her to revive her spirit. With the same, affectionate grin that Maeve has become known for, Maeve pulls out a small packet of powder and drops it into their hand. “This one,” she says gently, “is on the house.” It will come out of her own pocket, if it has to.

“Thank you, Maeve.” Mia tucks it into her pocket and is about to walk away when Camilla interrupts.

“Do you have something... different?”

Maeve blinks bewilderedly. “Like... weed?”

“No, no. Like shrooms or acid, you know?” Camilla looks around with a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s not seeing any of them at all. “Just something different.”

She remembers a project Theodora has mentioned, a rumor she’s heard on the wind... “I may have something, but it’s super underground. I’m not even sure if they know how powerful it is yet.”

There it is: a familiar spark in Camilla’s eyes whenever a reckless and novel adventure appears. She’s learned to capitalize on it; she’s learned to use it to propel her own name among Verona’s young and careless. “Can you get us some?”

Maeve hesitates. She knows nothing of Theodora’s project, and she knows nothing about how much she’ll be able to get her hands on. But she also knows Camilla loves to be a part of something exclusive, something urgent, something inaccessible and otherworldly.

She also knows Theodora is the best in Verona at delivering exactly that.

"You know that it’d be kind of risky, right? It hasn’t been tested that much, and I don’t want to be responsible for anything bad happening to you, Camilla...”

Like Luca.

Mia puts a hand on Camilla’s arm as if to stop her, but Camilla shrugs it off. “I’m in.”

Maeve smiles and winks, though her heart hurts and her throat aches with a need to scream her lungs out. “I'll see what I can do.”

[travelingstar]

Okay so I thought of this fic idea, but i can only really think of the rough ideas for it with a ton of details. These are just notes really that I had written down over the course of a couple of days.

This is a AU where Caregivers and Littles are known and tests are put through when someone turns 18.

So here is what i have so far:

- Peter has recently joined the Avengers

- The information on if someone is a little, caregiver or neutral, depending on where you work or go to school, needs to be known for the safety of the person, especially if they are a little who needs a caregiver. For the Avengers, they don’t really tell one another upfront on if someone is a little, a caregiver or a neutral unless they are directly asked.

- The Avengers do work well on the field, but once back at the tower some of the team don’t like Tony and don’t approve of his relationship with Peter

- Tony and Peter had been dating before he officially joined

- Peter still attends college, thus school stress

- But the worst part is that Cap gives him a hard time for not doing enough for the team, even though he seemed to be alright with the fact that Peter would be busy with college when he was told at the beginning.

- Peter is secretly a little, but doesn’t tell anyone since he doesn’t want to bother others and after seeing Wanda and other Littles, Peter doesn’t feel like he would be a good Little.

- Peter also sees how busy everyone is with Wanda and thinks he would only be in the way

- Wanda is the resident Little

- Steve is Wanda's Caregiver whilst Clint, Sam, and Thor care for her mainly

- Rhodey, Bruce, Scott, Bucky, and Natasha do care for her on occasion, but do feel uncomfortable around her since she tends to use her powers on them even though she is not supposed to.

- Steve doesn’t trust Peter in taking care of Wanda, thus he doesn’t care for her and Steve won’t let him

- Wanda doesn’t like Tony so no one puts them together, which Tony is grateful for.

- Wanda is quite entitled and bratty when she regresses. Steve never really reprimands her for misbehaving in public or at home, instead he either ignores it or gets her attention and than she suddenly behaves.

- Tony is a caregiver, but he doesn’t want to be one and wants to focus on being Peter's Boyfriend. Which he reminds Steve of when he comes to Tony's workshop while he was working on Clint’s arrows.

- Peter overhears this and realizes that he couldn’t confess to Tony on being a little. He doesn’t want to lose his relationship with Tony or force him into going into the role of Caregiver.

- Peter had been able to somewhat regress when he lived alone. Now that he moved in to the tower, he rarely has a moment alone to regress properly. He had taught himself to quickly pull himself out when someone is approaching. He knows that this will get him sick or his body forces himself to fully regress, however Peter is just too scared to lose his control over himself and to than (from his POV) lose everything.

- Peter also fears that once he’s revealed to be a little that the others won't trust him and thus will no longer be an avenger or worse, no longer be able to be Spiderman.

- Peter does have a plain old backpack in the back of his closet that he shares with Tony where he keeps some of the few little things he has. He keeps a pacifier that is a bit old, his baby blanket, a coloring book that is almost full almost with some well used coloring pencils that he got from the dollar store, and a plush doll that he bought whilst he had a day off and couldn’t help himself from buying it. He pulls it out only if he knows he’ll be by himself for more than an hour.

- JARVIS is aware of Peter regressing, but has kept this information a secret, unless something were to happen to Peter and the AI needed to give this information away if it’s of use.

- Often after him and Tony have sex, during the aftercare, Peter feels himself slightly slipping due to being gently cared for by Tony, who in his dreams and fantasies is his caregiver. However, like always, he has to reign in those instincts.

- One day after coming back from a long day of doing one test after the other, Peter walks into the common room and sees Wanda playing with a doll that from afar, looks familiar to him. He quickly realizes where he has seen it before and rushes to the elevator to his floor. Once there, he quickly gets to his bag and finds that his little stuff had been messed with. His blanket was hanging out of the bag, which was usually folded and put in fully, his pacifier had been thrown to the side, his coloring books had been scribbled into and his doll was missing. Peter knows that he needs to tell the others that Wanda had been to his floor and had taken what had been his. But how could he explain the backpack filled with things that are only really used by littles? Besides, they would all side with Wanda and think that the doll is probably better off with her. So he only ends up crying in the closet for a while before making himself get up and do any work he had to do for his classes.

- Whilst out on more casual dates with Tony at the mall, he often has to gear his need to look at the toys on display onto say a soft sweater he comes across that is a more pastel color. It’s the best he can do and Tony doesn’t mind spoiling his darling with some cute sweaters.

- Once a month, the team force themselves to go out and spend time with one another. This was a idea from Steve as a last ditch effort to properly bond with the team. No one really likes it, so it usually starts off with everyone going to their own groups whilst Steve tries and fails to mix them all together. On one of these trips, they stop by a toy store via Wanda’s request. The store itself has several floors and is rather big. Peter really tries to pay attention to Tony commenting on his ideas on another specific suit he had in mind, but he could feel himself regressing kind of hard at this point and soon finds himself alone and without Tony, who must’ve continued walking whilst Peter couldn’t look away from a beautiful deer plush that looked to soft. He felt himself slipping and had to pull himself out to find Tony, but his little side is panicking cause his daddy wasn’t with him. He tries to tell himself that Tony isn’t his daddy and that he never would want that, further upsetting himself. He finds himself clinging onto the deer plush, due to his little side needing some comfort. However he’s pulled out of his self mantra of needing to pull himself together, when he hears a shrill squeal, knowing that it was Wanda. She tries to pull the deer away from Peter, but out of instinct and now every quickly falling into headspace, he holds onto the soft plush. Wanda throws a fit and uses her powers to have Peter let go and wails to Steve, who was walking by, on how Peter had tried to take her new friend away. Steve than tells Peter off and threatens to kick him off the team if he continues to act this horrible to everyone on the team. This pretty much gets Peter to fully fall onto his headspace and starts to cry and sniffles quietly as Steve tells him off and Wanda makes fun of him for ‘crying like a baby’. Soon enough, Bucky and Tony walk by the aisle and where they were, and see Peter crying. Quickly they go to the small group. Bucky asks Steve what had happened, whilst Tony asking Peter what happened. Tony has to gently assure Peter that no one would be upset of him and that he was there for him. Very meekly and full of stuttering and crying, Peter tells Tony how he had been holding that deer plush that Wanda was holding to comfort himself but it was than taken from him and now Steve was telling him that he was bad. Tony asks why he was using the plush to comfort himself, not minding Peter crying since that had happened in the past. Peter lets out more sobs as he confesses that he had lost his daddy and didn’t know how to find him because he was being dumb and being too little and now daddy probably hates him. It doesn’t take much for Tony to put two and two together and realize that Peter was referring to him. Tony had always been afraid of taking care of a little, because he both didn’t want to neglect Peter and didn’t think he would be good at it. However, his instincts were kicking in and he knew he had to hold Peter and keep him safe, especially hearing Steve trying to tell Bucky that Peter was lying. Tony scooped up the little in his arms and assured him that he doesn’t hate him and that he wasn’t dumb and quite smart for staying at one spot instead of wandering around. Whilst holding Peter, he turns to Steve and tells him that if he threatens Peter or anyone else on the team who wasn’t a part of his little group, that he will make life hell for him. Steve, shocked, stands still for a moment before trying to tell Tomy that Peter is clearly lying, whilst Tony walks away whilst Peter hides his face. However, Bucky stops him from approaching the two and uses Wanda’s wails as a excuse for him to instead take care of her. Steve takes the bait and does.

- Meanwhile, Tony is holding and gently rocking Peter to calm down and softly reassures to Peter that he is there for him and apologizes for ever making him feel like he couldn’t come to him. Peter can’t find himself to properly talk, so instead he nuzzles into Tony’s neck and shyly looks around the store. Tony asks Peter if he would like anything from the shop and assures him that he would get him anything and that he would take care of him. Peter than shyly points to a soft frog plush that he saw that was a pink pastel color and tells Tony that he would like that one. Tony goes over to the shelf and picks one out and hands it over to Peter, who quickly hugs it close to him, making sure no one would take it from him. Tony rubs his back whilst walking around the shop some more. Soon enough, Tomy sees Peter at some points trying to get closer to some of the dolls on the shelves. Tony offers to Peter that they can also get him one and that again he would get Peter anything he wanted. Peter shyly says thank you and gets to pick out a mermaid doll that had fake pearls decorating it. Tony compliments Peter’s choices and asks him what he would name them. Before Peter could reply, Natasha walks by them and greets them. Peter than tries to hide his new friends and his face, but Tony assures him that Nat will be nice to him. Nat looks at Tony and silently assures him that she accepts Peter. She softly asks Peter who his friends are. Peter looks at Tony and he gives him an assuring look before Peter gently shows Nat his plush and doll, whilst still holding them firmly in his hands. Nat compliments Peter on his choices and asks him if he would like for her to give him a present later for being so brave in revealing this side of himself. Peter shyly smiles before seeing Clint over Nats shoulder and quickly hides himself. Both Tony and Nat look over and seeing Clint looking at Peter in confusion. Nat asks them if she could tell not only Clint but the others, since it was clear from Peters really quiet whines that he wanted to quickly leave. Tony gives his approval whilst gently asking Peter what he would like, not feeling comfortable to make that kind of decision for him. Peter says quietly that it was okay and that right now he just wanted his daddy and hugs Tony tighter. Tony than quickly pays for the toys before they leave and Happy drives them back to the tower.

- Once there, Tony doesn’t let go of carrying Peter during the entire ride to their shared floor. On the floor, Tony tells Peter that maybe a nap would be good for them both, especially for the little. Peter doesn’t argue and only yawns and curls up more in Tony’s arms, as Tony moves them to their bedroom and than proceeds to help change Peter from his everyday clothes into one of Tony’s old shirts. Tony also changes into more comfortable clothing and they both cuddle up and take a nap and Tony swears to be there for Peter throughout all of this.

[artificialqueens]

Not Casual At All: Everybody Get Some (Biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

“You’re the only one I can trust not to yell, ‘not today, Satan!’ right before you come,” had been Roy’s explanation when Danny brought it up.

Adore thinks she’s going to have to settle for (admittedly cute) trade, but she’d much rather be having sex with Roy. Luckily, there’s a surprise waiting in her dressing room, followed by an absolutely filthy blowjob in the shower and cuddling.  

A/N: Admittedly, I wrote an entire fic to set up a blowjob/mirror sex.  Contains very brief Adore/OMC, and Danny’s resulting vulnerability about the situation. -MAS

********

Adore finished out the number flat on her back on the stage, the lucky fan she’d pulled up to make out and grind with cradled between her raised knees.  She closed her eyes and took a few seconds to enjoy the applause and shouting, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.  

The boy on top of her was very politely holding his weight off her torso, and she let him help her up.  He’d been fun, flushing dark red when she pushed him down in the chair and straddled his lap but readily groping her chest and crotch once invited.  A good kisser as well, something Adore could appreciate, evidenced by the fact that he was now wearing more of her lipstick than she was.  She watched as he tried to discreetly adjust his hard on, gathering his wallet and cap from where they’d tumbled when she pulled his shirt off.

Giving him one last kiss, she murmured, “Come see me after?” in his ear, pleased when he bit his lip and nodded.

”That was fucking hot!” she yelled into the mic, evoking another round of wild screams before introducing the next song.

The music started and she lost herself in the song, green hair whipping back and forth.  There were just a couple more to go, and then she’d be done for the night. Performing always made her horny, so with luck, the boy would find his way to her as well.  

His dark eyes had caught her attention when she scanned the crowd to make her selection. Intensely masculine features, short curls under a hat, he had pushed all of the right buttons.  He was slender with a wiry build that she couldn’t wait to feel pinned against a wall, or maybe the couch in her dressing room.

Adore loved finding the beauty in everyone, never settling on one standard of appearance. On the other hand, she was well aware that the boys she’d been finding most attractive resembled a certain someone, although the fans didn’t seem to have picked up on it.

Yet.

Roy himself seemed highly amused when she admitted most of the trade reminded her of him.  (“As long as it’s me and not Bianca, I’d be worried if you were fucking clowns.”)  She’d much rather be falling into bed, over vanity tables, or against doors with him.  Unfortunately, Bianca was booked halfway around the world, and she was stuck pulling boys who were quite attractive and charming, but still poor substitutes.  Getting off was fun, but she missed the companionship and post-coital conversation that consisted of more than race-chasing or celebrity worship.

After two encores, she bounced off the stage, buoyed by the audience’s energy.  Blotting her face, she grinned when she saw him waiting for her next to a severely unimpressed security guy.

”Wanna party with me?” she winked at him, pulling him by the hand towards the backstage corridor.  Once through the doors, she pushed him against the wall and let him grab a handful of her ass.

“Forgot to ask,” she purred, “what’s your name?”

”Uhhhh…”  He reddened in embarrassment, and she patiently waited for his upstairs brain to come back online.  “Ummm.  I’m Ian.”

”Nice to meet you, Ian.”  She pressed a thigh between his, feeling his clothed erection against her hip.  “Wanna see my dressing room?”

John was lingering at the end of the corridor, and she waved him off as they approached.  He shook his head in mock-despair, giving Ian a once-over before walking down the hall twenty feet and casually leaning on the wall, phone in hand.

She pulled him backwards into the dressing room by the belt loops and paused, frowning, when he stopped dead in the doorway, staring.

”Oh fuck me…”

”What?” Adore didn’t think she’d left it that much of a mess, turning around to check.

”Oh.”

”Hey pussyface,” Roy greeted her cheerfully from his seat on the vanity, carryon at his feet.  “Who’s your friend?”

“Ohmygod.”  Ian’s eyes were wide, and Adore was at a loss for words when he dropped her hand and frankly stared.  “Are you…oh shit, you’re Bianca!”

”That’s the last thing my uncle said when-“ He hopped down, hands casually tucked in the pockets of the (yet another) baggy black hoodie.

Adore was still blinking in disbelief, but she was certain she was sober enough that Roy wasn’t a hallucination.

Ian’s head turned back and forth between her and Roy a few times before smiling nervously. “Ummm.  I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

”Don’t worry, this was supposed to be a surprise.”  Roy stopped just out of arm’s reach from Adore, attention seemingly focused away but she could feel his eyes hot on her.

”Sorry,” she gently squeezed Ian’s elbow.  “Rain check?”

”…what?  Oh!  No problem.  I mean yes.  Uhhh, I mean not if it’s not okay, because I ummm don’t want to-“

”Breathe.”  Roy still looked far too amused, reaching out to take his hand.  “Do me a favor?  Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

”Sure.  Yes, totally, I will.  I mean, I won’t.  Won’t!”

”Thank you, my angel.  Appreciate it.”

”No absolutely!  You two, are you, yeah?  Yeah.”

“Cat got your tongue?” Ian looked like he was hanging off of Roy’s every word, and it took everything Adore had not to break out laughing.  It figured she would try to pull a Bianca fan.

She saw Ian out with a kiss on the cheek and several photos.  As soon as the door closed, she ignored Roy’s protests and lifted him off the ground with her hug, platform boots leaving her nearly a foot taller than his boy self. 

“Fuck, what are you doing here?” she murmured into his neck.

”Had a bit of a layover issue, so I got them to reroute me.”  Roy tugged her wig gently until she set him back down.  

“Layover- B, I’m not even on the right side of Europe!”

He waited while she unzipped her boots and started unpinning her wig.  

“I missed you.”

It was just three words, but the kiss that followed destroyed the last of her lipstick.  She tried to chase Roy’s lips as he pulled away, but he made a face and took a step back.

“What?”

”You taste like someone else.”  The matter of fact tone of voice meant he wasn’t upset, but it also meant Roy wasn’t going to continue kissing her until she did something about it.  And since kissing figured rather heavily into her plans for that evening, she definitely needed to take care of the problem.

”Sorry,” she quirked her lips in a half-smile.  “I wasn’t-“

He cut her off with a hand to her cheek, and she leaned into it, feeling his fingers nimbly locating the last of the bobby pins holding her wig in place.

”It’s okay, pussyface.  I know how it is.  I just wanna taste you.”

Adore made quick work of removing the rest of her drag, aware of how Roy’s hands hovered over her body as he “helped” her get undressed.  

“Shower?”  The adjoining bathroom was small, but it included a shower and she wanted to wash all traces of anyone else off.  She didn’t know how long Roy had to stay, and it wouldn’t do to make any more delays.

Roy was already down to his briefs when she got the water running, completely naked when she was done quickly brushing her teeth, and waiting in the shower once Danny wiped Adore off.  Danny paused to just watch for a moment as the water ran over the sharp planes of his face tilted under the spray, before Roy slicked back his hair and opened his eyes.  Droplets clung to his lashes and he smiled on seeing Danny back to himself again.  

“C’mere,” he beckoned, molding their bodies together.

This time, there was no rush, tongues meeting with the barest hint of teeth.  Danny used both hands to hold Roy’s head in place as he deepened the kiss, moaning low in his throat when hands found their way to his ass and squeezed roughly.  He was most of the way to hard, erection sliding over Roy’s hip and his own pressing against the inside of Danny’s thigh.

”Miss me?”

”Of course, bitch.  Don’t be stupid.”

Roy kissed his way across his collarbone, licking droplets of water from the skin.  Danny nuzzled his temple, hands sliding down to the small of Roy’s back and toying with the dimples there.

”Long as you don’t replace me with a younger model.”  It was clearly meant as a joke, but Danny frowned, unsure if Roy was using it as a cover for a real insecurity.  

Better safe than sorry.

”B,” he tilted Roy’s head back enough to negate their height difference, “I could never.”

The teasing smile on Roy’s face slipped into something more serious in contrast to the highly erotic setting.  

“Shhhh, I know.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

Biting his lower lip, Danny nodded.  Some trace of uncertainty must have remained in his admittedly wobbly smile, because Roy backed against the wall out of range of the water, pulling Danny against him again. 

“Hey.  I promised I’d always be honest with you, remember?“  He blinked a couple of times, eyes gone soft.  “And I’m still okay with it.  It’s not like you knew I was going to be here.”

“You’re allowed to be weird about me showing up with trade.”

“It’s sex,” Roy continued, squeezing Danny’s hands.  “It wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to wait weeks or months."  For me was left unsaid, and Danny wondered if they would ever quite be willing to address that part of their unconventional…something.  Not relationship, but not friends with benefits either.  

They’d talked about this their first time together, more than either of them was probably comfortable with, and in theory and the vast majority of practice it wasn’t an issue at all.  Months later, Adore was back to no-strings fun to satisfy her appetite, but it had taken a bit to be comfortable again.  Danny had been more circumspect than usual about hookups on tour, to the point that Courtney and Darienne commented about it in the group chat, asking if Adore was feeling okay because of the apparent dry spell.  It wasn’t until Roy left a voicemail (”If you’re not in the mood, that’s one thing.  But if you’re not getting laid because of me, that’s not what I want at all.  Love you pussyface, be safe, and I’ll see you in a couple weeks.“) that he realized he still worried about it being okay.  It wasn’t like the reverse was the case either; as far as Danny knew, Roy wasn’t fucking anyone else, although he always made enough innuendos to satisfy their friends.  ("You’re the only one I can trust not to yell, ‘not today, Satan!’ right before you come,” had been Roy’s explanation when Danny brought it up.)  

“Yeah.  Sorry, just feeling kind of weird about it."  

Roy kissed him gently, nudging their noses together.  "I get that.”

“Sorry,” Danny curled his lip up in a frown, “didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“Quit apologizing."  There was that hint of Bianca, lurking around the edges.  "If it was bothering you, it was important.  Now,” he cocked his head to the side, “I’ve got four hours before I have to be back on a plane out of here.”

“Time to go back to my room?”

“Possibly, but I thought you might like to get blown in the shower."  Roy’s ability to be conversational about sex was, in Danny’s opinion, one of the hottest things ever.

"Yeah?”

“Yeah."  He steered Danny back under the water.  "Turn around for me?”

Grabbing the bottle of body wash off the shelf, Roy took his time working it into a lather over Danny’s back, fingers digging into the knotted muscles as he worked in gradually larger circles.  He eventually moved his hands around to the front, circling Danny’s waist, Danny’s head falling back onto his shoulder for a messy kiss as he ran slippery fingers teasingly over his nipples.  The layer of soap between them provided the perfect amount of slip for him to slide his half-hard cock against Danny’s ass.

“If you want,” Roy’s voice was husky with arousal, lips barely brushing Danny’s ear, “we can change that to shower sex."  He punctuated the last word with a harder thrust, cock slipping into the cleft of Danny’s ass and evoking a whole-body shiver.

"Mmmm, not tonight?"  The hand Danny had thrown back to anchor Roy against him tightened on his ass.  "Unless you wanna get fucked.”

“Not tonight,” he agreed.

”I don’t let other people fuck me,” Danny confessed, feeling as if it were a scandalous thing.  Maybe it was, for them.  

“I…”

Roy’s hips stilled.  With his chin hooked over Danny’s shoulder, it almost seemed like he was staring into the distance until Danny realized what he was looking at.  

The shower was directly opposite the full length mirror, and even with the glass door partially fogged, their reflection was clear.  If someone took a photo of their faces right then, cheeks pressed together, the pose would be familiar to hundreds of thousands of fans from dozens of selfies.  What the mirror captured and the camera seldom did, was the vulnerability in Danny’s eyes, Roy’s tiny smile and arms holding him possessively against his body.

”Okay.”

Slowly, Roy turned them sideways, moving until Danny’s back was pressed against the wall.  He dropped to his knees, hands sliding down Danny’s sides and coming to rest on his hips.  Then he reached out and pushed the glass door open, providing a view of the mirror unimpeded by steam.

Danny looked down, and Roy shook his head.  “Don’t watch me.  Watch us.”  He jerked his chin towards the mirror, waiting until Danny complied.  

They locked eyes in the reflection, Danny’s still soft with uncertainty and Roy’s sleepy in a way that spoke of rumpled sheets and nights filled with the sounds of sex.  Very gently, Roy nuzzled Danny’s hip, twining both of their hands together as he did so.  He kissed the crest of that same hip, opening his mouth to suck a bruise into the skin before soothing it with his tongue.  

Danny’s mouth fell open in a gasp that he couldn’t hear over the rush of falling water, but felt all the same.  Roy continued his path downward, tongue drawing a line between the droplets of water clinging to the groove between hip and thigh.  

Danny shuddered when he sucked a second love bite into the flesh of his inner thigh, eyes falling closed for a moment before snapping open again.  

Still watching each other, Roy mouthed at Danny’s balls, using his tongue to bounce them against his lips and nipping carefully at the skin.  

Danny’s head fell back onto the wall with a dull thud, but he didn’t look away.

Roy licked up the underside of the straining erection, squeezing their fingers together as he slipped the flushed head into his mouth.  This time, Danny’s moan carried over the shower noise.

He let it slide out of his mouth with a wet pop before leaving open-mouthed kisses down the side of the shaft.  

Danny dug his teeth into his lower lip, trying to stay quiet.

Pulling back for a moment, Roy’s lips curved into his bedroom smile, the one that always made Danny hard with the memories it suggested.  Then he licked his lips, wrapped them around Danny’s cock, and went down in one smooth motion until the tip nudged the back of his throat.

Danny’s hands clenched convulsively as his hips jerked, trying to go deeper.  Roy took a long breath, eyes falling closed, relaxed his jaw, and slipped just a little further down.  

When his eyes opened, what he saw in the mirror was a vision of pure sin.

Danny’s back arched away from the wall, head and elbows braced against it as his hips thrust forward.  The muscles in his arms flexed, chest thrown out and nipples hard.  His mouth hung open, lips puffy and bitten, brow creased and eyes clenched shut in ecstasy.  

Roy pulled back, sucked in another deep breath, sucked harder on the cock in his mouth.  He bobbed his head a few times, pre-come slicking his tongue, before gently freeing one hand from Danny’s grip and bringing some relief to the aching need between his legs.

The moan that vibrated around Danny’s cock when his fingers closed around his own throbbing erection evoked a whimper.  Danny’s hand flew out to turn the water off before fisting his fingers in wet hair and forcing his eyes open to watch as he fucked Roy’s mouth.

The steady stream of moans from them both mingled with the wet, choked-off sounds of a blowjob, filling the steamy air.  Danny’s gaze drifted down to where Roy was jerking himself with rapid strokes, willing back his orgasm.

Roy might not be submissive in the least, but he got off hard on having Danny use his mouth.  The stretch of his jaw, the spit-slick shaft gliding over his lips, the weight of the cock on his tongue, all conspired to bring him closer to the edge.

”B,” Danny rasped out, “I wanna see you come.”

That’s all it took.  Roy’s eyes rolled back and his jaw fell slack as he arched his back and came, thrusting into his fist.  

Orgasm hit Danny like a wave breaking against the shore, rushing up from his cock pulsing cum into Roy’s mouth.  His legs buckled, overcome with shakes, and he collapsed back to slide down the wall, cock smearing cum across Roy’s lips and chin.  The sight of him still shivering with his climax sent an aftershock of pleasure up Danny’s spine.  

There was only the sound of their harsh panting for a few moments, until Roy dragged himself back to reality.  Turning his head, he spit his mouthful of cum towards the drain before listing sideways, coming to rest between Danny’s spread knees.

In response, Danny tugged his shoulders with arms that felt impossibly heavy, pulling Roy until his back rested against Danny’s chest.

”B?” 

“Mmm?”

”Why’d you spit?”

Roy started to sit up, stopping when Danny’s arms tightened.

”Not mad or whatever, just wondering.”

”You’re smoking too much again,” he frowned.  

”Oh.  Sorry.”

Roy shrugged one shoulder, head lolling back against Danny’s shoulder.

”B?”

”Yeah?”

”It’s not cause I’ve been with…”

This time Roy did sit up and turn until they were face to face.  He paused, hearing what wasn’t being said.

”I know you’re being safe.  It really does taste bad, believe me.”

He leaned out to check the time, and groaned.  

“What?”

”We should probably finish cleaning up before someone comes looking for you.”

Danny pushed himself to his feet, waiting for Roy to do the same.  He turned the water back on, giggling as Roy rinsed his mouth under the spray.  

“I should make you eat it next time,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when Danny stuck out his tongue.

They were silent for a few minutes, using the shower for its intended purpose.  Roy sacrificed his shirt for them to dry off (“You’re in a place with a shower and didn’t bring a spare towel?” “What, it’s not like you carry one in Bianca’s suitca- oh.  Never mind.”) and they made their way back out to the dressing room.  

Roy fished out a clean shirt from his carryon, and they collapsed onto the couch.  

“Round two or…?” He tried to guess what Danny might need.

Instead, Danny gathered him close, nuzzling Roy’s wet hair.

”Nah.  How long till you gotta leave again for the airport?”

”Thirty minutes if I want to get through security and not run for the gate.”

” ‘kay.”  Danny sighed.  “Just stay like this?”

Roy smiled and brushed a gentle kiss against his lips.

”I can do that.”

-PSA-

In my stories, Danny and Roy only ever have unprotected sexual activities with each other, and even then not all of the time. Danny’s messed around with other people, so they ought to have used protection, but, like in reality, sometimes people forget. That’s not the reason Roy spits (truly doesn’t like the taste), but leaving semen in contact with your mouth does increase the risk of an STI.

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: impressionism (what completes this picture of me and you)

title: impressionism (what completes the picture of me and you) characters: heather & valencia, beth/valencia, heather/hector summary: Valencia admits that she once had a crush on Heather notes: not totally sure how happy i am with this fic, but at this point it has been sitting in my drafts for literal months now, so out it goes. Ao3 Link

~

In Heather’s opinion, one of Valencia’s best qualities is her willingness to throw herself wholeheartedly into her ventures.

Granted, Heather usually prefers to observe the hurricane from a comfortable distance, rather than letting herself get swept up in it all. But, on occasion, she doesn’t mind braving her way into the eye of the storm.

Like right now, when she is seven months pregnant and less chill than she has ever been in her life, Valencia showing up unannounced and armed with rose, apple juice, and her cosmetics bag is unequivocally a good thing. It’s been a while since they’ve been able to hang out, just the two of them. Hector is nice and Heather loves him and she’s happy he’s been here for her during the pregnancy, but sometimes his niceness is just too much, and almost as annoying as Rebecca’s casual thoughtlessness. In contrast, Valencia’s straight-shooting, take-no-prisoners determination is a gift.

Even better: unlike the people Heather is living with, Valencia is observant, and notices changes around her without Heather having to point them out.

 “What’s going on with Estrella?” Valencia pauses in front the aquarium on her way back to the sofa, bending down to get a closer look. “She looks different.”

 “That’s ‘cause she is different,” says Heather as she reclines on the sofa with her feet propped up, doesn’t bother to look up from her phone.

“What do you mean?” Valencia asks, perching on the ottoman to resume painting Heather’s nails. She’s been looking more relaxed recently, Heather finds herself thinking idly. Probably the result of a series of fortunate events—the small but tangible successes so necessary to building a business. Heather bets that taking on Beth as a partner has probably helped ease the stress.

And, well, also the fact that Valencia is now definitely getting some on the regular. There is no way that there isn’t a net positive effect of some kind.

“I mean that she’s a whole new starfish,” Heather explains, wincing as the Rebyl spawn punctuates her statement with a two-beat kick.

Valencia’s concentration doesn’t waver, but her eyebrows arch up high on her forehead in surprise, followed by a deep sigh of resignation. “Again? Seriously?”

“Yeah. At least this one looks more like the original Estrella, so I didn’t know it happened until this week, because last week was Rebecca’s turn to take care of her.”

Valencia purses her lips, shaking her head in disappointment at Rebecca’s carelessness. “Wow. I’m surprised you’re not more upset.”

Heather shrugs. “I probably should be, but I already got angry at the shower this morning for the wrong droplet-to-skin-volume ratio, so it’s not worth working up the extra energy.”

“That sucks,” says Valencia sympathetically, looking down at her handiwork, forehead wrinkling in concentration.

“It really does. These pregnancy hormones are sending my reactions totally out of whack. I am noticing, like, everything is too much, like this dress is super itchy and you still smell like Beth’s perfume from yesterday. I know that sounds creepy, sorry, but I can’t help it,” she adds, responding to Valencia’s weirded-out expression. “And to make things worse, now I’m missing other things. Like, stuff I actually care about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I used to be able to tell things about people before they even know it. Like a wolf. I learned a lot about wolves before I dropped my wildlife biology class. Did you know that they can tell if a person is pregnant even before they know it themselves?”

“That must get awkward.”

“Right?” Heather asks, letting her head fall against the back of the sofa so that she is staring right up at the ceiling.  “But I’m not like that anymore – I used to be a wolf, and I knew things, but now I’m a pregnant wolf and I know nothing. Which doesn’t make any sense.”

Valencia’s eyes have gotten almost comically round as she follows this train of logic to its conclusion. “Oo-kay,” she says after a brief pause, setting down the bottle of violet nail polish and taking up the setting. “Speaking of Rebecca, you’re channeling her pretty hard right now.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s because she keeps texting me about the gestational periods for different mammals and it’s like, getting really annoying. I don’t care that elephant pregnancies last for two years, I’m human and I want it out now.”

Valencia’s head jerks up and she stares at Heather. “Two years?”

Heather gives a slow nod. “Yep.”

Valencia wrinkles her nose in distaste. “Ew.”

“Right? But it’s true.”

“Weird. Does Rebecca just know these things off the top of her head or is she Googling random animals every few days?”

“Who knows? But I’ll admit that she does follow up with cute videos of the respective baby animals, so that kind of helps, but only because my baby brain is really dumb and easy to please.”

“I mean, cute animal videos will do that,” agrees Valencia seriously.

Heather hums her assent.  “But seriously, my powers of observation are gone. I’m missing out on the subtle social cues that tell me about drama. And you know I love drama.”

Valencia hums her agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence. Heather texts Hector a non-negotiable request to pick up non-dairy milk and any bath products that might possibly have lavender in them.

“You’ll be back to normal and picking up drama in no time,” says Valencia soothingly. “It doesn’t matter if you miss a couple of things in the meantime.”

“It kind of does,” says Heather, looking up from her phone, peering over the swell of her abdomen down to Valencia. “It’s like missing an episode of The Nanny. It might not matter in the long run, but it’s still totally possible that a massive change happened while you weren’t looking and everyone is making references to an event that you don’t get and you have to piece it together without context, because streaming is not an option.”

“You’ve missed things before. No one is going to judge you for it.”

“No, I don’t miss things.”

Valencia’s responding hm is just judgmental enough to compel Heather to straighten up in her seat.

“I don’t,” she says, a hint of challenge entering her voice. “It was basically my superpower, before this parasite took it.”

“I’m not saying you don’t pick up stuff,” says Valencia, setting down the bottle of polish. “I’m just saying, that you can’t notice everything. It’s not possible.”

Heather’s eyebrows shoot high up her forehead; pregnancy might be messing with her senses, but Valencia’s carefully blank expression is radiating I have something on my mind loud and clear. “Okay, enough generalities – what did I miss?”

Valencia hesitates, but when she looks up to meet Heather’s eyes, she juts out her chin a little bit, firming up. “It’s nothing. And I’m going to tell you.”

“Good.”

“It might be weird.”

“Valencia, I am currently pregnant with Rebecca and Darryl’s baby. Is it that level of weird?”

“No, it’s not that weird,” says Valencia after a pause. “Right. Let me finish the varnish first.”

“Cool.” Heather opens up her phone and adds egg salad to the list. It’s not something she would normally eat, but whatever the Darryl baby wants, it’s gonna get. Maybe it will get bored by all the luxury and try to strike out faster.

Valencia screws the cap back on the bottle and travels back up to sit on the couch cushion besides Heather. “You’re going to love it –they have little white flowers on them.”

“Cool. I’d offer more specific compliments, except there is no way that I will be able to see them over my distended stomach and swollen ankles.”

“Which is why I uploaded the pictures on Instagram,” says Valencia breezily, waving her phone. “You can leave your comments there.”

“Right, exactly. Because that’s what Instagram is for, looking at things you can’t look at in your normal, day-to-day life.”

Valencia makes another noncommittal hum. Heather watches as Valencia continues to mess around with the bottles in her makeup bag, waiting patiently for her question.

“Well?” Heather prompts, when nothing juicy is forthcoming.

“Oh! Right.” Valencia startles a moment before composing herself, tucking her hair behind her ears. Interesting.

“Do you think you ever noticed anything about me that you don’t think that I was aware of?”

Sounds like Valencia is on another self-awareness kick. Well, Heather’s down to help. She tilts her head to one side, considering the question. “I doubt it. I mean, once you broke up with Josh, you’ve been pretty upfront about what you were thinking. Maybe when you and Beth were becoming a thing, but you figured that out pretty quickly, so it doesn’t count.”

“Okay but…”

“But what?”

“But what about me liking girls, specifically?”

“Specifically?” asks Heather, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Valencia takes a deep breath, setting her shoulders straight. “Yeah.”

Huh, interesting.

“Nothing specific,” says Heather thoughtfully, mentally flicking through their past hangouts for signs of Valencia’s interest in anyone beyond their direct social circle. “I mean, there was a distinct lack of interest in guys going on with you, like, even on our girls’ nights out, but when I saw you and Beth together I, like, knew that you had a vibe going on. I didn’t see that before with you and anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, then you didn’t notice,” says Valencia, sounding vaguely offended.

“Notice what?”

Valencia takes a deep breath. “Beth might be the first girl I’ve dated, but she isn’t the first girl I liked.”

“That makes sense. Who were the others? Denise Martinez from high school? You’ve always complained about her. No, wait, it was Rebecca, right? I know she kissed you once—”

“She mentioned that?” demands Valencia, sitting up, spine ramrod straight, before she pauses and reconsiders. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t be surprised. But no. That was…something else. Which, in retrospect, might have helped me reconsider a couple of things, but that’s so not what I’m talking about right now.”

“Okay, so it’s not Rebecca. Cool. Then would it have—” she stops suddenly. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“So—”

Valencia nods. “Yep. I think I liked you.”

Valencia says it casually, but it’s a bombshell all the same. Heather blinks as she considers this new information, comparing this new context to all the things she knows about Valencia, like pulling away a curtain for a clear view. Their ease with one another, how quickly Valencia started seeking out Heather’s advice and was willing to let her slouch on her couch when she needed time to refill her chill bar during the most hectic days of Rebecca’s hasty wedding planning storm. Valencia had been remarkably lax about Heather setting very close boundaries.

“Oh, huh. Okay, didn’t see that at the time, but okay. That tracks.”

Valencia stares, incredulous. “That’s it? That’s your reaction?”

Heather considers the facts, how she had only known Valencia tangentially as Josh’s girlfriend, with a general idea that they were unsuited, but not understanding just how much until Rebecca brought her to Sugar Face for the first time, beaming and declaring that, if it was all right with her, Valencia might hang out with them a few times while she got over her own post-break-up blues. And she was kind of basic, but also acidic, and very fun and a little clueless and then she just stuck around.

“I mean, I don’t think I totally missed it,” clarifies Heather. “I thought I got a vibe on you for a little while there when I met you, but like, I was trying to figure out if you knew that or if it was just getting into the groove of having a girl group, but there was also the stuff where we were both trying to figure out what to do with our lives and then everything went down with Josh and Rebecca and it just, like, kept going down.”

Valencia nods, grimacing at the memory. “Yeah, it was a lot to process.”

“So much processing,” says Heather with feeling, eyes rolling heavenwards. After a beat, intrigue overtakes her surprise and she sits back up again. “So: how long did you carry a torch for me?”

Valencia gives a dismissive wave. “Not that long. After you started dating Hector I had an epiphany.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I realized that our tastes were way too different to ever work out.”

Valencia pulls a face to punctuate her statement, startling a laugh out of Heather.

“That kinda sounds like an excuse,” teases Heather, a little relieved. Valencia’s shoulders ease, and it’s obvious from the way she’s speaking that there isn’t jealousy or some sort of anguished feeling behind her declaration, and that’s soothing in a very Valencia way. She doesn’t want to stir up drama – she just wants to make things clear and straightforward.

“It really isn’t,” says Valencia, in the same tone she uses when critiquing Josh’s taste in formalwear.

“Okay, it isn’t.”

“I genuinely believe that your interest in Hector cleaved our chances as a couple completely.”

“Sure,” concedes Heather with a smile, “I know you don’t like Hector. Is it because he knows all of the embarrassing stories about you from when you guys were kids?”

“No. Why?” Valencia’s eyes narrow and her body goes rigid. “Why do you mention it? Did he tell you something? Was it about the Sleeping Beauty thing, because he really should know better than that—”

“No, he hasn’t,” says Heather immediately, because it’s true and if the way that Valencia’s perfectly sharp eyebrows are starting to furrow in the middle, if Heather doesn’t clear up that point immediately, there is a nonzero chance that Hector’s demise will be imminent upon walking through the door.

“Good.” Valencia leans back on the sofa, her face still thunderous. “At least his sense of self-preservation is intact.”

“I’ll get that story out of you, then,” says Heather, amused. “You really have nothing good to say about him, do you?”

“Hector is very symmetrical,” says Valencia primly. “And I am willing to admit that he’s been handling your pregnancy very well despite not actually knocking you up.”

“Thank you, I know that cost you something.”

Valencia nods, looking faintly martyred before she shifts position on the sofa, leaning against the cushions, her chin propped up in her palm. “So, you didn’t know I had a crush on you at all?”

“No, I missed that. Which is unfortunate, because it really is flattering.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, totally. You’re definitely a catch. So,” she drags out the word, starting to grin, her long-starved desire for gossip sniffing the air. “When did you know that you liked me?”

She’s pleased to see that Valencia relaxes completely at her teasing, whatever fears she has reassured by Heather’s reaction.

“I didn’t at the time,” admits Valencia. “It didn’t take that long to understand that I liked Beth, really, but I’ve been kind of unpacking stuff with her since we’ve started dating. You know what a good listener she is.”

“Right.”

“And I would keep talking, right, about times when I might have been attracted to other women, what I might have thought of them, and I would think about you and about how, when we first started hanging out, I was so giddy about having female friends for the first time in a long time, and you really helped me figure out what’s normal girl stuff and what wasn’t. And I was so excited to have such smart and attractive friends and I wanted to see you guys every day and your opinions really mattered to me—and I realized that there had been, like, two layers to how I was thinking about you, specifically.”

“Two layers, huh?”

“Yeah, both the core that, you were a cool person, but also like a filter on top of it that make things especially nice. Like the Amaro filter on Instagram. Which, incidentally, is the one I used when I posted your pedicure.”

“Got it.”

“Like, I wanted to be friends,” Valencia continues, insistent. “I absolutely wanted to hang out with you as a friend. But I also kind of wanted to impress you and…have you look at me in a certain way. Though, to be clear, that feeling isn’t really a part of our relationship now, that I was attracted to you. That is in the past. It’s important, but not, like, the defining thing about us. But it in our history and it was weird that you didn’t know about it.” Valencia deflates. “I’m sorry, is this making any sense? This isn’t meant to be a love declaration, or anything, and I’m worried it sounds like one, but it’s just—”

“Part of the history of our dynamic,” Heather finishes. “No, I get it. Human attraction is interesting and doesn’t really care about fitting neatly into romantic-platonic categories.”

“Exactly,” says Valencia, smiling. “Like, I just feel that it’s weird that you didn’t know that’s how I felt about you. You know everything.”

“Apparently not,” says Heather wryly. “But I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for telling me. For the record, though, we totally would have been a hot couple in a parallel universe,” Heather adds. “Totally objectively speaking.”

Valencia laughs, her shoulders loosening. “I’ll drink to that.”

 “Yeah. And while you might not think the same about me, I do think you have good taste – I’m glad you met Beth. She’s very cool.”

“Aw, thank you.” Valencia beams, pressing her hand over her heart. “That means a lot.”

Heather smiles, a rush of affection for her friend coursing through her, sweeping aside the discomforts of the day. “Come on, let’s have a toast to your good taste and behaving like mature adults. Now gimme my apple juice.”

Laughing, Valencia does as she asks.

[tcsauaskblog]

Any more headcanons on my baby boy fethry? Also pls dont hurt him

Fethry smiles like the sun and laughs the way stars shine, and is a tornado of love that you have absolutely no guard against. He’s finally asleep, curled up on the couch in the circle of Della’s arms, and is casually the most important thing in the world to you and completely unaware of the fact.

But it’s fine.

This is fine.

And you’ll continue to make it fine for as long as it takes for him to never have to experience that kind of world-bending fear ever again.

You had no way of preventing it from happening. How could you? None of you knew. Fethry didn’t let you know. And you can only wonder why he kept a secret like this from you. You of all people.

But, you guess you deserve it. After all, it’s you who let him down. If only you had been there sooner, turned the corner fast enough, hadn’t been too preoccupied with flirting with senior girls. Maybe you could have prevented it from happening. Maybe you could have been the brave older cousin for once, the one Donald and Della always are, the one Fethry’s always seen you as.

But you didn’t, so you aren’t, and you feel like just about the most useless guy in the world.

You had just finished with study hall, your last period of the day, and were on your way to where the Junior high halls connected with the high school ones. If anyone asks, you’ll always complain about it, but you’re kind of secretly happy that your school is small enough so that middle schoolers and high schoolers all share one building. You’ve always met by Donald and Della’s classes after school ended, and you aren’t really prepared to break from that tradition now that Don and Del are freshmen.

But they’re only a few hallways down from yours, and Fethry is probably already hanging off of Donnie’s arms with that teasing playfulness about him that only he can get away with, and you’re too far gone wondering if Del’s lockers are next to some pretty upperclassman’s to really notice anything until the slamming of a locker door pulls you back from your daydreams abruptly.

You don’t really know, or really care, why the hallway was crowded around a particular locker, but you try to sneak through the cracks and the gaps of the crowd because you’re on a mission and you have a hand that is criminally free of any cute seniors numbers in black sharpie.

But then you hear it.

The distant shouting and banging of metal that causes you to stop dead in your tracks and the fact that it seems all too familiar has your blood running cold. You strain your ears because it’s really all you can do among the sea of bodies you feel lost in, but you hear it. You hear him. And you can find his voice in a crowded room like it was a job, so you don’t feel an ounce of shame when you push your way through the mob until you’re front and center of the action.

Bullies exist everywhere, you’re not really surprised by that, but the school year just started, and you think it’s a little cruel for some Juniors to be pushing middle schoolers into lockers this early on. If you were Donald, you probably would have straight up started a fight, not caring who the kid was, but ready to throw down with bullies any time of the day just on the principle that jerks deserve to get their beaks punched in. If you were Della, you wouldn’t hesitate to try and break the kid-free, all while giving the offender a tongue lashing of the life time that they wouldn’t be getting over anytime soon.

But you’re not your cousins. You’re Gladstone Glander, and you don’t really know what to do other than try to grasp the situation for what it is.

In the short, few moments you spend standing there, you understand that one of the sixth graders accidentally popped one of the football player’s footballs. There was a bit of shoving, and it had looked like a few fists would have been thrown if one of the sixth grader’s friend’s hadn’t intervened. Said friend, was now stuck in the locker.

The sixth grader was still on the floor, and he was still yelling, begging for the upperclassman to let his friend out. But the upperclassman didn’t do more than throw harsh laughter and snide comments in his face before banging hard on the closed locker in mock aggravation, waving a piece of fabric (you really didn’t care enough to take stock of it) in the air like a trophy. The kid in the locker was banging back against the locker door frantically, despite the harassment of the Juniors, but you couldn’t afford to fret about them just yet.

No, at the moment, you were too busy trying to scan past the heads that were all tuned into the scene in front of you, because you were sure, could have sworn, that you heard his voice-

“Ok guys, this is really not funny, let me out! Let me out now! Please!”

And your head whipped around to the sound of Fethry’s voice coming from the closed locker so hard you should have broken something.

And you felt like your gut was filling with mud and something heavy and sickening.

“I don’t know what you mean, it’s plenty funny for us,” one of the Juniors with the crooked nose smiled cruelly, banging the solid metal again, each hit rattling your bones and echoing through your ribcage hollowly. “If can’t take the heat, don’t jump into the frying pan kid. Mind your own fucking business next time.”

The Junior next to him laughed when the crooked nose teen hit the locker so hard, Fethry yelped from inside, a breathy and cracked ’please, stop’ breaking at the edge of his voice when he called out, and you only now realized the fabric they had been tossing to each other was Fethry’s stocking cap.

“Let him out. Now.” You heard yourself growl through sharp, clenched teeth, doing everything in your power to keep your hands from trembling at your sides and your vision from going red.

The Juniors all had turned to you, but they did little more than regard you with raised eyebrows and passively bored looks.

“Back off curls, it’s not your beef.” One of them snorted, a portly, stubbly teen that you could only assume was the ringleader. One of the other Juniors had tossed him Fethry’s cap and he was now twirling it around on one finger, his beady black eyes looking down on you like you were just another clover in a green field.

“My cousin, my beef,” you barked, swiping the cap from the fat teen in one effortless step. “Let him out. I’m not gonna ask again.”

“Gladdy? Is that you?” You heard Fethry call, his muffled voice shaking just on the short side of panic and your blood boiled with an anger you didn’t know what to do with.

The ringleader’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he stood up straight and towered over you. “Fuck off brat, and if you’re lucky, I won’t-”

Was all he got to say before you punched him square in the throat as hard as you could. It was the only thing you could think to do at the moment and was really the only thing you could reach with him hovering over you. You didn’t have the patience to try and get a better angle. The fat teen stumbled backwards, hands clenched at his throat as he coughed and sputtered and tried to catch his breath again.

“You won’t do squat because I’m always lucky.” And you were seething. You had the distant thought that that punch really hurt your hand, and that you really weren’t cut out for fighting like Don was, but it was pushed down by the more ringing thought that sounded like alarms bells in your head. The ’family, danger, family’ sirens that gave you tunnel vision were blaring numbly in your ears and only let you focus on the locker in front of you. “Fethry, just hang on buddy, I’m gonna get you out.”

“Hurry, Gladdy, I don’t… I want to get out of here. Like now.”

And you would have torn down the locker door then and there because it had sounded like Fethry had started crying, and if that were the case then there was little on this earth that could stop you from throwing open the doors and wrapping Fethry in a hug that he’d never outgrow no matter how old he got.

But someone had punched you square in the jaw, you didn’t take note of who, and you were thrown sideways into the lockers beside Fethry’s. The loud metal clang rang throughout the hallways like a silencing gong, and it was the only thing you could hear for a while even though you knew the hallway was alive with the buzz of shocked students.

Someone had grabbed you by your shirt color and was propping you up against the lockers now. You were a little dizzy, your vision not really catching up with the rest of you, but you were able to concentrate a glare at the crooked nose teen. Your jaw throbbed like it was on fire.

“You’re gonna really wish you hadn’t done that.” He hissed at you, and despite yourself, you smiled back at him.

“Not likely, I take my wishes very seriously.” You spat out, and it had earned you another slug to the stomach. It hurt, it hurt so bad, and you would have doubled over in pain if crooked nose didn’t have an iron grip on your shirt collar, so you coughed out a haggard wheeze instead because it was really all you could do.

You distantly heard Fethry calling out your name as he rapped against the inside of the locker, and the tone of his voice was the only thing keeping you focused.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid out of his wits. And he’s calling out for you and you can barely stand let alone help him and you’re pathetic. You wished you could be strong like Don. You wished you could be gutsy like Del. You wished you could be brave enough to stand up on your own and help the person who needs you most but you aren’t.

So you can’t.

So when crooked nose tightens his grip on your shirt and pulls back a clenched fist, you do little more than steal yourself, shut your eyes and hope to lady luck that he misses your beak.

Because you’re not good at standing up for others. You’re not good at fighting back. You’re not good at protecting your baby cousin. You’re not good at anything, period. All you have is your luck, and even that didn’t help you from getting decked or saving a panic Fethry.

So you clench your teeth and wait for the punch that you probably deserve. At least it’s you he’s punching and not someone else. At least you can do this much.

But that third punch never came. Instead, you feel something pull the bullies grasp from you roughly and in one fluid motion, tearing one of the buttons off your shirt.

The firm presence of his back in front of you, solidly placing itself between you and everyone else, was so warm and familiar that you didn’t even need to open your eyes to recognize it. But slowly, you do anyway.

And Donnie is the same height as you, but you can’t help but be in awe of how broad his shoulders are and how bold his back is as you hide behind it like the eight-year-old you used to do so many years ago. Back when you were smaller and the world was bigger and the bullies were still the same mean jerks they are now. And so many things are different now, but some things you suppose will never change. Like how you still get yourself into stupid situations, and how Don will always be there to get you out of them.

“Touch him again, and you’ll be breathing through a tube, Leopard. I suggest you let that one marinate.” And you can only assume what kind of glare Don was giving him when he said that, but you were glad you were on this side of your cousin and not on the receiving end of that kinda look.

Because Don loses his temper on the daily, and you know a lot of his tantrums are your fault (you can’t help it, you like messing with him) but you’ve only seen him really lose a couple of times. Those few times were never at you, you know better than to push him too far and not push a joke that only meant to tease instead of cut, but they were still terrifying and you felt your blood run cold all the same.

That practically crippling rage and undeniable hatred that turned his vision red and bloodied his palms from shaking nails digging too deep into taut fists. Don didn’t talk about his anger much, not to you anyway, and you can’t very well blame him from what he has disclosed to you.

Basically, it was just as terrifying to him as it was to you, and it feels like your drowning in your own hurt and wrath. And sometimes it feels like you’re sinking slowly, like you can control how far you go, and other times it feels like cement blocks are tied to your feet, pulling you down faster and faster with no bottom in sight.

’The scariest part is not knowing where the bottom is,’ he once told you on a November night, when one of your fights turned a little too physical, a little too real a little too fast, and both of you had to take a breather to cool your heads. It was you who went looking for him, because like all your fights, it was you who was the instigator so it was always you who apologized first, regardless of if you meant it or not.

You found him on the porch swing, looking at his hands like they were covered in some hidden filth you couldn’t see. You sat with him on that porch swing for a long time, not talking and not really noticing how cold it was, just mimicking each others breathing patterns and watching your breath circulate in the yellow porch light before dissolving into nothing.

’It’s blinding, and pitch dark, and you don’t know how far you’ll go until it’s too far, and then once you get there, it’s already too late, and you’re left with nothing else to grab on to pull you back up’.

You don’t really know what he meant then. You still don’t really know what he meant even now. And you don’t try to understand it, because it sounded painful, and so burdening and like it was tearing him apart in places you couldn’t see so you didn’t even have the slightest idea on how to help him.

Hearing his tone of voice was enough to send those spidey sense danger sirens through your skull again and tie knots in your stomach, so you grab onto the back of Don’s jacket and never wonder if you did it to steady yourself or to steady him.

“It’s ok Fethry, Don and I are right here. We’re right outside and we’re gonna get you out. Shhhh, it’ll be ok.”

You attention snapped back beside you, and Della has somehow materialized in front of the locker Fethry was in, speaking soft reassurances like it was her day job, and in that completely captivatingly kind way that had you calm in seconds.

Della always had a way with words, always knew the right things to say, like all it took was a smile off her lips and a kiss to the forehead to make the worst things in life good again. She was good at making the whole world make sense, like how some people were good at making pancakes, and it was evident in the way Fethry remained silent in still from behind the locked door. Probably leaning into Della’s heartened words like you’d learned into a hug, and soaking up all the warmth and love out of them.

“Is Gladdy ok?” You heard him hiccup after a few beats, almost a whisper compared to the blood pounding in your ears. And you felt yourself drop to your knees next to where Della was working on picking the lock with hairpins you didn’t care to wonder how she got.

“I’m right here Feth. I’m ok. Everything is going to be just fine. You’re safe. It’ll only take a few more seconds, just, hang on buddy.” And you ignored the aching bruise you could feel blooming across your jawline and the creased brow Della flashed at you in favor of lying to Fethry for just this moment. You would have told him just about anything he wanted to hear, to be honest, if it meant adding a little of your own warmth in helping make sure Fethry didn’t feel so alone and scared.

You couldn’t save him like you thought you could, but maybe, this could be enough for now.

You ignored the bullies that were now reforming at the edges of the cleared circle of the crowd, glaring at you with what you could only assume were daggers and whispering grudges you didn’t bother trying to hear. You didn’t have to worry about them now that Don was here, folding his arms in front of himself as he stood like a wall between the three of you and the rest of the school with a conviction that would take a tank to tear down.

So with Fethry’s cap tucked away safely in your hands, which at the back of your mind was somehow impressed you managed to hang on to, you focused on helping Della get the locker open. Saying just about everything under the sun that could pass the time and take Fethry’s mind off of things until you all let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding when the lock unhinged with a satisfying click of metal.

And like a bullet out of a gun, Fethry shot out of the locker with so much vigor that neither you or Della had enough time to guard yourselves as he plowed into you, like he couldn’t get out of the dark space fast enough.

And he was crying. Crying the way children did when they were convinced that the monster under their bed would get them, and you were unprepared for the way it broke your heart. He heaved into Della’s shoulder, clutching the folds of her shirt with shaking hands like it was the only lifeline in the world as giant, wild tears rolled down his cheeks. His breathing was hitched and ragged, like he hadn’t been breathing the whole time he was in there, and he gasped for air when he begged ’please don’t let me go back in there, please, I can’t go back in there.’

Della’s arms clung almost as tightly around Fethry as his hold on her, and she pierced you with eyes that glowed with a raw, electric intensity. Something determined setting behind those wide irisis that you could feel in the deepest parts of your soul. And a shared understanding passed between the two of you in the span of a second, one that would be imprinted on both of you for the rest of your lives. “Fethry, it’s ok. You’re safe. I’m here. And I’m never letting go of you again.”

It took what felt like a forever and half, but Donnie was able to scare off the bullies with almost little effort as you, with the help of the 6th grader whose name you learned was Woody, one of the millions of friends Fethry was able to make in his first few days of school, dispersed the crowd who shuffled away agreeably enough, until it was just the four of you standing in the hallway.

Finally, after some soft coaxing, Fethry eased his grasp on Della so that they could both stand up, only letting go of her once to put on his signature cap that you wordlessly offered to him. Della and him stood as far away from the lockers as possible, Fethry leaning into the window side of the hallway as far as he could while you and Don picked up all your backpacks that had been disregarded in the fuss, before you all headed out of the school and into the parking lot.

Gus was waiting for you, his hat laid comfortably over his eyes as he leaned back in the driver seat, stealing a quick nap in the time it took you all to get out of school and you had to bite down the disappointment that dropped in your stomach when you saw that he had decided to bring the old pickup today.

“Fethry and I will ride in the back. Get some air on your faces. It’s a gorgeous sunny afternoon,” Della had declared before anyone else had time to dwell on the fact that no one wanted to squeeze Fethry into the small seats up front. She smiled liked it was common sense and Donald nodded along like it was second nature and opened up the truck door to help them get in, while you piled into the middle seat up front next to Gus, shoving all of your backpacks in the small space behind the seat bench and elbowing Gus awake.

And just like that, you were off down the dusty dirt roads back to Granny’s farm, huddled between Gus and Donald while you kept your eyes squarely on the rearview mirror. Fethry was still glued to Della’s arm but he was smiling that smile that could melt glaciers, and despite the tints of pinks cornering his eyes, you could barely tell that only minutes before, he’d been sobbing like it was the end of the world. You could see his mouth moving, chatting in that amiable way that won him so many smiles from you, but with the windows down, you had no idea what he was saying. It didn’t matter though, because then he was making Della laugh, and holding out his arms under the sunny September sky like it was a blue he could feel.

“So,” you draw out, breaking the silence and tearing your eyes away from the rearview mirror. “He’s claustrophobic.”

“Hmmm? Who is?” Gus asked halfheartedly, but you ignored his question when Donald rested his chin on the back of his palm where his arm was propped on the open window frame.

“Did you know?” He asks, not taking his eyes off the green pastures that pass outside the window, and you know he’s not trying to pick a fight, but something in you shakes with an intense ferocity that makes you want to fight him.

“Of course I didn’t know! How on earth could I have known? He never told me!” You start to shout, but catch your tongue just in time to see Donald turn his attention on you, the blue in his eyes electric with something wild and fierce and protective and you realize that he didn’t know about it either. And it hurt him in a way that it wasn’t supposed to.

“Do you think… he’s always been like this?” Donald probs, and your mind races with the idea.

Because Fethry didn’t keep secrets. He was as open as a threadbare paperback book, with wrinkled pages and dog-eared corners and pressed flowers between the texts that is well worn with years of love and adoration. Fethry was the type of kid with the conscious of a golden retriever puppy and told on himself long before anyone even realized something was broken or missing. And if he did keep one or two secrets, he certainly didn’t keep them from you or Don or Del.

But if he did, you have to wonder why. Why keep this a secret? Fethry looked absolutely sick with fear, his whole body trembling like he was stuck in that locker for far longer than just a handful of minutes. And just seeing the pure panic on his face was enough to make you feel nauseated, like someone was squeezing the most tender parts of your heart with faint ghost fingers. This shouldn’t have been something he should ever have kept to himself. Not a fear like this. Not when it crippled him to the point of earth-shattering tears.

You felt pathetic, for a multitude of reasons, but you supposed that why’s Donnie fixed you with those electric eyes like headlights in the dark when he asked, “How’s your cheek doing? You got slugged pretty hard.”

You resist the urge to run a hand over your jaw just to test its sensitivity and shrug. “Not bad, don’t worry about it. It probably looks worse than it feels.” You lie because it’s easier than letting him worry about you too on top of Fethry’s newly discovered phobia.

You turn your attention back onto the rearview mirror, continually ignoring Gus’s ’Who’re y'all talking about?’s and Donnie’s ’We’ll tell you later’s and not answering back when Don lowly mentions a “We’ll ice it when we get home,” in favor of watching the wind ripple through Della’s hair and threaten to take a hold on Fethry’s cap.

And there was really no arguing further than that, because there were just some things not worth arguing about, and you know better than anyone that sometimes, when the moral is this low and tensions are high, you just need to suck it up and let someone take care and worry about you.

When they got back to the ranch, granny had already left to go to an overnight cattle show that was being held in the next few counties over, so they basically had a run of the night and most of the next day. Since it was a Friday, they didn’t bother with chores or homework and just opted to laze about for the rest of the evening and just piled their backpacks by the foot rack on their way to the kitchen.

It was pretty evident that Fethry was already on the mend, bouncing around and goofing off and cracking bad jokes like his usual 11-year-old self. With all the energy and warmth of the sun, like the incident from only an hour ago never happened, and you couldn’t help but breathe a little and laugh along when he pulled you along into the kitchen to bug Don about dinner plans.

Don caved after about 4 seconds, a new record, of Fethry’s puppy dog stare and let Del call for pizza. However, you didn’t have the same luck (weird, you know) when Don told you to plant your butt in one of the island swivel chairs so that he could take a look at your bruise and you vehemently refused. But you can’t win against Fethry either, when he looked at you with a whole world of worry and guilt, so you shake him off and do as your told, and only complain twice when Don hands you a cold bag of peas wrapped in a wet dish towel to hold against your jaw.

You don’t listen when Fethry tries to apologize, because ’it’s not your fault in the slightest,’ and ‘it’s not a big deal, I’m fine Feth,’ followed closely by ’you should have seen the porker when I clocked him in the throat. Would have tried to aim for his nose but the dude’s stupid tall,’ just to make Fethry laugh. Which he did, and it sounded like chimes and felt like a ray of sunshine that made basically everything bad that ever happened in your life worth it.

The rest of the night was spent binge watching a marathoned Duckwing Duck special and dogpiling on the couch. You were caught somewhere under the arms of Don with your legs resting on the rising and falling chest of a sleeping Gus. And you weren’t really watching the show as much as you were listening to the ramblings of Fethry explaining every poorly executed stunt or fight scene with a wonder and excitement you wished he’d never outgrow.

And you know that what happened today changed you all, left something daunting over your heads that you had to face at one point or another. But right now Gus was snoring soundly at your side, and Don was leaning on you with a comfortably annoying weight that you’d ignore just this once. And he said something that made Della giggle as she peppered the top of Fethry’s head in kisses and Fethry was dozing off with a dopey pizza stained grin on his face, and you thought, this is fine.

These little moments, these tender and raw parts of your hearts that you exposed to each other were something you’d treasure. These were the things you’d die protecting. You’d risk everything for. That you’d work harder to for. To be braver. Stronger. Everything they needed you to be so that it would always, undoubtedly and forever, be fine.