#I got new markers just for this month

[forceofconviction]

New way to monitor my health! Am I tagging reblogs? 😊 Yes! I've got spare energy I can use to type a few words! 💀 No. Energy gone. Essential words only.

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

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[spiderfunkz]

heyy could you do a peter parker blurb based on him asking you out on the last day of school? i love ur writing btw

✧ LOVE ON A LAST DAY.

summary : someone has a pretty crush on you!

word count : 0,7k

contains : fluff, fem!reader, super cutesy stuff.

a/n : next month i'll be graduating so this prompt is actually perfect omg omg, thank u for requesting anon i hope u like this !!! 🤭 i used the word 'smile' so much in this i apologize

"hey, peter!"

you waved cheerfully,

it was the last day of school. the final bell just rang and everyone is running out of the building yelling, cheering, crying, and smiling. papers were scattered, pens fell out of backpacks, shirts were signed, and flowers were exchanged.

you were going to hangout with your friends but that's when you spot peter at the end of the hall. hair messy, backpack full, his hands were in his pocket, he looked very nervous.

but you weren't going to leave him alone like that, it's been a while since you two have catched up.

you have been friends since middle-school, but as friends do, they drift apart, though you've never lost that spark with peter. you loved his company & he loved yours.

"hi!" peter waved.

you catch up to him, "hey, i didn't see you anywhere today! you haven't gotten a chance to sign my jacket yet. here," you pass a marker.

"i saved you a spot to sign." he nods, signing it.

you smile, "aw, this looks perfect."

he smiles too, he seems to be very smiley every time he's around you.

sometimes he forgets that you can see how much he smiles when he's near you, or how you can see that he's clearly staring at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you rub your cheek,

"oh, no. no you don't, sorry."

"you sure?"

he nods.

"you're weirdly quiet. you okay? i'm still going to the same college as you if that's what you're worrying about," you giggle.

peter has always loved how easy you are to talk to. in a way that there's never awkward pauses between conversations, and how your smile makes everything feel so calm and nice.

"i know. i just, uh-" he fiddles with something in his pocket, "there's something i wanna say, if that's okay."

"yeah, why wouldn't it not be okay?"

he shakes his head, smiling.

he passes you a picture from his pocket along with a small flower he picked.

you take it, your hand softly brushing his hand for a second.

it was a picture he took 2 months ago. you remember the day very well.

it was hot, awfully hot for new york. there were no clouds, the skies were clear and everybody was talking about it. how eager they are to take a walk and how excited they are to enjoy time outside.

though you and peter wanted nothing more but to stay inside, but this doesn't happen everyday. so why not try your best to enjoy it?

you were at the park and just finished your 2nd cup of lemonade (it was peter's), peter brought his camera for memories. your hair kept sticking to your face and it didn't help that you were smiling a ton so it got in your lipgloss as well.

suddenly wind came and flew past you. the air felt cool for a second and your hair went all over your face, you still smiled though.

peter saw and took a picture immediately, the sun perfectly leaving a glow on your hair, also giving your lips a nice glow.

"did you just take a picture?" he quickly shook his head, "yes you did! let me see!" — "no! i know you're just gonna delete it."

you finally saw the picture. at the bottom you can see a handwritten note on it. a beautiful day with the most beautiful girl!

"peter, this is so cute. you- you took this?" you asked, he nods shyly.

you couldn't hide the fact that your face grew red. "i was wondering... if maybe the most beautiful girl in the world would like to maybe.. like to.. go out with me sometimes..?"

peter said, whispering the last few words, looking down at his shoes, the doodled converses you once drew on.

you smile, "i'd love to."

he looks up, shocked. "really?"

"yeah! i mean all of this coming from the most prettiest, talented, caring boy in the world? how could i say no?" you smile, teasingly.

peter smiles.

he thinks for a second before taking the small flower from your hands and tucking it behind your ear, "pretty." he says, stated actually.

"so are you going to walk me home now, most beautiful boy in the world?" you ask. he nods almost immediately, "absolutely, most perfect girl in the world."

you walk outside the building, your hand holding his.

"just so you know i'm gonna draw a big red heart around your signature on my jacket."

[fadingdaggerr]

Can you make a fic based on my two fav melissa schementti fantasies

melissa calling reader by pet names and making them completely flustered x melissa making reader jealous on purpose

basically all this happens before they date/confess

and when melissa has had enough of reader not making any moves and hiding from her, melissa takes charge and ends up making out w reader.

i know this is a little difficult to write but tysm i really love ur fics 😭🫶🫶

wishful thinking

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above!

warnings/includes: ridiculously clueless!r and a not clueless mel, gary but only for plot purposes, making out

translations: gioia (joy/happiness), tesoro (darling/treasure), gavone (pig/slob)

note: i’m so sorry i haven’t been active. i’ve been dealing with a lot the last few months and haven’t had even a second to breathe. better note at the end <3

Melissa would never admit to anyone how much she liked the effect she had on you. She loved to watch your head duck down nervously when she complimented you or guided you along with a hand on your lower back. Every single time she left the light tremor of your body, but not once did she mention it. You were glad she couldn’t feel your heartbeat the moment her attention was on you.

—

The first time she noticed it changed her entire perspective on you.

Melissa wasn’t the kind to talk to the new hires, the turnover rates at Abbott were laughable and they never stayed more than a couple of months. But after a few months, she started to pay attention. Over time, she got to see just how much you really cared for the kids. She had stopped by to ask if you had an extra purple whiteboard marker, but she was met with the sight of you kneeling in front of one of your students, big, sad tears in her eyes. She could just barely hear the mutterings of I know it hurts sweetie and the one that made a little smile cross her lips, of course I have shark band-aids, what am i? A chump? She sees you start to stand to grab the bandage and decides to move now before she gets caught staring.

Right as she steps close to you, you rise and spin around. Your action staggers as you notice her form too late, and nearly falling as you try to avoid running into her, nearly. Strong hands grasp your upper arms, saving you from landing flat on your ass.

Your head tilts up to face her, finally registering that it was Melissa. It takes you a second to breathe before you let out a little, “thank you.”

“Of course, hon. My fault anyways,” she says with a small smile. There’s an almost too long pause before she realizes her hands are still on your arms, dropping them immediately to fold them across her chest. You’re almost in a daze just looking at her, but you have to keep up appearances.

“Did you need something?” You say with a soft smile. Melissa noticed how your eyes never left hers for a second after she called you hon, she also thinks that you’d never looked her in the eyes before then. It had never gone unnoticed that you always looked at her bangs or the frame of her glasses whenever you’d spoken before.

Interesting... Melissa thinks to herself.

—

And then Melissa began to see a pattern.

You’d given her the extra dollar she needed for her iced tea, four quarters stacked tails-up in front of her. She didn’t ask anyone, only sighed when she checked her purse.

“Thanks sweetheart,” Melissa said without really thinking.

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before you catch yourself, accompanied by a quick inhale. Licking your lips and averting your eyes from her, you quietly say, “yeah. of course, anytime.”

Barbara must notice Melissa’s intrigue suddenly and speaks up, “dear, why don’t you come sit with us? I don’t think we’ve gotten a chance to know each other just yet.”

This marked the start of yours and Melissa’s friendship.

—

“You got plans Saturday?” Melissa says as she pours a cup of coffee into her Tucci mug.

You look up from your phone and take a breath in, “I have lunch with my cousin at noon, but I’m free later on. Why, what do you have planned?”

“That flea market’s coming back around, the one with the good antiques and the petting zoo,” you almost speak but she cuts you off, “oh, and that apple cider you liked.”

You smile at her remembering that detail before responding, “yeah, that sounds perfect. I can text you when I leave the diner.” Your voice thankfully doesn’t seem to give away how nervous you were trying not to seem. You take a sip from your mug to hide yourself for a moment.

“Great. I’m looking forward to it, babe,” she says through a sip of her own coffee. She stays just long enough to watch you nearly choke on your tea, and then slips out to walk to her classroom with a satisfied smirk on her face.

—

At the development week meeting, she turned to see you looking around for a place to sit. When you miss her wave to get your attention, she decides to yell your name across the gymnasium to get you to look in her direction. Your head whips her way, a grateful smile on your face when you see her waving you over. She decidedly loves the shy smile that was reserved for only her.

Stepping over nurse Makiah to get to the free seat, you finally plop down next to the redhead. Something possesses Melissa and her arm moves on its own to rest across the back of your seat, hand resting on your arm. She feels you stiffen for a moment, almost thinking she’d overstep, but you relax into her touch.

“You didn’t have to save me a seat. These are prime real estate to bleacher-leaners,” you mumble to her as one of the eighth grade teachers goes on about something that wasn’t as important as her fingers tracing little patterns over your shirt.

Melissa chuckles lightly, squeezing your shoulder lightly. She leans in to answer, “but then I wouldn’t have you sitting here, tesoro.” Your eyes go to your lap as you fail to hide the smile from her words, making the redhead’s heart rate pick up.

“You’re too nice to me, Schemmenti,” you say as you lift your head, with what little courage you have, to look at her and smile, leaning into her for a second.

—

Then an idea struck Melissa

Tuesday was vending machine restock day. Tuesday was your new least favorite day of the week. Totally unrelated.

Gary, the vending machine guy, had started a habit of flirting with Melissa. He started with giving her a free iced tea straight from the truck, and then chatting, then complimenting, and then just straight up checking her out with no shame. Every time he entered the room, your voice died in your throat, and your eyes stayed trained on him with a special kind of hatred. You were at least thankful Melissa hadn’t noticed the rage you felt when he had a conversation with her breasts. Melissa, in fact, did notice.

She watched how you stared daggers into his back as he spoke to her, completely unaware of her attention flicking to you every now and then. Your fork angrily stabbed at the lunch she’d brought you, not a single bite being taken since the vendor walked in the door. The more forward Gary got, the quieter and angrier you became. Once he left and Melissa’s focus went back to you entirely, as it always was, your shoulders relaxed and the assault on the pasta stopped.

Melissa decides she has a theory to test. She plays into Gary’s flirting some more, enough that the man is clearly picking up on it, and your hand stills. By the third week, Barbara is begging her to go on a date with the man.

“Girl, he likes you. You should give it a shot, he’s a nice man. Handsome too,” Barbara says with enthusiasm. Your eyes roll as you look at your phone, trying to tune out this conversation. Your resolve cracks a little when Ava mumbles that’s generous in response to Barbara’s comment, a tiny chuckle espacing you.

The kindergarten teacher nudges your hand, “don’t you think she should go for it?”

You struggle with trying to not just flat out say no so instead you settle with, “yeah. Gary seems really nice.” The thin smile on your face is unconvincing to both women, and it’s easy to read on both their faces. You quickly grab your stuff and stand, “I’m gonna head back to my room and pass out their math quizzes. I’ll see you later.”

Once the door closes behind you, Barbara looks at Melissa, “what was that?”

Melissa just shrugs, feigning obliviousness.

When Gary finally gets the nerve to ask her out, she laughs and agrees. You think the gods above must have it out for you, not letting you escape any interaction between the two. The fork in your hand just stabs harder at the food in the tupperware. After watching with a tinge of regret, Melissa finally speaks up.

“You alright over there, gioia?” She asks, her voice filled with real concern. You look at her for a moment, considering what to say, but settle with a nod. When your gaze drops again, you miss her lips dipping into a small frown.

—

Monday morning after the big date, you realize that being in the lounge was a mistake. You should have known to go straight to your classroom, but the need to see Melissa overrode your actions.

As you walked in, everyone was facing Melissa and asking her about every little detail of the date. Where’d they go? Was the food good? Did he offer to pay it all or ask to split the bill? What did she wear? She gives them all they want to hear, and only Ava asks what you didn’t want to know.

“Cut the bull. Did you let him hit or not?”

A chorus of AVA! goes around the room.

The redhead just sighs before answering, “why did you say it like that? And no, I did not ‘let him hit,’ Ava.” You hate that some tension leaves your shoulders after that. The rest of the time is spent with your eyes trained at the floor and ringing in your ears.

Melissa regrets her idea a lot more when she stops seeing your smile altogether and your eyes stop meeting hers.

—

She finally snaps.

Janine had planned to make a whole outing for the Abbott crew, inviting everyone out to a new arcade-bar that Erica had told her about. She’d told Melissa that she should invite Gary, saying that everyone wanted to meet him in a social setting and not just in the ten minutes he was in the school every Tuesday. Inviting Gary couldn’t hurt, she reasoned.

Gary’s phone went to voicemail for the fifth time and all eight of her texts were unanswered. He said he would come, that he wanted to meet everyone for real, but now he was a no show. Melissa felt like a teenager again, getting stood up by her date to homecoming while she waited outside for him. She turned to walk back in, almost running into you as you were coming to check on her.

“Everything alright?” You ask, knowing the answer already since she can’t hide her emotions well when she’s upset.

She huffs a laugh, “peachy. Jackass said he would be here almost an hour ago and won’t return my calls or anything.”

“Want me to beat him up for you?” You ask jokingly, but there’s a certain hope she’ll say yes that sits in your chest. Your heart almost can’t handle it when she smiles at your words, arm looping with yours as she drags you to the pinball machines.

You’d probably lost a student-loan payment in quarters by the time either of you had even won a single game you played. In the course of two hours, both of you had only managed to get a collective hundred tickets that could maybe win you each an eraser. Melissa pretends to not notice you cheating in the driving games, and you pretend not to notice her taking quarters from your cup.

You watch an equally competitive Ava and Melissa play a scary-good match of air hockey, each of them likely to have bruises on their knuckles by the end of the night from how hard they played. Each time she scored, the redhead’s eyes moved to you for approval, and each time she’s met with a little applause and smile from you.

“Wasn’t your man supposed to be here? Or were the Kit-Kats not behaving?” Ava says when they finally take a break from the game to take a drink.

Melissa just shrugs, “he hasn’t answered anything. If the gavone decides to say anything, then he’ll be getting an earful, or a bat to the head. Depends on what he says.”

“Do you even like this idiot?” Ava asks incredulously, saying exactly what you’d been thinking for weeks since they’d had their first date.

Melissa shrugs, “he’s alright. The first date was nice, but the rest have just been him trying to get in my pants.”

“Well,” Ava’s brows bounced a couple times, “are you gonna let him in or not?”

You check out entirely before listening to Melissa’s answer, not even caring how suddenly you left the conversation, just letting your legs carry you until you could finally breathe. You find yourself back with the old pinball machines that no one but you and Melissa had played. Only a few seconds of silence manages to pass before you hear the muffled stomp of boots on carpet, stopping right behind you.

“You gonna tell me what that was?” Melissa asks with your back facing her.

You should have known it was her that would follow you. Part of you wanted to lie and say that the drinks made you feel sick, but you both knew that they were too watered down to even intoxicate a toddler. The other part of you just wanted to scream about how it should be you on those dates with her, driving her home and walking her to the door. You turned to meet her eyes and any courage you had left, feeling like putty when she was so focused on you and you alone. Even though you know what her response will be, you just say, “it was nothing. I’ll be back inside in a minute.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” she says, stepping closer, “you’ve been doing that a lot lately. Just... I dunno, just leaving. You can be in the same room as me and it feels like you’re miles away.”

Your gaze drops to your feet, suddenly feeling insecure now that you know she’s noticed your behavior. You put all your energy into stabling your voice and keeping your lips from quivering at the thought of upsetting her. All you can muster in a tiny voice is, “I’m sorry.”

Melissa surprises you by pulling you into a tight hug, whispering to you, “is this about Gary?” Your heart stops at her words, knowing you’d been found out. The lack of answer and the way your body stiffens tells Melissa everything she needs to know, what she already knew.

Melissa knows that you’ll likely try to explain away anything the second she loosens her hold on you, that you’ll run and she’ll never get this close ever again. So she does the only thing that she can think of at this moment.

As she pulls away, Melissa’s hands cup your face, pulling you into her lips. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel her lips press against yours, soft and eager. After a moment, she realizes you’re not kissing her back, her heart cracking as she pulls away from you, ready to run. Her hands drop from your face, eyes blinking rapidly as doubt clouds her mind. Your mind catches up, realizing what had just happened. Melissa begins to turn to leave, but is stopped by your hand in hers. You tug her back to you, cupping her face and leaning forward to finally kiss her back.

She tasted like lipstick and watery vodka, her hands were warm against your wrists where they held tightly. Your mind was in hyperdrive as you took in her lips and her touch, hardly noticing her moving you until your hips met the game behind you. Melissa’s lips parted, her tongue brushing across your bottom lip to ask for entry. You were quick to allow her in, letting her dominate your lips as her hands dropped to grab at your waist. The taste of her lips and tongue became quickly addictive, the feeling even more so. Your hands migrate from her face to her hair, pulling her even closer to you as the kiss turns sloppy from the sheer desperation radiating from both of you.

Melissa’s hands grab at your hips harder as you tug at copper strands, cold fingers creeping under your shirt to rest against warm skin. The force of her body leaning further into you boggles the machine you’re pressed against making a loud buzzer sound and the automated voice yell just a quarter to play! The sudden noises make you both jump, breaking the kiss. Your eyes meet and you both stifle a laugh at the whole thing. Her lips immediately gravitate back to yours, this time softer. The smile you feel against your lips brings your own out, breaking the kiss again. You drop your head against her shoulder, basking in her presence and her hands on your skin.

“You knew,” is all you say, voice muffled against her shirt.

She smiles and rests her head against yours, “I did.”

“How long?”

“The whole time, give or take,” she’s a little surprised when your head pops up, almost smacking her chin.

Your eyes stare straight into hers, “and you said nothing?”

“You didn’t say shit either, don’t even start,” she says with a laugh, no malice hiding in her voice. Her only response is a grumble that sounds something like touché.

There’s so much love behind your eyes, it chokes her up. The way your eyes never left hers, something she missed in the last month, made her feel like the most precious stone. She looks at you for a moment longer before quietly asking, “can I kiss you again?”

The smallest smile crosses your lips as you answer in an equally quiet tone, “you can kiss me whenever you want, Schemmenti.”

feedback appreciated as always <3

note: again i’m sorry for not being active. i started school again and have been working full time while also being a full time student. i also had a death in the family that hit me very hard mentally and i had to take a step back as to not end up in the hospital. i’m going to try to be more active and take time to write more. thank u for being so patient. ilyvm

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 1/2)

Inspired by this braindead rejected soulmates au post by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2. More art at the end!

Part II

Tim slumped down on the edge of an apartment building, leaning his weight against the rooftop’s fence. The alleyways below were deserted, criminals retreating to get a couple hours of sleep before sunrise. A perfect setting to catch a breather before ending his patrol for the night.

The Red Robin suit still felt wrong on him. He thought waiting a week to get accustomed to it would help, but he might have made a mistake when he tried to adjust it to be as close to his Robin uniform as possible without it being obvious. He’d have to remember to alter it further the next time he got the chance, to see if wearing something entirely different would finally make him stop checking the shadows for Bruce. Patrolling Gotham alone felt too much like admitting he was really gone.

Just as he was about to move on, the rooftop access door slammed open.

Tim nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around, ready to either apologize, attack, or flee, when he met familiar glowing green eyes.

Subconsciously, he let himself breathe easy as he took in the other’s appearance.

Phantom was an anomaly at the best of times. A phantom thief by definition, the criminal had simply appeared one day to cause chaos—lingering only to taunt his pursuers as he made a daring escape with whatever priceless treasure of the month. His motives were unknown, as was virtually anything about him besides his calling card (a green sticky note with nothing but ‘BOO’ written in permanent black marker), appearance, and a meta ability to phase through objects.

Of course, one couldn’t be a phantom thief without a detective rival (or so the thief in question claimed). For some reason, Phantom had outright declared not Batman, but Robin for the role. Tim couldn’t count how many sleepless nights were spent chasing after him, face red from a mixture of exertion and embarrassment. Because it wasn’t enough for the admittedly good-looking criminal roughly his age to run circles around him. No, the jerk had to go out of his way to flirt with him the whole time.

He hadn’t even thought about how Phantom would react to there being a new Robin. But looking at him now, a small part of Tim couldn’t help but feel selfishly glad. From what he could see of the furious expression on his shadowed face and glowing eyes, it wasn’t hard to see that Phantom was taking the change about as well as Tim was.

“I leave for two weeks, and suddenly there’s a new Batman and Robin?! What the fuck, Detective—you’d think to at least have the decency to tell a guy, but nooo, I had to find out through goddamn Victor Fries!”

Tim blinked, “Didn’t Mr. Freeze retire after someone brought his wife back?”

Phantom paused his fury, shrugging a bit. “Nora keeps track of everything happening in Gotham in case something her husband did to save her comes back to bite them.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway! It took me going after Victor to ask why there was a new Robin for me to hear that the actual Batman was dead, Gotham went berserk for a while as every other guy tried to take up the position, and somewhere along the lines you got the grand idea to add ‘red’ to your name! Which makes no sense, since you practically lived for that mantle and I would’ve bet that you’d take it past the grave if given the chance.”

Tim winced. As per usual, Phantom’s words hit home in more ways than intended.

The thief stopped short, the glowing of his eyes intensifying as he looked over Tim’s new identity. Tim didn’t move as soundless footsteps strode forward, not even pausing as Phantom phased through the chain link fence to sit a couple feet away from him.

He could count on one hand the number of times Phantom had done this. One second they’d be exchanging insults, and then suddenly the criminal would stop and stare, feeling like he was gazing into the depths of Tim’s very soul. Each time, he called off their chase, insisting that Tim take a break and talk to someone about whatever was troubling him. It was uncanny how he could somehow tell when Tim’s negative feelings were overwhelming his rational thought—Batman himself would use Phantom encounters to measure Tim’s wellbeing at times.

Looking back, it was odd how Phantom would insert himself into every aspect of Robin’s life, but back off the second he sensed something was wrong. He’d call attention to whenever Tim was particularly anxious, once even physically dragging Bruce over to ‘talk to your son when he’s sad’, but never offer any comfort himself. But here they were, Phantom obviously seeing something Tim could never hope to conceal, with no Bruce nearby to summon and make things better.

Tim’s throat clogged at the reminder of yet another little thing Bruce might never get to do again. He couldn’t be dead, not with how many times Tim checked the body and struggled to recognize the man who’d become like a father to him. 

“...I…I know we’re not exactly friends, Detective. But if you need to get something off your chest, I swear to never use it against you.” Phantom fidgeted with his cloak. From this close a distance, Tim could see the faint glimmer of sparkling purple constellations embroidered on the inside. For some reason, the sight of the soft fabric never failed to calm his nerves.

(It reminded him of a time long ago, when he held a gel ink pen and asked a mystery person to quit whatever they were doing that left his arms covered in star charts that didn’t match anything in the Earth’s night sky.)

He didn’t dare force himself to speak, for fear he might break this tentative peace. Thankfully, Phantom seemed to be taking initiative that night.

“...did you know that I used to be a teen hero?”

Tim’s head jerked upright, meeting Phantom’s eyes. It was impossible to tell exactly what expression he was making behind the mask, but he got a sense of bitter nostalgia. “You never talk about your past.”

A scoff, “Yeah, ‘cause it’s depressing as fuck. Not exactly the sort of thing you can talk about causally.”

He chewed his lip, thinking. “Your suit…minus the cloak, it looks reminiscent of a uniform.”

Phantom fiddled with a cylinder hooked on his belt. It was the only piece of tech visible on his person, a modified soup thermos that somehow served as a near infinite item storage. Impressive, if not odd.

“Yeah, the cloak is more of a blanket than anything else. I added it on when I got tired of looking at the same clothes I used to save my hometown in. It…I didn’t become a hero for fame. It was more trouble than it was worth, honestly. You guys nowadays have so much better support systems than when I was in the business. Makes me wonder if…” he trailed off.

“...why’d you stop?” Tim asked gently, more than willing to throw himself into this new mystery now that he knew it was there.

“It was too much. Everyone wanted me gone, even the people I was protecting. I was hated for my powers, for not always being on the scene when I was needed, for not ending fights faster and for the property damage my villains caused. I didn’t live in a place with metahuman protection laws. The few people that knew my secret identity got tired of superhero life and ditched the first chance they got.” He sighed, “I was hurting, and was desperate for a way out.”

Tim frowned, “So you moved to Gotham and started stealing?”

Phantom snorted. “Nah, I was fucked up for a while after I ran away. It’s funny, one of my rogues was the first to track me down and drag me to a hospital to get my injuries checked. Like a dozen of them got together for an intervention, I thought I was finally losing my grip on reality. I spent a couple months recovering, then took one of them up on a suggestion to try causing trouble for a change. Not anything super bad, but…”

“...enough to feel more in control?” Tim suggested. It wasn’t uncommon for people in bad situations to commit minor crimes, both for the adrenaline and the power rush. Tim himself had once poured his whole soul into tracking and photographing Gotham’s nighttime birds. A hobby that was more than a bit cringe-worthy in hindsight, and definitely creepy considering how much effort he put into stalking his idols. Honestly his young age was the only reason he didn’t get put on a watchlist when he revealed himself to Bruce. That, and the whole I-know-your-secret-identity thing.

“Oof. Yeah, that’s a way to put it. Being hated hurt less when that’s what I was aiming for, y’know?”

Tim tilted his head. “I never hated you.”

A derisive laugh, “Uh-huh. And you loved being led on goose chases when there were more important ways to spend your time.”

“I’m serious.” Tim shifted so that he was better facing Phantom. He didn’t know why, but couldn’t stand the thought of Phantom leaving tonight convinced he was universally hated. “You only make a scene on quiet nights, and you always slowed down for me whenever I had to stop and intervene on some other crime. And you only target the private collections of rich people. Not anyone whose life would be ruined by something getting stolen. You even go out of your way to make sure the guards on duty don’t get in trouble, even when it puts you in a strategically worse position. And…”

He hesitated. Bruce wouldn’t approve…but then again, there was that weird relationship he had with Selina.

“And it was fun. To chase you. It was challenging and frustrating, but your appearance meant that there was nothing else to worry about that night. We could just run regular patrols.”

Oracle was the one to make the connection. Tim didn’t know where along the lines it became an accepted fact, only that Bruce was more comfortable about Robin patrolling alone when Phantom was making a move. A miracle considering what happened to the last one.

Phantom blinked, frowning a bit before his eyes went wide, a shaky smile forming on his lips. “Thanks…it was fun for me too. Kinda the whole reason I kept setting up scenes for Robin to find.”

Tim laughed. The sound startled both of them—he didn’t remember the last time he genuinely smiled like this. It had to be sometime before Bruce was gone, at least.

“So…” Phantom hopped down on the railing of a balcony below, balancing precariously in the way that only he could. He looked up at Tim with an easygoing smile that did little to hide the concern underneath. “As your self-proclaimed favorite rogue, wanna tell me what’s up with the sudden change?”

He shifted a bit, grin fading. “Well…Batman died. He was facing Darkseid and got hit. After the chaos died down, Nightwing took up the mantle and made Batman’s son the new Robin, to help him grieve or something.”

“I don’t know where to start with that.” Phantom adjusted his hood, briefly revealing tan skin underneath. “You sound like you didn’t have a say in it. Wasn’t Robin yours?”

Something bitter worked its way up through Tim’s chest. “It was a borrowed title anyway. I only took it up to help Batman, so it makes sense that I was dismissed—”

“No.”

“—after huh?”

Phantom strode up to him, poking a finger at his knee. “You love being Robin. You don’t have to justify losing your identity. It could’ve been taken in the name of world peace for all I care, that doesn’t make it any less shitty. You just lost someone super important to you, and your connection to them was taken because someone thought your grief was less important. I don’t care who the current one is, you are just as much Batman’s son.”

Tim couldn’t help the small sob that escaped. Or when it doubled, and tears started burning at his eyes. He rubbed at them in an attempt to stop them before they could make his mask go hot and sticky, but was startled out of it by a soft weight being thrown over him. He looked up to see Phantom leaning over him, securing the hood of his cloak over Tim’s own head.

“You looked like you needed some comfort. It’s weighted.” Phantom shrugged.

“...thanks.” Tim pulled it closer, more than happy to latch onto yet another new focus. “How do you move so easily in this? It feels like I’m being hugged by gravity.”

Phantom chuckled, and it was at that moment Tim suddenly realized the other was floating in the air over him. Since when has he been able to fly?

“I use intangibility a lot, but it’s not my only power. It felt like overkill to use more than that in my heists. So I didn’t.”

Tim groaned, “You were going easy on me this whole time?”

“Oh, definitely not. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but intangibility is arguably the most pain in the ass thing to counter. I’m being annoying on purpose.”

Phantom grinned, and Tim couldn’t help but analyze the full sight of him. Everything from his teeth to his ears was pointed, a sharp contrast to the wispy white hair that flowed smoothly in a nonexistent breeze. The most attention grabbing was a glowing green mark resembling a gash across his chest, roughly in the place where a hero would wear their logo. The sight of it made Tim’s own chest ache.

“I don’t think Batman is dead.” He said suddenly.

“What makes you say that?” Phantom asked, reclining on empty air. 

It wasn’t denial, not calling him insane or lost in grief. For the first time since his fight with Dick, Tim felt as though he could breathe again. “I know it sounds crazy, there’s no proof—”

“Woah woah woah,” Phantom reached forward, gently pulling Tim’s hands away from where he had started pulling at his hair. “Slow down. Walk me through your thought process.”

“It just…it doesn’t feel right. Not that I can’t believe it if he died, but this specifically doesn’t feel right. I’d feel it if Br-Batman was dead…there was a whole cloning facility where Batman’s body was found.”

That seemed to spark interest in Phantom’s eyes. “You think the body was a clone?”

“Why would someone as powerful and precise as Darkseid drop everything and kill someone he was in the process of cloning? Why was he even trying to clone Batman specifically? We’re missing something, and I think Darkseid is using everyone’s grief to cover his plan.”

Phantom propped his chin on his hand, deep in thought. “Darkseid…I’ve heard that name before. Does he have something to do with time or space?”

Tim practically sagged in relief. “He can travel freely through both, and has a host of other abilities that give Superman a run for his money.”

He snapped his fingers, “Ah, that Darkseid! Yeah, if he wanted Bats dead there wouldn’t be a body left. I’d bet my collection he’s lost in time somewhere.”

“Thank you!” Tim gestured wildly, “You’re officially the first person to hear me out. Like, is it really so hard to believe?”

“No probs, Detect-o. It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard, by far.”

“Exactly,” Tim huffed, leaning back and sighing. “Now I just have to convince the Justice League so they can go back in time and grab him.”

“Why not just get him yourself?”

Tim glanced over to where Phantom hung in the sky. “Unless you’re also hiding time powers in there, we kinda need the League to get to him. Plus I don’t even know when in time he is.”

“Lucky for you, I know a guy,” Phantom grinned. “The Master of Time messaged me this mornin’, something about stopping Batman from breaking the time space continuum. It’s why I’m back in Gotham so soon.”

“You…know the Master of Time.”

“Yep!” He popped the p.

“And they messaged you.”

Phantom hummed, “You can imagine how it went when I tried to confront Batman a couple hours ago. The new Robin’s a menace, if I was any slower you’d have to deal with a Phantom shish kebab.”

Tim winced. It was never fun to be on the wrong end of Damian’s katana. Still, he focused back on the insanity at hand. “So you’re saying you can just go back and rescue Batman right now?”

“Now that I know what’s happening, yeah. Clocky probably already has a portal ready for me. Batman will be back before you can say ‘Gotham’!”

It was inconceivable. To think, the living nightmare of the past weeks would be over, just like that. His brain was screaming at him that this was some sort of cruel setup, that there was no way Phantom was telling the truth. There had to be a catch somewhere, some kind of punchline in the sick comedy that was the life of Tim Drake.

But his heart, the part of him that just wanted his dad back won out.

“What’s stopping you? You’re not usually one to wait for a window of opportunity.”

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. “No, but I distinctly remember waiting for a certain vigilante. I was wondering if…you’d like to come with?”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “You’re inviting me, a vigilante who has attempted to arrest you dozens of times…to travel back in time to save Batman, another vigilante who has tried to put you under arrest.”

“Emphasis on tried,” Phantom joked, before turning serious. “I mean it—it’s your family. Besides, it could be fun. You come with me on a time heist, instead of sitting back here worrying your pretty head off with all the ways things could go wrong. And you get to tell everyone else ‘I told ya so’ when you save Batman on your own.”

He tried to work his mind through what Phantom was offering. To be able to fix things, maybe not go back to the way they used to be (Damian might actually kill him if he ever wore Robin again) but to have Bruce back. It wasn’t even a question.

No matter how smart Tim was, how he tried to plan things in advance the way Bruce did, he never stopped being the lonely kid who would sneak out at night to shadow his heroes. When Phantom reached out to offer a hand, Tim didn’t hesitate.

“You’re wrong, though.”

Phantom blinked, firmly gripping Tim’s hand without hurting him. “About what?”

“I wouldn’t be saving Batman on my own. We’d be doing it together.”

A fanged grin matched his own, blinding him to the swirling green portal that formed around them. Before Tim could so much as wonder if he maybe should’ve messaged someone about what he was setting off to do, they were already gone.

— - —

This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it got a bit long so I decided to split it up.

I really love this au, but I noticed that everyone has a tendency to hone in on the angst so much that the characters behind it get a bit lost in the process. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I wanted to try my hand at writing the misunderstandings without making either of them at fault.

(Insert rant about how the whole point of soulmates is that this person is a match for you, so even if you fundamentally are not good for each other you still get where the other person is coming from. There's so much more angst potential in not being able to hate someone no matter what they do to hurt you, but I digress.)

But yeah, let the boys heal and be happy! Also this is the closest I've gotten to actually writing romance and that's not saying much XD

Here's the design I drew for Phantom Thief!Danny. Feel free to drop an ask, I'd love to ramble more about this :D

[beababoobies]

Hey, could you please do an angel dust x emo reader?

I am going to be using NB!reader for this but please do know I’m quite aware Angel is gay! He is canonically gay and I think that’s cool yippers ok lesgo 🙏🙏 by Emo I wasn’t sure exactly what you meant so I went with like an angry moody bitch with a 2000s MySpace Emo sort of aesthetic. If you want something diff feel free to re-request and specify! Thatz it :3 </3 (also Emo community please don’t attack me you guys are so cool I’m scared of you. I know corpse paint is gothic I swear please you guys are so cool).

Corpse Paint

Angel Dusk X Emo!NB!Reader

words : 1k , warning for mentions of sexual trauma!

You had been staying in this fucking hotel for months. Did it suck ass? Yes. Did you kind of maybe despise half the people here? Oh, absolutely. But - free place to crash, and it’s not like you were doing much with your days anyways, so the “rehabilitation” excersizes only got positivity-toxic half the time. Plus, Charlie let you skip out on them. Her little girlfriend didn’t though, so you were usually there dejectedly. Not anything worse than your highschool experience. 

But you also had Angel. Anthony. Whatever he let you call him depending on the day. And he was half the reason you stayed here. The amount of times you’ve crawled into bed with him and cried? You hadn’t cared to keep track of anymore. A long day, night - of shooting scenes, and you gently comforted him while he laid tiredly in bed, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. Plus, you liked his pig. You and fat nuggets would hangout whenever he was gone. 

You wouldn’t consider your relationship too romantic, but it was unbelievably supportive. You two didn’t really get intimate, due to his work, he didn’t trust anyone he was intimate with. He told you that that could change, but you reassured him over and over that it didn’t ever have to. You were happy gently comforting him. You were happy drinking with him, you were happy to be around him.

That didn’t mean he was completely touch-adverse, though. You exchanged small pecks on the cheeks, held hands - though not publicly, due to some of his fans obsessive behaviours - cuddled up. Charlie had offered to just let you guys share a room, but you had rejected the idea and shut it down pretty quickly. You loved each other very dearly, but sometimes you just needed space. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, though. You, head resting in his lap as he scrolled on his phone, your 2000s MySpace mix playing softly in the background as you looking through a new catalogue of Hell’s Most Edgy with a marker, circling anything you liked, Fat Nuggets sleeping soundly at Angel’s feet, snoring loudly. But adorably. 

“I have a favor to ask.” Angel mumbled out nervously. He hated asking for anything. Especially from someone he had already asked so much of. But you just nodded silently, circling a new, shiny pair of black platforms, before looking up at him with a small smile. “‘Sup, Webs?” You asked, tilting your head as you sat up properly.

“I - well, Val wants to do this shoot today, but he wants me to do Corpse paint. I don’t know how to do.. that. So I was wondering if you could help me out?” He asks with a nervous smile, only to watch the smile on your face grow wide, nodding excitedly as you hopped quickly off the bed to run to your room to get your makeup, disturbing a now cranky Fat Nuggets, who oinked at Angel before walking over to his bed to fall back to sleep. 

You came back into his room, closing the door quietly behind you, box of white cream foundation and a million sticks of eyeliner and other black makeup pencils, along with some dramatic statement lashes and lash glue, sitting down next to him on the bed on your knees, gesturing for him to sit up with his legs out straight. You straddled him softly, opening your box of makeup.

“So, this feels - kind of gross to put on. Gonna survive that?” You ask with a smile, tilting your head as he nodded with a small chuckle. “I’ve had much worse on my face.” He says with a wink and a smile. “I’ll survive.” He says with a shrug as you brush some of his fluff out of his face, starting to paint the thick white foundering over his pale pink fur, watching him awakward my try to avoid eye contact, hands awkwardly shifting, trying not to touch your thighs.

“You can put your hands on my thighs, it’s okay. I’m not going to initiate anything.” You say reassuringly and watch as one of his pairs of hands rest comfortably on your thighs, the other set holding up a mirror so he can see the work you’re doing. You watch him visibly relax slightly. He always is a little paranoid about people trying to be intimate with him - reasonably so - so you make sure to quietly reassure him in these moments. 

It takes a couple thick layers of the face paint to get his Angel stamp of approval, in which you go in with black eye-safe eyeliner for his eyes, coating them in black and following the image he used as reference, making streaks of black run from his eyes. You pierced your lips together as you leaned back to admire your work. “It’s missing something.” You mumble quietly, before peeking up and pulling out a pair of white lashes from your kit, and he smiles. You let him apply them himself, and with some white underliner, it looks perfect.

You give him some black lipstick, too, but that’s about the extent of what he wants. You give him your old lipstick too, because you and him both know he’s gonna need some re-applying. You watch as he walks over to the mirror, admiring your work - a job well done you’re sure - when he smiles at his reflection and the giddy way you smile back at him through your own reflection.

He pulls you up into a big hug and you giggle as he picks you up and spins you around, before you get him to put you down, smiling from ear to ear at how happy he looks with himself and the work you’ve done. His phone buzzes and he sighs, kissing you softly on the head before heading out, not even daring to put his famous sunglasses on and ruin your work. 

A new memory that’s keeping you sane in these old hotel walls. 

[odxrilove]

☆ SEVENTEEN AS PEOPLE AT SCHOOL

genre: highschool!au/uni!au

warnings: none

a/n: is this my official tumblr comeback ?? 😮

back to masterlist!

☆ SEUNGCHEOL

the leader of the “jocks”. he's the guy you see walking around school with his varsity jacket on– even if it’s in the middle of the summer. he’s the literal definition of the hallway crush, whispers and giggles being a regular thing he hears when he walks through the school hallways, hand swiping through his pretty hair. he often sits on the wooden tables outside instead of the benches whenever he and his friends have their little weekly hangout-meeting. always has a lollipop in his mouth and says it’s for the girls but really, he just likes sweets.

☆ JEONGHAN

the king of debates. if you sign up for debate class, don’t think you’re ever going to win if you’re up against jeonghan. he’s the reason why so many people left debate class mid year but the teacher is so impressed by him that she can’t force herself to kick him out. he’s also widely known for being the mastermind behind his high school’s senior prank. besides his maniac pranks and his broad knowledge of law, he’s actually pretty fun to be around and some girls who have had the pleasure to go on dates with him describe him as an angel– even after getting ghosted.

☆ JOSHUA

the class president. he’s a close friend of jeonghan and thus, winning the class pres’ election was easy peasy. he only presented himself as a joke but started taking it seriously 7 months in when the school planned to cancel the annual pajama day. he acts normal but he’s truly just as insane as his large group of friends. the grumpy math teacher is his next door neighbor and he once gave her leftover cookies and since then, he’s been her favorite student– and the only student she smiles at.

☆ JUN

the cat defender. falls easily asleep in class and is often woken up by his classmates after the bell rang. someone once drew a cat on a wall in the gym hall with a marker a few years back and when jun transferred to the school, his name mysteriously appeared under the cat drawing. in his second year, he got detention for a whole month after bringing a kitten to school and hiding it in his bag every day for two weeks straight– he was only caught because the cat meowed during a test and none of his classmates wanted to fake meow to help the poor guy out.

☆ HOSHI

the school’s dance machine. when the school speakers play music, you’ll always find him bobbing his head to the beat. he gets his notebook confiscated weekly because he prefers to write down possible dance movements and new choreography ideas than math equations and english vocabulary. he has a pretty big following on social media after a video of him freestyling at the school’s talent show blew up. he now uses his popularity to freely make dance covers at school, students avoiding him in the hallways when he’s swinging his legs and arms around.

☆ WONWOO

the school library’s only visitor. ok, maybe that’s a bit exaggerated but he’s definitely the only one going there willingly! the library stinks and there’s no wifi, plus some rumors are going around saying that the room at the back the of the library is the go-to place to fuck, and lastly, the librarian is a bitch– except towards wonwoo, of course. besides him being the librarian’s favorite, he once got asked to prom by a senior when he was a junior and every two months or so, someone brings it up and everyone goes crazy over it again. to be honest, if he wasn't so focused on his video games and books he would see how many people stare at him with heart eyes.

☆ WOOZI

the normal kid. what else can i say, he's just a regular guy. he goes to school wearing his silly baggy outfits and doesn't leave the house without his headphones on. he meets up with his friends and has lunch with them. he isn’t quiet but he isn’t talkative either, only partaking in his friends’ silly little conversations when he deems necessary. he gets normal grades and enjoys his silly music class the most. he’s on the school’s swimming team and won a few silly prizes during competitions. he’s been the subject of affection from a few girls since the start of school and he’s been on a date once. really, he’s just a silly little guy living his silly little life– what’s there to hate?

☆ SEOKMIN

the theatre kid. you either hate him or love him, there’s no in between– fortunately, no one really hates seokmin. he’s a loud student, his laugh often resonating through the entire cafeteria. he’s always been part of the cast for the school musicals, landing the lead role in his first year, something that had never ever happened before. the only kisses he’s had were during rehearsals or actual performances but he knows he has a large group of fans so nobody can really tease him for it. one of the school’s old students still has one-sided beef with him because seokmin ‘stole’ his role.

☆ MINGYU

the popular kid. he’s part of every club on campus, and has a hard time juggling football practice with the weekly sessions of the photography club. in his second year he decided he wanted to be an architect and since then he always complains about the school’s awful floor plan. people in the art club always go to him when they need a model because he has the Looks and actually knows how to pose. he’s actually very fun and the epitome of your rich friendly student who deserves to be crowned prom king. he’s known around school for mowing the lawns of his neighbors for free, shirtless.

☆ MINGHAO

the fashion police. there’s no better way to define minghao, as his judgmental faces have become an obsession for people on campus. he loves clothes and the fact he’s hoarding a drawer in his roommate’s closet further proves it. there's’ not one day that goes by where minghao doesn’t eat with his outfit, nails painted and sunglasses on his head– even in the winter. if you have to dress up for something, going to minghao’s dorm for help is the best solution. he’s rather honest, not hiding his disgust or love for people’s outfits. he was actually voted prom king (mingyu ending second) and was happy the crown fit the aesthetic of his suit. besides being an absolute bitch when it comes to clothing, his soft laugh does ease people’s nerves more often than not.

☆ SEUNGKWAN

the gossiper. or in better words, the head of the journalism club who’s in charge of the weekly school newspaper and news forum on the school’s official website. seungkwan is, with no doubt, respected by all. truthfully, he’s a good student, so teachers often let him write in his journal for new articles during class. there’s one unofficial rule though– you have secrets? do not share them with him. you can, however, ask him about other people’s business, and as long as you give him something in return, he’s glad to talk your ears off. you’re safe if you’re his friend though, because there isn’t someone as loyal as seungkwan walking down the school hallways.

☆ VERNON

the skater enthusiast. he always walks around wearing big weird hoodies, holding onto his skate and if it's one of those days, a beanie and some funky shoes complete the outfit. his skate is like an extension of his hand but does he know how to skate though? absolutely not. his friends now have multiple bandaid and first aid kits in their lockers because vernon never bothers to buy any but spends most of his lunch breaks trying to learn new tricks– and subsequently failing. he’s a sweet kid but a bit of an airhead, often bumping into people and staring at the people talking at him until he realizes the reason he couldn’t hear them was because he still had his headphones on.

☆ DINO

the school’s unofficial cheerleader’s cheerleader. it was truly a tragic day when the cheerleading squad’s manager got fired for fraud– not because of the money (duh) but because of the now lost cheerleaders. dino used to do gymnastics when he was young so in his eyes, he was their last hope. he was a god at planning cheerleading practices and events and in less than a year, the squad managed to win back their spot as number one during the cheerleading season. the school’s reputation was restored and suddenly all the teachers loved him. dying his hair blonde during a celebration party was the last straw for many– his locker would be full of confession letters the weeks following.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @viscade @amxlia-stars

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[a-little-unsteddie]

stuck in your throat || 1.2

1.1 | [here] | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5

if this seems familiar, it is because this contains part of the initial preview, if not all of it. next part will have all new content and be nearly as long as this one! woo! i’m pretty sure there’s 5 parts to chapter one, but i may be wrong, so i’ll correct it if necessary later.

The next few days passed in a blur of submitting applications and answering calls from random numbers, hoping that it was one of the places he applied to and not some scam call trying to get money out of him. It happened more than Steve thought it would, but unfortunately it did not surprise him, given he usually had unknown callers blocked.

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t really go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just who he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

The line went dead, and Steve was left sitting on his couch, staring blankly at the tv, which was frozen on some dumb reality show that he had put on to fill the silence before he’d gotten the call. He wanted to jump up and dance around, but ultimately decided he would wait until he could do it with Robin.

tag list: @marklee-blackmore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @steddie-as-they-go @disrespectedgoatman @lingeringmirth @hyperfixated-on-stuff @swimmingbirdrunningrock @littlewildflowerkitten @sani-86 @thegingerrapunzel @adventures-in-mangaland @missingmalfoy1 @yellowdevilkitten @extra-transitional @queen-stevie @stevesbipanic @crypticcorvidinacottage

[luselih]

Hii im not sure if you write about him but could you write a fic with fem reader and leonardo from blue lock where she loses her virginity to him and could you make him an ass man if you can theres so little writing of him? Thank you so much if you do❤️❤️

heartless || leonardo luna

summary/ask: Your new boyfriend take your virginity, it couldn’t end badly, right?

content warnings | smut so minors don’t interact!, age gap (he’s 27, reader is around 20), virgin reader, chubby reader (hinted/written in mind for!), he is a major asshole, a bit (probably lot) dubious/non consensual in a lot of parts so that a warning, innocence kink?, mentions of jerking off, breast play, pussy inspection 😢, fingering, without protection, missionary and cowgirl assisted (he’s dom), filthy and mean, he is NOT gentle 😬, creamie, clit play, overstimulation, angst on end! (spoiler-he leaves you) + more?…

a/n - #1 i kinda tried a different method of writing but it ended up being almost as same as oliver’s one 😭

Leonadro Luna. Name that a lot fans of football world know, a handsome player from Spain who is playing for Real Madrid is very valuable for that club. You yourself can’t even wrap your mind around the fact that he is indeed your boyfriend of 2 months. Basically every single woman wants him in their bedsheets every night but they don’t have that privilege like you do. I mean you don’t really even use it yourself because you couldn’t bring yourself to lose it. Your virginity.

Leonardo Luna knew that you were virgin the moment he laid his eyes upon you that day at his football match. When his team won against FC Barcha for 4th time that season but fans cheered for them like lunatics, he could see you with your friends cheering for him, wearing a jersey with his name and number on it at shinny stadium and since it was hotter than a devil’s lava bath you tie your jersey on your stomach so it obviously becomes visible to everyone, but he caught it as his club celebrated and started leaving field to shower and to continue to celebrate all night long.

When he passed around tribune and entrance for the interview line he saw you and that shy and excited smile on your lips as you and friend stood there waiting for him to speak to you maybe, you two just wanted autographs from him on your world cup cards of him you pulled out after countless tries to get him.

You thought that your biggest dream was being archived, he really did came to you two and greeted as he take a marker he said thank you for as he autographed your cards.

“I didn’t know that i got two pretty girls like you two as fans and i can’t say that i am mad at it. A little autograph would make you happy? Such nice and humble girls i see in front of me…”

You sweared that your knees almost gave up on you as he flirted with you two, as he was writing his name on your card, security guards came to take you away since he was running late for his interview, as your friend passed with her card to exit, you felt something you didn’t expected. His arm on your shoulder. He gave you a flirtatious smile and whispered to you.

“I like your style quite well, so i guess a little date wouldn’t hurt too much, would it? Here this is my number, text me when you get time”

You sweared that your cheeks got warm as he slipped a tiny paper with his number on it in your pocket and had to let you go. You just got…??? Your first ever date??? and with LEONARDO LUNA??? THE Leonardo Luna? You sweared you almost become crazy as everything settled down in your mind as you got to your place.

Since then, every text, call and date was almost too good to be true. He can be a real gentleman with you, take you out and make you feel like only girl in the entire world. Every praise and complaint got you to fall for him even more and more everyday. If only you knew what is behind those beautiful green eyes and perfect smile.

Poor you, if you only knew how many times he jerked himself off at the thought of your body, he could feel every single twitch of your body at first. Gosh he almost got addicted to your innocence, your inexperience was…almost too much for him. He swerved he got a biggest bonner when you hesitantly said you don’t have that experience yet, you want to lose it with him. He got a grip on himself as he praised you for being true to yourself and himself, while letting you know that he is here for you whenever you feel like you are feeling ready for it.

That day has finally arrived.

As usual for the last month, every weekend you were watching a movie with him at your place. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as his other held tv remote as you two watched anything that was interesting for both of you. You slowly started to think it was time to do it. Empty house, lights lidded and moment was perfect. So you take a deep breath and turned your head to your boyfriend and bring your face closer to his face, giving him a couple soft experimental kisses on his cheek and jaw, his arm slide from your shoulder to your waist as he softly chuckled and whispered as you feel a singular kiss on neck.

“getting touchy all of sudden, hmm…?”

“i just wanted to say that…i think i am ready for…y’know what...”

You really thought that it was going like it should be going on, talk about it, conformation and giving consent, going slowly as you guys make love all night long with a lot of kissing and comforting words being said to each other as your bodies melt together. Oh my my-how wrong you really was you just realized.

After not even a second, your body was forced into submission as you yelped at the sudden movement, his hands holding your hands on your sides as you looked up at him shocked.

“Well finally i can get some of it, don’t make it latter like you didn’t want this too pretty thing”

You sweared that you didn’t wanted everything that happened after that moment, but gosh it made your body feel heavenly. Every mean and harsh thing he did to you was overwhelming to your inexperienced pussy.

The way he practically smacked your lips together in kiss as his hand put your arms over your head as other went underneath your shirt on your boob and give it firm squeeze, you moaned into his lips as it caught you off guard.

Even if you wanted to say anything, his lips chased yours like it’s a need, flipping your shirt up and revealing your pretty bra that he pulled down harshly, your pretty breast and soft nipples to cold air of a room making them instantly harden. After pulling out kiss that left you hazy and breathless his mouth immediately went after those perky little things. His tongue immediately licked it over slightly, your body jerked in response of new sensation. His mouth sucked deliriously on your nipple as other played with other, pulling and pinching your nipple between his fingers. After your boobs were covered in pretty bite marks he finally pulled his face and admired his artwork, your body already twitching from stimulation, so close to climax.

His hand immediately slipped between your legs and toyed with your clit over your pants with his thumb, you immediately starting to grind against his hand, trying your chase that finish that was so fucking close. With no surprise when your body twitched so deliciously, back arching as you got to climax, your breath rigged and your eyes teary.

“Is baby already feeling tired, well to bad~”

He pulled his clothes off, his broad shoulders and 6 pack shining in dim light as his sweatpants showed off brand of his high branded underwear, slowly pulling down your pants off your hips as he only left you in your panties, your mouth suddenly getting dry as you can’t even say a well formulated sentence, your arms not even daring to move from above your head clinging into fabric of the couch like a life line.

His long fingers passed from middle of your chest to side of your panties, tip of fingers hooking into a thin material and pulling it to the side, revealing the prettiest scene he saw since lord knows when. Your tight cunny glistening with your own cum as you hole twitched, crying for dick like it’s a need, gosh he wants to ruin you for any other man ever. His finger, gently yet firmly stared moving over her staring from your tiny bud of clitoris, teasing it lightly and drink in your whiny reactions then spreading your inner and outer lips of vagina as he looks at your hole inspecting your private part barely any centimeters away from it, it is so humiliating you can barely keep your eyes open.

After confirming your claim he slipped his ring finger into your awaiting hole suddenly, making you yelp at the stretch and uncomfortable feeling, he didn’t waited a second, putting a hand over your mouth and adding another finger it, exploring and memorizing your insides like a map to a secret treasure. Tears brimming again on your eyes as you climaxed again on his 4 fingers on end, pulling out his hand he smiled so sweetly at the visible stretch between your legs. “At least you won’t cry like past girl” he thought quickly.

Pulling his pants off he slide his underwear off and his 7 inch long cook dripped with pre cum, light hair barely visible as he pulled your legs to the side of his body and leaned down closer to your face as he lined it with your entrance, making you automatically letting out a chocked gasp as you knew and hold onto his shoulders as he bullied his head into a tightest hole he was ever been in, your cries of a stretch almost completely ignored as he just kissed your bottom lip as he continued. Pink cook head aligning with your cervix very quickly but he continued anyway till his heavy balls slapped against your ass checks and you practically feel him in your throat.

His thrust hard, fast and mean after he let you get comfortable for barely a minute before he rammed into your pussy like a mad man. His body pressing your into a couch as your shared kisses and skin slapping against each other filled the room quickly. You holding into his shoulders for any support and sanity in that moment as you let him shape your insides to his likings.

From the pit inside your stomach you felt that you are so close to climax again, your toes curling as you creamed around his dick while he continued to fuck you senseless. Every push you tried to make because of overstimulation was unsuccessful to say the least. He didn’t even pull out when he felt he was getting close, he just pulled you by your forearm up and flipped you two. Your boobs bouncing as his hands keep your pace, his hands harshly pulling your ass checks apart as he bullied his dick so deep within you that you almost pass out from everything.

With final snap of your hips he stuffed your hole full, his white cum escaping as he pulled out and watched in satisfaction as it poured on a fabric of your couch so quickly and sexy. Settling you back on a couch your lifeless body was a mush, your eyes barely open as you were about to pass out any moment. He kissed your cheek slightly as he looked at you and your poor body for the last time before he went to shower in your bathroom and left you.

Next day you were greeted by his profiles and numbers not being available to you and your trust towards love now broken, you really though it can’t get any worse, you did?

well…let’s see what that pink stick with 2 bold red lines have to say about it now ;)

[sugawhaaa]

☆----CHIFUYU FANFIC

☆------------Pervert! Pt. 1

GENRE:: school friend, enemies to lovers [if you squint real hard]

A/N:: I think my girlfriend is mad at me and idk what I did but I'm shy to ask her if she is mad at me...I know she wouldn't care at all but I'm like ehehejwhrejwo

WARNINGS:: VULGAR LANGUAGE, MILD SEX TALK

Tags:: @main-character0

To you, chifuyu was like a friend of a friend of a distant friend. Long story short you weren't very close. You went through elementary school together and all the way until grade 9. He was a dick for most of his life until he started hanging out with this nerd with long dark hair. He suddenly became the nicest guy on earth and he was so laid back. Girls fell for him like flies but he was far too busy to ever give them a chance to talk to him.

You personally don't trust him for a second. There's no way an absolute asshole would instantly become this nice just because of one kid. It made no sense. Chifuyu and his nerd friend hadn't shown up for at least two weeks and you were sitting in class copying some notes. To your surprise, Chifuyu and his friend actually showed up to class. Chifuyu had a few bandages on his face and his friend had 1 or 2 as well. They sat next to you and you avoided looking at them and tapped your pencil on the desk. The girl in front of you turned around. Her name was Rina. She was a close friend of yours but she's fallen mad in love with Chifuyu despite talking to him only twice in her life.

"Oh my god, he's here!" She giggled with excitement. "And he sat next to you!" She smiled and kicked her feet.

"Unfortunately," you rolled your eyes. Rina huffed.

"Your expectations in men are way too high," she then spoke in a whisper and leaned closer. "I mean look at him. His beautiful eyes and his cute little smile," she sighed as she looked at him. She looked back at you and you hadn't even glanced at Chifuyu.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget the kid that used to throw food at kids in elementary school? Or the kid who used to spit on people," you scoffed. Rina rolled her eyes. You glanced over at Chifuyu and he was looking at you, really close.

"Oh you still remember me~" he giggled. You jumped not knowing he was so close to you. You backed up and frowned.

"Unfortunately," you sighed before putting a hand on your chin.

"Ouch," he seethed with a little smile. His friend laughed loudly and pushed him. Chifuyu fell off his chair and landed his head on your lap awkwardly. His friend laughed harder. You got flustered and pushed him. Of course that's when the teacher walked in.

"You pervert!" You shoved him and he fell on the floor.

"Hey, it was Baji's fault!" Chifuyu exclaimed. You frowned and shook your head.

"Would you like to take this to the principal?" She said with a hand on her hip as she stood in front of the three of you. Baji just laughed and the teacher scowled at him. That didn't stop him at all of course. "Chifuyu if you cause one more girl trouble in this class I'll send you to the principal's office," she said sternly. Chifuyu nodded. "Now sit in your chair," she pointed her marker to his chair. He sat on it and turned to face the front. "Sorry for the interruption. Since it is the first week of November..." the teacher continued her lecture.

She was discussing the new assignments of the month. She handed everyone a sheet of paper to start working on and you got to work. Baji and Chifuyu however did not. Baji was flicking something at Chifuyu. Small pieces of paper maybe? Or pencils? Either way they were being annoying.

The teacher stood up from her desk "SHHH!" She directed at Baji and Chifuyu. Chifuyu nodded and went back to his work however Baji...would much rather die. Baji then flicked a pen at Chifuyu but Chifuyu dodged and instead, it hit you right on the bridge of your nose. Of course, it was a metal pen.

"Ow!" You exclaimed and held your nose which started bleeding from the impact.

"That's it! Chifuyu! Baji! Y/N! Go to the principal right now!" The teacher stood up and pointed to the door. The three of you stood up and took all your belongings. Baji seemed to be having a blast with all this chaos. The three of you walked down the hall. Baji and Chifuyu chatted the whole time but you just listened in.

"Great, our first day back since...mobius and we're gonna be sitting in the principals office all damn day," chifuyu groaned.

"Oh, who cares about all this school bullshit anyone. We both know full well we could take Mr. Principal on easy peasy," Baji chuckled. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"How lame," you muttered.

"What'd you just say?" Baji turned to you with a frown.

"I said how. Lame!" I frowned. This nerd really thought he could take on the principal and win. He took off his dorky glasses.

"Say that one more time I dare you." Baji grinned mischievously as he cornered you. You felt a strange vibe from him. You just looked away from him. "That's what I thought," he smiled all friendly again. So weird.

On the way to get to the office, you came across the washroom. Your nose had been bleeding this entire time but you were holding it in so you decided to finally wash up in the washroom. You started heading for the girls washroom and the boys looked at you.

"That ain't the office," Baji chuckled.

"I know Mr. Obvious, I need to use the washroom," you explained before going inside. The two of them followed. "Nope," you said as you pushed them back out. "Wait here. It'll take me 5 seconds," you sighed before walking back in. The two of them waited outside.

"Don't get us in trouble by taking too long," chifuyu said into the bathroom. The echo making his voice loud and clear in the washroom.

"I know I'm being as fast as I can," you said as you wiped up the blood. Damn, how did a pen hurt this much?

"Do you ever wonder what a girl's washroom actually looks like?" Baji asked Chifuyu while you were cleaning up.

"It probably looks like ours just...pink...and no urinals," chifuyu shrugged.

"It's not like I'm gonna go look! I'm not a creep!" Baji exclaimed.

"Never said you would," chifuyu shook his head.

"Aren't you curious?"

"No," chifuyu shrugged.

"What about..." Baji lowered his voice "Tampon dispensers?" He whispered. Chifuyu blushed and looked surprised.

"What the hell!? Why would you even think of that?"

"How do they work I mean..."

"I think they're kind of like the gumball and candy machines at baseball games," Chifuyu explained. "Are you that uneducated?" Chifuyu looked shocked.

"Well yeah I was busy fighting black dragon during sex-ed," Baji mumbled. You cleared your throat as you stood behind Chifuyu. He turned to look at you and blushed.

"We done?" You frowned.

☆--------at the office

"I understand. If you two don't start cleaning up your act and coming to school you'll get expelled or worse suspended. I'm sure your parents don't want to hear this," the principal lectured. Baji scoffed and looked away. "Baji...is there a problem?"

"Yeah maybe that you didn't consider that maybe Chifuyu’s parents are present in his life?" Baji snapped back at him. You looked shocked to hear this. You thought Chifuyu was a spoiled brat but...maybe not by this news.

Chifuyu kept his head down and his fists clenched.

"Baji please calm down," the principal spoke calmly. Baji gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. You stood in the corner waiting to see if Bajis gonna knock the lights out of the principal. Chifuyu put his hand of Bajis shoulder.

"It's okay Baji, just sit down. We've been through enough this week," chifuyu said softly.

Not long after you were dismissed from the office and sent home. You swung your bag on and went to meet your friends outside of the school. You told them what had happened today with Twiddle dee and Twiddle Dumb. All the girls were shocked that you were alone with both of them for at least an hour. As you were talking you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Chifuyu.

"Can we talk? In private," chifuyu spoke sternly.

"Sure" you shrugged. He led you out back behind the school at the picnic tables. He sat on top of one of them.

"Listen...anything you heard about me and Baji's personal life today. Please don't go around spreading our personal lives," he spoke in a serious tone. "I don't know if you know what we're like outside of school, or if you even know who we are but...it's dangerous as shit alright?" He spoke in a serious tone. You had never seen him like this. He was usually so chill and didn't care about anything really. But now he was sincere and dire.

"I won't, I promise," you bowed in respect. Chifuyu smiled warmly. He nodded and hopped off the table. He started to walk away before stopping, he turned to you and spoke.

"You know I've never hit a girl before...and I don't want to. Please don't get into this," he said in a serious tone before walking off and meeting up with Baji.

Well that's a strange way to say goodbye...

[chechula]

I don't know if you were already asked, but what kind of inking tools do you use? I'm trying to become better/more natural at using various lines, and using unipin fineliners is something I'm good at but it doesn't really naturally create the line fluctuation, you gotta fake it. I got my first brush pen a few months ago, a pretty good one! But whenever I try using it I just screw everything up because it doesn't listen to me and feels very unintuitive. Sorry for the long rant :/ Fishing for advice because I love the way to experiment and have fun with yours while nothing looks... dirty, like when I do it. Thanks either way! <3 Love your art so much!

I use indian ink+G pen for fine lines and stick for rough lines :3

First one is all drawn by G-pen, second one by stick :3

To be true I really enjoy when the art looks dirty, when it have tradional art texture. That is the reason for drawing with the stick. With this medium you make a lot of "mistakes" but most of the time you can use these to find something new in you art! So it is completly ok, not to have clean drawings♡ Just think about it as about something new, something to explore!

I have no idea how to use liners/brush pens(I tried a lot of times but it was never as good as ink for me ×_×) I use markers only to make sense of my extra messy sketches :

But sometimes I love these sketches much more than final art! :D

I hope it helps, good luck with your art journey :3

[astraysimp]

Personal Sunshine

Hi bubbies! It is once again my favorite Friday! ……..9mitm Friday! Sadly, this is the second to last chapter. But, it is our sunshine Lixie’s time to shine! @straykeedz we’re almost done 🥺

Summary: you and lixie have only been dating for 4 months, but what happens when a bun in the oven throws a fork in the road of your new relationship?

Warnings: new!relationship trope, dad!felixie and baby bokkie, MARSHMALLOW FLUFF, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of failed condom, pet names, fem!reader, brief talks of periods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Felix were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship.Cuddling, holding hands, spending all your spare time together. Time with Felix was time well spent, in your eyes. No matter what you were doing; whether it be watching movies, playing video games, going to a boba cafe, watching Felix play video games. As long as you were with Felix, you were happy and at peace. So, you two were just soaking up the joys of your new relationship. However, you weren’t necessarily expecting a bun in the oven, 4 months into your relationship.

The day you and Felix found out was forever engraved into your mind. Late. You were 5 days late. And that had never happened to you. Sure, you had been so stressed that a period skipped here and there. But, that was rare, only happening once in a blue moon. You, now, especially wouldn’t be stressed when you had the personification and human embodiment of sunshine by your side. 

 Your periods always came like clockwork, ever since you had started getting them. The second week of every month. It was even marked in your calendar with a red marker, even though you knew it came at the same time. So, there you and Felix were; sitting in the bathroom of his apartment, a little white stick on the counter, both of you glad in your matching pajamas.

They had become your favorite pajamas. A soft pink set that Felix had gifted to you for your second date. The date was a simple movie night at his apartment. The pajamas matched his– except his were a soft blue. Made from a soft cotton, the shirt was a button up with a heart shaped breast pocket, littered with small hearts all over. The pants are made from the same material, same heart pattern and cute cuffed ankles. And his were  the same. “Got these for us,” he giggled out, handing you the set when you had entered his apartment, but not without placing a kiss to your lips. “I saw them at the store and thought they were cute. So, I got us a pair,” he added with a pink fluff to his cheeks and ears.

“Lixie pixie? Pixie poo, What does the test say?”

You were sitting on the closed toilet seat, wringing your fingers nervously. A habit of yours that he had picked up on, pretty quickly. Positive? Negative? These were the longest 5 minutes of your life.

Nervous. Scared. Confused. Perplexed. You felt all the emotions surge through your body, like a rampant white water river courses through its stream when you heard the words pass through his plump heart-shaped lips.

“Pregnant. 3-5 days…..but we-we used a condom,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at the pregnancy test. And boy, were those lines clear as day. It was unmistakably positive. 

“Lixie poo…….condoms aren’t 100% effective, pixie poo. We couldn’t have expected it planned this to happen, honey bear.” You slipped out, your hands cupping his cheeks. His eyes were full of uncertainty.  Were you expecting this? No, but you were happy to be experiencing it with him. Placing a kiss to his lips, you made sure he could feel the love in your kiss. “We’ll be okay, yeah?”

You had seen Felix play with babies before, and he with you. So, naturally you both had thought of what life with a baby would be like together. Sure, you didn’t expect to find yourself with a bun in the oven…..but it was still exciting. 

Felix has always been the ideal partner, in any and all imaginable ways. So, as your pregnancy progressed and your body changed, he was there. It seemed to come to him so naturally, as if he was always meant to be a dad—to your baby. He rubbed your aching back, massaged your sore ankles, cooked all your cravings(no matter how absurd they sounded) and did it all with a love filled smile on his face and stars in his eyes.

Each trimester brought its own challenges. Morning sickness, cravings, swelling body, fatigue, your growing bump. But, your sweet Lixie poo was so sweet and caring through the entire 9 months. He  even planned your baby shower. The color theme being soft cream and pastel yellow– the same colors that would decorate Su-Jin’s nursery.

The baby shower was amazing, he made it such a cozy environment. There was balloons, chicken plushies, soft blankets and  decorations everywhere. Felix set up all the catering, making sure there were things to suit everyone’s taste. The games? All planned and picked by Felix. There was a special scratch card that revealed the gender of baby Lee, baby themed bingo, see who could change a diaper the fastest, nursery rhyme word unscramble– and of course there were prizes. Yes, Felix picked the prizes out,too. Making each goodie bag, consisting of an alcohol shooter, glow up toy pacifier, candies and mini ultrasound pictures of your baby. The desserts? That was his forte. Of course, there was a cake–bbokari shaped with a bib on– vanilla flavored with whipped buttercream. Obviously, there was a tray of his signature brownies, cut into baby themed shapes– pacifiers, diapers, teddy bears– there was cookies, in a few flavors.  

Heck, he was amazing— no, he was perfect— through your birth,too. He cried when you cried, held your hands, pressed cool cloths to your forehead, fed you ice chips. Felix made you feel calm, even though he may have been panicking himself. “You’re doing so well, honey bear.” He whispered countless times, as he pushed hair off of your damp forehead. For him, cutting the umbilical cord was the best part, seeing you bring a new life into this world.

They say that the eye of a hurricane is calm, even though a storm rages on around it. Felix was your eye, in the hurricane that was giving birth. He brought you a sense of peace, even if there were doctors and nurses surrounding you. The nurse telling you to push, other nurses scrambling around to have materials ready for when  Su-Jin arrived into the world. None of it mattered as soon as you looked into Felix’s eyes. One soft smile and look at his chocolate brown eyes and you could feel yourself calming. The breath you didn’t know you were holding releasing itself from the confines of your chest.

A new life that you and Felix made through love. Baby Lee was a chubby 8.2 pounds— equipped with the cutest little rolls— , born with ebony locks, big round dark brown boba eyes , heart shaped lips and freckles. Felix cried when he held Su-Jin for the first time, cradling the small bundle in his arms as he sat shirtless– knowing how important skin to skin was for a newborn. “Hi, I’m your daddy, bokkie. It’s so nice to meet you. Me and your mommy have been waiting so long.” He whispered, gently lifting the baby to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

Su-Jin’s eyes had fluttered open, taking in the new world around him before landing back on Felix. Felix smiled, his eyes looking at the baby who mirrored him, a tiny smile on his face. “My Su-Jin.”

So, just imagine a tiny felix and bang….that’s baby bokkie for you. Yes, you and Felix called him baby bokkie— but his name was Su-Jin. Su meaning long life and Jin meaning precious or rare.

Man, he was precious,too. That baby was more cuddly than his daddy, and Felix was cuddly. Baby bokkie cried when out of your or Felix’s arms, only at peace when being cuddled, finding solace and tranquility in the loving embrace of his parents. Not only was he cuddly, but he wasn’t fussy (unless he wasn’t being cuddled). The cutest thing was his giggle, as it matched Felix’s giggle. He was a perfect baby–calm,slept through the night, angelic. An angel on your,your angel.

Now, he is 7 months old and still as giggly as ever. You and Felix were enjoying doing some tummy time with Su-Jin, while on a casual Tuesday afternoon. And let me tell you, that baby loved his tummy time. You were in the kitchen, preparing a light snack for you and Felix and a bottle of milk for Su-Jin. 

Humming to yourself, you smiled as you could hear Felix cooing to his little Su-Jin. “Hiii, angel boy. Are you enjoying tummy time?” Su-Jin only giggled and wriggled his chubby arms and legs around, loud squeals and giggles escaping his mouth. Felix smiled, covering his face with his hands. “Peek a boo!” He laughed, smiling brightly as Su-Jin giggled and tried looking around Felix's hands for his daddy. “Here I am, baby!” Felix smiled, his eyes forming crescent shapes as he uncovered his face with his hands, causing more matching giggles to fall from both Su-Jin and Felix’s lips.

He was laying on the floor, his chunky body clad in the cutest chicken onesie-courtesy of Felix, of course. Felix was laying on the floor in front of Su-Jin, holding a toy out in front of Su-Jin—the toy in question being a plush bbokari. “Jinnie, who is that? Is that bbokari?” He asked, moving the plushie’s arms to wave at his little one. “Hi, Jinnie. it’s me,bbokari!” The sight of his dearest plushie sending a rush of happy squeals through his system.

Su-Jin looooooved his bbokari. Felix had gifted it to him when he was born and now Su-Jin sleeps with it every night, without fail.Wherever Su-Jin went, bbokari went with him. The yellow plush toy clutched in his small arms, as he slept through the night, with soft white noise playing in the background. 

Angelic little high pitched Su-Jin giggles escaped through the air, as his small chubby hands made grabby gestures at the toy. “Do you want bbokari, my little bokkie?” Felix asked, as you moved to sit criss-cross applesauce, next to Felix. Sensing his mama’s presence, Su-Jin’s eyes lit up. He always knew when you were there, his mama senses going off in his little body.

You smiled and leaned forward to smatter an array of kisses to his chubby cheeks,setting his bottle down on the coffee table.. “Hi! Hi my boy!” You giggled, as he kicked his little legs, as a showing of glee and excitement. He had started crawling not too long ago, and soon enough his little legs and arms were carrying himself to you. Giggling, he plonked his little body onto your lap.

Smiling, you picked him up, holding him in front of your face. “Hi Jinnie. Hi my bokkie, awwww, look at you! You’re so cute!” You exclaimed, holding his little body close to yours, as he giggled and placed his hands against your cheeks. “Mommy has a bottle for you, bokkie. Do you want your baba, hm?” You smiled, rocking the baby on your lap.

Leaning forward, you grabbed the bottle, testing the temperature of the milk on your wrist. Not too warm, not too cold, just right. “Come here, pumpkin,” you cooed. Turning Su-Jin on your lap, you laid him across your chest, so he was being cradled. Tucking him against your chest, you smiled as he looked up at you, one of his small hands holding onto your shirt. “Here you go, my angel,” you whispered as you slipped the nipple of the bottle into his mouth, letting him drink.

Placing a kiss to your knee, Felix sat up to be level with you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your  cheek. “Hi honey bear,” he whispered, resting his cheek against your shoulder as he watched Su-Jin drink.“Hi pixie poo,” You sighed out in return, your eyes looking at each other  softly. Placing a soft kiss to his cheek, you smiled. “We made a cutie, huh, lixie?” You smiled, as Su-Jin’s eyes started fluttering shut .

Setting the now empty bottle down, you smiled as the grip Su-Jin had on your shirt tightened, as his eyes closed. You gently patted his back, “sleepy baby, my sleepy boy.” You cooed, cradling him to your chest. Felix leaned over noticing how Su-Jin had fallen asleep, gripping your shirt with his cheek pressed against your shirt. “Angel boy is all pooped, huh?” Felix giggled, as he gently helped you stand up, walking the familiar path to Su-Jin’s nursery.. “Yeah, suppose we should put him down for his nap, lixie.” You said, rocking the sleeping baby. “Probably, it’s tiring being so cute.” He nodded in agreement. 

You loved his nursery, picking out the color scheme and decor, to  picking out the furniture. The walls painted a soft cream color, little pops of pastel yellow littering the room.  Su-Jin’s crib was cream colored wood, a soft mattress lying inside with cream and yellowed blankets tucked inside. Bbokari was lying in the crib, usually, unless he was with Su-Jin. Which was most of the time. You had a plush cream colored swiveling chair with a matching ottoman, a chair you and Felix had fallen asleep on many times, as you watched the sleeping babe. In the corner was a bookshelf, stocked full of baby books, small plushies. Most important, was his framed birth certificate and picture of you. Felix and Su-jin. Those sat on the middle shelf, where they were proudly on display. His nursery was warm, comforting and emanated love.

Holding a sleeping Su-Jin, you walked to his nursery with Felix following closely behind you. “Here we go, my angel boy,”Felix cooed,softly pushing the door open as you walked to his crib. “Nap time, my prince.” You whispered, noticing that he had completely fallen asleep. “Sssh, shhh. There we go, sweetheart,” You smiled, gently laying him in his crib, settling his bbokari plush in his arms.

He looked at peace. His small face and mind free of any worries? You suppose being a baby didn’t really have many worries, though. Just the next feeding time, when mama or papa would give you more cuddles. It seemed to be a peaceful time for Su-Jin. Just generally, he was a calm baby,though.

Funnily enough, when you gave birth the doctors were worried that he wasn’t crying. He was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. But, very very cute and chunky. Neonatal nurses checked him to be sure that everything was okay— and everything was. “Oh, I guess he’s just a quiet little bun.” The nurse told you, giggling when he seemed to grow more calm and serene in your arms. 

“Night night, my sweet pea,” You whispered, grazing your finger over his cheek, after pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well, my bokkie.”  Felix whispered, watching as his son slept. All the while, you were switching his small sun shaped night light on— a sun because he was your sunshine, along with Felix.

Ever so quietly, you made your way to the door, switching the light off. Turning to face Felix, you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I can’t believe we made him,” Felix whispered into your hair. Nodding against his chest,your fingertips traced soft shapes over the expanse of his back, that was covered in a soft cotton pajama shirt. “I know, but…he’s all ours, forever.” You smiled, peeking up at him through your eyelashes.

Locking eyes, you held a steady eye contact. Both of your eyes holding nothing but pure unadulterated love and adoration, for not only one another but for Su-Jin. Felix’s eyes were glimmering, stars dancing along his chocolate brown irises– akin to the freckles that danced along his cheeks.

You had seen that look in his eyes before, the first time being when he held Su-Jin for the first time. It was a level of love, different to the lovestruck eyes he gave you. It was a parental love. The kind of loving eyes your parents gave you, his parents gave him. There was no way to verbalize the look, it just held a different feeling of love. A love so pure, so unfiltered, so divinely strong that it brought tears to your eyes.

Yes, Felix always looked at you with love in his eyes. And, you did to him, as well. But the difference between the romantic love eyes  and parental love eyes was incomprehensible. Neither you or Felix were able to vocalize it. It was a feeling, a sense of deeper love, it was warm, comforting. The best you could compare it to was the feeling of wrapping a warm blanket– fresh from the dryer– around your body on a cold night or a hug from your loved ones. The warmth and feeling of a profound love  encompassed your being, surrounding you completely, pausing the world around you for that moment. 

Holding his hand in yours, you made your way back to the living room, where you pulled him to sit next to you on the couch. You and Felix had only been together for 1 year and 8 months–4 months before finding out you were pregnant, 9 months of you carrying baby Su-Jin and 7 months of being parents. But, you knew in your mind, your heart, your soul that you and Felix was the one, he was it for you. And, he felt the same. Every fiber of your being, every atom in your body told you that he was your life partner, your soulmate, your safety.

Looking into his eyes, you smiled. “Where do you see us in 5 years, lixie?” A conversation you had before, knowing you;d still be with one another. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, nestling his cheek on the top of your hair. “You know where I see us,” he giggled, his hand patting your outer thigh. “Still, I wanna know.” You giggled back.

Did you know? Yes. But, you loved hearing him tell you anyway. 

Chuckling, he took your hand in his, his thumb grazing your ring finger. “ I see us married, with another kid or maybe two more . In our own house, the color scheme is cream and soft colors. Our house is cozy, welcoming, loving, just like you. When you walk in, it smells like freshly baked brownies–made by yours truly. Su-Jin and his sibling or siblings running around while you’re playing with them. A dog running around– a golden retriever or king charles cavalier spaniel somewhere around the house.” He relayed to you, as you looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“No matter how many times you tell me, it never gets old,” you whispered. Cupping your cheek, he ran his thumb under your eyes, wiping your tears. “My sunshine, our relationship may have been new and just starting, but my love for you will never get old. Even when we’re old and wrinkly, my love for you will be as brightly burning as the day we met.”

Little did you know, he already bought the ring and it was tucked away in his nightstand

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♡Please don’t steal, copy, edit, translate, repost (on any platform), plagiarize, paraphrase or in anyway claim my works♡ AStraySimp est 2023♡

🏷️ @mellhwang ; @autumn583 ; @hyunsvngs ; @hotchnrz ; @galamxy ; @ebbaskz ; @turtledove824 ; @galaxycatdrawz ; @fawnpeaks ; @bigsobs4skz ; @143lix ; @bangchans-babygirlgirl ; @aaasia111 ; @reid-deiri ; @tenshimara ; @dancerachaslut ; @peachygirlsthings ; @saturnandgold ; @justscrollinthrough ; @jesuisstay ; @shinywolfbears ; @lewoh-ot8-wh0re ; @alnex05 ; @mixtape-racha ; @shujohajohaminnie ; @heartheartisa ; @skzstaykatsy ; @manuosorioh ; @whosanaanyway ; @cvntywonyo ; @notastraykid ; @jinnie-ret♡

[fadingdaggerr]

tease and unease

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: (based on following req that was sent w/o anon so they asked for it to be) “I did have a request if you're into it! Reader and melissa have been in a relationship secretly for a while. They have a fight about keeping it a secret right before PECSA weekend (mel wants to keep it a secret and reader does not). So the weekend is filled with mini fights and glaring and lots of drinks to nimb the hurt. Lol Reader gets drunk and dedicates then plays their song on piano in the lobby of the convention center - outing them. A little angsty but with a happy ending? Feel free to change anything you're not feeling and thank you!!”

warnings: very dialogue heavy oops, insecurity, verbal fighting, petty r bc i’m petty, heavy-ish? alcohol consumption, drunk!r

note: just realized that with all my fics i’ve somehow avoided using any pronouns or actually name for r. feel like i’m doing full fledged gymnastics

There is barely a second to answer the question Barbara asked you about a new show you’d started before the lounge door flies open and Janine is excitedly doing little laps around the room chanting ‘PECSA’ as she goes. Even though this is her third time going to the convention, she had been extremely excited. Whether that was because of this year’s presentations or due to last year’s event in the botanical classroom, you can’t tell. Janine’s zoomies end as she catches herself against Jacob’s chair to catch her breath.

“Please- oh my God- please tell me y’all are coming this year?” Janine asks as she’s still breathless from excitement and running a marathon between wobbly tables.

“Considering it’s mandatory,” Melissa says with annoyance in her tone, immediately your foot kicks hers as a silent ‘be nice.’

Janine’s excitement doesn’t falter once, “did you see that they have a whole presentation on which color whiteboard markers are the best for teaching each subject?” Barbara turns at the same time as you, both of you looking at each other with exasperation and a little disbelief on both ends. Melissa is desperately trying not to laugh, her hand under the table gripping your knee with a vice to not burst into a cackle right at her fellow second grade teacher.

The second she got control of her laughter, the hand on your leg was gone like it was burned by your skin through your jeans. When you try to pull her hand back for just an extra second of her touch, her hand shakes yours off as her body leans away entirely.

There is some annoyance that lingers in your chest from this interaction, and it only grows more as you take the long way to Melissa’s house from school because she insists that no one can even see you going in the same direction. Six months of this, driving six extra blocks and not even being able to give unseen affection, and she hasn’t even deemed it a good time to tell Barbara, her best friend. She had just barely allowed you to tell your friends, who didn’t even know the Abbott crew, and still won’t allow even one picture to even have her elbow in it.

As you pull into the driveway, you take a few deep breaths to try to ease this tension that you wish hadn’t begun to fester. Walking in the front door, it was easy to forget all of it when Melissa came down the stairs, nearly slipping in her fluffy socks as she hurried to pull you into a greeting kiss. Her hands hold your face as she peppers your cheeks in kisses, speaking between smacks of her lips against your skin, “you took your sweet time coming inside.”

“Sorry,” you barely get out, reeling your head back to stop the assault from her lips and wrapping your arms around and holding her, “missed you today.”

She laughs from the crook of your neck, “we had prep and lunch together.”

“Eight hours in the same building and I only get you for an hour? That’s not even close to enough,” you say, pulling back to finally take off your shoes. Nothing is quite like the sight of a flustered Melissa Schemmenti, your comment making her cheeks light up the prettiest shade of pink, your second favorite color after the green of her eyes.

As you stood in the shower, hot water practically cooking your skin, the topic of today’s lunch conversation rolled around your mind. PECSA has always been held at a large hotel with so many rooms and several pool spots, maybe this would finally be a social setting where Melissa wasn’t so guarded and actually allowed herself to enjoy time with you that wasn’t solely in the hotel room. Shit, the hotel room, you meant to call and reserve a room two days ago but were stuck grading book reports into the early morning.

“Baby!” you shout as you step onto the bathmat, wrapping a towel around you as you listen for approaching footsteps. When there is none, your voice turns whiny, “Melissaaaa!”

There’s a huff outside the door before it opens, “Jesus, amore, let me get up the stairs. What’s wrong?”

“Please tell me you called the hotel about our room,” you say as you pull her old college t-shirt over your frame, the tattered sleeves soft against the skin of your shoulder, “I meant to call the other night.”

Melissa’s eyes are soft at the view of you in her shirt, a smile playing at her lips before she answers, “yeah. I called ‘em and got the rooms all set, no worries.” Her lips press against your cheek before she walks out the room to head into the bedroom.

A sense of relief fills you, a deep breath leaving your lungs. As you settle into bed, your arm wraps around Melissa’s waist, a kiss as a silent goodnight is pressed to her shoulder, getting the typical hum in response. As you begin to drift off, nudging into the redhead’s back a little, a thought enters your mind. Rooms?

“Wait, ‘rooms’ plural?” you say against her back, but your only response is her light snoring.

—

“Mel baby, we gotta go! We have to check into the hotel at noon!” you call up the stairs as you spin your suitcase around lazily.

“Just leave without me, hon, I’ll meet you there,” she answers from her bedroom.

You frown, “the hell do you mean? I thought we were driving there together, it makes sense.”

“We don’t need anyone seeing anything, you can just get there ahead of me,” you’re a little too shocked at her words to respond before she adds, “oh, and when you get there can you get my keycard for my room?”

Your back stiffens, as does the hand holding your suitcase. Without thinking, you let go of the case and start up the stairs, stopping in the doorway to the bedroom, her back facing away from you as she packs the rest of her hair products, “your room?” 

Melissa jumps a little when she hears your voice, smiling as she recovers, “well yeah, amore. Can’t be sharing a room without everyone piecing it together, now can we?”

“Oh, of course, how dare I think anyone can see us within a hundred feet of each other,” your attitude and facial expression make the redhead frown, her arms immediately crossing.

“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not what I meant,” she steps closer, but not much. This conversation has happened only a few times in the last six months. Melissa is a very private person, one that didn’t want anyone in her business, she’d only just let her family meet you a month ago.

You take a step forward, “we can’t drive in together because no one can see us together. We can’t share a room because no one can see us together. I can’t sit next to you at work because no one can see us together. I can’t even drive here the normal way because no one can see us together.” There has never been an instance where you told her she had to shout it from the rooftops, all you wanted was to be close to her. She didn’t even let you two be seen as actual friends, just as tolerated by her, and it was all starting to dig away at you. You stepforward more as you spoke, “so, enlighten me, what do you mean?”

There’s a shift in her posture and face, everything hardens and she becomes more serious. She thinks this tough-Schemmenti-look works on you, but after watching her cry at pet commercials, you can’t be fooled. Despite the confident anger she was showing, there was no response. Without waiting, you turn around and walk down the stairs, leaving with your suitcase in your own car.

The lobby is packed tight, a bunch of underpaid sardines filling every inch of the place, yet it felt incredibly lonely. The front desk gave you your keycard, you didn’t bother with getting Melissa’s, your only goal was to get to your room and lay in the bed until the presentations started tomorrow. You were not going to a whiteboard marker presentation.

However, you did promise Ava you’d go to her presentation on “Being That Girl and That Principal,” so hiding won’t be an option for the next morning. You register that Melissa and Barbara are both in the room as well, but you hope a certain someone doesn’t notice among the crowd that had collected.

Not even ten minutes into the presentation, a warm body is next to you, red hair and perfect eyeliner. You take a deep breath in and sidestep to the left, trying to make space between you, but she closes it again. She turns to look at you, and you pointedly keep your eyes on Ava’s presentation, which is just perfectly lit photos of her around Abbott, which until now you didn’t notice that she had photoshopped out the water damage on the ceiling.

“Are you going to ignore me all weekend?” Melissa mumbles.

You shrug, “I’m surprised standing next to me is even allowed, I thought we couldn’t even be seen near each other.”

“Stop being childish.”

“Don’t think I will,” you reply, turning to walk to the other side of the room.

—

Math-a-ritas, Daiquireads, Sex Ed on the Beach, was it so hard to get a normal ass drink around here? It already took you three tries to get a normal rum and coke before the prepubescent-looking bartender got the damn thing right, but one they did, it honestly isn’t all that bad. What was starting to get bad, however, was the tension between you and Melissa. Being part of her typical group, Barbara insists on the two of you walking around with her, chatting with vendors and teachers from every school, except Addington.

Upon seeing Melissa’s hands white knuckling a glass of wine, Barbara sends a questioning look, only getting a shake of the head in response. She turns to you, almost ready to ask if you can talk to Melissa, but you’re equally sour looking.

Both women watch you down your second drink before getting up, “I’ll be back in a few, just getting another drink.”

“Do you really think you need more?” your girlfriend pipes up.

“Melissa…” Barbara warns, having been stuck in the tension between you two. She’d thought her friend was soft on you, but it was starting to look differently.

You don’t even give her the decency to look at her as you say, “I really, truly do, Schemmenti.”

You don’t return like you said you would, and green eyes are scanning the hall to find your frame. When she catches sight of you, she sees another drink downed and she grimaces. Melissa’s anger starts to fade when she sees you waver a little as you walk-and-talk with Jacob, who finally was attending PECSA-geddon this year. You turn and look in her direction, and she frowns at the instant look of minor resentment crosses your face before you stumble again. Melissa stands and starts over in your direction, ignoring Barb’s gaze.

The redhead reaches you, a hand on your elbow, “hon, you should sit down.”

“Why do you care?” you snap back, pulling your arm away. Jacob’s eyes widen, and Melissa motions to tell him to leave, to which he is quick to listen and goes to Barbara.

“You’re falling over, amore, please sit down,” she pleads through gritted teeth.

You huff and step further back, “stop it, Melissa, someone’s gonna think we know each other.” She wasn’t accustomed to you being so abrasive, even in arguments, usually you were calm and direct, something she could easily mirror when she got too in her own head. Now, you are just drunk, angry, and wanting nothing to do with her, something she never expected to see.

Melissa is growing even more pissed as she watches you finish your fifth drink, your head shaking in that cute way it does when your drink is too strong. You catch her stare, which becomes more of a glare when your eyes meet hers, and you frown. Somewhere between your first and last sip of your fifth drink, you’d gone from angry to sad drunk, and Melissa's disapproving looks were making your eyes burn.

On the third sip of your sixth drink, the realization that a DJ was at the party made you jump excitedly. You stumble through the line, using your conversation partner to keep you upright, you wait to make a request.

“What do you want?” the DJ says without a single ounce of enthusiasm.

You smile anyways, “please, please play this song. It’s one of my girlfriend’s favorites, I don’t know if I’d call it ‘our song,’ but when I hear it I think of her and her pretty eyes and face and hair and hands an-”

“Dude, what is the song?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes,” you laugh out, almost teetering over.

“It’ll play after Kendrick,” the DJ says dismissively, motioning for the next person in line to move forward.

—

There’s a slump in your mood as music fills the room. Where everyone is dancing and laughing, you’re gnawing on your thumbnail as the drinks catch up to you, making you more anxious than carefree. Part of you wants to just disappear to your room, the other part doesn’t remember where that is exactly. A secret third part wishes you got Melissa’s keycard for her so you’d know where she was staying tonight, though you were a tiny bit sure your rooms had to be near each other.

You just barely register the beginning of a rap song as you start to wander the room in hopes of finding someone familiar, just yearning to be with your Abbott people. You’re gripping chairs as you walk around, speeding up as you register Ava’s high ponytail back near the DJ booth. You barely catch her arm, anchoring yourself to the principal.

“Weebles-wobbles, you’re definitely falling down! You better drink some water before your liver gets revenge,” Ava half-jokes as she pushes her cup towards you, “what made you decide to let loose?”

You gulp down the whole water and sigh, “I can’t just have fun?”

“You look downright sad,” she answers with a laugh as you pout. The Kendrick song fades out, and 80s guitar starts to play, immediately making you freeze. You turn slowly towards the DJ with big, scared eyes, you forgot that you’d requested he play this.

The horror only continues when you see him point to you and say, “this song is dedicated to this one’s girlfriend.” If someone decides to sporadically drive through the window and crush you, you thank them right now.

“Girlfriend?” Ava asks from next to you, “you got a girlfriend and you haven’t said shit?”

“Not now, Ava. I think I have to leave.”

“The party?”

“The country,” you answer before ducking your head and walking as Kim Carnes voice plays in the speakers.

Her hair is Harlow gold / Her lips, a sweet surprise / Her hands are never cold / She's got Bette Davis eyes

In your perspective, you’re almost running towards the door, but Melissa sees the stagger in your steps get worse. She doesn’t think about it before she starts weaving through party attendees to get to you faster, no longer caring about her own arbitrary rules. Someone dares step in her way, and they’re pushed roughly, the lyrics of your song were making her work harder to get to you.

She'll turn the music on you / You won't have to think twice / She's pure as New York snow / She got Bette Davis eyes

When the redhead finally reaches you, she’s quick to pull you out of the view of everyone else, and for once it wasn’t for her personal benefit. As she stops moving, she keeps a hand on your arm while you steady yourself. When you turn and look at her, there’s no anger for once, just embarrassment.

She can’t even get a word in before you’re rambling, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell him to dedicate it to you, I just wanted to listen to it and I mentioned that it made me think of you- not like you but you. I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I didn’t want to ups-”

Arms wrap tightly around your neck, tugging you into her embrace. Your own arms flail for a moment before they wrap around her waist, hands gripping the material of her dress. A hand rubs your back, helping you control your breathing, “I’m not mad at you and I don’t hate you.”

“You’re mad, you just feel bad for me right now,” you murmur into her skin, “you should get back before someone notices.”

Melissa only sighs, loosening her hold on you to pull you in the direction of the elevator. You’re vaguely mumbling about her being fine letting you go, but she stays connected to you. She’s acutely aware that you have no idea where your room is, but it’s next to hers, that much she knows. Melissa leans you against the wall, digging in your pockets for your keycard since she left her purse with Barbara at the party.

“Are you trying to feel me up or rob me?” you joke, or at least she thinks you’re joking since she can barely tell through the slurred laugh you let out. Melissa just smiles lightly before opening your door and shoving you in. She tries to guide you towards the bed, but you stick to her side as if you’re sewn to her.

When she finally gets you all situated, she looks at you to see tears welling in your eyes as you scan her face. Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, “what’s wrong, amore?”

You exhale, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m gonna stay right here,” she says softly, thumb caressing your warm cheek.

“No, no. I don’t want you to leave,” you whine, gripping the sleeve of her dress.

She understands what you mean now, and it makes her heart fall in her chest a little. Pulling away, she assures you she isn’t leaving to placate you before going through your suitcase for an extra shirt to wear to bed, knowing that she wasn’t going to leave even if you changed your mind and told her to. It takes about eighty times as long to get you into your own sleep shirt and shorts, but once you’re comfortable, the tears in your eyes fade away.

Melissa tucks herself in behind you, arm wrapping tightly around your middle, though you wiggle and worm around until you’re facing her. A hand comes up and pushes loose hairs away from her face, the look in your eye so soft that she was almost convinced you’d forgotten everything you’d been arguing about.

“Why don’t you wanna tell Barb, or just anyone?” There’s a shyness in your tone as you play with the chains of her necklaces, “I know you wanna be private, but I don’t like being a secret.”

“You’re not a secret, I just like having you to myself,” she tries to appease you, wanting to have this conversation when you’re both sober.

There’s a look she can’t read on your face before you say, “you already have that and so do I, but sometimes I want to show you off. You’re too pretty not to.”

A wry grin crosses her face at your words, the very fragile filter you had was demolished by the rum and cokes. The hand that previously had been occupied by her necklaces was now fiddling with and twirling her hair, your eyes equally trained on the new object of your hand’s attention. Melissa’s attention settled on eyelash on your cheek, she wished it was a good moment to get it so you could make a wish on it.

“I’ll tell Barb,” you move to argue, “not because you’re telling me to, but because you’re right. I want to show you off, get you in some Schemmenti clothes.” Melissa delights in the quiet groan you let out at the proposition of one of her custom jerseys or sweatshirts, her last name marking you as hers. Her own heart skips a beat at the image in her mind.

Your hand moves to her neck and you try to focus your eyes on her face, “only when you’re actually ready. I don’t wanna rush you.” 

“No, I’ll tell her once we get back. I don’t need all those math-a-ritas spilling my business to half of PECSA,” she mumbles the last bit, and she gratefully sees you nodding in agreement. Stretching up, you press a kiss to her jaw. And another, then another. Nudging your way into the crook of her neck, Melissa feels your teeth gently chomp at her skin, a squeak leaving her throat at the action. 

Your thumb strokes over the faint mark left on her neck that will be gone before morning, a kiss placed over it. The redhead can feel the vibrations of you speaking from her neck, but it’s too muffled to make out. She hums, a barely there question of what you’re saying, and the volume of your grumbles just barely reaches her ears. Pretty, pretty, pretty. 

Neither of you answer the wake-up call or attend the continental breakfast the next morning. There’s not even an effort to leave the bed until twenty minutes before checkout where you both parted ways just to pack your things before rushing downstairs to go home. There’ll be a time where you stop driving separately and share stolen looks from down the hallway, and Melissa fully intends for that being over brunch with Barb tomorrow. Tonight, however, she wasn’t planning on letting go of you for even a second.

title is from bette davis eyes by kim carnes (also the song in the fic)

feedback appreciated as always <3

[julsvu]

Hiiii I dunno if your still taking requests but could you write headcanons for leo valdez x daughter of hecate who has a pet dog (cause their hecates sacred animal ofc) and maybe has a lot of tattooes? Thx sm <3

(No pressure)

leo valdez x daughter of hecate! reader

📒: headcanons, fluff <3, making out is mentioned once

he's absolutely enamored by you

at first he was lowkey intimidated because of your godly parent but the moment he got to talk to you he could feel himself melt?? bro was questioning if he was still fireproof at this rate

he ABSOLUTELY loves your dog (your dog probably barked at him at first sight though 😭)

gifts your dog little accessories or trinkets, as well as you!! for example, a new collar or a lead for ur dog, and a necklace for u

i feel like your dog would appear randomly everytime you and leo are making out?? idk man i feel it'd just be standing in the corner, lurking

leo prays for his life

leo walks around saying harry potter picks up lines to you so casually

HE'D GIVE YOU ONE OF THOSE HOGWARTS LETTERS AS A JOKE I SWEAJRJRR

but instead of the letter saying "congrats, you've been accepted into hogwarts!" it'd say, "congrats, you've accepted into Leo Valdez's heart, the bad boy supreme!" with a little wink under the text

scared of your siblings bcs he doesn't wanna accidentally piss them off and make himself hit the magical ball that turns people into a pig

because of that, you two resort into sneaking off into small remote spots in the camp instead of into eachothers' cabins

bro calls the spot "our spot" !! he gatekeeps it IMMENSELY

how is he gonna gatekeep a public place? he just can.

since children of Hecate have the ability to shift themselves into the persona of 3 different people, i feel like he'd definitely fall in love with you 10000x more whenever he sees you shift into "The Mother" which basically is used to soothe anyone

he falls asleep immediately after hearing your voice in that form

he is also IN LOVE with your tattoos.

once tried to doodle a copy of your tattoos on his arm 😭 (he gave up when he smudged it once)

since he couldn't doodle it properly on his arm, he doodles it on multiple machines he'd make, like a little contribution for you

it's really noticeable too, he does NOT hide his love for you at all

if your tattoos have like little gaps or aren't fully colored, he fills in the gaps every time he could, drawing a small marker from his hand and colouring it in

when he's in a bad mood, he runs off to find you and snuggles his face into your neck, tracing your tattoos with his index finger while his other arm is wrapped around your waist

he also definitely asks you what the stories of your tattoos are, why you got them, or how it felt like when you got them

he always ends up debating whether or not to get a matching tattoo with you

eventually, when your relationship had been going on for at least six months, you guys got a matching tattoos

when you guys got matching tattoos, he was so so so giddy 😭 showing the tattoo off to the seven or anyone that'll listen to him

the relationship would be so 'sunshine x sunshine protector' coded for real

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[q-gorgeous]

Grave Green

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 4074

There's a shallow grave in the woods. The only marker is a stone with the name "Danny" scratched into it. Judging by the fresh-turned soil, it hasn't been empty for long. @kinglazrus

hehehehe

Dash wasn’t lost.

No way no how. There was no way he was lost. He was just going on his nightly run and he made a wrong turn and now it was the middle of the night and he couldn't see anything. But he wasn’t lost. He’d be able to find his way back still. 

But the trees blocked the moonlight and he had to move slowly. But moving slowly didn’t help him when he tried to step on empty air and he fell, landing in a patch of turned dirt. 

That was weird. Turned dirt? All the way out here in the middle of the woods?

He sat up and looked around him. Dash’s heart stopped and his eyes widened.

There at the other end of the turned dirt was a headstone with the name Danny on it. He could barely make the name out but he was sure it said Danny.

This couldn’t be Fenton’s grave, could it? Sure, Fenton went missing a month ago but everyone thought he just ran away. He couldn’t have been murdered and buried here, right?

But why was the grave dug out? How long has it been empty?

He heard the sound of a twig breaking behind him and he whipped his head around. 

“Danny?” Dash whispered, horrified.

There he was, covered in dirt and looking at his hands like they weren’t his own. He raised his head to look up at Dash and tears were swimming in his eyes. 

“Dash?” He asked shakily. “What are you doing out here?”

Dash just stared at Danny, at the absurd question. “What am I doing out here? What are you doing out here? You’re covered in dirt and I just fell into your grave!” 

Danny slowly looked back down at his hands. 

“There was an accident. I remember coming out here with my mom.” Danny whispered. “She said we were just going for a walk. That it would help me walk off the shock I got when their portal activated.”

Dash stared at him in horror. 

“I don’t know how she did it, but when we got here there was already an empty grave. She pushed me in and started burying me alive.” His gaze traveled over to stare at dirt he crawled out of. “The headstone is new though.”

“Your mom… Buried you alive?” Dash asked, shaking his hands back and forth.

Danny nodded, still staring at the grave. 

“It’s been a month since you went missing, though. How are you still alive?”

Danny’s gaze made its way back to Dash. “I don’t know. The accident must’ve changed me. Something seemed to scare my mom after I walked out of the portal but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. We came here afterwards.” 

“Your parents are into ghosts right?” Dash asked. “Did their portal kill you? Are you dead?”

Danny went back to studying his hands. “I don’t feel dead. I’m kinda hungry.” 

Dash slowly walked up to him. He hovered a foot away for a moment before he raised a hand up.

“If you’ve got a pulse, you’d still be alive right? Can I see…?”

Danny nodded and Dash put two fingers on Danny’s neck under his jaw. He held his breath and waited for the tell tale thump of a heart beat. He let it out and closed his eyes when he felt it.

“You still have a pulse. Somehow.” Dash pulled away. 

Danny nodded. He seemed tired and he couldn’t stop staring at his hands. Dash sighed.

“Come on. Let’s get you back to my place. We can get you cleaned up and find something to eat.”

Danny nodded again and Dash grabbed one of his hands and pulled it out of his line of sight. Tugging on it, Dash pulled Danny behind him as they started walking. 

“Did your dad know about any of this?” Dash asked softly. He tripped on a rock in the ground and turned to guide Danny around it.

Danny shook his head. “No. It was just me and my mom in the lab when the accident happened. She told me to put my jumpsuit on because we were going to try and fix the portal as a surprise for my dad.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she thought I was supposed to help if my genius father couldn’t help her figure it out. She sent me inside the portal to take a look but I tripped.” 

Goosebumps rose along Dash’s arms. She sent him into the portal?

“When I braced myself against the wall, I must’ve pressed a button. The portal came to life around me and then I was screaming. When the pain was finally gone, I stumbled out of the portal and my mom had a horrified look on her face. I didn’t know what she saw but a bright light flashed in the lab and then she walked over to me.”

Dash guided them past another tree and finally saw what looked like a path. He started following it. 

“She told me to take my jumpsuit off and that we were going to go for a walk. She said it would help me walk off the shock. But the longer we kept walking, the worse the feeling in my gut got. Before I realized I should run, we were already standing over the grave. And then she pushed me in.” 

“Shit.” Dash whispered.

“Yeah.” Danny’s hand tightened around his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Let’s just start with getting cleaned up and eating. Then we can talk to my dad.”

Danny’s head shot up and he looked at him. “Your dad? What if he just brings me back to my mom?”

Dash shook his head. “If we tell my dad what happened he’ll probably arrest her for premeditated homicide.”

“Premeditated homicide?” Danny exclaimed. “Why do you think any of that would’ve been premeditated?” 

“Hello? She already had a grave dug out for you? She sent you into the portal?” Dash finally saw the park entrance that he had come in through. He turned back to look at Danny who was staring at his free hand again. Dash could see all the dirt and mud stuck to Danny much clearer now. 

“But…” Danny trailed off. 

Dash sighed and pulled him closer so he wasn’t trailing so far behind him. “Sorry. Let’s get you back to my place.” 

The rest of the walk was short and quiet. Dash could feel Danny’s dazed and disassociating look as he walked beside him. He couldn’t imagine being in Danny’s position. No matter how shitty his own mother was, at least she just left them instead of trying to kill him. 

They finally turned onto the street his house was on. Dash started pulling his keys out of his pocket. He inwardly cringed when he saw the lights in his living room still on. No doubt his dad was still up waiting for him. 

They walked up the stairs to his front door and put his key into the lock and opened the door. 

“Where have you been, young-”

His dad stopped when Dash pulled Danny into the house. He stood there for a few moments studying Danny and the dirt all over him. 

“Where did you find him?” His dad whispered. 

“I got lost on my run.” Dash said, guiding Danny in behind him while he closed the door. “I tripped on the grave he crawled out of while I was trying to find my way back.”

His dad blanched at him. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I can explain everything to you but can we get him figured out first?” Dash gestured at Danny. “And I don’t think he needs to hear the story he told me again.”

His dad nodded. “Yeah, right. Take him upstairs and find him a change of clothes and get him cleaned up. I’ll make us up some soup.” 

Dash nodded back at him and pulled Danny up the stairs behind him. 

“I’m gonna find some clothes for you to wear first and then we’re gonna head to the bathroom.” Dash said over his shoulder. Danny didn’t respond.

Dash headed to his room and opened his door. He let go of Danny’s hand.

“I’ll be right back.” 

Dash headed to his closet and looked through his t-shirts. They would all be pretty big on Danny but that would be fine. He grabbed the one Nasa shirt he had and headed to his dresser. He struggled to find some sweat pants that would fit Danny but finally found an old pair of his buried at the bottom of one of his drawers. 

He walked back to where Danny stood in the hallway. He was staring at where Pookie sat on the floor, staring back up at him. 

“That’s Pookie.” Dash said. 

Danny nodded. “I remember. I’ve always wanted a puppy.”

Dash smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be able to fill all your puppy needs while you’re here tonight.”

Danny smiled sadly at Pookie but turned to follow Dash to the bathroom. 

“You can sit down on the toilet.” Dash set the new change of clothes on the counter while he rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit and a washcloth. He set the first aid kit on the counter and turned the water on. He waited for it to get warm before he soaked the washcloth in water. Sudding it up with soap, he turned to face Danny.

“Are you okay with me cleaning your face and arms off?” Dash asked him. 

Danny looked up at Dash, his expression blank for a moment before he nodded. 

Dash sat down on the edge of the bathtub and started with wiping down Danny’s arms. There was so much dirt and grime. As he washed it off he also found some cuts and scrapes. Danny’s hands were the worst but Dash supposed that’s what happened when you dug your way out of your own grave. 

“I’m just gonna have you wash your hands in the sink when we’re done. That might just be easier than me trying to do it with a washcloth.” He stood up and grabbed a clean washcloth for Danny’s face.

He sat back down and brushed Danny’s hair out of his face. Danny’s blank eyes focused on him. 

Dash held Danny’s head in place by placing a hand on his left cheek. He started by cleaning around Danny’s eyes. Dash moved to his forehead but his eyes stayed closed as Dash cleaned the rest of his face and made his way down his neck. 

“Don’t forget behind the ears.” Danny whispered.

Dash snorted but obliged him.

He threw the second washcloth into the sink and studied Danny’s hair as he opened his eyes back up.

“Wash your hands and take your shirt off. I think we should rinse the dirt out of your hair, even if we don’t actually wash it.”

Danny headed over to the sink and washed his hands while Dash turned the water for the shower on. He tested the water and adjusted it until it felt like a comfortable temperature. Danny finished washing his hands and then took his shirt off and changed into the sweatpants, tossing the soiled clothes on the floor. 

“Lean over the edge of the tub and I’ll rinse your hair out.” Dash said. 

Danny did as he was asked, propping himself up by resting his arms on the tub. Dash rinsed and pulled as much dirt out of his hair as he could before he shut the water off. He grabbed a towel out of one of the cabinets and handed it to Danny.

“Here.” 

Danny slowly dried his hair as Dash opened up the first aid kit. He pulled out the hydrogen peroxide and neosporin. He grabbed yet another washcloth and doused it in hydrogen peroxide. 

Dash turned back to Danny just in time to see him pull the towel off of his head. 

“This will sting a bit.” Dash warned as he started working on cleaning the scrapes on Danny’s hands and arms. He moved up to Danny’s face and cleaned the one scratch that ran across his cheek. 

Dash went to grab the neosporin and started applying that when Danny looked up at him.

“Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.”

Dash shrugged. “Even if I didn’t want to, my dad would’ve made me. But I wouldn’t want to leave you all covered in dirt. You don’t deserve that.”

Danny hummed and Dash finally finished cleaning him up and putting bandages on. 

“You can take the spare bedroom. I can bring your food upstairs for you.” 

“Okay.” Danny nodded, pulling his shirt on. He looked down at the floor as Pookie started following them.

Dash opened the door for the spare bedroom and turned on the light. 

“Here you go. Home sweet home for the night. You can get settled in while I go see where the soup is at.” 

Danny nodded again and sat down at the edge of the bed. Pookie jumped up by him and curled up at his side. 

Dash headed back downstairs and found his dad still stirring the soup in the kitchen. He looked up when Dash sat down in a chair at the counter.

“How’s he feeling?” His dad asked.

“He’s pretty out of it. Has been since I suggested that his mom did this to him on purpose.”

Dash’s dad turned to look at him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got to stop explaining things like this. Can you start from the beginning?”

“He said his mom asked him to help her fix some portal they built that didn’t work. That she wanted it to be a surprise for his dad. But she asked him to suit up and sent him inside the thing. He tripped and hit a button and it turned on from the inside.” Dash looked away from his dad. “He got hurt and when he walked out of the portal he thought something scared his mom. She took him on a walk and at the end of it she pushed him into a grave she had ready and waiting and buried him alive.”

His dad’s eyes widened. “She buried him alive? Wasn’t that a month ago that he went missing? How is he here?”

Dash shrugged. “They’re ghost hunters. It’s probably some weird ghost thing. But she even marked the grave with a rock that had Danny’s name on it. He literally dug himself out of his own grave.”

“Goddamn.” His dad whispered. “I can’t decide if this kid has the best or worst luck in the world.”

“Maybe a little bit of both.” Dash joked. His smile fell and he looked at his dad. “Is this enough to arrest her? Or will Danny just have to go home to her?”

His dad shook his head. “I think it would be enough. We just need to find the evidence to prove it. But we can arrest and detain her for questioning. If we believe her to be dangerous we can keep her without bail as well.”

“Okay. When will that happen?” Dash asked.

His dad looked up towards the stairs. “Let’s talk to Danny and get the evidence we need. I think your and Danny’s statements will be enough to arrest her while we search for other evidence down in that lab of theirs.” 

Dash nodded. “Okay. We’ll keep him safe though?”

Dash’s dad looked back at him. “Yeah. We’ll keep him safe.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the portal failed, Maddie knew what was missing. 

It was a portal to the land of the dead. When every calculation they’ve checked, double checked, and triple checked was correct, there was only one thing left that she thought could be the answer.

Opening a portal to the land of the dead required a human sacrifice. 

So one day when Jack and Jazz went to the fudge museum, she asked Danny to help her tackle the problem with the portal. She told him she wanted it to be a surprise for Jack. That she wanted to fix it before he came home so that he’d be greeted with a happy sight.

She made sure to hide her notes and hypothesis somewhere Danny wouldn’t stumble upon them. She asked him to get suited up under the guise of lab safety and she sent him into the portal. 

It happened more naturally than she could’ve ever hoped. As he was walking inside, he tripped over one of the wires that ran across the floor of the portal and fell against the portal wall. He pushed the on button that was on that wall and the portal hummed to life. 

She took in the last image of her son, trying to commit him to memory. 

His screams seared her mind and she tried to block them out. This was for science. This was necessary to further their studies. 

But when the screaming subsided, something she wasn’t expecting happened.

A ghost stepped out of the portal. He looked just like her son except for the fact that all of his colors had inverted. 

And his eyes.

His eyes opened. They were acid green and full of fear and pain. He made eye contact with her. A bright light appeared around his waist and when it traveled over his body and disappeared, her human son was left standing there.

“Mom?” He said. He held his hand close to his chest.

“Danny, come here.” She gestured him towards her. “Let’s get your suit off. Let’s take a look.”

She unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled his arms out of the top and helped him step out of it. A lichtenberg scar ran from his hand that hit the button up his arm. 

He didn’t seem to realize what happened. He didn’t realize he had died. That he was some kind of abomination. 

“Let’s go on a walk, Danny. Let’s walk that shock off.”

“A walk?” He asked groggily, confused. “Shouldn’t we-”

She shook her head. “No. Let’s go on a walk. You seem okay. Let’s just stretch your muscles out.” 

This wasn’t how she planned for this part to go. She expected him to just be a body on the floor that she’d have to take care of. She didn’t expect him to survive that. If you can consider it that. 

As they walked further away from the house and into the park, she could feel Danny getting uneasy behind her. She could tell he didn’t understand why they were just going on a walk. It got worse when they walked into the woods and she walked off the path. 

“Mom? Where are we going?” He asked nervously. 

There it was. Right behind him. The grave. He hasn’t noticed it yet.

She pushed him and a cry pulled itself out of his mouth. He fell into the grave and his back collided with the ground.

“Mom!” He cried. “What are you doing?” 

She tried not to listen to his cries and pleas. He was a monster. He wasn’t really her son anymore. Not the abomination he turned into. 

She pulled a pop out Fenton shovel out of her tool belt and started shoveling dirt into the grave. He tried to sit up so she started aiming for his face and dumping more dirt in faster so he couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Soon he was completely covered and he had stopped struggling against the force of the dirt on him. She found a large stone and placed it at the head of the grave so she could recognize it when she came back.

She cleaned her shovel and folded it back up, storing it in her belt. She brushed the dirt off of her jumpsuit and composed herself before she started making her way back out of the forest. 

Nobody could know what Maddie did. She was protecting them. All of them. She did what had to be done. She couldn’t let a monster like that walk around. 

Jack and Jazz just thought Danny was missing. They thought he ran away or maybe that somebody picked him off the side of the road one day. They didn’t know that he died in their basement when the portal turned on. That she had orchestrated the whole accident. They would never know. 

But when she caught sight of the monster wearing her son’s face, her heart stopped. 

There he was, sat in the middle of their living room, Jazz and Jack doting on him. But standing between her and them was Officer Baxter and his son.

“Mrs. Fenton.” Officer Baxter said as he stepped forward. 

“Oh.. You’ve- you’ve found my son.” She said with a weak smile. “Where has he been all this time?” 

Dash stepped closer in front of Danny. Jazz placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Mrs. Fenton, I need you to turn around.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt. 

She stared at them before her eyes darted back up to his face. “What- what are those for?”

“You are being arrested for attempted premeditated homicide.”

“I- I don’t- Why would you think I would do that?” She tried to feign shock, but he kept walking towards her. 

“We already have a warrant out for your arrest and another to search your lab for evidence.”

She looked at the monster on her couch and pulled a blaster out of her utility belt. “I don’t know how you survived, ghost scum, but I won’t let you walk around pretending to be my son!” 

She went to take a shot but Jack jumped up and knocked the gun out of her hand. 

“This is our son, Maddie!” He shouted at her. 

“He’s not my son anymore!” She screamed as Officer Baxter knocked her to the ground and forced her into handcuffs. “He’s ghost scum parading around with his face! My son is dead!” 

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney-”

“Let go of me!” Maddie screamed as she struggled against the handcuffs. He pulled her off the ground roughly and started walking her to the door. “My son died! He’s dead! That is not my son!” 

That monster looked at her with wide eyes she swore she saw turn green. A single tear streamed down his face. 

“That is not my son!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dash watched as his dad carted Maddie to his car. She was still thrashing against him, screaming in the street. 

“What happened, Danno?” He heard Jack whisper behind him. 

“She did something to me.” Danny whispered. 

Dash turned and saw Jazz and Jack exchange a look between the two of them. Danny was still staring at the front door where his mom had been taken away. 

“What did she do to you?” Jazz asked.

Danny shook his head. “If- if I told you… Would you still love me?”

A sad look crossed onto both Jack and Jazz’s faces. “Of course we would.”

“Mom didn’t.”

“What did she do, Danny?” Jack asked him again.

Danny’s gaze finally lifted and landed on Dash. Dash started a little bit at the expression Danny was giving him.

“You want me to tell them?” Dash asked quietly. Danny nodded. 

Dash took a deep breath. “He told me that Maddie asked him to help with the ghost portal. That he went in and pressed a button and when he came back out she looked horrified. Then she led him out to the woods where she had a grave already dug out.” 

Jazz covered her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. Jack looked horrified. Danny’s eyes were vacant again. 

“I got lost in the woods yesterday and tripped over his empty grave.” Dash looked away from them and at the floor. “He somehow lasted a whole month buried out there. He had just crawled out of the grave not too long before I got there.” 

Danny had started shaking and Jack shushed him. Jazz wrapped her arms around him in a hug. 

“It’s okay.” Jack said. “You’re safe now. You’re back home.” Jack turned to look back up at Dash. 

“Thank you. Thank you for bringing him home to us.” 

Dash nodded. He was about to turn away when something caught his eye. 

Dash saw Danny’s eyes flash an unsettling green. 

What if his mom had been right?

[toxic-aries]

my tattoo artist went down on me (2k words)

paring: tattoo artist!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson offered to design a new tattoo for you, during the session things got a little heated.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), oral (f recieving), fingering, squirting, some strong lanuage, and some cringey writing, if i missed any please let me know.

a/n: this is a super old draft from a few months ago so I hope you all enjoy <;3

feedback & criticism is very appreciated. please let me know if you have any thoughts on how I can approve. thank you :)

You stood outside the Munsons trailer, a tad bit nervous, but it is a normal feeling…especially when it comes to getting a new tattoo. But, the thought of Eddie Munson giving you said tattoo made your heart race even more…not that you didn't trust his tattooing skills…oh come on you didn't trust that boy's art skills at all.

All of a sudden the screen door of the trailer swings open, and there stood Eddie. Shirtless. Kind of sweaty. Messy curls as always. Slightly tighter jeans than normal. This look of his caught you off guard, rightfully so…it was a stunning look. “Are you just going to stand there like a creep?” He leaned his body against the door frame, crossing his arms while examining you.

Your mouth parted slightly like you were going to answer his question, but no words were coming out. All you wanted to do was stare at him. He knew. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He whispered as you stepped through the doorway of the trailer, those words sent shivers down your spine. “Come on, I have everything set up in my room.”

“You do know what you're doing right, Munson?” You teased as Eddie led you to his room down the hall.

“Well how else do you think I got these sweet ole’ tatties, huh?” He points at the bats on his arm, “This is my newest work, you like?”

“Not really my style…but they're cool.”

“You seem hard to please…” He mumbles to himself as he sits down in a rolly chair, then opening a sketchbook turning to the page with your design on it. You just wanted some simple roses on your thigh, not too much. “Does this look like what you had in mind, darling?” He really needs to stop with these pet names.

His artwork was actually…good. Surprisingly. “Oh my gosh, I love that!” You exclaimed. He rolls over to the edge of his bed and pats it motioning for you to sit down. The workspace area wasn't the greatest but hey…it’s more professional looking than others. A single towel sits on the edge of the bed, the tattoo gun with the ink caps on a random nightstand and a pair of normal gloves beside it. “Well, I’m glad you like it…hopefully I can draw the sketch again actually on your leg”

Eddie says as he pulls out a couple markers, biting the cap off of one and spitting it out onto the floor, he rolls himself over to you. Putting his knee in between your legs, “Now which thigh are we putting it on.” His pretty brown eyes look up at you as his free hand caresses the side of your right thigh.

“U-uhm…my right one. I want it…” You pointed to the upper thigh of your right leg, making a general circle motion around the area. “About right here.” He moved his hand to that spot, retracing that circle you had made. “So, you want it right here?” You gulped at his question, feeling the slight tension building in the room. “I guess you're going to have to take these things off so we can get started.” His finger moves from your thigh to your hip, pulling on the belt loop of your jeans. “I thought I told you to wear something short.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I had just gotten off work and -”

“Y/N, i'm only playing around…” Eddie chuckled as he pushed himself back, giving you some space to take off your jeans. “Unless, you like to be told what to do?” His eyebrow raised as he watches you stand up and unbutton your jeans.

“Maybe I do, Munson.” His eyes widen at your words. “Oh really…” Eddie's words lingered as he rolled over to you, your hips perfectly in line with his head. “Maybe…I can help take these off for you, sweetheart.” His hands moved up your legs to your hips, pulling down on your belt loops. Pulling down your pants slowly. The feeling of his hands against your bare skin sends tingles throughout your body. The cold metal from his rings sent chills. The intimacy was a bare minimum, but your body craved more.

“Sit back down.”

You listened. He grabbed the marker again and began to draw the rose design on your upper thigh. About thirty or some extra minutes pass and he’s done with the sketch. It looked just like what was in his notebook. “You ready?”

“I guess so…lay it on me.”

Eddie’s been tattooing for about an hour. The vibrations from the tattoo gun piercing your skin sends tingles throughout your entire body. Causing you to grip onto the sheets of his bed, tighter and tighter and tighter. Eddie notices. He moves his free hand to your opposite leg, gripping his hand in the skin of your soft thigh. “Do you need a break?” You shook your head to signal no, you were lying.

He pushed himself back slightly as he lifted the machine up from your skin, placing it on the table beside him. “I can tell you need a break…” His words faded off almost like he was going to say more, which made you curious. Your eyes met his. He uses the chair to pull himself closer to you, leaving you face to face, merely inches apart. “Maybe, we can do something else…instead.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” He pushes your body against the bed, now hovering over you. His finger pulls your chin up closer to his face, staring directly at your lips. You need him. All of him. You couldn't take the tease anymore, so, your arms wrap around his neck and pull yourself up to meet his lips. Clashing into each other. You wanted more. His lips trailed off yours, moving down to your chin, then your neck. Leaving a few marks on his territory. “Let me take this off of you.” He whines into the crook of your neck while pulling at the edge of your t-shirt. His hand starts pulling it up as you move with his movements finally taking it off. Exposing your bare chest.

Suddenly the heated makeout session paused. “Oh shit, I don't want you getting an infection with this thing being exposed. Stand up real quick.” He said as he stood up, reaching his hand out to help pull you up. He put a few layers of paper towels over the half-way done rose, taping the edges to your skin, making sure he doesn't make it too uncomfortable for you. “Does that feel okay?” You nodded at his question.

Eddie places a few soft and gentle kisses on your other thigh, getting closer and closer to you. You feel as his hand moves from the side of your thigh to palm your clothed pussy. His touch caused you to jump a tad, “Oh. Do you not want that?” He said as he looked up at you.

“N-No, I do, trust me. I want that.” You whined, practically begging for him at this point. A smirk grew on his face. Using his pointer he slid your panties over, running said finger down your pussy, “You’ve been this wet the whole time?” He sighed, “Fuck Y/N.” His pointer finger then enters your core, making slight pumping motions. Then pulling it out, putting his hands on your hips, his face directly in line with you.

“Take them off, please.” Your voice was breathy. Eddie wasted no time, pulling your hips closer to his face then using his teeth to drag your panties down your legs. Finishing taking them off using his hands. He stood up from the chair, towering over you, “Lay down on your back, bend your legs too.” He demanded.

You did just as he said, of course. Watching him get down to the right level, he threw your legs over his shoulder. His fingers danced around your entrance, sending pains to your stomach as the heat began to build. Your pussy was throbbing, craving for him to do something…literally anything. You weren't really an impatient person, but you just craved him. “Can you please do something Mun-”

You were cut off by him licking your cunt, tasting you from bottom to top. Sending you to throw your head back letting out a soft moan. Using his pointer and middle he spread your lips open even more, sticking his tongue into your core. Your hands reached between your own legs to his hair, yanking and pulling at his roots. “We’ll see if youre so hard to please…” He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice causing that heat to build even more in the pit of your stomach.

Eddie put his lips around your throbbing clit, while locking eyes with you. Your back pressed harder against the bed, he continued to lick and suck on your cunt, randomly pulling up to plant kisses on the inner thighs. His ringed hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the free fingers finds its way to your core again. His lips stayed on your clit as his fingers fucked your tight hole, his tongue dancing around your clit in circular motions. That intense feeling in the pit of your stomach gets warmer and warmer. “Eddie fuck!” You moan out, trying to catch your breath while he hasn't eased up one bit. “Are you already getting close sweetheart?” He whined as he pulled up from your pussy, removing his fingers from your center, “God, youre so fucking wet…” His hand reached up to your mouth, “Open for me…” His fingers that are covered in your juices enter your mouth, you take them deep, nearly down your throat.

He pushes your legs from his shoulders and plants them down to the bed, spreading your legs open further. Making his access to your pussy easier. “You can only cum when I tell you to, okay?” He says as he gets back down to your level, maintaining that intense eye contact still.

You nod, “O-Okay.” His tongue meets your core, in and out, circular motions, he then licks all the way up your cunt again taking in all your taste and juices. The feeling was incredible. He definitely knew how to use his tongue. He sucks on your bulging and throbbing clit again, using his pointer and middle to pound your hole again. Pumping them in and out. His free hand moved to your hip pushing you down deeper into the bed, the cold metal from his rings against the warmth of your skin. You were getting close, but he hasn't told you yet.

“Are you close, princess?” He moaned as he came up to catch his breath, how in the fuck did he know. “If you're close…you can cum.”

He didnt have to say anymore, “Eddie, fuck.” You cursed out as your head flung back, your chest rising up and down faster and faster. That warm pit in your stomach is nearly on fire. His fingers got faster and faster as they pounded into your core, “Cum for me baby…” he groans, your legs start to shake as an even more intense orgasm builds.

Then you did exactly what he said. As it snapped, you screamed, Eddie pulling his thick fingers from inside you, still pushing against your clit, a hard stream gushing forth. After a few moments, you are still shaken by the sensation. As his digits plunge into your dripping pussy,a few curses and moans of his name escape your lips, he pumps in and out a few more times before pulling them out and watching you squirt again.

“Fuck Y/N.”

“Shit Eddie, I am so fucking sorry.”

“No, I dont give a fuck about that.” His tongue licks off the excess cum dripping from your warm cunt. “That was fucking hot.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You leaned down to his level planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. “Then let’s finish this tattoo.”

“Another round once I'm done?”

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