#No I haven’t read Crime and crystals

[ersatz-ostrich]

See You Again

Chapter 2: Polestar

Jason Todd x f!reader

You and the Red Hood escape the laboratory.

[A/N]: This is the second of the two chapters I had already written. I just started writing the third chapter and putting down my thoughts for the rest of the story...oops...

read here on ao3

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masterlist

STAR Laboratories Los Angeles

9:52:03 PM PT

The Coffin

“Well, that can’t be good.” You mutter to yourself, yanking out the syringe with a hiss. When your soldier had yielded, you thought you could slip away from him. But his sudden fake-out had shifted both of your positions, creating a window for the Bat to shoot him. The bullet had come so close to your face, you had thought you could feel it brush past you and embed itself in the soldier’s exposed neck. 

The bullet could have just as easily grazed you, even killed you, had you been just an inch too close. 

You shifted your gaze to the figure in the red helmet. You hadn’t gotten the chance to examine them up close—they were tall and heavily built, even with armor on, and sported a weathered brown leather jacket that covered the huge red bat symbol emblazoned on their chest plate. “You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“That’s me.”

“What are you doing in LA? Aren’t you supposed to be from Gotham?” The Red Hood let out a modulated chuckle. You thought this would go down as your weirdest day on the job, making one of Gotham’s most ruthless crime fighters chuckle.

“I wanted to check out the warm weather here in Cali.” Something in Red Hood’s tone and posture shifted. “Now, what’s going on with that syringe?”

“Ah. Well, this was supposed to be a dose of a certain virus for the lab animals we’re testing on,” you explained.

“And this virus, it’s…”

“The Polestar virus,” you sighed. “Unearthed from somewhere deep in the Arctic, inside some early human mummies who carried the virus.” You let out a weak chuckle. “We knew it had the potential to be sold on the black market as a bioweapon should it fall into the wrong hands, but we weren’t aware that the risks were so high. And now, the virus is in my system.” 

“Are you feeling anything right now? What are the virus’s symptoms? What’s its incubation period?” His modulated voice was surprisingly soft, yet urgent.

“This virus is bad news. We found that it’s pretty fast acting, and…” You spared another glance at the syringe in your hand. “...the symptoms aren’t pretty.” 

“How fast?”

“This dose is meant for a test subject that’s a fraction of my body mass. I’ll be dead in two or three hours, give or take.”

“And the symptoms?” 

“Necrosis. A new kind that we haven’t named yet. The virus consumes soft tissue and leaves behind a metallic residue. We believe it’s because the virus leaches metals and minerals from the body and aggregates it, beginning with the extremities.” The Red Hood reached forward cautiously, as if he was afraid of startling you. He gently pulled back the fabric of your coveralls that the soldier had so unceremoniously ripped open and ghosted his gloved fingers over where the needle had once been. The blood vessels around the wound had already become blackened and distended.

“We have to get you to a hospital.” You shook your head.

“We can’t. This research isn’t public knowledge.” You hoisted yourself up, tucked in your coveralls, and adjusted your respirator like nothing had happened. “I’m already a target as it is.” You stepped over the black-clad form of one of the soldiers Red Hood felled.

“Are there any treatments?” You picked your way through the Coffin to the freezers.

“They’re still in development, but the vaccine should slow it down.” You punched some numbers into the keypad and put your index finger to the scanner on the door and the freezer doors eased open automatically. You strode over to the shelf where you had hurriedly stashed the vials and syringes, the glass and metal clouded from the cold. The vaccine was crystal pink, you realized, like the color of the phenolphthalein titration you had done back in high school. You had handled both the buret and the Erlenmeyer flask because Jason couldn’t get it right, and in return, he had done all of the calculations for the lab report. Turning over the vials in your hand, you wondered why you were reminiscing about Jason during this time. The thought made your heart squeeze a little bit. 

Jason Todd had been gone for so long. The hollowness that Jason’s absence had carved out of you seemed to sigh achingly. Years on, that hollowness was still there, not as hungry as it had been at first but smaller, still present. It still gnawed on your consciousness from time to time, on his birthday or on the day the Joker took him from you.

When you returned from the freezer, Red Hood was preparing a large metal-lined briefcase that he had taken from the incapacitated—dead?—men on the ground. He had already filled it partially with devices and weapons he had taken off of the soldiers.

“Are those the virus samples?” He inquired.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Vaccines, too. They’re labeled as such, and the vaccines are pink while the virus suspension is cl—”

“Pack them up. We have to get out of here before the police come.” His request startled you.

“Are you serious? This is property of STAR Labs and the CDC—”

“That’s been compromised. Neither you nor the samples are safe here. The police will be of no help, and they’re gonna keep sending people after you and those syringes unless we get you somewhere safe.” He gestured at the tray in your hands. “You need treatment, too. Somewhere they can’t find you.” You sighed heavily, setting the tray on a countertop.

“You’re right. I’m carrying the virus right now, and I’m dangerous. STAR Labs is probably gonna terminate me and the CDC will whisk me away or something. People come after me. But I can’t compromise the Polestar program.”

“It’s already been compromised. Now pack that shit up and let’s get out of here.” You flitted around the Coffin in search of something to store the samples in. You were scooping ice into a Styrofoam case when your comms unit fizzled to life again.

“This is the LAPD, we’ve been alerted of a break-in at STAR Labs. We request that all STAR Labs employees still in the building evacuate immediately. That is an order. Repeat, that is an order.” 

“Shit, we gotta go,” Red Hood muttered. You grabbed your comms and tucked the Styrofoam case awkwardly under your arm and followed him out of the Coffin and into the ruins of decon and aseptics—you had been in the Coffin for hours, and the sight of the wreckage and your coworkers in aseptics now slumped over their devices made your stomach drop. “No time for sightseeing. Hurry up.” You pushed yourself into a full sprint, stumbling in your PPE along the concrete and corrugated steel of the basement. You followed the Red Hood into the emergency stairwell. Peering through the glass of the door to the ground floor, you saw SWAT officers milling about.

“SWAT team, start sweeping the second floor.”

“Shit—” You and Red Hood hurried up the stairs, the contents in your arms rattling in its Styrofoam case.

“Guess we aren’t leaving that way. Know any other escape routes in this building?”

The top floor—your floor. The Polestar program’s home.

You didn’t want to know what kind of destruction the soldiers had left in their wake. 

“Top floor. Only way out would be the roof,” You answered.

“Roof it is.” After climbing some more flights of stairs and monitoring your comms unit for any more activity, you decided to wrench open the door to the sixth floor, breathing laboriously—when was the last time you had done this much cardio? You led the Red Hood over to a service elevator—not accessible without clearance, you explained to him—scanned your ID, and pulled him in. Once it reached the top floor, the elevator dinged and opened its doors, the hallway blessedly clear. You and Hood skulked down the corridor, which ended with the door to the Polestar offices. Hood opened the door and swept the room for hostiles before waving you in.

Your heart sank when you saw what had become of the Polestar lab.

“No…” you whispered. The laboratory had been completely wrecked. Glass fragments and papers were strewn on the floors. Pieces of equipment were left broken and overturned, spilling their contents among the mess.

Then you saw the bodies. 

You caught sight of Dr. Davis’s crumpled form on the floor, next to the comms he had used to warn you of the impending disaster. The comms unit looked like it had been crushed underfoot, exposing wiring and circuitry among shards of its outer plastic shell. You made a step towards Dr. Davis’s body, but froze when you saw the red stain on his back and the blood pooling onto the floor. 

“They…” You felt Hood’s gloved hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from the destruction. “...they killed everyone.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“This is…this is horrible. Unbelievable.” Your pulse quickened with your breath. You felt the tears begin to form, and your vision grew misty. “I can’t believe it. They killed everyone.” You thought you had known grief and death. But this was different—seeing your colleagues slaughtered, their blood drying before you, made you feel faint. And yet, you felt wholly ablaze with 

“Hey…” Shouts sounded from the stairwell. Your chest felt tight and your head was turning fuzzy. “...hey, hey. We gotta move.” The hand on your shoulder was not so gentle anymore, insistently pulling you toward the gaping hole in one of the windows. He handed—more like shoved—the briefcase he was holding into one of your hands and produced a terrifying-looking grapple gun from somewhere on his utility belt. “Don’t drop it,” was all he said before he wrapped an arm around your waist. Your arms instinctively flew around his shoulders, holding onto him, your Styrofoam box and his briefcase for dear life, and then you were airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you soared over the street, which had become choked with squad cars and assault vehicles. You gasped in surprise when you felt yourself change direction as Hood gently and skillfully hoisted you over the ledge of a neighboring building’s rooftop.

“The first time is always the worst.”

“That’s implying that this isn’t the last,” You heaved out. “Holy shit. Did they see us?”

“Don’t think so. We’ll wait here, I’ll…” You didn’t hear the rest of the vigilante’s statement. The adrenaline from the jump was beginning to wane and you felt the burden of the virus and the sights you had stumbled upon while escaping the laboratory coming on again. 

“Hey." Red Hood moved to catch you as you slumped over. “Hey, can you hear me?” Illuminated by the city lights, he caught sight of your badge from where it hung on your PPE. Your name was printed in neat black font next to an unmistakable portrait. 

Under his helmet, the Red Hood’s breath caught in his chest.

“...Y/N?”

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

[A/N]: That's all I've got for now. Hope you enjoyed! x

[berrypass-de-murdler]

91. They Bill You Double for Dying

When I feel uncertain and anxious and then I see that people saw my stuff I feel much better immediately <3 <3

Because VALIDATION, my life force/jk

I'm happy to inform that ALL OF THE BOOK 1 CHARACTERS ARE DESIGNED

That's 68 characters total, from my very first Murdle drawing of Aureolin back in May to the Crystal Goddess, who was just finished yesterday.

On another note the Crystal Goddess is now my least favorite design and I find her worse than Sir Rulean. Fletch colored her but I drew this monstrosity and uh you have been warned.

Nuh

Why is she another fish woman

Why are there so many of those

My original idea in my head actually was a lot less horrifying but Fletch insisted that she needed these creepy lips and NSJFSDCKSDN I hate her :'D KAY AT LEAST SHE'S NOT IN THIS EPISODE MOVING ON

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logico needs to do something he does not want to do.

He has to drive.

LOGICO: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT ANOTHER CAR!!! [mature sobbing]

He has to go to a new law firm, because he HAS to get out of this stupid contract. No more fucking around in Hollywood with his stupid boss and his stupid film crew - he’s not even PARTICIPATING in the movie. When he gets there (and kicks his rental car like a man), he sees the lobby, which is the size of an entire grocery store. That’s just the LOBBY!

LOGICO: Hahahaha, I can’t afford this. ???: LOOK MURDER! LOGICO: Fuck

Blaxton and Argyle followed him to the place!

LOGICO: WHAT DO YOU WANT?? BLAXTON: We knew you knew things, and we wanted them!! ARGYLE: Ay we want yer money.

Blackstone and Pine are also there.

PINE: [snort] Haven’t seen YOU in a while. BLAXTON: AND I JUST WANT TO FUCKING SIGN MY LIFE AWAY!!! LOGICO: All RIGHT, you already spoke.

BLAXTON: Get out of my life, I’m going to go drink coffee with that hot girl!!! I mean drink hot coffee, with the room-temperature girl - YOU UNDERSTAND!!!

Logi, fed up with the puppet man, gets statements.

PINE: Judicially, whoever had the antique- LOGICO: NO! Stop. Retry, but WITHOUT the character-relevant prefix. BLACKSTONE: I-I’ll give you my statement now and my bill later. LOGICO: Ohoho I am not paying you. BLACKSTONE: I’M SORRY MAN!! I’m just… I’m freaking out! Something just doesn’t feel right. I need… money??  LOGICO: Relax. It’s probably because this building is larger than is physically possible on the land surface available. 

Logi gets a really blunt email from Irratino and blushes anyway, because even his most basic words float like whipped cream.

LOGICO: [weird giggling]

But he figures out the truth!

LOGICO: AGENT ARGYLE! You weren’t following me, I was following you! You were here before I was, and you killed that random person! ARGYLE: HISSSSS!!! It wan’t a ‘RANDOM PERSON’! It was a LAWYER! I wanted another percentage point of a mutual client’s revenue. He disagreed. We negotiated, and long story short, he died. Is THAT A CRIME, YOU LITTLE BUSHHUGGER? PINE: [at a computer] You know what is a crime? I just sold your house on Zillow. ARGYLE: WHAT?!? PINE: Serves you right. You just got JUDGED!!! BLAXTON: WHAT JUDGED?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?!?!? BLACKSTONE: STOP… SCREAMING, YOU LITTLE PUPPET MAN!!

Blackstone tackles the puppet and fights with it stupidly. 

ARGYLE: I didn’t think my empty heart could feel depression, until I saw THAT.

The marshmallow man finally manages to rip the little blue guy from his roots. The ‘real’ Hack Blaxton appears to be… a clone of Blackstone? Wait a minute!

LOGICO: He murdered you! BLACKSTONE: I murdered you! How… how??? BLAXTON: I… I… 

The red-tied doppelganger picks himself off the ground.

BLAXTON: I didn’t really die. You were so controlling, so demanding, all the time… the only way I could get away from you was to pretend that you killed me. I just didn’t want to see you again. BLACKSTONE: Hacker… you… really felt like that? I… I don’t want you to think of me like that, I really thought… we were a good team… BLAXTON: I work here now, in Hollywood. I write movies. It’s… what I really want to do. BLACKSTONE: …It’s okay, man. I’m sorry I ever scared you off. I just… I can’t believe you’re alive. I…

They hug and cry. Pine clutches her heart. Logico does a long, withering sigh of confusion. 

LOGICO: I hate this contract… I want to die… why can’t lawyers… why can’t anyone… [LE GASP!!] WAIT! I know who can get me out of ANYTHING! 

He giggles and runs away like a penguin, with an idea in his circular head.

The end!

Yeah Hack Blaxton actually looks exactly like his twin bro, just shorter, with slightly different hair, and a red tie.

Some of the dumbest 'new lore' to come out of the cartoon! ...As if the puppet wasn't already problematic

But with all the designs finished, that means I can start book 2 as soon as the final episodes are published <3

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

fave trope: meeting alternate universe selves (bonus points if one of the universes feels fucked up to the characters of the other one). Alternatively: Stiles&Scott friendship. Like, as the Ultimate Friendship.

Man I would love to read some of these. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi @webetterfly! @kevaaronday made this list for us!

lean on me by thoughtsandthings (21/21 | 34,650 | Teen) This is a ceiling he knows, a sight he woke up to for years and years. This bed, too, is one that swallows his body in a familiar way, and the blankets and sheets smell like home. The room is dark, only the streetlight casting in through the window confirming his fear as he glances around the bedroom— the posters on the walls, the desk piled high with books and papers and homework, the empty spot where his crime wall should be.

He’s woken up in his childhood bedroom.

Stiles slowly rolls his head to the side to find a young, floppy-haired Scott fast asleep beside him, his breathing soft and steady.

-

A time travel story about friendship - Stiles and Scott haven’t been friends for a decade, not since Scott made the mistake of believing Theo and pushing Stiles out of the pack. Now twenty-seven, they get into an argument and wake up in the past, back to a time when they only had each other.

Diary Of An Overworked Nurse by RoryMarx (1/1 | 4,636  | Gen) “If you have it… we’ll do something,” Scott suddenly said, and then they were hugging. Crystal looked at them, could feel the other adults do the same, and the only word she could describe the hug with was desperate. Scott and Stiles clung to each other like two people afraid to drown. It was heartbreaking. These teenagers loved each other. No matter what the MRI showed today, Crystal knew Stiles wouldn’t just have his dad to count on – he would also have Scott.

OR: Over the years the nurses and doctors of Beacon Hills Memorials watched Stiles and Scott grow up - they saw a lot of tears, hugs, laughter, and grief.

5 Times Scott and Stiles Celebrated Their Humanity + 1 Time There Were Werewolves

Stiles’s Pain In The Ass by Wiccan507 (1/1 | 3,679 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles has a pain in his ass and its only 50% Scott. Suffering from his latest night with Derek, Stiles tries to go about his day as normal. But Scott is not making it easy with his ass jokes and using the pack to convince him to tell Derek.

Hold the Sugar, You’re Sweet Enough by Dani Mahealani (1/1 | 2,846 | Gen | Sterek) Stiles loves his friends, he really does. But as he’s making Derek’s latte, he catches what Scott’s written on Derek’s cup and groans.

“What are you, twelve? You know Derek already has my number. He’s had my number. We text every day,” Stiles says as he works on the latte.

Scott looks over at him from the register with the most innocent grin in the world and shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to make a statement.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You mean adding ‘+ SS’ underneath his name and drawing a heart around it wasn’t enough of a statement?”

“If you’re not going to flirt with him yourself, I’ll just flirt with him for you,” Scott says, shrugging.

or the one where their meddling friends decide it's high time for stiles and derek to get their acts together and date

Handcuffs and beards by Kindred (1/1 | 2,337 | Mature | Sterek) Scott and Derek are arrested and are saved by Stiles... of course

God, You’re Frustrating by royal_propellor (1/1 | 1,167 | Gen) It was late, around one in the morning, when Scott said, “What’s your biggest fear?”

Scott and Stiles had been driving around the Beacon Hills area for a while after eating dinner together. The original plan was to get back to Stiles’ house by midnight and go to sleep - it’s a school night and they have a game tomorrow - but now they’re laying in the grass on a hill somewhere in beacon hills, talking and stargazing. ——

or, scott and stiles have a deep conversation at 1am.

the other half of me by ralf (1/1 | 1.141 | Teen) It starts with a new buzz cut.

There’s Always Hope by Must_Be_Thursday (1/1 | 797 | Gen) “Oh, my God. Have you still not seen Star Wars?”

“I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie.”

Stiles and Scott have a Star Wars marathon after the events at the Glen Capri Motel. It was supposed to be a fun distraction, but a certain scene in Revenge of the Sith hits a little too close to home for Stiles.

AND

@tkcthatsme suggested this one!

If the ley lines you should follow by forestofbabel

(10/10 I 52,111 I Teen I Sterek)

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

[gray-morality]

We’re up to no good, ya want in?

■ Datacenter | Crystal – Balmung

■ Playtime | Approx. 6 pm to 10 pm EST

■ You must be 21+ | Mature themes RP

This is a rather specific kind of LFRP post. The goal is to find 2 or 3-ish (or more, who knows!) people to RP and plot with (alongside with my RP partner).  I (we) are open to plot or event ideas, character hooks, pre-established relationships/rivals, you name it. What we’re looking for:

Thavnair-centric - It doesn’t matter if your character is not Thavnairian or spend times outside the region; tbh our own “adventures” take us outside this nation regularly, but we always come back to Thavnair or, more specifically, we work FOR (the betterment of) Thavnair.

Morally gray - Don’t mistake this for evil; However, we’re not completely good either. Sometimes you have to bend the law, or walk carefully under it, in order to survive (or become the lesser of two evils). We try to help others, or ourselves, but life has a way to hand out lemons by the crates and making lemonade ain’t cheap.

Flight before fight - We tend to play more like civilians and a lot of our stories revolve around white collar crime. Not that our characters can’t handle being in a fight, but if it comes to that (and if the opportunity is there) I know of at least one of us that will try to run for it before engaging in combat >_>;;;; *cough* Hunting beasts and monsters, however, is something else entirely.

Lore compliance, realism and low power - This is our brand. We don’t want people who can solve everything single-handedly, who have enough IC wealth to buy off a whole residential district and pull all the favors, or can heal everything with the snap of their fingers. Where’s the fun in that? We like to eat dirt, chew it and spit it out (not for all three meals mind you, it lacks proteins).

Love for writing - And we mean that in the broadest possible way. It includes plotting, writing events and stories for our characters. They can be very centric to one or many characters - we’re all about character development - or to a group (we have Jijivisha). If you just want to sit and enjoy the chocobo ride, look elsewhere, ‘cause we ain’t even got any chocobos.

The small prints

■  Our RP style is turn-based para/multi-para and, speaking for myself, I’m not especially a fast typer AND English is not my native tongue (so I sometimes get stuck on a word or another and it gives 5 more minutes of waiting on my post xD)

■ We RP mature themes; and by that we don’t mean hosting orgies every weekend. As we roleplay characters of gray morality and part of the criminal world, harsh language and swearing (especially Fakhri), gambling (ehh Fakhri’s bread and butter lol), heavy use of alcohol (coughtFakhricough), smoking legal and not so legal substances (Guess who?), drugs (Starts with an F) and violence are all part of that package. We obviously respect people’s boundaries if a topic is sensitive for them. Also if you haven’t noticed, Fakhri is trash and Seda is the more respectable of the two.

■ No Discord RP. Multiple factors at play with this decision and, while there are very rare exceptions, just assume it’s not happening.

If you read through all of this, consider me amazed xD

This may all seem like a lot but me and my partner are actually quite laid back. We’re both adults with a career and obligations and we know what it is to get home tired, or not having the energy nor the time for the game on any given day, or week. This is why we highly value good communication and we respect each other’s time. Now, why only seek 2 or 3-ish people to RP with? We firmly believe in quality before quantity and, hopefully, having a tight-knit group is all we’ll need to weave stories and have fun. Think of it as a tabletop group of friends. As a final note, me and my partner both enjoy the PVE aspect of the game so if that’s something you enjoy as well, bonus kudos to you and let’s climb HoH already!

Also, liking rats is mandatory.

Fakhri Man’tik

■ alcohol, fogweed and gambling. Leaving the Primeval Forests behind, only to wake up one day in a dark alley, between a pile of trash and a rat. Even the cards couldn’t have foretold that he’d take that wrong turn, right into a world of crime, taking some of humanity’s vices as his own. But it seems the spirits (or a rat) took pity on him after all...

--------------------

CAARD | https://fakhrimantik.carrd.co/>

TUMBLR | https://gray-morality.tumblr.com/

Seda Ballard

■ bad decisions, ambition and wanderlust.  Making a name for herself as a walking encyclopedia of Eorzean tariffs, imports, duties and taxes - and how to avoid paying them - her ink-stained fingers dancing through many account books. The path can be quite dark when one has no qualms where the money comes from. Good thing she met with someone who can hold a lantern to light the road ahead…

--------------------

CAARD | https://catscratching.carrd.co/

TUMBLR | https://catscratching.tumblr.com/

[thefiresontheheight]

Asked for by no one the complete list of “gives you fires’ highly specific and incredibly corrosive brain worms” New Weird books I have read and highly recommend you read if only so I can tell about them and also about how they influence my own writing:

Unsong: Available on line. In 1969 the Apollo program accidentally broke the crystal sphere around the world, and demons started invading Siberia. Things have gotten worse since then.

There Is No Antimemetics Division: Also available online. Set in the SCP universe, but stands alone. How do you fight an enemy that makes you forget it exists, a war you can’t remember isn’t real? Welcome, this isn’t your first day.

Perdido Street Station: China Mieville. New Crobuzon is a Capitalist nightmare, and everything sucks. Not for the faint of heart with a LOT of super heavy material, but good god character drips from the page and also various orifices.

Area X Trilogy: Where lies the strangling fruit that came forth from the hand of the sinner. Read the whole thing, not just Annihilation.

The City and the City: Also Mieville but he’s writing crime fiction this time, and it’s theoretically set in our world.

Embassytown: Last Mieville but like. This book rewired my synapses. It’s a book about language. And Language. And LanGuage.

The Stars are Legion: Extremely gross. A fleet of city ships, and the women who give birth to the parts that keep them going. Haven’t seen this one as New Weird but like. It qualifies imo.

Mortal Engines: also honorary new weird IMO. In the ruins of all ages, London crawls across the dry bed of the North Sea, looking for prey to devour.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Alexandra's Evolution Chapter Nine: Monsters and Sea Serpents

Fandom: Primeval Wordcount: 4.2k Warnings: Mention of murder

The team encounter their first underwater anomaly, and consider the downsides of not being able to tell the public about their operation

Read on AO3 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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“Snap!”

“No, no way, that is not a Chalk Hill Blue, that is a Common Blue.”

“It’s a Chalk Hill Blue, it says so!”

“On the side of the card you’re not showing me?”

The argument is silly and giggly, Alex leaning further and further backwards to prevent Juke from reaching the cards she’s determined to win. They’ve been playing Snap with a set of butterfly themed cards in Crystal Palace Park, in clear view of the Megatherium statue on the Dinosaur Trail. Nick had arrived at the Hart house in Esher early in the morning to take a still-recovering Stephen to some educational talk or other, so Alex and Juke had packed a backpack full of breakfast foods and cold pizza and taken Juke’s car to the park. The grass is a little damp, but not wet enough to soak through the jackets they’d put down to sit on. In the efforts to catch the card, Juke ends up pushing Alex onto the ground.

“It’s a Crest Hill Blue, you dick, I win,” she props herself up onto her elbows, still laughing, “Pay up.” Alex holds her hand out for the last slice of pizza, which Juke begrudgingly gives her after making certain that the card he now has is in fact displaying the correct butterfly. Alex rolls onto her stomach, away from him, so he doesn’t try to steal the food from her. The park is quiet at this point in the day, not yet noon, and across the Tertiary Island they’re on she can see swans lifting up out of the water with loud honks. The ripples they leave behind are unusually large. Holding the pizza in her teeth Alex pulls her knees up so she can stand.

“Al?” Juke asks. She swallows the bite of pizza in her mouth so she can speak,

“Thought I saw something.” She answers.

“Something?” Juke prompts her to elaborate, to complete her sentence. Shoved at the bottom of the backpack, a phone rings, “I’ll get it.” Juke dives into the bag while Alex moves closer to the water. It’s still rippling, as though the swans are still swimming there. The birds are high in the air by now, almost level with the trees but still honking. “Alex Hart’s phone…hang on, I’ll see if I can find her,” Juke shuffles towards Alex, “Captain Ryan?” he asks when she manages to turn away from the water and towards him.

“He runs security at work. Pass it over, it’ll be important.”

“Security?” Juke repeats, “Because dig sites are notorious for…crime?” Alex waves a hand at him as she lifts the phone to her ear,

“Tom Ryan, you have Alex Hart.”

Where are you?

“Good morning to you too, I’m in Crystal Palace Park, why? Have we got another one?”

Possible incursion at the Crystal Palace sports centre, shouldn’t take you long to get here.

“I-” Alex twists to see how close Juke is, then moves a little further away from him and lowers her voice, “Kind of on a date here, Tom Ryan.”

That sounds like a problem for you to solve. Do you happen to know your wetsuit size?

“No, no, I don’t. Suppose it’s the same as dress size.”

And that is?

“Twelve. Why do I need a wetsuit again?”

We think the creature came through into the diving pool, so we’re going to need one of you to have a look.

“Underwater? We haven’t had one of those before, have we?”

Not as far as we know. Look, the police are here already, we need to establish if there was an anomaly or not.

“Right, I’ll,” Alex sighs, raking a hand through her hair, “I’ll figure something out, I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.” Ryan hangs up and Alex snaps her phone shut. “Juke?” she calls as she turns, hand still sitting on top of her head, “I’ve got to go.”

“What, right now?” Juke has relocated to the makeshift jacket-blanket and speaks around a Weetabix.

“Now, yeah.”

“The fossils have waited a couple tens of million of years, surely they can manage a few more hours.”

“I’m sorry, Juke, really-” Alex kneels on the jackets to collect the debris of the picnic. Juke reaches out to stop her hand,

“It’s fine,” he’s not saying it just to say it, he’s making Alex look him in the eye so she knows he means it, “Al, I’ve done the same thing. Hey, you’re getting good enough money out of it, might as well show up on time.” Alex leans forward and kisses him quickly, thanks him, “Can I drop you off?”

“No, no, you go…do your own thing, I’ll manage.” Alex lurches to the side to grab her shoulder bag, and Juke hurries to pick up everything on the ground so she can take her jacket with her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you back at the house?” Alex struggles with her jacket, forgetting she’s holding the bag and having to take it off to get the coat on.

“Back at the house?” Juke echoes, confused.

“I dunno when I’ll get out of it. I’ll message!” She takes off, blowing a kiss and waving.

“What exactly is this job, Alex? Alex?” she pretends she can’t hear Juke as she jogs north.

***

Alex is, of course, the first to arrive at the scene. They’ve made no further progress in acquiring ID badges from the ARC, so once again she has to call Ryan to get him to the door to confirm her identity.

“I’m getting really tired of that.” Alex tells him. She passes him her bag so she can unzip her jacket and take it off, unbutton her outermost shirt and take that off too.

“We’re working on it,” Ryan replies. He trades the outer layers of her clothes for the wetsuit he’d bought from the little shop at the front of the building. He also gives her the receipt, “Changing rooms in there. Do you want to talk to the police before you get into the water?”

“Remind me why the police are involved.”

“A lifeguard and his girlfriend were in here in the early morning, swimming before opening. The lifeguard’s dead, but there’s no body. She called the police, and they think it’s her, all she can manage to say is that there was a monster in the pool that ate her boyfriend then disappeared.”

“Chlorine pool, aye?” Alex asks. Ryan nods. “If Abby’s at the zoo ask her to pick up some salinity test kits, they should have those. If she’s not, we should be able to get some at the nearest pet shop that sells fish. Goggles?”

“Scuba mask,” Ryan corrects, holding it up for her to see, “You know, you almost sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I have no clue. Salt in the water could tell us if there was an anomaly or not if the water flows and mixes like air does in above-ground anomalies, it’s pretty much all I can think of. I’ve got the magnetometer in the bag, I’ll set it up before I dive.”

“Magnetometer’s magnets, yeah?” Ryan asks, holding the door to the changing rooms open for Alex to go through. Her answer is momentarily muffled as she hops to undo her shoelaces,

“Measures the strength of the magnetic field the anomaly’s producing-” she finishes one sentence and starts another in the same half-second, “Oh, remind me to go to the other anomaly sites as soon as possible to measure the magnetic flux there.”

“I’ll check your diary for availability.” Ryan says dryly.

The wetsuit fits well enough, and Ryan’s wrangled some flippers out of a storage cupboard. Alex is tucking her hair into tight bobbles to keep it out of her face when her uncle and his partner arrive.

“How was the talk?” she asks, adding a second tie to the bun. She’s holding the band of the scuba mask in between her teeth.

“Left early. How was the park?” Nick asks, using the arm around Stephen’s middle to encourage him to sit on the bench closest to the pool.

“Left early.” Alex answers.

“What’d you tell Juke?”

“Didn’t tell him anything, did I?”

“That’s not suspicious.” Stephen remarks. Alex, content with her hair, moves to sit next to him on his bench,

“What do you suggest, with your long history of stable, healthy relationships?” she waves a hand at Nick, “Present company excepted…well, no, you did have an affair with his wife before he had his gay crisis at the ripe old age of thirty.”

“Twenty-eight,” Nick corrects, “But you’ve got a point.”

“Alex Hart, are you coming or not?” Ryan’s voice bounces off the walls of the pool building, “And if the professor’s there, the police want to talk to him!”

“The hell have you done now?” Stephen asks, accepting the hand Nick’s offered to help him up. Alex meanders towards the edge of the pool and sits to pull the flippers on, waiting until she sees her uncle and his partner meeting the police detective before she lets herself tip forward into the water.

It’s slightly discoloured. The water. She could be imagining it, but the pool doesn’t seem to be reflecting the tiles that line it as brightly as it should be. Discoloured by blood. She had noticed the diver’s girlfriend shaking in a brown towel, a policewoman’s arm firmly around her shoulders, a few feet away from the edge of the pool. She had jumped at the sound of Alex hitting the water. Alex pushes deeper. The pool doesn’t seem particularly warm or cold, nor does it have the sickly tang of salt, but there has to be something. There are viewing windows, like in an aquatic habitat at a zoo, for people to watch others underwater. Alex swims alongside these portholes and finds one cracked. Traces the point of impact. Something had hit the window, something heavy. It’s not regular wear-and-tear, the glass is too thick for that. Made specifically for underwater use, it shouldn’t splinter like this. Besides, they’re hardly hairline cracks that can be resealed with tape. 

Alex bobs back up to the surface to gasp a big enough breath that she’ll be comfortable at the floor of the pool for a suitable amount of time. It’s the cleanest pool floor she’s ever seen, probably because no one’s actually been in it but the lifeguard and his girlfriend. There are no lost elastoplasts or forgotten toys or loose locker keys, just the smooth blue tiles and the white grout between. Alex fights to keep her body as low as possible, stomach brushing the tile as she propels herself along the length of the pool. Small stones come into view every so often, and she collects them in her hand just in case they’ve come through an anomaly. Before her lungs tighten and demand she return to the surface of the water, she gives one last push forward. There’s something else down there. Slimy green ribbons of something. Seaweed. What swimming pool comes with seaweed? Satisfied with the evidence she’s gathered, Alex launches herself off the floor of the pool. When she realises she’s come up on the same side the lifeguard’s girlfriend is still sobbing on she does her best to swim away as quietly as possible, staring up at the ceiling as she moves backwards with her stones and plants held tight in fists. She’s not sure where the wall is, and slows down when she suspects she’s close, but a hand comes between her head and the bricks before they connect.

“Careful.” Stephen says. When Alex twists to pull herself up, she finds her uncle sitting with his trousers rolled up to his knees to dangle his bare legs in the water. Once she’s sitting beside him she swats at his uninjured arm.

“You’re contaminating a crime scene.”

“Can’t get much worse, you’ve already been in it.”

“Thanks. Evidence bags?” This, at least, she’s had some success with in the last few weeks. Lester had allowed them to take samples of the things they found at anomaly sites, if only to stop them going through to pick the plants themselves. Stephen finds some in his pocket and opens them one at a time so Alex can drop first the stones, then the seaweed into respective zip-seal bags, “They don’t seriously think she did it, do they?”

“Looks like they do. Nick’s doing his best, but Leek’s not being of much help.” Stephen gestures with an elbow so as not to seem too obvious. Sure enough, Leek’s on the other side of the hall in his suit in deep conversation with the detective and trying to shoulder Nick out of the way.

“When did he get here?”

“You were under.”

“There’s no blood. Not in the water, not on the tiles or the changing room. There’s a broken viewing window down there, do they think she did that too?”

“They don’t know what we know,” Stephen points out, “Maybe they should, they’re the police. Any number of cold cases could be cracked if it turned out a creature had done something.” Missing people could be found, is what he means. Helen, is what he means. How many people have gone wandering through anomalies, or been taken by a creature?

“MI5 don’t even know.” Alex reminds him. She’d asked Leek about that several weeks ago. No one knows about anomalies except the people employed by the research centre, bound by the Official Secrets Act that promises serious jail time and bankruptcy if broken, and there really aren’t that many employees. Stephen’s staring into the pool as though he’s trying to memorise the ripples he’s causing. He shakes his head, just a little, slowly. Not to attract attention.

“Doesn’t sit right.” Is all he says. Alex hums in a way that doesn’t sound like agreement or argument. A considering noise. 

“Where’s Tom Ryan?” she asks after several silent moments drag themselves to death. She’d been expecting him to appear whenever she surfaced and demand answers, but her magnetometer is twirling on top of a towel next to Stephen and the soldier’s nowhere to be seen.

“Gone out to wait for Connor and Abby, he’s got to verify identities.”

“He’s gonna get sick of that very quickly.”

“Think he already has.”

“Have you been taking the measurements for that?” Alex points at the magnetometer.

“Nick found it in your bag, set it up and left it there.”

“That’s a no.”

“That’s a no.” Stephen concurs.

“Thank you, lab assistant Hart,” Alex mock-salutes to cement the sarcastic statement, “Connor’ll get it when he arrives. I’m going back in.”

“Don’t drown, I’m not allowed to swim.” Stephen sounds almost bored, he’s good at pretending he’s not paying attention, and leans further back on his hands.

***

Alex’s hair is frizzing in the lab. She’s given Connor permission to touch it, so now every time he passes he pats her on the head or just pokes a finger through the hair to try and get to her scalp. Her hair doesn’t take well to being wet. Or rather, it doesn’t take well to being left to air-dry. Her evening is now fully booked with washing and detangling and drying. Shoulders by her ears as she bends over the microscope she’s using, she’s decided it’s worth it. Not every day she gets the chance to study prehistoric vegetation, even when working for the ARC. She and Connor have carefully sliced the ribbons of seaweed she’d found at the bottom of Crystal Palace Park Diving Pool and each have a few slides that contain individual slices of the plant. Stephen has been dispatched to the nearest library to find anything on prehistoric marine plants. 

“Alright, quickfire, what do we think this could be?” Connor asks, his laptop primed for quick clicks through the database that takes up one half of the screen. The other half holds a slowly scrolling length of text that seems to be talking about creature sightings in the water. A lot of them are based in Scotland, unsurprisingly, “Because I like the sound of a Helicoprion.”

“You just want a weird shark.”

“Maybe.”

“What’s that one fish that’s built like a bloody tank?” Alex asks. She can hear the click…click, clickclick of Connor’s mouse as he locates the page he wants,

“Dunkleosteus. Massive bite force. Human bein’ would’ve been like a marshmallow.” Connor answers. Alex makes an over-exaggerated chewing noise in the back of her throat. She sits back from the scope, adjusting the settings so she can take a photo with the camera she’s been permitted to have. 

“Could be any of the main three, I guess. Mosasaur, Plesiosaur, Ichthyosaur-”

“Nessie.”

“Wasn’t that aliens?”

“Might not have been,” Connor shrugs, “Got to consider all possibilities, right?”

“Your thesis advisor’s going to love you changing your argument three weeks before the deadline.” Alex says, reminded of the pink folder Nick had tipped into the bin the first time he’d met Connor.

“You read my paper before he did,” Connor points out before asking, “How’s the seaweed?”

“Weedy. Purple, that’s fun. Can’t say I’ve ever really…studied seaweed under a scope. Mostly onion skins, you know? Stephen’s looking for some government phycologists we can send samples to.”

“The professor know anyone with fossils that could help?”

“He might, but he’s trying to keep Diane Johnson out of police custody. Leek and Lester are happy to let her get charged with Anthony Barton’s murder if it means the anomaly project doesn’t go public. We have evidence, but we can’t even present it.” Alex looks up from the microscope camera to find Connor staring at a jar of the pool water they’d collected. There was salt present, enough to indicate that foreign water from the other side of an anomaly could have mixed with the chlorinated stuff. 

“There’s literally nothing left of him, what do they think she did with him?” he asks with a frustrated gesture.

“Don’t drop the jar.”

“I’m not gonna drop the jar!” Connor assures her. The lab door beeps rapidly as it opens and, right on cue, the repurposed salsa jar slips from his hand and smashes into splinters on the linoleum floor of the lab. Stephen stares down at the sparkling puddle by his shoes. “I’ll…I’ll get a mop.”

“Good idea,” Stephen tells him. Connor edges around the puddle and side steps Stephen to get out of the room. Alex’s uncle doesn’t let the door close behind him, “How are we doing?”

“Want to have a look?” Alex offers, turning the chair so she doesn’t stand on glass shards. Stephen takes her place at the microscope and bends over it himself after detaching the camera and handing it to his niece.

“Have you called Juke yet?”

“Yeah, he’s back at the flat, finishing up a paper.” Alex rummages in her bag while Stephen messes with the scope’s settings. With her head still in her bag she asks, “How’s the memory doing?” this is code and he knows it,

“Memory’s…good,” Stephen says slowly, still not looking up from the scope, “She was there, Alex. Really.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t help you.”

“She knew help was coming. She wouldn’t have left me to die-”

“She didn’t exactly stop you from dying.”

“Alex.” Be quiet voice. Alex closes her mouth.

“She wouldn’t have left me to die,” he repeats, straightening up from the scope, “She wanted me to get back to Nick, she didn’t want to talk to him directly…he knew she was around though.”

“He did?”

“You know he used to see her, just in the city or wherever. We all did. She’s popped up a few times in the last couple months, he thought he was just missing her again, especially after finding that camera in the Permian.”

“Why not speak directly to Nick then?” Alex asks.

“Like she said herself, she wants him to go through an anomaly to meet her. She doesn’t want to meet on our side, and Nick doesn’t want to risk going through, won’t go running after her,” the chair spins to face her, “If she was my wife, if it was Nick-”

“Not your wife.” Alex reminds him quietly, hooking a finger through the wedding rings strung around her neck. Not Nick’s wife anymore either, she supposes.

“She was still important to me, Al. And she’s alive, she’s been alive for the last eight years.”

“Why only come back now? She knew about the anomalies, we know that’s why she left,  but if she’s been back and forth between epochs, why does she only want to meet up now?” Neither of them have so much as dared to say her name.

“She wants to see Nick. She wants him to go through the anomaly to meet with her.” Stephen maintains eye contact with his niece, trying to convey a message. Something not entirely unlike sadness lifts the hairs on Alex’s arms.

“But if he does go through and the anomaly closes, then he-”

“He’s gone.”

“Does she want h-” the door plays its little entry fanfare again, announcing Connor as he returns semi-triumphant trying to balance a mop, a bucket and a broom. The Harts had all but forgotten the spilled water.

“I think you’re right, Alex,” Stephen says, pushing away from the desk, “I’ll give Allison a call, I think she’s fresh back from the Amazon.”

“Allison in the Amazon?” Connor asks, “Sounds like a George of the Jungle spinoff.”

“Old friend, she’s been researching infectious diseases and her boyfriend’s been studying the algae in the river, he might be a help with this,” Stephen passes a hand over Alex’s shoulders as he walks past, “Going to nick Allie from you, Connor, alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I can handle this.” Connor gestures at the floor while Alex tidies away her slides and collects her cuttings and tells him she’ll be back before she leaves the building.

“Take your phone, shoot Juke a message,” Stephen says, waiting for Alex to fetch her mobile before guiding her out of the room, “We’ll bring dinner to the flat when we head back.”

“When do we think that’ll be?” Alex asks, tapping out the prescribed text. 

“I’m giving Nick two hours max,” Stephen says as they meander down the hallways of the ARC. He rolls his injured shoulder to relieve some of the pain, indicating that he’s too tired for much more without actually saying it, “After that I’m going home regardless.”

“I’ll come with you. Gotta come up with something to tell Juke first.”

“You’ve got time.”

“It’s like you said yourself, it’s not the greatest look if I’m going to have to keep jumping out of dates without telling him what I’m doing or where I’m going.”

“We can brainstorm on the train,” Stephen offers. Alex pushes her phone into the chest pocket of her dungarees and reaches up to twist her hair into twin plaits, following Stephen as he heads towards the ops room, “Be warned, the suits are very pissy.”

“The suits are always pissy.” Alex says. Stephen scoffs as he pushes open the double doors and holds one open for her. She ducks under her arm and comes up to find a very annoyed Scottish man barrelling in her direction. 

“They’ve charged Diane Johnson with murder. Murder,” normally they’d mimic the accent, but that wouldn’t be at all wise at present.

“What?” Stephen’s hand finds Nick’s arm.

“There’s nothing else that can be done.” Leek calls after them.

“She didn’t do anything.” Nick whirls round, sounding like he’s already said this about a dozen times.

“The police have nothing but circumstantial evidence, they can’t prosecute without solid.” Alex thinks aloud. Leek holds up a hand when his phone rings and excuses himself.

“Under these circumstances we tend to find it easier to sanction the occasional unjust arrest that we can renege than allow witnesses to go about running their mouths in exchange for a few pounds from a newspaper.” Lester says in that bored way he says everything.

“How often do you do this?” Stephen asks lightly.

“Don’t.” Nick tells him.

“She’s not going to go and tell a newspaper, she watched her boyfriend either get eaten or disappear into thin air!”

“Yes, the professor’s already done that soapbox in.”

“Steve.” This is gently said, Nick finding Stephen’s hand and squeezing. Stephen’s gearing up for another go, and he’s liable to take both his niece and his partner along with him. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Leek comes back to the group.

“Sounds like we’ve got our next one, something weird turned up at a reservoir about ten miles north of the Crystal Palace Park Pool.”

“Something weird?” Alex asks. Leek shrugs. “Great timing, Oliver. I’ll go get Connor.”

“We’re not done here,” Nick says, a finger pointed at Lester, “That girl shouldn’t be in prison.”

“Well, there’s not much can be done until you get to that reservoir and find out what’s going on, so I recommend you get going.” Lester replies. Stephen takes Nick by the elbow and pulls him out of the room before he can say anything else.

[anotheruserwithnoname]

Book series that would make good movies/TV shows if done properly

With all this talk about Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones and now Harry Potter being remade for TV, there are a number of popular book series that I am surprised no one has (by now) done a proper film or TV series about. Here are a few that I think are overdue for adaptation on screen. Spoiler break here as this will be a bit long:

(n.b. all cover scans are from my collection)

1. Honor Harrington

This post was inspired by the fact David Weber’s military SF series Honor Harrington - which traces the career and exploits of the titular character - turns 30 this year. There is some immense world-building by Weber here, more than enough to sustain a TV series and spin-offs. And Honor had the “tough hero with cute cat” look down pat while Brie Larson was still in her crib. I feel old because I read On Basilisk Station when it first came out!

2. Killashandra Ree

I’m surprised there haven’t been movies adapting Anne McCaffrey’s novels. The Killashandra Ree trilogy - about a young woman who uses her singing voice to mine a precious commodity called crystal. This would be a perfect role for a singer-actress.

3. Illuminatus!

Shea and Wilson’s Illuminatus! trilogy has been called the ultimate fairy tale for paranoids. Most of not all references to “the Illuminati” which appears in films from time to time take some notes from the Illuminatus! Trilogy. It would have to be NC-17 if done for movies, so this is more likely a Netflix-friendly concept. And once the trilogy is done, Wilson went on to write a number of novels called The Historical Illuminatus Chronicles, another semi-related trilogy, Schrodinger’s Cat, and also Masks of the Illuminati. 

4. Vatta’s War

If they don’t want to do Honor Harrington, there are other female-led military sci-fi series available, such as Elizabeth Moon’s Vatta’s War series focusing on space academy dropout Ky Vatta’s attempts to redeem herself as she commands a trading vessel caught in the middle of a war.

5. Modesty Blaise

It’s true, there have been 3 attempts at adapting Peter O’Donnell’s comic strip for the movies: indeed, his very first full-length novel adapted his original script for the 1966 movie version that threw everything out the window in favour of goofy comedy. A 1980s TV pilot was Americanized. A 2004 prequel movie called My Name is Modesty failed because it was a prequel. But if properly cast (Gal Gadot), and properly written, a Modesty Blaise movie would make everyone forget the entire notion of casting a woman as James Bond - they don’t need to do so with retired crime lord-turned-unofficial MI6 spy Modesty Blaise around.

6. Old Man’s War

I was going to include John Scalzi’s amazing Old Man’s War series next, but apparently they are doing a TV series of that one.

7. Harvard Lampoon’s Bored of the Rings

OK, maybe not - but it would be funny to see someone release this as counter-programming to Rings of Power!

[pinkluminarystarlight]

VEGGIETALES parody: “Vegemorph”

Archibald Asparagus- Dr. Jonathan Chase

Annie Onion- Teresa Chase

Larry the Cucumber/Larry-Boy- Nightman

Chief Scallion- Jack The Ripper

BOB: Hey, kids, welcome to Veggietales! I’m Bob the Tomato!

LARRY: And I’m Larry the Cucumber!

BOB: And we’re here to help! *pulls out letter*

LARRY: Hey, Bob, what’ve you got there?

BOB: We got a letter here from a girl named Jennifer

LARRY: Didn’t we already get a letter from her last week concerning her friend Allison? They had trouble getting along?

BOB: That’s not really important right now.

LARRY: It sure seems a lot goes around NJ.

BOB: Larry, I think you mean “happens around.” LARRY: Sorry.

BOB: No need to apologize. We don’t always say what we mean.

LARRY: Yeah, I know. What’s going on here? BOB: She’s writing about her Dad. She says she loves him dearly, but doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with him about certain issues. Shortly after being rejected by Allison, they had a squabble about, well...

LARRY: About what? BOB: She doesn’t want to talk about it.

ARCHIBALD: *offscreen* Well, surely I can be of assistance here!

LARRY: Who’s that?

BOB: Sounds like Archibald to me. LARRY: Archie?

BOB: Yes, Larry, he does these things. Let me go see what he’s up to-

*Bob bounces up to look for ARCHIBALD.*

ARCHIBALD: *coming up to the tabletop* Yes, it’s me Archibald, your friendly neighborhood asparagus. This young lady is having problems with her father, I presume? BOB: Well...yeah.

ARCHIBALD: Well, I’ve heard of him. Quite fond of his work!

BOB: Wha-?

ARCHIBALD: How can I resist a man who makes a living studying about my culture? Now, I have a little something they might be interested in.

BOB: What is it?

ARCHIBALD: Oh, just a little something we Gen-Xer’s are fond of.

LARRY: Gen- what- errss?

BOB: Is it Monty Python?

ARCHIBALD: No, this one is a tad more obscure. Couldn’t last one season, ha! It featured a vegetable who could turn into plants to fight crime. Now, that’s not quite how I remember it-

BOB: I see. Now, can we PLEASE roll the show?

ARCHIBALD: Well, if you insist. Roll film!

*Show begins with a scene reading “Vegemorph,” then abruptly cuts to CHIEF SCALLION terrorizes a defenseless young leak. In a fit of fury, ARCHIBALD transforms into a series of vines- accepting defeat, CHIEF SCALLION immediately leaves the scene. Dusting himself off, ARCHIBALD transforms back into his normal self.*

ARCHIBALD: Ah! What a night. And to think I almost missed my daughter Jessica’s graduation.

*The scene abruptly cuts to Jessica-as-Annie’s graduation. She’s trying to enjoy herself, but looks apprehensive as she notices the abscence of her father. The film focuses on LARRY, who is videotaping the whole scene.*

LARRY: So here we have my friend Jessica, ready to graduate from a school with monkey bars- AHHH!

*Suddenly, LARRY trips and falls, bringing down the video camera with him. The other vegetables say nothing, but merely look in disgust, including ANNIE.*

ANNIE: This never would’ve happened if Dad was here.

*Suddenly, Annie pulls out her flip phone to call her father, which immediately goes to voicemail, much to her annoyance.*

ARCHIBALD: Hello, it’s me Jonathan. Please leave a message after the *BEEP.*

ANNIE: Dad, where are you right now? This is my graduation, and you’re missing it! *Scene cuts to a proud-looking Archibald in the city, when suddenly, his phone goes off.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh dear, it looks as though my cellular device has gone off. Hope I haven’t missed anything too important!

*Scene cuts to ARCHIBALD checking out his cell phone, when suddenly, his daughter’s angry voicemail starts playing.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh dear. It looks as though I’ve missed my daughter’s graduation. Perhaps I could use this crystal to teleport myself there-

*Suddenly, LARRY THE CUCUMBER comes onto the scene.*

LARRY: What’s that you got there?

ARCHIBALD: Um, who are you, if I may ask?

LARRY: Oh, me? Don’t you remember me? I’m Larryboy. If you don’t recognize me, it’s because I’ve made a few modifications to my suit.

ARCHIBALD: Pardon? LARRY: I’ve made a few modifications so that I can tune into the frequency of evil. That means I can hear evil thoughts.

ARCHIBALD: I see. How did you come into possession of this? And how might you use this for the good of the world?

LARRY: First off, it’s a long story. Second of all, you see that seemingly normal guy over there?

*LARRY points at CHIEF SCALLION, who has a seemingly nonchalant look on his face.*

ARCHIBALD: You’re a vegetable, you can’t point. I can’t see what you’re doing.

LARRY: Oh, sorry. Well, as it turns out, he’s rotten to the core. Just like the Bad Apple!

ARCHIBALD: Yes, I’m well aware of that. Got into an entanglement with him earlier.

LARRY: Oh, okay then.

ARCHIBALD: Very well then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve missed one of my daughter’s engagements. I’m sure she’s very disappointed in me right now.

LARRY: Yeah, I was just there, trying to film it.

ARCHIBALD: You- what? But how on earth can you be in two places at once? LARRY: I’m Larryboy, I can do these things, okay?

ARCHIBALD: I see. Well, I better get going. Toodle-oo!

*LARRY says nothing, but merely looks at him, flabbergasted. Film cuts to a gymnasium, empty except for ARCHIBALD and ANNIE, the latter has a disgusted look on her face.

ARCHIBALD: Why, hello there, my dear.

ANNIE: You really should’ve been there, Dad.

ARCHIBALD: Now, Jessica, you know your father loves you and wants to be there for you, it’s just that his work makes it quite daunting for him to be there at the time.

ANNIE: Dad, it was my elementary school graduation. I’m not a little girl anymore, you should know that.

ARCHIBALD: Yes, sweetheart, but-

ANNIE: We should talk about this at home.

*Scene cuts to ANNIE and ARCHIBALD riding in the car, giving each other the silent treatment, then abruptly at ARCHIBALD’s mansion.*

ANNIE: Dad.

ARCHIBALD: Yes?

ANNIE: We need to talk.

ARCHIBALD: Well, okay then. What might be troubling you?

ANNIE: It seems as though your work has always infringed upon my life and made things worse for me.

ARCHIBALD: Look, sweetheart, if ever my work has troubled you, I’m sorry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to-

*ANNIE pulls a blanket over her head, and abruptly goes to sleep.*

ANNIE: Good-night, Dad.

*ARCHIBALD closes the door with a slight smile on his face.*

ARCHIBALD: Goodnight, darling. I love you dearly. My, she’s such a lovely girl.

*ARCHIBALD then leaves the scene to talk to LARRY, who is sitting on the couch.*

ARCHIBALD: Ah! I can’t believe I’ve forgotten about my guests. Yes, please make yourself at home.

LARRY: Now, about these cool powers- where’d you get them?

ARCHIBALD: Funny you should ask. Throughout my studies, I’ve become enamoured with the connection between vegetable and plant, and transformed myself into a specimen powerful enough to transcend those barriers, through a little secret I have here.

LARRY: Oh, cool! Can I look?

ARCHIBALD: I’m afraid this book contains secrets vegetable was not meant to know.

LARRY: But...you know about this.

ARCHIBALD: That’s not the point. The point is, throughout my studies, I’ve attempted to change the outcome of-

LARRY: Outcome of what?

ARCHIBALD: You didn’t let me finish my sentence.

LARRY: Oh sorry.

ARCHIBALD: That’s quite alright. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. In my attempts to bend history I’ve unleased a huge monster in the middle of history!

LARRY: He looks pretty normal-sized to.

ARCHIBALD: I meant that metaphorically-speaking.

LARRY: Isn’t there going to be a part where he transforms into a huge monster?

ARCHIBALD: Very funny.

*Suddenly, ANNIE comes downstairs.*

ANNIE: What’s going on here?

ARCHIBALD: Oh, don’t mind me. Just talking with a friend.

ANNIE: It sounds like you’re doing more than just talking with a friend.

ARCHIBALD: Well then it is, isn’t it? In that case, it’s time for you to go to bed...the sun has gone to bed and so must you...Goodnight, dear.

LARRY: I don’t mean to pry, but who was that girl you were talking to?

ARCHIBALD: Oh, her? That’s my daughter, Jessica. She’s been quite stingy at times. With evil men following her, who could blame her?

LARRY: Wha-?

ARCHIBALD: Never mind, it’s too elaborate for me to explain it to you.

*Scene cuts to ANNIE looking overheard, ARCHIBALD lurches toward her.*

ARCHIBALD: Now, Jessica, time for bed, there will be plenty of time for this in the morning.

ANNIE: Seriously Dad, can you explain this to me?

ARCHIBALD: I’ll explain in the morning, when you’re older, darling.

ANNIE: *talking behind door* Um...I am older.

ARCHIBALD: Where was I? Oh, yes. In my studies, I ‘ve done plenty of expereimenting, experimenting on plants, experimenting on myself, experimenting on time, etc. etc.

LARRY: I guess I do-

*Suddenly, CHIEF SCALLION appears in the window with a devious look on his face. The film cuts to LARRY and ARCHIBALD’s reactions, the former screams.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh dear.

SCALLION: Why, hello there, Professor. Didn’t expect to see you here with your little friend.

LARRY: Hey, nobody calls me his little friend!

SCALLION: Oh, that’s adorable.

ARCHIBALD: No one calls him that either.

SCALLION: Anyway, you’re probably wondering why someone like me would come out of the blue, unexpected. It’s quite simple, really.

LARRY: That’s funny. My friend Archibald was explaining it to me just now.

SCALLION: Well, perhaps I could re-explain it to you and your little friend-

ARCHIBALD: Now, this is something I’ve warned about  before-

SCALLION: I see. Now, if you’ll excuse me-

*Suddenly, CHIEF SCALLION leaves the scene, which results in ANNIE screaming. Film cuts to ARCHIBALD’s reaction.

ARCHIBALD: Oh dear. What was that? I heard a noise.

*Scene cuts to ARCHIBALD noticing that ANNIE has been kidnapped by CHIEF SCALLION. In a fit of fury, he starts to transform in a fit of vines to entrap CHIEF SCALLION, while ANNIE looks over a ledge.*

ANNIE: Dad? Where are you, and what’s going on here?

*Scene cuts to CHIEF SCALLION trying to chase ARCHIBALD with a knife.*

SCALLION: Oh, nothing. I’m just trying to stop this beanbag here.

ANNIE: I always knew my dad’s life was weird.

ARCHIBALD: I heard that, sweetheart.

ANNIE: Um...sorry, Dad.

*The film immediately cuts to ARCHIBALD and ANNIE walking to a party.* ANNIE: Can I get a new dress? This one is really annoying and itchy.

ARCHIBALD: Now, Jessica, this is a very important event for your father. Hopefully there aren’t any hooligans running around.

*The film cuts to an Opera Singer singing.*

OPERA SINGER: You don’t know how it feels when you see me there...

Suddenly, CHIEF SCALLION appears out of the blue.

CHIEF SCALLION: Her great-grandmother escaped from my clutches. But surely, this one will be ripe for the plucking--

*Suddenly, SCALLION jumps up to kidnap OPERA SINGER, much to the shock of everyone, including ARCHIBALD and ANNIE.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh dear.

*Suddenly, CHIEF SCALLION drops OPERA SINGER and goes to talk to ARCHIBALD.*

CHIEF SCALLION: Why, hello there, Professor. What might you be doing here?

ARCHIBALD: What might you be doing here, dear sir?

CHIEF SCALLION: I snuck into your taxi while you were coming here. Hope you don’t mind.

ARCHIBALD: You did?

CHIEF SCALLION: Yes, I did.

*Scene cuts to ARCHIBALD in his taxi, when suddenly, CHIEF SCALLION jumps out.*

CHIEF SCALLION: Didn’t expect to see me here, didn’t you?

ARCHIBALD: I can tell you exactly where to go.

*Scene cuts to the present day.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh...right.

CHIEF: In any case, thank you for the free lift, Professor!

*CHIEF SCALLION abruptly leaves the scene. The film cuts to ARCHIBALD talking to LARRY.*

LARRY: Your squabble’s that bad?

ARCHIBALD: ‘Fraid so.

LARRY: Why does this guy hate you, anyway? Did you eat all of his cheese puffs or something?

ARCHIBALD: I’m afraid it goes much deeper than that. In that case, we should probably get a move-on- wait, where’s Jessica?

*Scene immediately cuts to ANNIE with CHIEF SCALLION.*

SCALLION: Your daddy can’t hear you now, darling!

LARRY: *offscreen* Oh, but I can.

SCALLION: #1: Pardon?

LARRY: Um...my new superpower lets me tune into the frequency of evil. Not sure why- there isn’t a lot of time to explain here. Just...let me work out the logistics here...

*The scene focuses on LARRY as he tries to focus on SCALLION.*

SCALLION #1: Can we hurry up here? I haven’t all day

LARRY: Neither do I. So, I guess you should probably hand over the girl. 

*Suddenly, ARCHIBALD appears next to LARRY.*

ARCHIBALD: You heard him.

SCALLION #1: Yes, I know I’ve got your daughter here, but really what’s the worst that can happen?

LARRY: Oh, are you in for a world for hurt!

ARCHIBALD: I think you mean “of” hurt.

LARRY: No, I mean “for” hurt. You heard me, vine-guy.

ARCHIBALD: Very funny.

LARRY: Now, where was I? Let’s do-

*Suddenly, a big ball of violence appears as ARCHIBALD and LARRY start fighting SCALLION, the former transforming into vines to stop him. Suddenly, ANNIE appears on the scene with a perplexed look on her face. Archibald transforms back into his regular self.*

ARCHIBALD: Why, hello there. Don’t mind your father, he’s got into a bit of an entanglement here?

*ANNIE says nothing, but merely rolls her eyes. The scene cuts to ANNIE walking downstairs to her father’s lab, when suddenly, he appears out of the blue.*

ARCHIBALD: Oh, hello Jessica. Didn’t expect you to find out this way.

ANNIE: Find out what?

ARCHIBALD: Well, did you know how some organisms can change from one form to another?

ANNIE: Yes, Dad, it’s called “shapeshifting.” ARCHIBALD: That’s right, Jessica. Plenty of cultures have legends and stories about such art. Of course, if I’d explain all of them, we’d be here all day!

ANNIE: Okay, why do you care? Can you do that?

ARCHIBALD: Well, it’s quite an interesting story. Throughout my studies, I’ve been studying my roots to see if I could transform back into a plant. Perhaps you could do so, as well?

ANNIE: What?

ARCHIBALD: Why shouldn’t us, the most complicated organisms on the planet, be capable of growing thorns and vines?

ANNIE: I....can kind of see what you’re getting at here?

ARCHIBALD: Lovely! Glad we’re on the same page.

ANNIE: Not really. I’m just lsitening because I have no choice here.

ARCHIBALD: Pardon?

ANNIE: Never mind.

ARCHIBALD: Jessica, darling, because of my experiments, I’m sure you’re more than capable of transforming yourself. Perhaps in a moment of great stress, I’m not sure.

ANNIE: Whatever, Dad.

*Suddenly, SCALLION appears, ANNIE screams in terror.* SCALLION: Hope your father doesn’t mind me kidnapping here-

*ARCHIBALD tries to fight, but fails, SCALLION eventually succeeds in kidnapping him.*

SCALLION: Oh, hello there, ANNIE. Daddy’s here to see you.

*Scene cuts to ANNIE’s reaction.*

SCALLION: Oh, Annie? It’s rude to keep people waiting.*

Suddenly, ANNIE starts transforming into an entanglements of vines to stop SCALLION; the film cuts to him with an annoyed look on his face as she encircles around him.*

ARCHIBALD: You should’ve known better than to mes with the princess of the plant kingdom, or should I say, my own daughter.

SCALLION: Very funny. Now, will you please get me out of this entalgment? It’s really hurting me.

ARCHIBALD: Oh, I’d love to, but since you’ve taken a liking to terrorizing my own friends, I’m afraid I’ll have to revoke your offer.

*SCALLION says nothing, but merely gives him a disgusted look. Suddenly, LARRY apears, flying  overheard, when suddenly, he hears ANNIE’s voice.*

ANNIE: You have nothing to hear from us. We are one and the same. 

LARRY: Wow, this “evil-detecting sensor” is better than I thought!

ANNIE: Actually, it’s just me, Jessica.

ARCHIBALD: Well, if it isn’t my brave little girl there?

ANNIE: Oh, Dad, it was nothing.

ARCHIBALD: Now, that’s what they all say. But what you did was far more than “Nothing” so to speak.

LARRY: Yeah, you were awesome out there!

*CHIEF SCALLION merely scoffs in disgust.*

ARCHIBALD: So, sweetheart, what do you think? Is your father pretty “cool” after all?

ANNIE: Oh, you Dad!

ARCHIBALD: Tell you what. We’re all going out to eat. It’s on me!

*Suddenly, one of ARCHIBALD’s plants slaps ANNIE. She appears with a look of disgust, then laughs along with everyone else; Film abruptly cuts to countertop.*

LARRY: I don’t get it. What was that supposed to be a parody of, anyway?

ARCHIBALD: Oh, some old show I used to watch on the telly as a young sprout. Not sure why they never reran it- that actor was such a charmer!

BOB: Yeah, I don’t get it.

ARCHIBALD: I heard that! Now, QWERTY, could you please assist us with a Bible quote about the importance of family?

*Suddenly, the screen cuts to QWERTY who supplies the Bible Quote, read by Archibald: "Honor your father and mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you." EXODUS 2012.”

ARCHIBALD: Absolutely beautiful. Now, Jennifer, I understand that you and your father might not always get along, but I’m sure he loves you dearly and just wants the best for you. Toodle-oo! *ARCHIBALD hops off the screen*

LARRY: I still don’t understand what show that was supposed to be parodying.

BOB: Me neither. Well, in any case, bye Jen! Hope to see you later! LARRY: Yeah, bye, Jen!

THE END @veggieteensofficial

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Insatiable -  Part Three

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC

Word count: 2k

Tags: Wolf shifter AU, Supernatural AU, Slow burn, Mating bond, Canon typical sex and violence, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Injury, Hurt/comfort, Eventual smut

Summary: You’ve travelled the world looking for home, but what if it finds you?

Author’s Note: I hope people don’t mind the shorter chapters, but they’re helping me stay motivated! 

Missed Part One? You can read it here.

Moodboard by @acrossthesestars​

It takes 27 seconds to walk around the perimeter of the cramped living room in your rented apartment. You know this because over the last three days of your doctor-ordered rest, you’ve nearly worn a track into its scuffed wooden floor with your pacing. It kills you to know that there’s an entire city outside your door, one bursting with life and color and new experiences. You’re dying to roam the botanical gardens and visit the many crumbling ruins of centuries past, to visit the Basilica or hike in Parque Nacional Volcán Irazú or go white water rafting or-

But no. You’re stuck here, with nothing but a tantalizing glimpse of the world outside and your laptop for company. Sighing, you reach for said laptop. Its profusion of colorful stickers (mostly from coffee shops and bars) are more than merely decorative, hiding various dings and cracks from where it’s slipped onto gravel paths or been hastily shoved in a bag as you ran to catch one flight or another. Faithful as ever, it whirs to life when you power it on and you resist the urge to stroke it like a pet.

Maybe you have been cooped up for too long.

There’s not much to do online that you haven’t already taken care of. No new emails other than spam, nothing new to share on your blog or Instagram. You find yourself scrolling mindlessly through your newsfeed, nothing snagging your attention- until a headline jumps out at you.

Famed Cryptozoologist Found Murdered - Police Baffled By Bloody Crime Scene

Immediately hooked, you scan the article, gleaning bits and pieces as you go. The man in question, a professor at some obscure college and an author of several books about cryptids and other extreme possibilities, had been found in his home literally torn limb from limb. It’s a grisly story, one mercifully free of pictures- except one.

There is a single photograph taken at a dizzying angle, showing a bloodied carpet presumably at the fringe of the crime scene. Even through the chaotic smears of rusty blood, one detail is crystal clear- the paw print of a massive, clawed beast. 

Detectives have reached out to several prominent  biologists but as of yet, none of them have come to a consensus regarding the species that could have left this grim mark - especially as the killing took place not in the remote wilds of some distant forest, but in the heart of downtown Seattle. 

Some have raised the possibility of this being merely a sick joke on the part of a deranged killer. Others are claiming it as the work of one of the very creatures the professor spent his life in search of. 

“Holy shit.” Before you’d been bitten by the travel bug, these were the sorts of stories that captivated your imagination. True crime, sure, but more the hints of mystery lingering at the edges of mundane life. You’d spent an entire summer engrossed in the occult section of your library, devouring anything you could get your hands on about folklore, magic, and things that went bump in the night. To your young mind it made a certain kind of sense - of course there were secrets you simply weren’t allowed to know yet. If you could only find your way in, through a wardrobe or a fairy ring or the right hidden door, you’d be rewarded with all that forbidden knowledge and vast new worlds would open to you. 

Even now a part of you wishes you could still believe the rumors that whisper along the fringes of the Internet: Mysterious disappearances. Hauntings. Shady government agents waiting in the wings to erase the merest hint of anything strange or out of place. Mysterious beings with abilities beyond what even you could dream of.

If only. 

Even when you were escaping into books about mermaids and dragons and werewolves, part of you knew all too well that the only monsters that prowled the night were the human kind- like the man who’d tried to drag a terrified girl into his cab and left you with a gash over your eye that will almost certainly scar for having the temerity to tell him “no.” It’s a nasty reminder that nowhere on the planet is that much different than any other and that no matter where you go, the world is full of predators like him. 

Well, at least there are some good people out there, too. 

Time and again your mind drifts back to Frankie and Santi as you sift through the fractured memories of that night. They come back to you in dreams, tantalizing snatches of half-remembered conversations.

“ - take all these pictures yourself?”

“You really free climbed that mountain? Shit.”

“I’ll get you some more water.”

“Oh you haven’t lived until you’ve surfed Ponta Preta. One time Santi wiped out so hard he-“

“Just finished a job in-“

“Come on sweetheart, don’t fall asleep yet. Tell us some more about backpacking in Banff.”

“ - sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

“ - says she doesn’t have any painkillers.”

“You stay here, I’ll go.”

“Está bien, duerma un poco.”

“You’re looking at her like-“

“Dulces sueños. Cuídate.”

Echoes of conversations that may or may not have happened aren’t the only things crowding your sleeping mind. You’re consumed with the phantom feeling of Frankie’s careful hands on yours and the ghost of Santi’s hungry kiss heating your blood, the press of their bodies surrounding you, the comforting weight of them caging you in and freeing you all at once. You’ve woken up gasping more than one morning, sweat dripping down your spine and their moaned names on your lips. 

That night is a blur, and it’s nearly impossible to untangle truth from dreams. The only parts you know didn’t happen are the stolen kisses, the hot tangle of limbs and ragged panting you can almost feel against your ear just before you wake. Those are purely the work of your fevered imagination, your wish that you’d met them some other way than with you laying concussed on the sidewalk. But no, the one truth you know down to your bones is that they’d done nothing more than help you get home safe and leave before you could ask them why. 

The call from local authorities that you’d been half expecting and half dreading had never come and you’re left hoping that means everything is sorted, that there were enough other witnesses to tell them what happened without your fractured recollections. Then again, at least you would have been contributing something, rather than sitting on your ass. God, you can’t remember ever staying in one place for this long. You’d planned to be on your way to Ecuador or Peru by now, the restless urge to move on clawing at the back of your mind.

Impatience grows and snarls until you’re straining with it. If you don’t get out of here for a bit you may actually lose your mind. Slamming the laptop shut, you stalk towards the small bedroom and your luggage. You can take things slow. Stroll down to the nearest bar for a quiet drink. No more excitement, no adventures, just you and a glass of wine and your battered copy of your favorite book. Even making that decision raises your spirits and by the time you slip out the apartment door, carefully locking it behind you, you’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, eager to see where the night takes you. 

A gentle wind caresses your cheeks, warm and scented with night-blooming flowers, beckoning you into the heart of the city. You're heading for a bar you’d spotted when you’d first arrived in Cartago, one tucked away on a quiet side street, the perfect site for a low-key evening, but you’re in no rush to get there. You meander slowly, basking in the atmosphere. 

In the midst of idly window-shopping, the hairs on the back of your neck creep up. You whirl around, but there’s no one behind you aside from the usual bustle of people returning home from work or heading out for a night on the town. No one staring at you balefully or even feigning casual disinterest. Still, it’s hard to shake the sensation of being watched, and you hope the events of the last few days haven’t rattled you more than you’d realized. 

“Get it together,” you mutter, nails digging into your palms before you notice, exhaling slowly and forcing yourself to release the tension in your shoulders. “Don’t let him win.” The all-too familiar mantra helps to clear your mind and, with a shake of your head, you set out for the bar once more.

Turning the last corner, you come to a jerking halt when you see what’s waiting for you. You’ve locked eyes with a massive dog, one whose shaggy brown and cream coat looks far too thick for this climate. Your rigid limbs relax a bit when the creature, his golden eyes fixed on yours, wags his tail once, twice, before lying down with his head on his gigantic paws- the very picture of a well-mannered house pet, despite his size and wild appearance. The image is so bizarre that it startles a laugh from you. 

“Very convincing.”

His ears swivel to attention, alert and questioning.

“You almost don’t look like you’re about to ask me what I’ve got in my basket, or how far it is to my grandmother’s cottage in the woods.”

The tail swishes once again and he opens his mouth in a doggy grin- one that reveals a glimpse of fearsomely sharp teeth set in powerful jaws.

“Ok,” you chuckle, edging past and resisting the mad urge to try to stroke him. “I definitely needed the night out if I’m standing here having a conversation with you about fairy tales. Go find some water and air conditioning before you collapse- you can’t be comfortable under all that fur.”

As you’re moving past him, the dog huffs and you’d swear it almost sounds amused. 

You make it the rest of the way without incident, creepy or canine. The bar is just as you remembered it: a small patio slightly crowded with tables, chairs, and potted palm with strings of lights running between them and bathing everything in a golden glow. French doors stand open and inviting, showing you the way to a bar lined with stools and beyond that, several cozy booths. The night is still young but the place is already full and dozens of people are dancing to the lively beat pounding out of several large speakers. 

You slip into the throng with a sense of relief, glad to be out in the world again. A friendly server leads you to a tiny corner booth, returning in just a few minutes to hand you the drink you’d ordered. Just as you’re settling in with your book, movement near the entrance catches your attention. 

Two familiar figures have just entered the bar-  and they’re headed right for your table.

Part Four

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[cal-puddies]

Burning it Down // Calum Hood

it's the final part! EEK! I love this story so much, I really truly appreciate every single one of you who has taken the time to read it. I appreciate the group who volunteered and gave feedback before it was done (hope you noticed the changes you suggested!) I super appreciate my otter in crime @kindahoping4forever for everything she does and not letting quit every time I've wanted to. So, here's the last bit of Even if it's Just Pretend.

Warnings: Angst, and smut

Word count: 6268

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist

Let us  know  what  you  think!

Things go decently well when you first get home. Calum takes you out or has you over every other day. It’s easy to fall back in with him, it’s like no time whatsoever passed.

You especially enjoyed staying over, having someone to come home to, the soft kisses in the morning, the heated ones as bedtime approached. It was easy, it was familiar.

Which is why it shouldn’t have been surprising when Cal started to go back to his same ways.

Calum is surprised to swing his door open to see Ash standing on his porch.

“Hey mate, was I expecting you?” Cal asks, stepping aside to let him in.

Ash shakes his head as he passes. “No…  I’ve just been so busy with wedding stuff, we haven’t gotten a chance to check in recently... How’re things going?” He seems nervous.

Cal leads him out back, where they both decide that splitting a joint is much needed.

Cal takes the first hit and hands it to Ash. “So how’re things with that beautiful girl of yours?” He prompts again.

“What d’you mean?” Cal murmurs, sitting back against the couch, brow furrowing.

“I mean,” Ash starts, passing the joint back to Cal. “You two were all cozy and fuckin’ like rabbits for that whole trip but I’ve been seeing more of you than I expected since we got home so I just want to know how things are going now that we’re back in reality.”

Cal snorts. “We weren’t… we didn’t fuck like rabbits.”

“Based on what I’ve heard, yes, yes you did. Matt heard, Luke heard, she basically told Sierra and Lyric you did…”

“There’s no way she said that to anyone,” Cal laughs.

“Well maybe she didn’t say it but it could be inferred.”

“Anyways, we’re fine,” Cal states, rolling his eyes.

“Calum… I swear to you, I’m not trying to harp. But every single time I’ve needed something since we got back, I’ve been able to drop by or you’ve left her to come help me… like... what’s up?” Ash’s tone changes and Cal knows the joking is over.

“She gets it, these are special circumstances... I’d get it if Lyric was calling all the time and she needed to help her with something,” Cal argues.

“You can’t take advantage of that, mate. You’re my best friend, you can tell me no when I ask. You can prioritize her… you should prioritize her. She deserves it. And if you want her back, that’s the only way you’re going to get it. We have time off. Use it wisely. Spend it with her. Make her understand that you care it’s her, she’s not just someone for you to come home to.”

“Ash… it’s not like that.” Cal shakes his head. “Four years into it, she knows it’s not like that.”

“OK… but does she, Cal? Last time, you both took it for granted that the other was going to be there… that they’d always just show. The last thing you showed her was that your boys were more important… you couldn’t be bothered to tell me that she was more important… and you know me, I wasn’t trying to take sides. But. Cal, she didn’t deserve that then and she doesn’t now. It’s not easy. I know. Relationships take work. But you’ve put so much time and love into her and I’d hate to see you lose that. Trust me, I know things can seem fine when they’re not,” Ash rambles, tone slightly exasperated.

“Things are fine… you know us,” Cal insists.

Ashton sighs and Calum can hear the frustration in it but he doesn’t understand it. It’s so clear to him that things are fine, why can’t Ash believe it?

“Here’s what I’ll say, take it for what it is… You don’t know this but Lyric and I almost didn’t make it to the engagement. Like, I thought things were good and I came home one night from being out with you and she had her bags packed, ready to move out.”

Cal is bewildered by this news. “What?! When was this? What happened?”

Ash nods solemnly. “It was a while back. She was fed up with the way I treated her. You know, in relationships you don’t always see eye to eye and I always thought that I was open to criticism, open to her ideas… and apparently I wasn’t. I wasn’t hearing her and I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t realize how frustrating that was for her. Like, she moved into my house at my request and she wanted to work together to make it our space but I fought her tooth and nail over every decision, I wouldn’t hear that. It was my space. And that’s just one example.”

“She was gonna leave you over that?” Cal rolls his eyes again. He’s over this conversation, unsure of what Ash is trying to get at and frankly, annoyed with the implications that he’s not doing right by you.

“It’s important to be heard, Cal. When someone is telling you or showing you something that they feel isn’t right, it’s necessary to at least acknowledge their feelings so they know they aren’t screaming into a void.” Ash stresses his point. “I know you don’t mean to do it… but just… hear her, show her… that’s it, that’s all I’ll say.”

As annoyed as he was at Ashton’s unsolicited - and in his opinion, unnecessary - advice, Cal can’t stop thinking about what he said. It plays on a loop in the back of his mind when he takes you to dinner that night, when he’s driving back home, when he’s making coffee the next morning.

Which would be surprising news to you given that just a few days later, he’s 2 hours late for your date.

There were only a few weeks between returning home from the trip and the wedding and Cal had enthusiastically suggested loading in as many dates as possible in that time. He has no trouble planning them, but as time goes on, he can’t seem to be bothered to show up on time for them and with the wedding quickly approaching, you’re pissed. You swore your relationship wouldn’t affect it.

You change out of the dress and lingerie you’d picked out, washing the makeup off of your face. Even if he shows up now, you’re not going anywhere with him.

An hour and a half later, a text from him pops up but you don’t even look at it, you just toss the phone on the couch and take a drink from your glass of wine. You twist the chop sticks in the noodles you’d ordered, pulling them out and aggressively stabbing them back in. You’re not sure if you’re more mad at him for making promises he couldn’t keep or at yourself for believing him.

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on your door and you have no doubt who it is. He keeps knocking and you take your time getting there. You open the door and the second his brown eyes land on you, they read apologetic. You turn away as he rushes out his “I’m sorry.”

You close the door, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry too,” you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry.

“I know this looks bad,” he admits, running his hand over his hair. “But it was for a good reason!”

“It’s always for a good reason, Cal. You never leave me hanging for something dumb,” you agree quietly, heading back to the living room so you can get your drink.

“Ash wanted to write something for Lyric for the wedding....”

“Oh,” you nod, subdued. “Coulda guessed.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno, tell him you have important plans… plans that literally could decide the fate of your relationship that you wanted back so bad. With the woman you claim you missed every day for 8 months? I’m sure the guys would have understood.”

“OK…”

You cut him off, not wanting another excuse. “Because I don’t. I don’t understand how this one time you couldn’t put me first.” A wave of sadness washes over you, like your heart is finally catching up with what your brain knows, that he won’t change. “I understand that was important to Ash but Cal, what about what’s important to you? Or me? Like, you’re basically telling me that Ash’s thing is more important than our thing.”

“Baby… no.” He reaches for you and you step back, wiping away a tear rolling down your cheek. He puts his hand down and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well that’s what your actions show.” You sniffle, “It feels like nothing has changed for you. After all you said on that trip, you’re still exactly the same… you can just put me at the bottom of your list of things to get done.”

“You’re never on a list of things to get done.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry, love, I should have made you the priority here, you’re right. And I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Calum… an apology doesn’t fix this.” You say, feeling yourself get a little mad, the tips of your ears heating up, your face flushing. “You didn’t even text until you were already over three hours late. I waited, I spent time getting ready and I waited because I didn’t want it to be a waste. I was an afterthought, an ‘oh shit’ thought. I’d still be upset if you’d texted earlier but at least I would have known you even thought about me. It’s fuckin’ wild to feel like the center of your world when I’m standing in front of you but to be nothing more than an afterthought when I’m not.” You start to cry and it makes you even more upset.

Calum engulfs you in his arms, squeezing you so that you can’t push away from him. He takes a deep breath. He presses endless kisses to the top of your head while you shake and cry in his arms. His heart breaks, seeing how bad he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry, love, I… I’ll go. I obviously have things to think about, think about how I want you to fit in my life,” he whispers, giving you another squeeze.

He watches you curl up on the couch, wrapping your arms around your legs to make yourself small. He squats next to you, wipes the hair off your face. “I love you… you’re right though.” He kisses your forehead and then pushes away, reaching his hands up to wipe his own tears.

He leaves, resting his back against the front door while he pulls his phone out. He calls Sierra because he can’t worry Lyric, not the week before the wedding. He clicks the call off before she picks up. He sends a quick text to Michael so he doesn’t have to be alone and then he turns his phone off completely.

For maybe the first time, Cal saw just how much pain this caused you. And he starts to think that maybe Ash is right. You had been screaming into a void and he never heard you, never saw that this hurt this much.

You meet up with the girls for lunch and the final fittings at the dress shop. Lyric and Sierra are focused on those tasks to begin with and you do your best to be in the moment with them, but Lyric knows you better than that and you catch her looking at you, whispering with Sierra.

When you finally get sat at lunch, they start to dig. “Sooo… things must be going well with Cal?”

You take a sip of your drink, giving yourself a moment. “Yeah, things are good. We’ve been hanging out.” You shrug, forcing what you hope is a believable smile.

“I’d be willing to bet it was hard to drag yourself away from him today,” Sierra laughs, “We’ve barely seen you and you haven’t been so chatty.”

Lyric chuckles, “Typical! They have 8 months of being apart to make up for.”

You laugh, “Hey, we did a lot of that on the beach trip.”

“Uhh yeah… deets by the way! You missed brunch last weekend and I need to know. I overheard Cal talking to Ash but of course it wasn’t the juicy stuff,” Lyric gushes, rolling her eyes.

Her comment makes you wonder if Cal is being as tight lipped about the lack of the relationship developing as you and you have to give him a little credit for not bringing it to everyone. “I mean, G-rated, but I was the juicy one.”

Sierra grins, “Yes, girl, get it!”

“Really? That’s all we get?” Lyric laughs.

That luckily signifies a subject change and you do your best to actively participate until you can go home and be alone.

You’re surprised to find flowers, chocolate and a bottle of wine at your front door. You recognize the handwriting immediately.

Sorry to put you through this right now. I know it’s not what you wanted. I hope we can work this out, but I understand that it’s not that easy.

Love always, Calum

You tear up, he always knew how to get to you. You look over the bottle of wine and you know he knew you’d tie it to that night in Hawaii where the two of you were so stupidly and sloppily in love that nothing could touch you. The daisies were your favorite flower and the box of chocolates was always his go to. But all three meant he knew this was bigger. You chew on the inside of your cheek trying to fight back the tears. And then you crawl in bed.

You stay active in the group chats and show up to all the dinners and little events leading up to the wedding. It’s important to Lyric and if you’re not missing then they can’t speculate on what or who you’re doing.

It keeps you distracted enough that you kind of forget about the rehearsal and the fact that you and Cal are going to have to act like a couple to keep everything in place.

Impossibly, you both arrive at the same time and you intercept him at the door, pulling him aside. You check, “As far as everyone knows, we’re still together-ish, right?”

“Yeah… I didn’t think about that,” he admits, sucking a breath in, clearly thinking, “We can keep PDA to a minimum, no one will really question that. It’s normal for us... I think.” He wipes his hand over his face.

“People are going to expect some level of affection from us, Cal. You don’t watch your best friends get married and not have an emotional response. Plus. remember how we were at Luke and Sierra’s wedding…” You fidget with the hem of your dress and Cal absentmindedly reaches for your hand and does his soothing thing.

Sierra comes up to interrupt the moment. “Hey you two, we’re about to get started.” She smiles widely and you know there’s no way she’s not picking up on the vibe. She holds her hand out to you and takes you back with the rest of the girls.

You sit at the table during dinner, and look around, Cal’s to your left and Ash is to your right. Ash leans over you, “Hey, Cal… Lyric is staying at a hotel tonight, do you wanna come around for a single man send off? The rest of the guys are coming.”

“Yeah, mate, that sounds good,” he nods.

“Cool.” Ash grins and gently squeezes your arm. “That good with you?”

“Of course… you boys have fun,” you smile, nodding your head in fake enthusiasm.

Ash doesn’t seem to pick up on it because he hugs you to his side and squeezes you tight.

Cal looks at you. “What are you ladies doing tonight?”

“Nothing… We’d originally made plans but Lyric wants to make sure she gets enough sleep, so I’m just gonna go home.”

Things finally wrap up, Lyric and Ash give a little thank you speech, there’s a quick toast and then you’re finally released to go home. The day was exhausting in general but the addition of having to fake a relationship with Calum left you drained and you hated that you had to wake up and do it all again the next day.

You stand outside the front door, where everyone is gathering and chatting; you dig your keys out of your bag and look around, deciding whether socialization is necessary. You finally decide you can walk off after hugging Lyric and Ash and you’re just about to your car when you hear footsteps quickly approaching. You swing around, coming face to face with Calum.

“Hey… why don’t you come over? So we can talk,” he says, grabbing your hand in case there are eyes on you.

“I thought you were going to Ash’s.”

“Well… that feels like something worth missing if I can spend some time with you.” He looks at his feet. “Please? I just wanna see you and talk this out… I hate this. I really do.” The earnest look on his face when he meets your eyes says a lot more than you think he’s even aware of.

“What do you want to talk about? If we’re broken up, then that’s it.”

“You know I don’t want that.”

“I actually don’t know that, Calum. You haven’t really said much.”

“Just come over so we can talk? Please?” He squeezes your hand.

You arrive before he does so you use your key to let yourself in. You wander around to see if he’s changed anything, finding that the holes you left in the closet are still there; you open a drawer in the dresser in search of a t-shirt and a basketball shorts to change into because your dress is uncomfortable. You note that he hasn’t bothered to move his stuff where yours used to be here either and you head back to the kitchen to wait for him, without changing.

Cal comes in a few minutes later, setting a brown paper bag on the counter and pulling out a pint of ice cream and a bottle of tequila. “Had to have this on hand for you.” He grins. “We’ve had a lot of good times with this tequila.”

You pull the bottle from his hand and grin. “Yeah, we have.”

“I’m hoping to add to it,” he admits. “Do you wanna change? You can borrow some stuff.”

“Yes and no.” You frown. “You know I’m totally over wearing this dress, but being in your clothes…”

“Yeah, I gotcha.” He nods sadly. He grabs a couple beers out of the fridge and hands you one. You keep a short distance between the two of you.

“What’d you wanna talk about?” You ask, taking a sip.

Cal pulls out two chairs at the table, motioning for you to sit. “I wanna talk about us… our future.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I want us to have one. I want you, I want us.”

“Your actions haven’t shown that.” You pick the label on your bottle.

“I know… and I thought about why that was, why I was sabotaging something I wanted so desperately but couldn’t figure out how to keep,” he sighs. “I think I was scared, baby. I am scared. I see all of our friends getting married and I know you must want that and what if I can’t give you that? And it’s not like… it’s not like I don’t want to give you that. But you know me.”

“Have I ever asked you for that? Have I ever indicated that I need that?”

“Well… no…”

“Cal, I feel like you’re looking for excuses to give yourself an out. It’s terrifying to give yourself to someone like this, I understand that. But it makes it even harder when it feels like the other person is gonna change their mind at any moment… I don’t think I’ve ever done that to you but you sure as shit have done it to me.”

“You’re right, you haven’t. You’re fucking great and I love you. I could not build a better partner for myself if I tried. And I didn’t understand how selfless you’ve been… I just kept thinking that one day you’d ask for those things and I wouldn’t know what to do or say… so if I made the distance now, maybe we wouldn’t get there and I wouldn’t break your heart and I inadvertently did anyway.”

“Yeah… you forgot one thing in making that plan, though. I know you. I know who you are, I know us, I know how we work. I know you’re afraid of all that. And quite honestly, just because our friends are getting married, that doesn’t mean I want that same thing. I’m not dying to vow to love you in front of a god I don’t really believe in and neither do you, for that matter, for a piece of paper that says the state recognizes that union. Fuck, Cal, you’re the one that said we’d elope.”

“I know.” Cal sighs. He feels like he’s losing and he needs a break. He gets up from the table and grabs the bottle of tequila. He pours some in a shaker with ice and pours it into a couple rocks glasses. He sets one in front of you and sips his before setting it down and undoing the cuffs of his shirt so he can roll the sleeves up. You watch intently as both sleeves get rolled to just below his elbow and he undoes the top few buttons at his chest.

He can feel your eyes, though he pretends he doesn’t. That’s a good sign that means you’re not completely shut down but he can still feel the frustration radiating off of you.

You smile softly. “Trying to liquor me up? You know how sloppy that can get.”

“Oh, don’t I!” He laughs.

He watches you look into the glass, shaking the ice around a little before taking a sip. “I’m sorry if it feels like I’m being hard on you. I just wanna be sure. I don’t want to keep doing… this.” You look at him and give him a sad smile. “Making the choice to spend time with me instead of going with the guys tonight… it’s a big deal, Cal. And I don’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate it. I do.”

“I’m still the man you’ve loved.”

“I’ve never doubted that… I’ve never doubted you or your love for me. I just don’t always understand what’s happening,” you admit.

“Yeah… that communication thing…” He gives a light laugh.

“It’s hard to talk about things that scare us, Cal. But the reason we’ve been so successful for so long is because we learned how. And I think we still need to talk to each other. We used to talk about everything.”

“Yeah, I need to go back to being like that,” he mumbles. Cal lets things sit quietly but the busy day and the alcohol are starting to hit him. “D’you remember that time we were in London and we lost our hotel room key while we were hanging with Mali, and we were just so beyond gone that Lyric and Ash caught us trying to have sex in the hallway.”

You giggle, “Yeah…. God… they ushered us into their room and had to like, physically separate us because we were just so determined to get off.”

“You’ve always been up for whatever I suggested,” he laughs. “Your sense of adventure is one of the many many things I love about you.”

“Easy to be adventurous when your partner is too.” You chuckle. “Like when we camped in Nashville or that road trip we took a couple years ago…”

“We were so happy, you were so giggly.” He smiles, he looks over at you and gently cups your chin. “We were just so in love, couldn’t get enough of each other… I remember just wanting to kiss you all the time.” He leans in, smiling as you meet him halfway for a soft kiss.

“Yeah, I felt like that a few weeks ago on the trip, to be honest. I just wanted you,” you quietly admit, going in for another kiss.

Calum keeps it slow; he definitely wants this but he wants to make sure things are good with you again. He pulls back, letting out a little sigh, looking at you, trying to make a decision.

He kisses you again and this time there’s more passion behind it. It’s needier and more loving and full of lust. His hands move to your hips and he’s quickly pulling you up, pushing you back against the table and in one very quick movement, your dress is unzipped and he’s on his knees, kissing up your thighs, pushing the material up. He looks up at you and you run your fingers through his hair and nod as he helps you step out of your panties.

This is Cal’s favorite way to get close to you so you're not surprised at how quickly he got himself there. It’s desperate and affectionate. His hands are everywhere, lips kissing and sucking, tongue lavishing over your skin. Your breath is ragged before his tongue is even touching your most sensitive parts. “Oh god, Calum,” you breathe shakily. He dips his tongue in your entrance and then rolls it over your clit. You enjoy it for a couple minutes before grabbing his hair and pulling him up. He scrambles to his feet and you press your lips to his. “Let me have you,” you murmur, grabbing his hard cock through his dress pants.

“Bedroom,” he croaks, pressing another kiss to your lips.

You stand in the bedroom waiting for him and then he’s behind you, pulling you tight against him, hard on against your ass. He pulls the top of your dress down and gets his hands on your tits while his lips start pressing kisses to your neck. He unhooks your bra, working it off before grabbing your hips and turning you toward him. His kiss is needy as he tweaks your nipples and quickly pulls your dress from your body, letting it pool at your feet.

Your fingers work quickly to rid him of his shirt, stuck in a kiss while his hands feel over your body. His touch is setting you on fire in a familiar way and you just need more of it, need his body on yours, need him.

You work on his belt next, getting his pants and underwear down to his ankles. The kiss slows down as he guides your body back toward the bed; you toss the pillows aside, looking over your shoulder at him coyly as you sit up on your knees and grab the headboard.

Cal’s behind you in a second, enjoying the view, gently running his fingers over the soft, plump, flesh of your ass before landing a couple smacks to it. You moan out, wiggling your ass, asking for another. He delivers and then you see him reaching over to his bedside table for some lube. He grabs your hip and moves in closer, slicking his cock while he tugs your hair to pull you into another kiss. His hand presses against your lower stomach as he guides himself into you. His lips press to your shoulder for a second before his hands caress your hips and you take things into your own hands, slowly grinding yourself back on him, moving your hips to take his cock.

He groans, letting you work yourself on him for longer than you thought he’d allow. He finally starts meeting your hips as his hands lavish over your skin, his hips hitting against your ass, skin still tender from those spanks. Your mind wanders briefly as you look at the detailing on the headboard. It was chosen for this purpose: something tall enough that your body could be supported by it when you wanted Cal to shove you against it and fuck you within an inch of your life. It was chosen so one of you could easily be tied to it if desired -  and you both had been, dozens of times over the years.

Calum pulls out and you whine as it brings you back to the moment. “C’mere,” he says, moving to sit against a couple pillows he’s stacked against the headboard. He pulls you down on his cock after you climb into his lap and you both have a brief moment of relief expressed by sighs. He grabs your ass as you create the rhythm and his mouth finds your tits. The change in position shifts the mood, it’s no longer just horny, it’s also needy… and you only need him.

“Caaallll,” you moan, leaning back and bracing yourself on his thighs to grind on him. He relinquishes his grasp on your ass in favor of groping your tits and then trailing his hand to rub your clit.

“You look so good, babe, I'm so damn close,” he admits, leaning in to kiss on whatever skin his lips can reach. You push yourself back upright and his lips find yours for another needy kiss. You whine into his mouth and he knows you’re right where he needs you to be and his fingertips add more pressure to your clit.

You cry out his name and his guttural moan comes just after, his arms wrapping around your body to keep you close. You mutter, “Cal… fuck…” repeatedly against his skin, hanging onto him for dear life.

“Right here, my love,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

You pull your hips back and up, sliding off his cock but settling in his lap, feeling the cum drip out of you. You sigh, “I’ll never get enough of being so close to you.”

Cal squeezes you; he doesn’t know what to say because he doesn’t know where you stand. He’d love to have you like this forever but he doesn’t know if that’s what you really want. “Should we get cleaned up?”

“Five more minutes,” you murmur, face smooshed in the crook of his neck. You can feel all of Calum this way, how his heart beats, the calming up and down of his chest as he breathes, his belly pressed to yours, the feeling of his thighs beneath you, strong and stable, holding you up. His arms stretched around you, holding you so close to his body. His warm body, grounding, hard where it should be, soft in other delicious ways. You gently run your fingers along his sides, his body shudders at first, ticklish, but not unwanted. You let out a content hum.

After you finally get cleaned up, you sit shoulder to shoulder with him against the headboard, your fingers interlaced as he holds your hand and you throw a leg between his. You look up at him. “It’s so easy to be with you.” He kisses your forehead and you rest your head against his shoulder. You sigh, “I love you, Calum.”

“You know… I love you too.” He smiles.

“Cal… I wanna do this with you. But I don’t want to do this part ever again.”

“I don’t either,” he admits. “You asked me to never let you go and I never want to again.” He squeezes your hand. “If you’ll have me... if you’ll come home.”

You smile up at him. “I definitely wanna come home.” You chuckle, “Looks like there's still space for all my stuff.”

He blushes a little. “Couldn’t bring myself to fill your spots… made it too permanent.”

“Most of my stuff is still in boxes,” you admit.

He pulls your intertwined hands to his lips for a kiss. “Good, then we’ll hire some movers and get ya back here after the wedding.”

“I’d like that very much,” you murmur, a yawn catching at the end.

“We should get some sleep, gorgeous. Tomorrow is gonna be a long one.”

Calum drops you off at the vineyard after the two of you check into the hotel; on the drive up, you’d called to cancel your room, knowing you’ll just be staying in his.

Sierra meets you at the door to the bridal suite. “Um… thank god you and Cal came together today because Lyric and I were seriously worried after yesterday.”

“What do you mean?” You sling your bag onto the back of a chair and take in the room. All of the navy tea length dresses are up on hangers with your names, shoes are lined up and plenty of spots with lighted mirrors and hands ready for hair and makeup.

The sunset ceremony with an evening reception was one you were looking forward to; no one was in a crazy rush and everything will be gorgeous in the soft light and so, so romantic.

Sierra snaps her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your dreamy daze. “Sorry, what?”

“You two had a weird vibe last night, I thought you were off again,” she says quietly as the two of you head towards Lyric.

She squeezes you both and looks closely at you. Sierra whispers something to her and she squeezes you again. “You and Cal are good?”

“I’m moving home after the wedding.” You grin.

Lyric grins back and squeezes your arm. “Time to celebrate!” She declares, reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“We’re supposed to be celebrating you, love,” you point out, annoyed.

“We are celebrating me! But Sierra and I can also quietly celebrate you... and Calum.” She sticks her tongue out and one of the other bridesmaids pops the champagne, pouring it into glasses. “Cal and Luke are supposed to be picking up lunch to drop off soon, so once we’ve eaten we can start getting ready.” She claps, excited.

The room is giggles and music and hairspray and glitter in no time. All of you are in silk robes, Lyric, of course, is in white and the rest of you in a deep wine color. The photographer snaps candids as you get ready.

And then it’s finally time and you’re heading down the stairs to head out toward the vineyard. It’s a beautiful outdoor space with twinkle lights and candles and the soft glow of the setting sun. It’s breathtaking.

There’s tears on both sides of the aisle as Lyric and Ash exchange their written vows, because of course Ash couldn’t leave it to the Bible, that wouldn’t be big enough.

You and Sierra pass tissues to each other and to the bride and groom and Cal can’t stop grinning over at you.

Ash swings Lyric back into a kiss and everyone ‘awws’ and claps. They’re presented and then make their way down the aisle.

You and Cal follow after them and you grin up at him. “Holdin’ it together, Hood?”

“Only slightly better than you, my love.”

The wedding party is swept off for pictures and the guests are ushered into the winery for wine and cheese while the outdoor space is transformed into a reception. Tables are set out, a bar is set up, dinner placements get set and a dance floor is readied.

The weather turns out perfect. The starry night sky is the perfect backdrop for everything. Lyric and Ash are so in love and you can absolutely tell, just from the look on their faces, the soft, warm glow emanating from them.

During the reception, you and Cal hang on to each other, constantly touching, he’s always pulling you into a kiss, just like the two of you were at Luke and Sierra’s wedding.

It gets late. Your shoes are off and Cal’s jacket rests over your shoulders, his arm around your back, pressing you to his body, the two of you swaying back and forth on the dance floor. Your head rests against his shoulder and he can feel how tired your body is.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” he admits quietly.

“What’s that, handsome?” You ask, looking up at him.

He looks down at you and gently pulls you up for a kiss before speaking. “The thing I love about weddings is getting to have everyone around and it just feels… so full of love.”

“I think that’s what everyone loves about weddings.” You murmur.

“I want our friends to feel that for us. We should do something when Lyric and Ash get back.” He smiles, then rests his cheek on the top of your head.

“I think our friends already do feel that for us, love.” You chuckle, “but we can have a party or something. I think it’d be nice to have everyone kinda celebrate this with us.”

“ I mean… I know we don’t want to get married but I do think our friends would like to celebrate our commitment to each other and you coming home. I know I want to celebrate it.” He admits, pulling you tighter to his body.

You chuckle and roll your eyes, “I’m sure we can figure out a way to celebrate… just for us and for our friends,”  you hum.

“We can probably start our celebration tonight.” He grins, hands sliding up your waist to cup your face.

“Oh? And how long will this celebration last?” You smile at him.

“I’m thinking the rest of our lives.” He smiles, gently caressing your cheek.

[this-is-spn20]

Imagine… Taking a swim in the lake, inviting Dean but he refuses. You give him a little surprise.

A/N: Haha! Gotcha bitches! I bet you thought you wouldn’t see me for the rest of the year! I got some more inspiration and I’m taking advantage of it! Hope you guys enjoy this little imagine!

-Marissa

----------------

Being a hunter was stressful. Very stressful. You’re always on high alert, wondering if the people you interact with have ill intentions for you. Are they a monster? Are they just another hunter who doesn’t like you? Not to mention when you’re on a case. Jesus the cases. You have to go to the crime scene as some form of law enforcement, look at the state of the body, and see if the MO matches any of the monsters you deal with on a regular basis. If it is then you have to interview the victim’s family for clues, find out the last place the victim was at AND interview the people there to see if the victim left with someone. Oh and let’s mention the fact that you have to research the monster and see if it’s just one or a whole pack/team. Then you gotta figure out their hiding place and kill them, then skip town. It’s… a lot to say the least.

That’s why hunters needed outlets. Many of them resort to drinking. Some hustle some unsuspecting strangers in bars in a game of darts and pool. Some do target practice to blow off steam. Some even just resort to sex. Most hunters do all of the above. You wonder if that ever gets old to them. Now don’t get it twisted, you don’t judge hunters. It’s not like there is an abundance of things for them to do to forget about the life for a while. But, it must get old eventually, right? Ah, the glories of being a hunter. But despite all that, you get a few hunters that have actual hobbies like painting, maybe an instrument of some sort. But you personally loved swimming. In addition to being a fun way to stay in shape, it also helped you relieve stress. Swimming just sort of helped your worries wash away.

You didn’t get much time to yourself living with the Winchesters. Your boyfriend Dean didn’t exactly share your views on how to relieve stress. He mostly followed the hunter’s way while you opted to do some normal things for yourself. You and Sam shared each other’s views on normal hobbies. You and Sam would often find yourselves in the library reading separate books in silence while the distant sound of gunshots could be faintly heard as your eyes skimmed over the pages. You even got Sam to swim with you on a case while Dean was, as usual, on the side drinking a beer. You’d tried to get Dean to try things your way but he was as stubborn as the word is itself. Anytime you were on a case you’d try to find a lake or a local pool to hop into. Most of the time, you weren’t lucky.

One day when monsters decided to give you all a break, you went walking in the woods behind the bunker. I mean, it's not like Kansas has an abundance of swimming pools. You just wanted to get some air. You weren’t sure how long you were walking but eventually, you came across a beautiful waterfall connecting to a fairly small pond. It was beautiful, you couldn’t resist. You stripped down to your underwear and left your clothes on the small cliff and left your phone there so it wouldn’t get wet. Your heart was soaring, you felt alive. The shock wore off quickly as your body hit the water. You stayed underwater for about a minute before your lungs were screaming at you to breathe. Surprisingly, the water was crystal clear. You could see the bottom of the pond pretty clearly. You hadn’t been able to just float on the water and relax in a long time.

You had lost track of time, the sun was starting to set but you didn’t really think much of it. You knew the path back to the bunker. You hadn’t taken any sharp turns. It was almost a straight line back to the bunker. “A few more minutes won’t hurt.” You sighed and you lean back against a wall of moss. It’s not like the boys would freak out, they knew you could take care of yourself.

--------------------

Sam and Dean were freaking the fuck out. You had said you were going for a short walk that morning. It’s almost nightfall and you hadn’t contacted anyone in hours. They checked in with Jody, Donna, Charlie, and just about everyone they knew. Dean was pacing back and forth. Sam was trying to think of a place you would’ve gone. Both trying to put a brave face on for the other but failing miserably.

“Where could she possibly be! She couldn’t have walked too far from here? Should we try driving around and see if we see her?” Dean stopped pacing and had grabbed his favorite pistol almost halfway to the door. Sam had caught up to him in the Map room.

“Dean wait for a few seconds. What if the simplest solution is right here? We haven’t tracked her phone yet. Maybe she’ll turn up that way. If not, then we’ll start driving.” Sammy, always the voice of reason. Dean nodded.

“Okay fine, let’s check her location. Hurry up though, it's supposed to be freezing tonight.”

Sam made the short jog to get his computer and start tracking Y/n’s location. The program spat back coordinates that were about 3 miles away from the bunker. Both boys looked at each other confused and worryingly when they saw the coordinates led to some unknown location in the woods. ‘What could she possibly be doing way out there?’ Dean thought.

--------------

You had just came up from your dive in a row when you heard footsteps and branches cracking under the weight up something. You stayed as silent as possible. You were just about ready to scold yourself for being paranoid when figures with flashlights came into your view. They looked like Sam and Dean.

“Sam! Dean!” You shouted from the water.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing out here?” Dean shouted exasperated.

“I found this beautiful pond!. I couldn’t help it guys I just got excited. I’m sorry if I worried you guys.” You pouted slightly.

“You’re damn right we were worried! You-” Sam cut dean off. “It’s fine Y/N. As long as you’re safe, everything is fine.”

Dean sighed then nodded in agreement. “Sam is right. Now get out of there, it's getting cold out here.” You pouted.

“How about you two join me? Just for a quick dip! Please?” Dean shook his head while Sam looks on with a smile.

“Dean…” A thought had crossed your mind. “Would you mind helping me out of here?”

Dean nodded and reached his hand down for you to grab. When you grabbed his hand you pulled him down. Right before Dean hit the water he let out a big yelp. Sam’s laughter filled the area but soon died down when Dean glared at him. You kissed Dean on the cheek, knowing he could never stay mad at you.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up. I’ll get my revenge on you both when I'm warm and dry.” Dean grumbled.

----------------

A/N: Hope ya’ll enjoyed this little treat from me! Requests are always open! Expect more soon!

Spread Love

-Marissa

[brattyfics]

Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat. 

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx​

[depressedacadamia]

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops. 

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

[cpd-55055]

How it Should Have Been: Ch 4

Summary: Hailey finally confronts Voight after the chaotic events at the warehouse.

Notes: Chapter 4 is here, and it's personally one of my favorites, especially the ending. Upstead has such a beautiful apartment, and it's a crime that the writers haven't properly used it. Hopefully, Season 10 we get some domestic Upstead in their swanky apartment. 🤞🏼 Also, flirty Upstead is so adorable. We definitely need more of that. 

There is also a brief conversation Hailey has with Voight at the beginning of this chapter. Some may not like it, as it clearly puts Voight as the bad guy, but I thought I needed to address it in my fic. I absolutely hated how Voight treated Hailey during the Roy mess. He dragged her into this mess, forcing her into a situation she clearly didn't want to be in, and he continued to hide the truth from her. He made it crystal clear that no one else could find out what happened, which stressed Hailey more. I am not putting all the blame on Voight. Clearly, Hailey is an adult, and she did decide to go to the warehouse, but most of her stress and guilt could have been handled better if Voight had done things differently. 

Thanks again for all the time and love you give to this fanfic! See you all next week! 💙

Read Here: Ao3 or Wattpad

[ameliasbitvh]

ahhhh! thank you all soso much for the 300 followers! i just hit 200 last week?! how are there 300 of you? i honestly don’t know, but i started this account as a place to just read smut and then i decided to post on here. the reason why my first post was angst was because i was being a slut for angst to feel something in those few moments- okay i’ll stop myself right there. for this milestone i’m going to do mutual appreciation for the moots i’ve interacted with the most so far! (if we’re moots and u wanna interact pls do, i’m not scary!)

okayy first up,

@underappreciated-spoon-321

i love you so much bby, i could not believe it when you followed me. i was legit crying happy tears and i specifically remember you followed me after i posted “needy” random lol.

your writing is immaculate, absolutely lovely. ur smut *chefs kisses* i love that you put up with my shit photos that i send you and that you actually ask for more- but it baffled me when you first interacted with me, this was my reaction

*deep breath* “omfg! (ur username) just interacted with me, wtf do i do?!” also ur nick name reminds me of belly from dear, draco.

i’m not writing a lot, bc for your sleepover i wrote you a damn paragraph 😭 but i love u sm belly!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

@dracoskinks

ARI! i love talking to you, bc i can talk about anything and when i say anything i mean anything. like kinks, porn, random draco scenarios, etc… you are one of the funniest people i have seen on this app.

ur blunt and funny at the same time, it just makes it more fun to talk to you. ur smut is soso good, bc i don’t find a lot of smut with a dom!reader and sub!draco.

i remember you followed me, so out of curiosity i checked out your blog and saw your piss kink fic and that did it for me. after that i followed you back and we became moots ajnwja. when ur first account got terminated you scared me so fucking much, because i thought you were going to leave tumblr forever. don’t. ever. play. like. that. again. i’m glad we became moots bc i fucking love you <3

@opalsheart

I LOVE YOU SM! i think u were the first moot that i interacted with in direct messages, bc you had tea to spill, and ever since than we’ve been #4lifers. you send me edits and hate on t*m felton with me on instagram. you were the first mutual to know what i looked like lmaoo. u r an absolute goddess, bestie, like what- i know that you can pull anyone you want, so stop playing when you talk about someone.

even though we have a fucking 12 hour time difference, we still find time to talk to each other. it is so fun talking with you and the fact that when we talk it’s night for one of us. you let me send that stupid tik tok of ed sheeran and t*m felton to you and it probably haunts your dreams now ajnwajsj-

i appreciate that you study ur MF ass off for your exams, bc i could never. and you even send me those cute memes when i wake up- also we better be watching those true crime documentaries, bc i’m still waiting. idc if we have a time difference :) anyways ILY SM ELLIE !! <3

@laceycallisto

okay- where do i even get started with this. we first interacted when i reblogged that draco fan fic and we reblogged talking about how desperate we were trying to find that iconic fic. and i forgot that the creator could see all the reblogging we were doing- you texted me directly about adding my name into your tags, which obviously i agreed to. then we just started talking about random shit like how we were superior because we were june geminis. or how we talked about being in love with remus lupin.

i have vivid flash backs of how your remus fic hurt me. i cried my false lashes off proof reading janajaj- bestie- you’ve seen me cry ajnwja- your writing is ethereal, i don’t know how you can see that? your so nice too, like girly u gave me ur netflix within like a day of knowing each other 💀 we watched bridgerton in two mother fucking sittings. we ate that bridgerton hoe up!

all ur input on the scenes were so funny like the “with child” and “dicking” comments 😭 i love how it’s so easy to talk to you about everything, like how dumb i am- even talking about the privilege of being poc and not burning in the sun. bruh u even let me tag u in dumb tik tok videos, like what?! and i think your the only mutual i have that’s in the same time zone as me… also we better binge the next season. but ily sm, ur like my older sister, even if u say ur life is shitty 😭 <3

@dracomalfoys-wh0re

honestly, kacia. i owe a lot to you for my account being “found” or whatever, bc you reblogged a fic of mine, i’m pretty sure it was “common room” and that’s when i started getting notes and followers najajwjwj- you might not know that but i do 💀 i will forever remember that.

you literally were one of the first accounts ever- to follow me. and i won’t lie, i went crazy when u followed me because i love your fics so much! you are so funny and blunt too i swear 😭

and can we talk about your tom riddle fic? like?!the fact that you really showed tom’s true personality and character. every world had me enthralled further into the fic, the way you wrote him is exactly how i think tom riddle would act towards his s/o. his toxicity and gaslighting is too accurate.

moving on from the discussion of your fic, which is amazing, ily sm babe!!

@yoooespinosa

we’ve interacted a few times and when u texted me directly saying that you thought i was sweet, i literally went, “omg- people think i’m sweet” in a good way, not bad jkwajjw- can i just get started on your writing, because oh. my. fucking. god. it is the most captivating and heart breaking thing i’ve ever seen- the emotions that you put into every word completes the entire fic. every angst piece that you have written, made me cry or made something inside me just twist with sadness. it is truly lovely and magnificent.

how do ur fics not get thousands of notes? because everyone should see what you write, it’s unfair that others haven’t seen your fics. when u explained your dream to me, i swear you practically wrote a whole fic 😭

i remember u said that you wanted to do a face reveal, but we’re scared. bestie what are you scared of? you look like an ANGEL!! and if anyone were to disagree, they are obviously blind. but ily bestie <3

@o-rion-sta-r

BESTIE BAE ORION i love you so much!interacting with you is honestly so fun. and i remember like literally yesterday we were trying to figure out ari’s time zone and we were freaking out. you, ari, and me all have a fucking time difference 😭 it sucks so much!

at least every day you ask me how my days been and i think that’s so sweet, because before i got on tumblr people didn’t ask that question. i appreciate that you ask me that and just random questions in general, because i love interacting with you so much. and you should start writing bby! i will reblog anything you write, also ily sm <3

@ilygw

we don’t talk a lot, but you seem like a fun person! i love seeing all the edits you post on here, bc honestly i need more ferret boy content. i know there is a lot, but i feel like i’ve seen all of them. until i see you posting a new edit and i’m like, “okay… i guess i haven’t seen every draco edit” but that’s all i have lol, ly!!

@arcaneslut

to be honest, you seemed so intimidating to me. i know you said you’re not, but to me you seemed really scary even though i knew you weren’t 😭 i just interacted with you recently and you are so sweet i swear! i love all ur fics, especially “and then i felt nothing” because when i read this fic you better believe i was crying so hard- to the point where i couldn’t breath- everything was written so beautifully, i couldn’t believe it.

i love how one thing we share in common is losing our phones 💀 but i just wanted to say thank you for explaining the whole sleepover and celebration things to me! even tho we just started interacting i already love u!!

moots bc i’m in love with all of them: @just-a-smol-spoon @dreamy-clousds @dracoskinks @unedibledaisyduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @a-aexotic @l0vely-lupin @gothboutique @wolfstar4lifee @littlemissnoname13 @deatthfairy @arcaneslut @ladyvesuvia @laceycallisto @dracossweetprincess @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep @realityblocked @harmqnia @yoooespinosa @opalsheart @lilscloud @cupids-crystals @mellifluousart @lunas-kisses @malfoysmainb @klauscarolove @crystxlss @beforeoursunsets @marrymetheonott @queeriacs @electriclocean @dlmmdl @o-rion-sta-r @sfdlm @ilygw @desiredmalfoy @underappreciated-spoon-321 @draco-and-tom @hellounicorn @mugglesthesedays @dracomalfoys-wh0re

if i didn’t tag u it’s bc i can’t tag more than 50 blogs :(