#and he was wrong most of the time anyways

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Faking it

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ angst lowkey (reader feels like she owes it to them), lots of fluff, smut (barely), lemme know if i missed anything

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You fake an orgasm

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel had been extra clingy all day.

He’d followed you around the penthouse like a lovesick puppy, sticking his cold fingers under your sweater, nuzzling into your neck while you were trying to fold laundry, dragging you into bed even though you clearly weren’t in the mood for much more than a nap. But he’d been gone for three days at some idiotic meeting Thomas insisted on dragging him to, and when Raf missed you, he missed you. Not just your presence, not just your voice, he wanted your body, your soft little moans, your sweet eyes fluttering up at him like you were the only two people in the world.

You knew that.

You knew that so well that when he finally nestled between your thighs that night, whispering “Missed my pearlie so much” with lips dragging down your shoulder, you didn’t say no.

Even when you weren’t really in the mood.

Even when your head was foggy from sleep, and you kept accidentally zoning out halfway through.

Even when the ache in your back was stronger than the ache in your core.

So you faked it. Sweetly. Breathlessly. A little sigh, then a trembling moan, then a soft whimper of his name like it was the most natural thing in the world. You even arched your back for effect, letting your lashes flutter shut like it was all too much.

And Rafayel melted. He always did. With a soft, broken sound, he buried his face in your neck, shuddering as he came right after you, his arms tightening around you like you were his entire universe.

He stayed like that for a while, still, silent, face smushed against your skin. You thought he’d drifted off. He hadn’t.

“…You faked that, didn’t you,” he mumbled quietly, barely audible. Not angry. Just sad.

Your breath hitched.

“I-It’s not that I don’t like it,” you whispered quickly, panic bubbling in your chest. “I just—wasn’t really in the mood, but you missed me, and I thought—it’s not a big deal, Raf. I love you—”

His arms stayed wrapped around you. But he didn’t say anything at first.

“…You don’t ever have to do that,” he said, voice hushed and soft against your skin. “I’d rather just hold you.”

A pause. Then, quieter:

“You know you don’t have to earn your keep like that, right? You’re my baby, not a reward for coming home.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You nodded.

“…Can I still hold you anyway?” he asked a moment later, voice small.

You turned in his arms and nodded again. “Always.”

He kissed your cheek and pulled the blanket up to your chin, tucking you against him like a doll. Quiet, content, a little clingy still, but nothing more.

Just your soft Rafayel, who loved you even when you were tired.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You weren’t sure when exactly you started zoning out.

Maybe it was around the time his hand slipped under your thigh and he murmured something about how perfect you were for him. Maybe it was when his rhythm became familiar enough that your brain wandered, first to the grocery list, then to what color nails you wanted for the hospital gala, then to God, I’m so sleepy.

You weren’t mad. You weren’t upset. Zayne wasn’t doing anything wrong.

You just… weren’t really in it tonight.

But he’d been so gentle with you all day. Brought you breakfast in bed, carried you into the bath, helped you detangle your hair after. He was soft, and warm, and still in his work scrubs when he pressed kisses to your collarbone and whispered, “Missed you today, sweetheart.”

It felt like the least you could do.

So you closed your eyes, let your arms wrap around him loosely, and when the moment felt right, you gave a soft, breathy gasp and arched up into him like your body just couldn’t help it. You sighed his name, let it crack a little like you were overwhelmed. Let your body go limp in that perfect post-orgasm way he loved.

And Zayne, always so careful, always so attuned to you, stilled.

You didn’t notice right away. Not until he pulled out of you a little too carefully, brushed the hair from your face with a quiet, unreadable look in his hazel-green eyes.

“…You didn’t finish.”

Your heart jumped. “W-What do you mean? I—”

He gave you that look. The one he gives when a patient tries to lie to him. Calm. Not angry. Just knowing.

“I know your body, sweetheart. I know your tells.” His thumb brushed over your flushed cheek. “And I know when you’re pretending.”

You flushed deeper, shame crawling up your throat. “I just… wasn’t really in the mood. But you were so sweet today. And I didn’t want to disappoint you, so I thought maybe if I just…”

Zayne exhaled softly through his nose.

“Oh, darling.”

He leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You don’t ever have to do that. Not for me. Not for anything.”

You stared at him, blinking, feeling suddenly small. But his voice was warm. Steady. Not hurt. Just, loving.

“I didn’t marry you for sex. I married you because I love you.” His palm settled over your heart. “Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re not in the mood. Even if you never want to again.”

Your throat wobbled. “I just didn’t want to be a burden…”

Zayne kissed your nose. “Then let me remind you. You are never a burden. You’re my sweetheart.”

He tucked you into his arms, bare chests pressed together under the soft hospital-blue sheets. “Now get some rest. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

And he was. He always was.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You weren’t mad at him. You weren’t upset. You weren’t even uncomfortable.

You were just… not really feeling it.

Xavier had come home early from a reconnaissance mission, swept you up into his arms like a weightless thing, and carried you straight to the bedroom, eyes low-lidded and unreadable. He’d murmured something about how you looked too pretty in your little apron today, how the scent of you lingered in his mind when he was away. And you, soft and pliant and wanting to be good for him, let yourself be undressed, let yourself be kissed and adored and laid bare beneath him like a porcelain bunny.

But somewhere in the middle, your mind drifted.

You were thinking about whether you left the window garden open. About the broken necklace you meant to fix. About what to make him for breakfast tomorrow, because he liked the way you cut his toast into hearts, even if he pretended not to care.

And when Xavier’s fingers gripped your thighs tighter, when he leaned in closer with a low, breathy sigh of your name, you realized he was close.

So you let out a soft gasp. Arched into him, just a little. Moaned quietly. Gave the illusion of release, not over the top, just enough to melt him.

And he did melt.

But not in the way you expected.

His rhythm faltered. His breath caught. And instead of pressing closer, he… stopped.

You blinked up at him, confused. “…Xavi?”

He looked at you. Really looked at you.

Still inside you. Still quiet. But not lost in pleasure.

“…Starlight,” he whispered, voice low. “You didn’t finish.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—I did.”

A pause. Then his head tilted.

“You forgot to shiver. You always shiver.” His tone wasn’t judgmental. It wasn’t even sad. Just curious. “Did I hurt you? Was I too fast?”

“No, no! Nothing like that!” you rushed. “I just… wasn’t really in the mood. But I didn’t want to ruin the moment, and you seemed so…”

He blinked once. Twice. Then leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, silver hair falling like soft silk around you.

“You don’t have to give yourself to me if you’re not ready, bunny. You’re not something I take.”

His voice was impossibly gentle.

“You’re something I love.”

Your eyes welled up, but he was already moving, already pulling you into his chest like the softest, most precious thing in the universe. He didn’t pull out, not yet, just wrapped his arms around you and rested there.

“Next time,” he whispered, eyes fluttering closed, “just tell me. I’ll hold you instead.”

And he did. For a long time. Until he fell asleep, buried against you, mumbling soft things in his sleep like mine and safe and stay close.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You weren’t quite sure why you did it. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was because Sylus had been working so hard lately, burning down obstacles for you, carving out a future where you never had to lift a finger, not even to open a door.

He’d bought you a new mansion this week. Not just any mansion, a six-level estate with custom marble floors and a koi pond just because you once mentioned missing your childhood pet fish. He kissed the crown of your head and murmured, “My kitty deserves palaces.”

So when he took you in the grand bedroom, slow, possessive, murmuring how “good” you were for him, you felt like you had to give him something back. Even if your body was tired. Even if your heart wasn’t in it.

You moaned. You gasped his name. You clenched down just the right way, fluttering your lashes and whispering “S-Sy… I’m gonna—” and gave a little fake tremble.

And it worked. For a moment.

Sylus grunted softly, thrust once more, then stilled deep inside you with a low, satisfied exhale. He was always so still when he came, like a man who didn’t like losing control even when overwhelmed. He kissed your neck, slowly, one hand stroking your cheek.

But the moment he pulled back to look at you, his red eyes narrowed, just a little. Not in suspicion. Not in anger. Just… interest.

You looked away.

“Kitty,” he said coolly, “do you think I don’t know what you sound like when you actually come?”

Your stomach twisted. You gave a nervous little laugh, trying to brush it off, but his hand curled under your chin, gently guiding your gaze back to him.

“Was I too rough?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No, it’s not that,” you whispered, cheeks hot. “I just—wasn’t really in the mood, but I thought—I mean, you’ve been doing so much for me, and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful—”

A quiet laugh left his lips. Amused. A little dark.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmured, brushing your hair back with elegant fingers. “You think you need to pay me back with your body? For being my wife?”

His tone was indulgent. Dangerous. Like he found the entire idea absurd.

“You already belong to me. That’s more than enough.”

You blinked at him, stunned. But Sylus just tucked you into his side, stroking your bare thigh with slow, lazy circles.

“You don’t fake things with me. I don’t need lies. I need you.” He glanced down at you, mouth curving. “If you’re tired, say so. If you want sleep, you get it. If you want me to just hold you and kiss your face until you’re purring, then you say the word.”

You mumbled something soft and small. He kissed your temple.

“And if I ever want something you don’t, I’ll deal with it. I’ve waited years for you. I can wait a night.”

He snapped his fingers toward the bedside table. Your favorite silk robe was in his hand a moment later. He helped you into it like you were made of glass, then pulled you onto his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin.

“Now,” he murmured, “let me pamper my little liar properly.”

You laughed softly into his chest. He didn’t mind. He just kissed the top of your head again.

“Next time,” he whispered against your ear, voice teasing and low, “I want the real thing. Understand, kitty?”

You nodded.

And you meant it.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You weren’t planning to fake it.

You really weren’t.

But Caleb had been gone for almost a week, off at some classified Farspace campaign, the kind that made your chest twist with worry until he messaged you with a blurry photo of his boots beside a meal tray, or a clipped miss you, pips. And the moment he walked through the penthouse doors tonight, still in uniform, still smelling like gunmetal and aftershave, he swept you up and whispered, “Mine. I missed my girl so bad, baby, need you.”

You wanted to be good for him. You always did.

So even though you were tired. Even though your head was somewhere else. Even though your body wasn’t really reacting the way you knew he wanted, you let your hands drift into his hair. Let your lips part with a soft gasp. Let your thighs tremble just enough to mimic release, moaning “C-Caleb… I’m—”

His eyes were on yours the whole time.

And you should’ve known.

Because Caleb doesn’t miss anything.

He stilled.

So gently. Just a shift of his hips. The faintest pause.

“…You didn’t come,” he murmured, voice calm. Soft. Like a statement, not a question.

You flinched. “I-I did—”

“Don’t lie to me, baby.”

You felt your heart sink. But his arms were still around you. Still holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

He slowly pulled out, setting you in his lap, his gloved hands cradling your waist like you were porcelain.

“Why?” he asked, eyes searching yours. “Why would you fake it?”

You swallowed. “You were so sweet today… you came all the way home for me. I thought—it’s the least I can do, right?”

His jaw tightened, just barely. But his voice stayed level.

“You never have to give me your body like it’s some kind of repayment, pips.”

He kissed your temple, hand cupping the back of your head.

“You already gave me everything when you stayed. When you let me take care of you. When you looked at me and said, ‘Okay, Caleb, I’ll be yours.’ That’s all I ever wanted.”

Tears stung at your lashes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you…”

“You could never disappoint me.” His arms tightened. “Not my girl. Not my baby.”

You tucked yourself into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of safety. Of him.

“I just wanted to be enough,” you whispered.

He pulled back and looked you straight in the eye, expression serious, like he was giving a mission briefing, but the mission was your heart.

“You are enough. Whether we do anything or nothing. Whether you fall apart in my arms or just fall asleep. You’re mine either way.”

You nodded, voice caught in your throat.

“…You wanna be held?” he asked, voice suddenly softer, thumb brushing your cheek. “Or you want me to help you finish for real? I’ll take care of you either way.”

You smiled, weakly. “Just hold me.”

His mouth curved.

“Done.”

And he did. Just like always. Holding you tight like his world wouldn’t exist without you in it.

[peasack]

I have a patent-teacher conference and guys its not okay I'm cooked.

Lowkey a bit of Valentina slander at the end but that's okay cause who likes her anyway.

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Parent-Teacher conference headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov ✦

Immediate big bear grin. “Of course! I would love to! Finally, official father duties! I am ready.”

He’s way too excited. You almost regret asking him because he immediately starts planning what to wear like it’s the Olympics.

He introduces himself as your “papa” and tells wildly exaggerated stories about your achievements that didn’t happen.

“Ah yes, Y/N once lifted a car. Very strong. Takes after me.”

The teacher is just blinking rapidly “I-what?”

He lowkey embarrasses you, but he’s also so proud.

Brags about you non-stop and leaves with his arm around you, even if you’re fake-mad at him the whole way home.

✦ Yelena Belova ✦

Acts super casual about it. “Yes, I can go. Why not? Someone must supervise the situation.” But she’s secretly honored you asked her.

She shows up in the coolest outfit and definitely intimidates your teacher a little.

If the teacher complains about you, she’s like: “No. You are wrong. Y/N is perfect.” (Dead serious.)

If they praise you, she’s smug for the rest of the week.

“You know, you could have asked anyone. But you picked me. Admit it Mouse. I am the best.”

✦ Bucky Barnes ✦

Very quiet, kinda awkward. “Me? Uh… yeah. Sure, kid. If you want me to.”

He sits stiffly, probably wears his nicest jacket. Doesn’t say much unless he needs to defend you.

If the teacher says you’re struggling, he’s all protective like, “What’s the school doing to help them? They’re not doing this alone.”

Absolutely takes your side.

If the teacher complains about you hanging out alone, Bucky’s just like, “Yeah? Maybe the other kids should be less annoying.”

Buys you snacks on the way home.

Barely talks about the meeting, just quietly says he’s proud of you.

✦ John Walker ✦

Blown away. “Wait, you want me to go? Like… with you? Of course! Yeah, I can do that. I’m good at that. Totally. Parental figure. Yeah.”

(He’s so flustered it’s adorable.)

Takes it VERY seriously. Nods way too much. The teacher lowkey loves him because he’s polite and enthusiastic.

If they criticize you, John gets defensive FAST.

“Have you considered that maybe your teaching style isn’t working for them? Just a thought.”

Treats you to dinner after like it’s a whole formal event.

“You did good, kid. Real good. Thanks for letting me be there.”

✦ Bob Reynolds ✦

Looks like you just asked him to hold the sun. He’s so touched. “Me? You really want me to go? Yeah. Yeah, I’d be honored.”

Soft-spoken the whole time. Very respectful but sharp when it comes to defending you.

He listens carefully, makes eye contact, thanks the teacher even if they’re being harsh.

If the teacher praises you, he beams.

Quiet little proud smiles. Might ruffle your hair without thinking.

Gets awkward when you thank him.

“Oh—uh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you wanted me there.”

He'll be smiling after that all day.

✦ Ava Starr ✦

“Why me?” but not in a bad way—just genuinely surprised you’d choose her.

When you tell her you trust her, she agrees instantly. “I’ll be there. You got me.”

Has the most terrifying resting face. The teacher is so scared to say anything negative because Ava looks like she’ll end them.

If the teacher says you’re doing well, Ava’s eyes soften.

She just mutters, “Told you they were good.”

Doesn’t make a big deal out of it. On the way home she just quietly says, “Thanks for picking me.” But you can tell it meant a lot.

✦ Valentina Allegra de Fontaine ✦

"why would I wanna go to that"

Simply doesn't attend.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope you guys liked this one!! My requests are always open<33

Is it obvious that I hate Valentina

[ecandjamesvpjournal]

A Hearse of a Different Color

As Danny ran The Dead End, rumors floated on the haunted-ness of the fry cook, and the city of Gotham. Danny knew that the ghost hunters would be coming to places like this. But as he heard the familiar sirens of the famous franchise (whose science was more sound than his parents), he didn’t think that they were planning on coming here.

But there it was, a white hearse, with a familiar Mooglie on the doors.

A figure came through the door, covered in silhouette and smoke stood there, before coughing and stepping into the light, revealing a friendly face. As the door closed, he took off the pack on his back and placed it near the coat rack.

Hanging the paragoggles on the hat stand, the stranger in the jumpsuit walked up to the counter, and sat in one of the chairs. Danny passed him a cup of coffee, and realized who it was.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite guy, Danny. How’d you been?” he said. Danny actually smiled a bit, replying, “Good Jimmy, I mean aside from…”

Jimmy nodded, remembering the fallout. He then went, “Well, business is still going strong, not just in Amity Park but here in Gotham as well. Y’know that there’s a rumor that at the center of this town’s corruption and darkness is partially caused by a demon?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, as it didn’t sound that entirely surprising to him. “Haven’t found any proof yet, but the signs all point to something big,” he leaned in and added in a whisper, “and I’m not talking about Lady Gotham.”

“Anyways, I thought I would talk to you as something’s happened to your parents.” Jimmy said, adding, “And before you say it, yes, I know. But what happened does pertain to you… surprisingly.”

Danny was curious, “What happened?” “Well, when you’re parents were dealing with a powerhouse of a ghost, they got pretty injured, though most point to the GIW as the cause of it. Your parents were injured in such a way, that they can’t ever hunt a ghost. They sued the GIW, who not only was the cause of the injuries, but had been causing havoc since it all happened.”

“It’s why insurance and property tax are all higher than before.” Jimmy said, as Danny listened, “Anyways, your parents won, and after all that they checked over their notes. They found that the were wrong with the info on ghosts. When they finished their data, they realized something horrific, that what they did to you was wrong.”

“It’s why you’re still in the will Danny. FentonWorks, the Portal, and half of the family fortunes have been left to you.” Jimmy said. Danny was shocked at this, “They what?!” Everyone turned towards the Ghostbuster and Fry Cook.

As soon as everyone went back to their business. “I said-“ “I know what you said,” Danny said, “I’m just having a hard time accepting it.”

Jimmy nodded, “Sure, but Drs. Fenton, realized their mistake and decided to do everything they could to make up for their wrongdoings. And, by subsequent coincidence, or perhaps bureaucratic timing, the GIW are no longer together, disbanded by too many people of Amity Park suing them, or because like the CIA, they were left too much to their devices.”

“Meanwhile, we decided to establish a Ghostbusters here in Gotham, due to the rumors of supernatural presence here, and I’m not just talking about you spook.” Jimmy said with a smile. Before adding, “So, how about a world-class cheese burger?”

Danny smiled, adding, “Don’t know about world class, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Dead End Diner

Inspired by this post

Link

The neon sign above the little corner diner buzzed faintly, its flickering letters spelling out The Dead End. Rain drizzled from the Gotham sky, casting reflections of sickly green and crimson across the slick asphalt. Crime, chaos, and capes ruled the night—but inside the warm diner, a world of sizzling grills, greasy coffee, and ghost-proof walls thrived in peace.

Danny Fenton wiped down the countertop, ghost core humming gently with contentment.

Leaving Amity Park had been easy once his parents screamed the word “monster.” The lab accident that gave him ghost powers had changed everything, and not everyone could handle the truth. Especially Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Vlad Masters hadn’t taken rejection well either. Maddie still wanted nothing to do with him—half ghost or not. In a final, dramatic end, Vlad destroyed his ghost half and drank himself into the grave. The only note he left behind was a signed will, bequeathing everything to Daniel Fenton.

So now Danny was wealthy.

And utterly, devastatingly bored.

Money didn’t thrill him. Mansions made him feel lonely. Charity galas were stiff and full of liars. So he’d packed up and moved to the most chaotic, unpredictable, high-stakes city he could think of: Gotham.

He bought a crumbling building right in the Narrows, cleaned it out, reinforced it with ghost tech and some stolen WayneTech from Vlad’s stash, and opened a 24/7 diner.

He called it The Dead End.

It was a hit almost instantly. Not because of the food, though it was great (Danny had a mean hand with greasy spoons), but because of the way he ran it.

“Pay if you can, eat if you’re hungry, and don’t be a jerk.”

Word spread. The homeless knew they’d get warm soup and hot fries. Night-shift nurses sat next to henchmen on break. Cops blinked awkwardly at villains scarfing pancakes. No fights, no weapons, no questions. If a rogue battle broke out outside, people flooded in for shelter. Danny never locked the doors.

He sat behind the counter and watched the madness through the windows, eating his waffles in peace. If he had to step out and go invisible to redirect a missile away from his roof, well, that was his business.

Gotham’s vigilantes didn’t see it that way.

Nightwing was the first to break in.

Danny caught him perched on the rafters like an oversized, very broody bat.

“You want eggs or pancakes?” Danny asked, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

“…I’m not here to eat.”

“Then you broke into my diner for nothing? That’s kinda rude.” Danny gestured to the stools. “Sit. I’m not feeding a potential burglar unless he’s sitting.”

Grumbling, Nightwing slid down and took a seat.

A week later, Red Hood tripped the back alarm. He got a grilled cheese shoved into his hands before he could say a word.

Tim Drake hacked the registers. Danny dumped a milkshake in his lap and gave him a free slice of pie “as an apology.”

Spoiler got caught trying to blend in by wearing a hoodie. She got extra whipped cream and a “next time just ask for a table.”

They kept coming. Not even Batman himself was immune. One evening, the lights flickered and dimmed as a familiar voice echoed behind him.

“You’re not what you seem.”

Danny, utterly unbothered, slid a coffee mug across the counter.

“And you look like you need caffeine and a therapist.”

The cowl’s frown deepened. “How is your building still standing after Joker launched a rocket at this block?”

“I reinforced it,” Danny said, sipping his soda. “Ghost-proof, explosion-dampening, and built with spite. That helps.”

“You let known criminals hide here.”

“I let everyone hide here. I’m not a cop, Bats. I’m a fry cook.”

“You’re not just a fry cook.”

Danny’s eyes shimmered green.

“No,” he said. “I’m also a ghost. Now sit your haunted butt down and let me feed you before you faint from low blood sugar.”

Eventually, the Bats gave up trying to prove he was a villain.

Instead, they started… showing up.

Red Robin brought his laptop and camped at a booth during patrol. He claimed it was “recon,” but Danny always brought him extra hash browns.

Red Hood “accidentally” forgot his helmet once and got his favorite booth permanently labeled “Angry Soup Guy.”

Nightwing flirted with the waitress, annoyed Danny to no end, and somehow ended up helping wash dishes on busy nights.

Even Batman… tolerated the place. He’d never admit it, but he once grunted “thanks” after Danny saved Batgirl from getting crushed by falling debris—without revealing her identity or asking questions.

The Rogues started calling Danny “Ghost Chef.”

The vigilantes? “Spook Fry.”

He’d been called worse.

One night, just before closing, Danny flipped the sign to CLOSED and leaned against the window. Outside, Scarecrow and Batwoman were having a rooftop showdown. The sky was full of smoke and red light. He yawned.

Behind him, Damian Wayne sat sipping a very serious cup of cocoa and glared at the sugar skull art on the wall.

“You’re suspicious,” Damian said. “You let Joker’s goons eat here last week.”

“They paid in stolen casino chips. I took it. Better than nothing.”

“You don’t fear us.”

“I don’t fear much.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

Danny winked. “Aren’t we all?”

The Dead End became legend.

A safe zone. A neutral ground. A place where Penguin’s thugs might sit next to Batgirl and silently agree not to wreck the place.

Danny never asked questions, and he always served the best damn pancakes in Gotham.

He’d been disowned. Betrayed. Abandoned. But in Gotham, the city of masks and monsters, he found peace in chaos, purpose in pancakes, and power in doing what no one else dared: building something kind in a world built on fear.

And honestly?

That was way more fun than being rich.

[wintersarge]

short straw- john walker

summary: after being left behind for a mission, you and john are the only two in the tower. the only problem? you were sick and john was... well, john- completely clueless. what could go wrong?

pairing: john walker x reader

word count: 1.9k

content: mentions of general illness, reader being unwell, john being a little silly and generally just clueless. fluff.

enjoy!!

You had drawn the shortest of short straws. 

Valentina had pulled the team into a meeting a few days ago, informing you all of a recon mission that was taking place at some fancy arms deal. You were initially excited at the prospect of dressing up nice for once, even if it was for intel gathering, and you knew exactly the dress you’d wear at the gala- the silky blue one that hung at the back of your closet, saved for this exact occasion. You’d probably pair it with the nice silver stilettos you had, the ones with the glitter heel, or the-

“Are you listening?” Val’s voice had cut through your train of thought, and you snapped your head up to look at her. “This is a hush-hush mission, so we don’t need the whole team. You and Walker are out.” 

John had protested this, claiming the team needed his ‘brains’ and his ‘brawn’. A protest to which you had, of course, struggled not to laugh at. He had sent you a glare from across the table after, blue eyes narrowed at yours. 

“My orders are final, Walker. You’ll stay here. And maybe you’ll surprise us all and learn how to lower that ego of yours whilst you’re at it.” 

That shut him up, jaw clenched.

That was two days ago, and now it was just you and John in the tower. You had both managed to stay out of each other’s way for the most part, only really seeing each other at breakfast or when you were both working out in the gym. You had tried to bargain with Valentina, begging to go on the trip instead, taking Bucky’s place or even Alexei’s. She wouldn’t budge. 

It wasn’t exactly like you hated John- you actually got along quite well. Not best friends, but not enemies either. However, if you had to be stuck in a building with someone for days on end, Walker would not be your first choice, because:

He never cleaned up after himself

He always made fun of your movie night choices

And, 

He was clueless in every sense of the word

Sure, he was tactful when the job required him to be, and he was definitely smart enough in a military sense, but at everything else? You hadn’t met someone so clued out on everyday life, which was certainly saying something as you also lived with a literal hundred year old man. 

It would be funny, and slightly endearing if it wasn’t so irritating. On Monday, when you were making dinner, you had asked John to pass you the garlic press. 

He gave you the cheese grater. 

And then yesterday, he was out doing a supply run for the tower and you’d mentioned to him that you were all out of your shampoo. You even sent him a damn picture of the bottle. And when he came back, bags in hand, what did he give you?

2-IN-1 BODY WASH. 

You were unimpressed, to say the least. When you asked him about it, he had grumbled something along the lines of ‘they all look the same to me’, and ‘they all do the same thing, anyway’. You had to force yourself to walk away from him before you said something stupid. You honestly couldn’t fathom how this man was, at one point, THE Captain America. 

And now, as if you weren’t being tested enough, it was day three of your week-long cohabitation sentence and to your dismay, you were unwell. You had woken up with a sore throat, blocked nostrils and your head was pounding with an excruciating headache. 

You were miserable. 

It was pretty unusual for you to get sick- you could probably count on one hand how many times you had been so in the last few years, which only increased your suffering. But, by some magic, you had managed to get out of bed, your blanket thrown over your shoulders like a cape as you trudged your way into the kitchen where John was making himself a cup of coffee. When he turned around to see you, pale and sickly, he pulled a face. “You look like hell. I’ve seen corpses with more colour in them”  

You couldn’t find it in yourself to bite back, moving slowly to sit at one of the stools. Everything in you ached, muscles throbbing with a dull burn. John noticed the way your expression was twisted with pain, and he set his coffee mug down on the side. “Since when do you get sick, anyway? You’re like the poster-girl for good health.” You huffed at this, hands moving to swipe at his cup. You took a sip, and John shot you another glare, objecting to the way you thieved his drink. “Hey! Don’t give me your illness. If you feel as bad as you look, then Christ- I definitely don’t want that” You rolled your eyes, downing the last of the coffee. “I’m sick, John, and this is how you treat me? You should be nicer to me, you know. Or I’ll cough in your face when you’re asleep.” You wouldn’t actually, of course, but maybe it would make him take pity. 

For the rest of the day, you had pretty much been bed-bound on the couch. You had a thick blanket hung over your frail body and your sleeping mask covering your eyes as they had become sensitive to the bright lights and the huge windows scattered around the tower didn’t help at all. You suddenly felt regretful at how often you took being well for granted. 

One thing you did appreciate, though, was that John had seemed to leave you alone for most of the day. You hadn’t seen much of him since this morning, when he left in a rush after you had threatened to infect him, and you had assumed that he spent the day in the gym, or going over mission reports. That was until he walked through the door, plastic bags in hand. You could hear his boots as he walked over to the couch, and you felt him standing over you. He nudged your shoulder with his finger. 

“You awake? Still alive under there, aren’t you?”. You let out a small groan and peeled off your eyemask, eyes squinting against the harsh lights. John grimaced when he saw you again, standing back a little to assess the scene. “You really don’t look great.” He said, as if that wasn’t obvious. You looked down at the bags in his hands, and back up at his face. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I got you some stuff. You know, to help, or whatever” He sat down on the seat opposite, pulling open the bag. “Thought I would be a nice teammate for once, since no-one else is here for you. And I also wouldn’t appreciate being coughed on, so, that too.” You cracked a small smile at this, sitting up as far as your body let you to see his haul. When he began to pull things out, though, this faded a little. 

His haul consisted of:

A bottle of painkillers 

A sporty energy drink

A questionable looking can of chicken soup (your least favourite flavour, by the way)

Two packs of gum

An ice pack

And a chocolate orange flavoured protein bar 

You looked back up at him, eyes blinking slowly. Your face morphed into one of disbelief and honestly, concern. How clueless was he, actually? 

“And what is a sick person doing with… a pack of gum and a protein bar?” He looked over at you quizzically, as if the answer was obvious. 

“Mint to clear the sinuses, and a protein bar to… feed you, obviously” You hummed out, trying not to laugh in his face. “Obviously. I do hate chicken soup, though. You couldn’t have picked up something else? Tomato? Vegetable?” 

“Chicken was all they had. I looked.” You nodded slowly. “And the ice-pack? I’ve got the flu, not a bruised knee. This is the stupidest care package ever, Walker” He had the nerve to look offended, eyes rolling slightly. “This is exactly what you need. A balanced recovery system. Now, are you going to eat or not? You should really eat.” You groaned, the thought of food not exactly appetising to you right now. “Maybe later. Just want to sleep right now”. John sighed, but he reluctantly gave in. He left you his ‘care package’ and let you sleep on the couch for a few hours, busying himself with something else. 

You were in the middle of a- frankly amazing- dream when you heard it- the loud, repetitive beeps. 

The fire alarm. 

You jumped up from the couch, pulling off your eyemask. “Walker?” You called out, voice sounding rough and sick as ever. Your eyes adjusted to the light as you looked around the room and that was when you spotted him, towel in hand, swatting at the alarm. “John, what the hell are you doing?” He spun on his heel when he heard your voice, and he looked as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He hesitated for a second, but then his shoulders slumped, mouth opening to speak. “I burnt the soup.” 

You looked confused, walking towards him. “The chicken soup? I thought you put that in the microwave, how on earth did you burn that?” He sighed again, and the fire alarm finally stopped beeping. 

“Not that soup. I made some vegetable soup. For you. Well, it was supposed to be vegetable soup. Now it’s just… a burnt mess.”  

Your face softened slightly, a small smile ghosting over your lips. “You… made me soup?” 

He glowered at you from across the room, shuffling on his feet. “Only because you’re sick. Don’t expect the princess treatment from me all the time”. 

You smiled again, throwing your hands up in defense. “Hey, I never said that anyway, Walker. But thank you. It- it was a nice thought” You walked into the kitchen, sitting back at your usual spot on the leather stools. He gave you a small smile, reaching behind himself. 

“I, uh, also made you this. Heard it was supposed to help soothe a sore throat.” He awkwardly handed over a cup, watching your face for any reaction. You looked down at it. It was mint tea, with a dash of honey- just how you liked it. You brought it up to your lips, sipping at it slowly. It wasn’t perfect, a little too strong, but you didn’t say this. You gave a thankful smile instead, your throat feeling better already. 

“Thank you, John. Always knew you were a big softy, really”. He grumbled a little at this, but you laughed it off anyway. You sat in a comfortable silence for a while until your stomach growled loudly as you hadn’t eaten all day. 

“I told you you should eat” John said, smugness creeping into his voice. “Well, if you hadn’t burned the soup…”, you teased, hopping off the stool and moving over to the kitchen cabinets. Your hand lingered over the chicken soup, ready to give in and eat in anyway, when you saw it- at the front to the left. 

A tin of vegetable soup. 

You smiled, shaking your head a little. John obviously hadn’t looked far, or if he did, he clearly didn’t see it. 

Because, he was clueless. In every sense of the word.  

all work is my own, i do not give permission for this to be reposted elsewhere without credit. you may not copy or claim as your own.

[sinsxo]

voiceover chaos. —blue lock

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro.

synopsis. makeup grwm but your boyfriend does the voiceover (poorly).

cw. drabble, fluff, lighthearted fic.

wc. 0.8k words, not proofread.

isagi yoichi ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“hi everyone— oh we’re already starting? okay.” he immediately locks in, hyper-focused, like it’s a soccer match. the only problem? he has no idea what you’re putting on your face.

“um, this is foundation, right? okay, so she’s starting with foundation— oh, wait no, this is foundation.”

wrong. it was primer and concealer, but close enough.

“huh? isn’t this foundation too?” he’s genuinely confused. “ahem, so she applied three layers of foundation and now she’s applying uhh... what’s this? a tan stick?”

contour. it was contour.

“and now she’s blending it out with a brush,” he says, trying to sound confident. “okay, another stick? oh, it’s the nose thing. now she’s... drawing shadows... on her nose?”

“another stick?? this one’s shiny. now she has sparkles on her nose,” he narrates, then mutters, “oh, wow that’s a lot, uh... s— slay!”

“okay, now she’s applying lipstick— woah, why does it look like that? is this lip gloss?” he leans in like the screen holds the answers.

“and now she’s peeling her lips off???”

“and she’s done?” he’s completely flustered. “gosh, i did so bad. anyway, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, even without all this.”

“aww, you’re so sweet yoichi,” you laugh. “can i do your makeup next time?”

“s— sure!” he laughs awkwardly, but he’s already mentally preparing to be your next canvas.

itoshi rin ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“why do i have to do this?” he asks flatly.

“for entertainment! now go,” you say as you press play.

he sighs, defeated.

“what the hell is that?” he frowns immediately and the video barely started. “she’s applying… some cream on her face.”

“okay, i bought her this one. i think it’s concealer. whatever that does,” he mutters, watching you blend it in. “i think it’s what she uses when she didn’t sleep enough — which is, like, every night. told her to sleep earlier but she never listens, so she wakes up looking like a panda.”

“rin! voiceover, don’t diss me!” you call out in the background.

“whatever— why are you moving so fast?” he’s clearly panicking now, squinting at the screen. “what the fuck is this???”

he gives up trying to follow, then regains composure.

“okay, now she’s drawing on some lips. even though i think she already has enough.”

“rin.”

“anyway— okay. nevermind. it’s over. she’s done,” he says, finally backing up from the screen. “beautiful like usual. perfect. don’t ask me to do this again.”

“can i do your makeup for the next video?”

“…no?”

itoshi sae ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

he looks like he’d rather be doing anything else. but he agrees to do the voiceover anyway — even if he’s still a menace.

“alright, so we’re starting with dior,” he says, casually. “bought her that one. it was like three thousand.”

“now we’re putting on… whatever this is. costed like two million,” he deadpans.

“babe, you’re supposed to describe what i’m doing.”

“i don’t know what you’re doing,” he replies, unimpressed. “i think this is blush. she looks like she’s blushing now.”

well, no shit.

“next, dior again. another million dollars gone. why is makeup so expensive anyway?”

“you’re exaggerating.”

“am not.” he squints. “okay… now we got this blue thing. for lips?”

a pause.

“and now we look like frozen, from elsa or something. she looks like she has hypothermia.”

you swear this man will be the death of you.

“okay… we wipe the blue thing off, then we spray some mist on our face. and look at that, all done,” he exhales like he just ran a marathon. “beautiful. her whole routine costs like four million dollars. no wonder she won’t let me touch her face.”

“it doesn’t cost that much, you’re being dramatic!”

“debatable.”

“also, can i do your make up for the next video?” you batted your eyelashes.

he didn’t flinch.

“again, debatable.”

nagi seishiro ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

“this sounds like a hassle... but okay,” he yawns.

he’s clearly half-assing it at first, but by the end, he’s genuinely interested.

“mmm, she’s putting this, like... stuff... on her face.” he mumbles. “blendy, blendy. looks like she’s doing art.”

“and now she’s drawing on her eyes or something. she looks cute when she’s concentrating,” a pause, then he turns to look at you. “wait, how did you do that? your eyes look like a cat’s now. that’s cool.”

“and then lip gloss, now her lips are shiny. my favourite,” he mumbles. “i like kissing them. very soft. tastes good. wait, can i say that here?”

“anyway, she’s sparkly now,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “looks so pretty. like an angel. she always does.”

“okay, done. is there more?”

“didn’t you say it was a hassle?”

“yeah, but you looked good doing that,” he shrugs.

“want me to do your makeup next time?”

“if i can just sit there and do nothing, then yeah.”

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids as the Seven Deadly Sins (kinky edition)

⛓️pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

⛓️genre: pure smut

⛓️cw: smut, bdsm, degradation, cunnulingus, p in v, unprotected s3x (please don’t), and lots of other things hehe

⛓️wc: 3k

⛓️authors note: hi im alive! pls read my previous post as to explain why I wasn’t active for such a long time. if you have a request currently pending I WILL GET TO IT before the end of my summer, im just doing this as a little hobby to keep myself busy hehe. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AS DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE INDIVIDUALS MENTIONED.**

Bang Chan - Wrath

He swore the day he met you that he’d never let his rage control him and hurt you, and he still keeps his promise to this day—with its exceptions.

Once you told him that you actually loved rough sex on some occasions—biting, spanking, hair pulling and all—he still hesitated to even stoop to that level, since you were so delicate and fragile to him, but you insisted that you didn’t mind if he initiated any sort of dominance over you sexually.

His breaking point was the night he came home after work where all hell had broken loose. He had gotten into an argument with his boss over deadlines after spending hours slaving away at his laptop trying to recover his lost files, resulting in him working overtime which wasn’t too abnormal.

However, you felt a certain chill up your spine watching his car pull up—like something was wrong, and your worries seemed to come true the moment he walked into the house already fuming, only to stub his toe against the door. He let out the most frustrated and enraged scream of his life before throwing his backpack full force at the wall and storming into the bedroom, causing both you and the dog to flinch.

You crept into the bedroom and observed Chan with his hands in his hands as his fingers desperately combed through his hair to try and self regulate—until his eyes laid upon you, like a bull staring right at a red flag.

In what felt like a split second, he had you cornered against the wall as his lips crashed into yours as his grip on your hair grew tighter with each growing second. After letting out a frustrated growl, he shoved you into your knees and trembled as he undid his belt—unsheathing his veiny cock with dribbles of precum already seeping out. You’d be lying if you said that this wasn’t a heavenly sight you’d dreamed of for so many nights.

“Open. Now.” He commanded, and you obeyed as you gently wrapped your lips around his red and swollen tip—only for Chan to grab a fistful of your hair and fuck your throat as tears poured from your eyes for what felt like an eternity. When he felt as though he was close, he pulled out and watched the string of saliva connecting his dick to your mouth slowly disconnect.

“Color?”

“G-green.” You mumbled out, prompting Chan to scoop you up and carry you over to the bed and slam you down, clawing your panties away and wasting no time slamming his cock straight into your cervix. Your cries of a mixture of pleasure and pain seemed to only fueled him more as his pace quickened, his face contorting in pleasure as ungodly moans left his lips.

Maybe his wrath wasn’t so bad after all.

Lee Minho - Pride

Minho’s always had that damn stupid smirk since childhood, you swore you’d find a way to somehow wipe it off his face—but you never have.

Since the day he first took you to bed he used his fingers with such unmatched skill that you swore he must have been doing this all his life (he hasn’t, but he did a LOT of research.) You swear you’ve never cum so hard in your life, and amidst your post-climax daze you can still make out a cocky smirk on his face.

The truth is that he knows how badly you hate his attitude and lives for the feeling of pushing you straight into submission after each nasty remark you shoot his way. He gets such a kick out of you trying to hold in your moans and whimpers out of protest—only to be screaming his name in ecstasy five minutes later, begging him to let you cum.

It’s days like these where Minho is pistoning his cock into you after a bicker that you really wish he would stop laughing in your ear and mocking you for melting under his touch. Unfortunately, he prides himself too much on his ability to make you cum no matter how much you choke on your own words and sobs—so your resistance was only met with Minho abusing your sweet spot into overstimulation.

“Say it. Tell me how I’m the only one who can make you whine and slobber like a bitch, and no other man will ever fuck you as good as I do.” He whispered, his grip around your throat tightening. You protested, biting your tongue and trying your hardest to not make a sound and give him the satisfaction.

Your body though, had other plans—as you felt your gummy walls spasm on his cock as your body began to tremble.

I guess it seems in the end, he’s earned the right to be prideful.

Seo Changbin - Pride

Changbin developed incredible discipline over the years of working out ritually, and it paid off with his newly incredible physique.

It was so easy for him to boast about all his achievements in the gym to his juniors now that he was no longer the wimpy kid he thought himself to be—and now that he had you, the most gorgeous girl in the eyes of many, he was unstoppable.

Truthfully, you’d often find yourself drooling over his big strong arms and dreaming of all the ways he could suffocate you to death, and he could see it all in your eyes. Your lust towards him only boosted his ego even more, and he was more than willing to show you just how great he was for you.

Here you were, tits smashed against the window pane as Changbin pinned you like prey—gazing down at the busy traffic of your urban city. Anyone could look up and see you so vulnerable like this.

“Binnieeee….what if someone sees us?” You choked, your throat still ensnared by the deadly grip Changbin had on it.

“Awww, let them baby. Let them see how well I fuck you.” He giggled, swiftly picking your legs up and positioning his cock juuuust right.

Oh, and how the angle was indeed just right. His display of sheer strength as he pistoned his thick cock into you, making you feel so full and yet so empty and hungry for more at the same time.

“Binnie, please! I’m gonna cum if you keep this up~!” You moaned, breath fogging up the glass.

“Hehe, of course you will jagi~. No one else can fuck you like I can, right? Say it.”

You’ll be saying it all night, I promise. No amount of praise will ever be too much for his pride.

Hwang Hyunjin - Lust

Every little detail about you seems to send Hyunjin into a daze.

He can’t describe the pure lust that boils in him from just the little things about you—the way your thighs look so soft and supple from just sitting on the couch, or how your back arches ever so slightly when reaching for things. His obsession and desire for you seems to grow stronger every day.

Making love to you is his favorite form of art—an addiction he can’t bear to be without. The little squeals of pleasure you make when his fingers are buried in your cunt are music to his ears, only fueling him to make you cum over and over again.

When you came home exhausted from work just wanting to escape from it all, you were greeted by the loving arms of your boyfriend while placing gentle kisses on your temple. You can smell the warm scent of vanilla candles scattered across the room, it feels like heaven. You truly feel so safe and loved in his presence, but you always know what comes next once your hormones kick in. Seriously, it’s like he knows when you’re ovulating.

Ten minutes later you’re in a drunken state of absolute euphoria, surrounded by the smell of sex and the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. Hyunjin takes his time with you at first, but as his primal need for more takes over he quickly transitions into a rapid and feral pace of pounding in your cunt. He swears he has no idea what comes over him—he’s possessed. The only thing he needs right now is to be holding you close while buried deep in your sopping wet pussy.

“Ghh-too fast!” You cry out.

“Shhhh I know baby, but you can take it. You’ll take it all in f-for me, promise”

You’ve always put your trust in each other and you know he would never harm you, but sometimes the look in his eyes is that of a possessed man looking over you and soaking all of you in like a monster hunting its prey.

And when his orgasm finally hits him, it’s like all the lust that was building inside of him finally surrounds him in a single perfect moment—with the harmony of your combined moans making him the happiest man alive.

Truthfully, he doesn’t care that he lusts after you all the time—it’s what he thrives on.

Han Jisung - Gluttony

His friends like to tease Jisung about how obsessed he seems to be over you—how the time spent away from you seems to deflate him into a shell of his former self. Like he’s starving for something more than the hot pot wasting away on his plate.

Almost like he needs to be buried in your pussy 24/7.

The first time the two of you ever agreed to try anything sexual, he seemed somehow tempted to try eating you out. He watched countless videos on how to perfectly pleasure you to the fullest with both his cock and his mouth—so when the time finally came, he would be well prepared.

What he didn’t prepare for though, was how badly he’d crave you more after just tasting the first drop of you.

What once was a challenge to be a better man to you turned into a spiraling obsession of devouring you like a starved man every chance he could get, sometimes cumming without even the slightest touch from you because of how intoxicating the smell is. Every part of his life when he’s not slaving away at work is devoted to your pussy—and how well your greedy hole sucks him in so much that his dick becomes a prisoner inside of you. It drives him to the edge so so fast.

Just like today, when he’s barely even thrusting into you and doesn’t seem to be pulling out at all, he's just humping you desperately with his cock sitting inside while he whines.

“God, this pussy’s gone be the f-fucking end of me, babe.” He groaned, pounding your cervix rougher with each thrust. “I’m gonna cum so fucki—SHIT~!” He cries out as you begin to push back against him, creating a whole new rhythm of pure ecstasy—only amplified by the unholy and sloppy sounds of your juices squelching against him.

And when the waves of pleasure finally crash against your shaking body, who else but Han to clean up the creamy mess you two created.

It’s filthy, raw, and pure gluttony at its finest.

Lee Felix - Envy

You’d think with all the lights flashing just for Felix and all of his glory and fame, there’d be nothing for him to be jealous about, but there’s a teeensy little problem he has that he just can’t shake.

Well you, duh.

He thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen—soft and delicate hands, a smile that could light up the room, and God, your perfect body. He wishes he could have all of it—and yet, it all goes to that stupid son of a bitch of a boyfriend you have.

Tall, muscular, perfect posture, and a jawline so sharp that could slice through anything. Although Felix had the muscles, he wasn’t nearly as tall as he would’ve liked to be and his posture was like that of a shrimp with all the back pain he’d been suffering. His natural feminine beauty was enough to have millions of fan girls desperate for him, but why not you? Why couldn’t you see through that dumb hunk of meat and look at him instead?

He spent months playing the part perfectly of an innocent male friend, even faking having a girlfriend who mysteriously also dumped him when your boyfriend had dumped you. He stayed by your side and pretended to be heartbroken with you while engulfing unholy amounts of ice cream straight from the bucket—and yet—he overheard you on the phone begging your ex to come back.

He’d had enough.

Slithering up from behind your disheveled figure and wrapping you up in a warm hug and whispering in your ear. “Don’t you think it’s about time to forget about him, baby?”

You froze, not knowing how to respond to that pet name.

“W-Well how? All I think about is him, y’know.” You muttered, feeling less like you were being hugged by a teddy bear and more like being suffocated by a snake.

“I can help you. I’ll make you forgot alllll about that stupid piece of shit—if you’ll let me.” He groaned, hands wandering down to rub circles on your clothes clit earning a whimper from you.

You’d never expected your best friend to be the living embodiment of the green eyed monster himself.

Kim Seungmin - Sloth

Truthfully Seungmin isn’t lazy in the slightest, the way he’s manipulated you to please him in every way and give you an orgasm almost on command takes effort. And yet, now it seems after all that training he can’t seem to be bothered to help you out at all when you just look so cute and desperate when you’re begging for it.

He seems to always tell when you’re ovulating because of how increasingly horny and clingy you become to him—begging him for just his fingers to help you out—but it’s more fun for him to watch you try and get yourself off without his help (and failing.)

Today may just have been the worst of it. You’d been itching for a release all week to destress from work, but your fingers weren’t cutting it. It seemed like every time you asked Seungmin to touch you—even offering to be his fuckdoll for the night—he still just looked down at you with that stupid smirk on his face and replied “Hmmmm….nah. Maybe after dinner, but you’ll be fine.”

Fine? Are you kidding me? He’s been taunting and denying you all week and insists somehow you’ll just be able to tolerate it? You couldn’t decide at this point if you wanted to rip his face off or ride it into oblivion.

You tried to settle yourself down in the bed and get into a zone while he jumped in the shower, hoping that maybe the memories of being pounded into like a dumb doll would be enough to get you off until he came back.

It wasn’t, and when Seungmin stepped out to see your frustrated scrunched up face and your fingers pumping brutally into your cunt—he’d felt like the king of the earth.

“Awww, look how disgustingly desperate my little slut is.” He sneered.

“Minnie…please, I’ll do anything—just please let me cum!” You whimpered out, feeling utterly defeated at this point.

He heaved a sigh in response to taunt you. “Ffffine, I guess since I’m the only one who can make you cum, I’ll help you out a little.”

You seemed relieved at his response, but little did you know you were in for an entire night of orgasm denial to turn you further into his perfect obedient dolly.

It’s not as lazy as you’d think.

Yang Jeongin - Greed

Jeongin was used to not being someone’s first pick. Whether it was being called a monster for the way he looked, being shoved aside by his friends—or being rejected for giving his heart to someone.

And yet, you saw right through all of that and gave him the love he never had.

He’s obsessed with you, truly. The way your hair sways when you walk, your toothy grin, and your caring heart—it’s enough to make any man kneel. And that’s the problem.

You’re used to being catcalled and it seems to not bother you as much anymore, but it’s hard to distinguish whether someone is truly being friendly or trying to get into your pants. It doesn’t matter to Jeongin either way though, he’ll see red every time. Anger consumes him whenever he sees another man compliment your outfit or ask you where you’re from—after all, he’s a man too, therefore he knows what those perverts are thinking.

And thus his rage turned into greed, he was going to make it a point to both you and everyone else that you were his and only his. He didn’t care how inconsiderate or embarrassing he was in public, no one was allowed to have what was his.

Like today, the two of you were just grocery shopping when the clerk at the checkout was just too nice to you in Jeongins opinion. Who the hell did he think he was calling you pretty? Why is he smiling so much? Why won’t he just shut up and put the tomatoes in the bag?

The more the thoughts swirled in him the more he realized he had to claim you as his possession, what was rightfully his.

And so that’s how you ended up pinned against the wall, being pounded into at a torturously slow yet sharp pace while your oh so loving boyfriend whispered filth into your ear.

“Do you really think that stupid pervert could ever fuck you like this, huh? Could he hit your pretty little sweet spot—just. like. this?” He sneered, thrusting harshly into you with each word he spoke.

The hardest lesson you had to learn today was to always watch carefully what greed and sin can do to a man, and how it can fuck you oh so deliciously.

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

“I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[emily-escott]

Jedi Master Lene Kostana

I’ll admit, the format of Dooku: Jedi Lost was really hard for me to engage with. Because it reads like a script, it felt to me like all the characters were going 😐 at each other the whole time. I know I probably should have listened to it to get the full effect, but I have a really hard time locking in for audiobooks, even if it’s a whole production ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it’s one of my flaws. But anyway! Lene is so fascinating to me because she really is cut from the same disaster cloth as Yoda’s lineage. Almost every decision she made had me going “why would you do that” or “thats just going to make things worse” but we really do love to watch someone who’s technically not wrong about the fate of the galaxy continuously make questionable choices that harm the ones they care for and undermine their reputation with the Council. It’s an age-old tradition.

Here’s my headcanons for her -

- After getting to know Thame Cerulian through their shared interest in the Sith, she initially viewed him as an irritating, pseudo-intellectual bother. His belief that the Sith could return comes more from a place of (by her estimation) frivolous academic conjecture rather than actionable concern. However, when he’s offered a seat on the High Council, she realizes it could be advantageous to involve him in her research. He is incredibly knowledgeable, and as long as she puts up with him, he can intercept most of the prying questions from the Council. (To be clear, I don’t ship these two - Thame likes guys)

- She watches as Dooku, Sifo, and Jocasta all develop a big stupid crush on each other and goes out of her way to foster whatever that is. She does this largely because she thinks it’s cute, but also to confuse Thame and spite Yoda. Thame isn’t sure why these boys are always hanging out in his apartment, but he doesn’t really mind. Yoda knows exactly what’s going on, but is frankly relieved Dooku even has friends.

- While training Sifo, she quickly learns her words carry a lot of weight and anything she says could potentially end up being extremely impactful to her apprentice. This is advantageous most of the time - Sifo only needs to be told something once for the lesson to stick, and it warms her heart to see him basking in her praise, even over something small. The downside? Lene is horribly foul-mouthed, and Sifo is a sponge.

In terms of visual references, there’s obviously not much to go on. The book basically says she’s purple, she’s got a shaved head, and she has a curl of hair behind her right ear… The lil baby version of her in that one comic I haven’t read at least shows what the species looks like. @ junchan_nyan_art has a couple gorgeous drawings of younger Lene on insta, and @bolithesenate more or less captured how she looks in my mind! idk what the curl of hair behind her left ear is supposed to mean or look like. So I’m giving her a sick faux hawk. idc. I was pretty much happy with her design right off the bat, it just took a few drawings to really nail her features. What do we think, is this something?? I feel so late to the party. She’s been on my to draw list foreverrrrr but I just wasn’t getting around to reading the source material 💀 we’re really in serious blorbo territory now, this ain’t an entry level Star Wars blog anymore, if it ever was

[chanelgrll]

Could you please do Ronin taking care of a reader who caught the flu or something similar (just sick!reader in general haha)?? I love your works and how closely you write Ronin to the source material! <3

A/N: aaaaa thank you so much!!! <3

You’re Breathing Wrong (But I Guess I’ll Let It Slide)

You didn't remember falling asleep on the couch.

You definitely didn't remember Ronin carrying you to bed, though the ache in your bones told you you'd been moved, maybe a few times as he fussed with blankets and temperature controls you vaguely registered as too hot, then too cold, then too everything.

You wake again to the clink of something ceramic and a muffled curse. "Shit."

You try to respond but your throat makes a noise between a whimper and a dying animal. You settle for blinking at him again. He sighs.

Fifteen minutes later, you're still horizontal and thoroughly miserable, but now you’ve got a glass of water, two cold meds, a damp towel on your forehead, and, possibly the most shocking part of all, a bowl of instant noodles. The good kind, too. Not the ones you bought in bulk for emergencies, but the ones Ronin always hides in the back of the cabinet like a dragon hoarding spicy treasure.

“You’re giving me your good ramen?” you croak, voice rasping against your sore throat.

He shrugs, dropping onto the armchair like his joints are optional. “Figured it’d be your last meal.”

You snort, and then immediately regret it as it turns into a coughing fit. Ronin glances over, eyebrows drawn.

“Christ. You sound like a haunted accordion.”

You wheeze out a laugh anyway. He looks half-proud of the line.

Eventually, you manage to slurp down some broth and nibble a few noodles, though you don’t get far before your arms feel too heavy to lift the bowl. Ronin’s watching from across the room, one foot propped up on the coffee table, arms crossed.

“You’re doing that thing,” you mutter between sips.

“What thing?”

“The… looking at me like I’m about to break thing.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, voice dry. “I’m just trying to figure out whether I should take out your enemies while you’re down or let them have a sporting chance.”

A wheezy laugh escapes you before it turns into a cough, your whole body curling up with the force of it. He’s there instantly, one hand at your back, the other grabbing tissues and lifting the soup out of splash range.

“Okay, okay—slow down. Jesus. You’re like a dying ferret.”

You try to flip him off. Your hand barely twitches.

“Wow. Powerful.” He adjusts the cloth on your forehead again with unexpected gentleness. “Don’t get up. Drink this.” He puts a cup of water to your mouth, and helps you drink it. He then brushes the hair out of your eyes with the back of his hand, and presses the thermometer under your tongue. He doesn’t say anything when he sees the number, but his frown deepens. You know what he’s thinking.

“I’ll live,” you mumble.

Ronin snorts. “Don’t jinx it. I already promised your ghost I’d keep the apartment clean.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of his hand at your temple enough to lull you halfway into sleep again. But then you feel him shift. Pull away. You reach out.

Your hand finds the hem of his jacket and tugs, weak and awkward. He stills.

“…Stay,” you whisper.

There’s a long pause. He’s quiet for so long you think maybe he didn’t hear you—or that he’s going to say something sarcastic—but then you feel the mattress shift.

He climbs in next to you, above the covers, just close enough that your knees bump. You feel the weight of his arm settle beside your head. Not touching you directly—he’s always careful like that, especially when you’re vulnerable—but he’s close. Tangible. Warm in a way that doesn’t suffocate.

“…This doesn’t mean I want your germs,” he mutters.

You make a small, amused noise.

“You always act like you’re so tough,” you murmur. “But you made me soup.”

“Shut up.”

“You tucked me in.”

“Shut up.”

You smile.

“Bet you even kissed my forehead while I was asleep.”

His hand twitches like he’s deciding whether to shove you off the bed. You grin wider. You know you're right.

“I should’ve let you marinate in fever dreams,” he grumbles. “Let you hallucinate your way through the week.”

“You love me,” you whisper sleepily, triumphant.

He doesn’t say anything. You drift in and out of sleep after that, fever dragging you under and shaking you around like a snow globe. Sometimes you dream. Sometimes you just hallucinate that Ronin is talking to you in the form of a large crow on the windowsill. But between the blurs of light and sound, there are moments. Moments of warmth and quiet.

Ronin adjusting the blanket over your shoulders. Picking up the tissues you dropped. Sitting on the floor beside the couch, back against the armrest, humming low under his breath. Not music. Just something to fill the silence. At one point, when the sun’s gone down and you’re too weak to hold a glass on your own, he holds it to your lips without a word and waits until you finish drinking.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he mutters afterward.

Your lips curve in a faint smile. “Tell them what?”

“That I’m not letting you die horribly.”

“I’d never snitch,” you whisper.

He grunts. “Better not. I’ve got a reputation.” The next morning, you're barely any better, but you wake up tucked under Ronin’s arm. You’re pretty sure he ended up there by accident. His fingers twitch when you stir, like they’re unsure whether to withdraw or cling harder. His mouth moves like he wants to complain but can’t find the energy to do it.

“You’re still breathing,” he mumbles.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Don’t be.” He squeezes you briefly, like a secret. “I don’t think I could make good noodles again if you weren’t around to call me dramatic.”

You hum. “You are dramatic.”

“Shut up and die quieter.”

But he doesn’t let go.

And you don’t die.

[scimita]

oh woww im not usually a liushen shipper but this has me having THINKING and THOUGHTS and THINKING THOUGHTS.

As Liu Qingge starts leaving the sect more and more, and for longer periods of time, and avoiding (sometimes straight up ignoring) Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan has to come to terms with the fact that his best friend ended their friendship (he doesn't understand exactly why, was it because he bought Binghe to the sect before he was the right age to cultivate? Was it that he adopted Binghe but wasnt married? Did Liu Qingge just grow tired of him? ).

So, after months and months, Shen Yuan stops trying to figure out what set his best friend, Liu Qingge, Shidi off, figuring that Shidi probably has a good reason for not talking to him anymore and tries to mind his own business from then on. All is well! He's completely fine with this! He doesn't go to try and enter Bai Zhan anymore (the Bai Zhan disciples wouldn't let him anyway), he doesn't send letters (they were all left unanswered), he doesn't even ask the sect leader how his Shidi is doing (the pity in YQY eyes became a bit too much for him)!! Hes completely indifferent to this sudden change in his life and daily routine!! Everything is completely fine and he! is! handling! it!!!!!! Now, if everyone else would understand that and leave him alone about it, then he'd be even better!!!!

The only people that visit Shen Yuan and Shen Yuan visits are his brother and, urgh, Shang Qinghua. Though, lately, he's been too...busy...with work..... to attend tea time with his brother, totally not avoiding him because he's being interrogated everytime without fail about what exactly happened, even though Shen Yuan told his didi the truth the first time around (that Liu Qingge visited him to ask about the rumors and then met Binghe, ask about how long he's been Shen Yuan son, and the stormed off completely unprompted, and is now refusing to even look at him). Shang Qinghua just gets this look in his eyes everytime he visits and its making Shen Yuan uncomfortable (pity, Cucumber-bro, that you dont realise how whipped the War God is for you). But Shang Qinghua values being alive so he doesnt ask Shen Yuan about what happened.

So. Yeah. Shen Yuan is spending more and more time isolated, alone, lonely working on his peak. Binghe seems to be having a good time though so thats good. His fellow disciples have integrated him in their circles, he has friends, he attends classes like all the other kids (even if he quickly seems to outshine them), and he worries about spends time bonding with his a-die.

From Binghe's perspective, his a-die's very dear special friend has stopped visiting ever since Binghe came to the peak (the other disciples tell him of the courtship, of the visits, of the times his a-die didnt look like he was crying his eyes out every night instead of sleeping). A-die has reassured him time and time again that it's not his fault, that Binghe has done nothing wrong, that everything is fine and that he's not responsible for how adults react to his presence, and For God's sake, Binghe! Im not kicking you out of the sect because of Liu Qingge, who told you that ??!!!, and Stop apologizing, my sweet Binghe, you didn't ruin anything by being here, my son deserves only the best regardless of other's opinion on this matter.

Now. Let it be known that Liu Qingge is not having a good time. His long-time courtship partner has admitted to cheating on him and then proceeded to tell him it's none of his business what he does with his private life, so.

Liu Qingge is having a very bad time, actually. He's returned all the courtship gifts, has been ignoring and avoiding Shen Yuan, the love of his life, his Shixiong, and leaving the sect on progressively more dangerous missions. His own courtship gifts have yet to be returned, but it's understandable. Most of them were rare beasts with miraculous cultivation properties so they were eaten, or refined into pills, or something other he doesnt care about because he is not thinking about Shen Yuan right now. Though he told his disciples to leave the box of other gifts in front of his house in case he isnt on the peak, it has yet to arrive. He doesn't understand, didnt his Shixiong tell him his life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's? Didn't he admit to loving another and having a child with them and then raising said child in secret? Is he just laughing about how pathetic and desperate Liu Qingge has been to believe he actually accepted his courtship that whole decade? Whatever. It doesn't matter. His Shixiong has made himself very clear and Liu Qingge is not one to ponder such things. He is not.

It is on one of these very dangerous missions that Liu Qingge ends up incredibly wounded and forced to spend time healing in a nearby, somewhat isolated, village. He doesn't know exactly where he is, somewhere along the Luo river, but somehow, the villagers seem to recognize him. They help him with a room at an inn, with the meager medical supplies they have, and with time alone to rest and heal. It is not unusual for mortals to look up to and idolize immortal cultivators, but even by Liu Qingge's standards and expectations, they are going above and beyond. Suspicious after being treated such a way while being in a very weakened state, he asks. The villagers' responses vary, but the gist is Oh Immortal Cultivator, how could we possibly sit by and watch when we could help instead? and Oh Immortal Cultivator, we have heard only the best things about The Bai Zhan War God! Of course we'd want to be of assistance! and Oh Immortal Cultivator how could we not help Peak Lord Shen Yuan's husband? He has done many things for our village, including adopting an orphaned boy to save him from the bullying! and most of these responses grate on his nerves because he hasn't been met with such kindness ever sincer he first met Shen Yuan and..... wait. Wait what. What do you mean, adopted? What do you mean HUSBAND?

Well yes, say the villagers, back when the war was still on, Peak Lord Shen Yuan came running with an infant boy in the village, yelling for a healer. Back then we didnt know who he was, and we were already nearly out of food for the winter, so we didnt have the means to help him. A washer-woman stepped up, even though she herself was barely surviving, and helped him and the infant. It's from her that we found out that Peak Lord Shen found the baby boy floating down the Luo river in the dead of winter, newly born and nearly frozen to death and chose to save him. Liu Qingge feels like he's been thrown off his axis. What do you mean, floating down the river? Isnt the boy his son? How do you know he didnt just lie and tell you he only found the boy to avoid accountability for having a son out of wedlock?

Well yes, say the villagers, the town healer came eventually. After Peak Lord Shen promised a hefty sum, the healer treated the boy of a very high fever, telling Peak Lord Shen that he's lucky his son only had a fever, and not hypothermia. The Peak Lord then insisted that the boy wasnt his by blood, only that he found the baby, and offered to show us proof. The healer asked how he planned to prove that he didnt father the boy and the Peak Lord said he has a special flower, gifted to him by someone very dear, that could prove his innocence. He smeared a drop of blood on the flower and said that if it's petals turn blue once it touches the infant, then he is his father. If it turns red, then there is no blood connection between the two of them. The flower turned red.

Liu Qingge has to sit down. His head is spinning and he doesnt know what to believe anymore. The villagers seem to be telling the truth, but didnt Shen Yuan admit to cheating? Right, of course, perhaps the boy isnt his by blood, but he still called him his son. Perhaps Shen Yuan's lover had a child then attempted to get rid of it before Shen Yuan found out, though without any luck. The boy also calls him a-die, so what if Shen Yuan's lover is simply the washer-woman? What if they fell in love when Shen Yuan bought Binghe in the village?

No No, say the villagers, the washer-woman and Peak Lord Shen didnt even live in the same house those 4 years Binghe spend in the village. Peak Lord Shen was away for long periods of time, he said he was looking for the boy's mother along the river, but everytime he came back, he would teach the boy and help raise him, that's why he calls him a-die. When the washer-woman died of an unknown disease and before the Peak Lord adopted the boy, the Peak Lord was already back at his sect. And besides! The Peak Lord was buying gifts left and right for his intended! He spoke very highly of them!! He told us his very special friend was the War God of Bai Zhan and was hoping to find a gift that his Shidi would appreciate!!!

Liu Qingge feel ready to combust. His head is pounding, he's never been more confused, and this damn injury won't heal fast enough!!! With a bone weary sigh he asks one last thing, why did you refer to me as Peak Lord Shen's husband? If Liu Qingge calculations are right, then Shen Yuan has been meaning to ask him to marry for about six years. SIX YEARS!! (...well, seven now, but he's already broken off the courtship and is starting to think that it might have been a mistake).

Well, say the villagers, when the Peak Lord left the village, he said he had to go back before his best friend started to worry! He said he found a suitable gift and he was building up the courage to gift it!! Naturally, we assumed that, since he came back to adopt the boy and bring him to the sect, his gift was accepted, the wedding held, the boy had a second father, and all was well!

Liu Qingge retires for the night. He's suddenly hit with a very deep sense of dread. He feels like the guilt of his relief crash down on him and doesn't know how to process it. The Boy is adopted. Shen Yuan was going to ask him to marry him and raise a Child together. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Liu Qingge is not panicking. He is not on the verge of a panic attack in his room at an inn in an isolated village, god knows how far away from the sect, healing from an less-awful injury and he is not conflicted as to what to believe. Shen Yuan admitted to having the boy during the war, but then again, he didnt say he fathered him, just that he's been raising him. Shen Yuan has said that his private life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's, but then again, it's not unusual that his Shixiong was just telling him that it's fine to keep their lifes somewhat private from one another, his parents did that too, had separate bedrooms and everything but they were more than happy together. Liu Qingge feels ready to pass out!! This is too much for one day!! He'll think of a solution in the morning !!

So. Liu Qingge leaves the village the next day, after getting some directions towards the sect, like his ass was on fire. He still doesn't know exactly what's happened during those 4 years, but is now willing to try and clear things up with Shen Yuan. Except. When he gets to the sect (in record time!) he is immediately accosted by Mu Qingfang and subsequently put on house arrest. He is not to leave his bed for as much as a leisure walk Do You Hear Me ?!?!!! so he devises to come up with another way to meet with Shen Yuan. He tells his disciples to let Shen Yuan onto the peak, to lead him straight to his house, to stop glaring at him goddammit! But. Shen Yuan doesn't visit, doesn't write him, doesn't even seem to know that Liu Qingge is back and has been stuck in his own home for the past 2 weeks. So!! Seeing that he has no other choice, Liu Qingge sneaks (yes, sneaks, those talismans at his front door are no joke) out if his home, out of his peak, and onto Shen Yuan's peak, going straight for the Peak Lord's residence on foot.

However tired he is when he gets there, he take two deep breaths and knocks (knocks!!!) on the door. For a moment, all is still and silent. Then, the patter of footsteps coming towards the door, then the door being opened, then!!!!....oh. Shen Yuan's Binghe. For a moment they just stare at each other. Gone is the warm, shy smile Binghe first greeted him with, now The Boy's face is stony, nearly blank. He doesn't greet his Shishu. He doesn't call out to his a-die about this traitor his fellow Peak Lord being there. Liu Qingge is the first to break the silence for once, where is Shen Yuan? aggravated, Binghe nearly shuts the door in his face. Why do you care? he responds, Liu Qingge ignoring his question says Shen Binghe, call your father out here now. Now truly upset, Binghe replies my name is LUO Binghe, and MY father doesn't want to see you!!! and slams the door in Liu Qingge's face before he can open his stupid stupid mouth again!!

Liu Qingge is stunned at the audacity of this boy. Fine, if The Boy wont let him in, he'll ask someone else!! So, against his better judgment, he goes to Qing Jing. He is promptly mocked and laughed off the peak by that Shen Qingqiu! So he goes to An Ding, and!! he is more or less thrown off the peak by that RAT Shang Qinghua! What the Fuck! Its fine, its fine. He'll speak to Shen Yuan at the next Peak Lord meeting.

And so, he attends, actually on time, and goes straight for Shen Yuan, only to be intercepted by the goddamn Sect! Leader!! He ends up spending the rest of the meeting staring at Shen Yuan's drawn face, at his eyebags, his way too thin complexion and has to leave before he drowns in guilt. Its not fine, its not fine, Shen Yuan still smiles at him, a strained thing, even though Liu Qingge is the reason he look like that.

Liu Qingge get lucky. A village south of the mountains has requested his and, specifically, Shen Yuan's help with a wild beasts lurking in their forest. Unable to refuse, both of them accepted. Liu Qingge spends the days before their upcoming mission panicking pacing around to make sure he has everything packed, regardless of the fact that he used to leave with nothing but his sword. When the day to leave comes and he sees Shen Yuan, something starts to feel tight in his throat and he is completely unable to say a word to the man he is still hopelessly in love with before they depart from the sect. As for Shen Yuan, well, he takes the silence as another indicator towards the fact that his Shidi cant stand him anymore, not that he knows why. They leave the sect on their swords. Shen Yuan eventually breaks the silence to ask where exactly they are going, he doesnt recognize the village name, and for how long they will be flying (could he have asked the Sect Leader? Yes. Did he? No.). Liu Qingge answers easily enough. But when it comes his turn to ask anything or to start (start!! how the mighty have fallen) a conversation, he is met with dry, short answers and a lingering tension in the air. Liu Qingge feels like this might be something he cant fix. He hasn't even asked about The Boy yet!!!

Shen Yuan thinks he's doing great! He hasnt answered his Shidi with his usual rambling, not wanting to annoy him and risk being ignored the rest of this missions, and is ignoring the uncomfortable silence with great success!

And thus, this is exactly how most of the mission goes. Stilted conversations in place of the usual easy going ones, uncomfortable silence for long periods of time and even a moment where, upon actually seeing the beast, Shen Yuan has lost his inhibitions and gone on a long rambling tangent about the beasts usual eating habits, sleeping habits, mating habits and everything and anything that came to mind about it. It does, however come to an abrupt stop, when he turns to look at Liu Qingge, a bright smile lightning up his face, and finds his Shidi already looking a him, face soft. When they make eye contact though, Shen Yuan smile falters, then drops not a moment later, and his rambling ends with a weirdly strained uh, yeah, anyway, thats what we were looking for. Then he falls completely silent and Liu Qingge's guilt threatens to swallow him up, so he asks, perhaps a touch annoyed about The Boy. And he sees it. The second his Shixiong, his Shen Yuan, completely shuts him out. The moment his face becomes blank, the second Shen Yuan apologizes and tells him Shidi has made it abundantly clear what he thinks on the matter of my son, there's no need to speak on it anymore.

The ride back is dead silent. Liu Qingge is beating himself up for botching the conversation, Shen Yuan is scolding himself for getting carried away and having his Shidi remind him of the fact that they are not even friends anymore. They dont say anything to one another even when they reach the sect.

The following weeks seem to be a blur. Liu Qingge starts sending beasts to Shen Yuan's peak as an apology for the uncomfortable conversation, Shen Yuan assumes Liu Qingge's telling him that he hasnt forgotten about what he's done wrong on the mission (exactly what he doesnt know, but he knows his Shidi got annoyed enough to nearly leave him behind when going back to the sect) so he sends the beasts back, along side boxes upon boxes of every gift Liu Qingge has gotten him, because, well, can he really move on if he keep holding on to someone who doesnt want anything to do with him anymore? Liu Qingge misunderstand, believes he is being rejected, starts desperately sending rarer and rarer beasts, and Shen Yuan just keeps sending them back. Everyone is confused. The disciples dont know whats going on anymore, the Sect Leader doesnt even want to get involved, Luo Binghe start outright disrespecting Liu Qingge to his face everytime he sees the man.

And this is where im gonna end it because i have developed LiuShen worms in my brain and just needed to clear them out. Wonderful AU, im no writer but i just wanted to share my Thoughts and Thinking

I have this older-brother-SY (also beast peak lord) AU cooking and although I have Many thoughts here’s the liushen part (warning this is long af, TLDR at bottom):

LQG has been pining for the beast peaks’ head disciple for years and SY has no idea (like usual). LQG, over time, has recognized and accepted his affections, but has no idea if SY feels the same. Sure, they get along great, and he’s confident SY considers him a friend (if not a best friend), but more than that? SY if friendly to everyone- and LQG can’t tell what liberties, if any, are exclusive to him.

But it’s clear that the cultivation world is on the brink of a war with the demon realm- and LQG will be at the forefront. As much as he prides himself on his battle prowess he knows he’s not indomitable- and Tianlang-Jun is a force to be reckoned with.

So, he decides to offer SY his suit- even if he's rejected, at least he'll know. In melodrama fashion, LQG asks SY, if he'll accept his courtship once the wars over. SY (unknowingly, the dumbass) accepts.

OK. so now that we have context, lets get silly with it :)

The war goes over the same how it did in SVSSS, YQY subdues TLJ and all peak lords survive. LQG begins to officially court SY... who's been traveling along the Lou river since the end of the war. It's not an issue per say but he also won't tell LQG why; just that he's looking for something. This continues for 4 years. After those four years, SY returns to CQMT. He doesn't leave for extended periods anymore, unless a mission requires it, and even then it's clear he returns as soon as possible. In lieu of his travels he's begin descending the mountain several times a week, to the small town at its' base. He deflects whenever anyone asks why- and although LQG does find it odd, he trusts SY, who says, impishly, that LQG will find out eventually.

That day does come 6 years later.

Word spreads fast around CQMT, so of course LQG, usually not privy to the intersect gossip, (“Shizun, this one has news! Ah! I know gossip is bad, I would never- it’s about Shen-shibo! He’s brought a young boy back to his peak!”) would be near-first to visit his beloved.

LQG: “The rumors are true?”

SY: “Hm? Meddling in gossip are you, shidi? What are they saying, exactly?”

LQG: “Tsk- that you’ve brought a new disciple to the peak- one much too young to cultivate.”

SY: “Ahhh well… I surmise there is some truth to that hearsay after all… he’ll be home for dinner soon- he’s a great chef! Oh, shidi, you must stay for dinner!”

…

SY: “…and their claws are retractable! Despite taking up 50% of their paws! They use this to ambush larger prey, making said prey think they’re harmless- oh, Binghe, come, come; meet your Shishu!”

LBH: “Yes, A-die!”

LQG: "..."

LQG: “……what?”

SY: “Binghe, this is Liu Qingge, your shishu, and a dear friend of mine. Qingge, this is Binghe.”

LQG: “…he called you a-die.”

SY: “Oh! Yes, I’ll sure he’ll need some time to adjust to Shizun.”

LQG: “Adjust.”

SY: “Yes, adjust, he’s called me A-die most of his life. After all, he is my son.”

LQG: “Your son. That you’ve been raising.”

SY: “Yes, Shidi, that’s correct.”

Lqg goes only silent for a bit and SY releases LBH to the kitchens. He’s gotten quite good at reading LQG over the years and knows he’s upset- at what he isn’t sure.

SY: “..Shidi?”

LQG (jaw pinched): “How long?”

SY: “..How long what, shidi?”

LQG : “Have you had-“ (handwaves)

SY: “How long have I been raising him? About 6 years, why?”

LQG: “….and how old is he.”

SY: “Ah, he’s 10, will be 11 this upcoming winter. Make no mistake, I would have been there since birth if given the chance!”

LQG: “… Since the war ended. You- you had a child during that time? You never thought to tell anyone- to tell me?”

SY: “..Well, family matters are private matters, I’m sure shidi understands.”

LQG: “Private! You- shameless! A decade- I’ve wasted a decade- and you never intended to tell me? What did you think would happen when you brought him here, Shen Yuan?!?”

SY (doesn’t know what’s going on but is protective of LBH nonetheless): “Does it matter? He’s here now, and that isn’t going to change! I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with my private life!”

LQG: “Your life- did you ever consider mine?!”

SY: “Like your life will change! I have a son to raise and protect- what all does that have to do with you?!”

LQG (fuming): “I see. You’ve made your point, Shen Yuan. I’ll stop interfering in your life- so separate from mine.” (Storms off)

CQMT witnesses the worst breakup imaginable.

SY has no idea why LQG got so worked up- maybe because SY wasn’t married? LQG was always so traditional…

Apparently, LQG left the day after their fight. Well whatever his issue is hopefully he’s in better spirits once he returns.

LQG returns 4 months later and doesn’t visit like usual. In fact, two days after his return, SY starts receiving packages. Boxes filled with trinkets and books he’s given LQG over the years- even a couple pairs of robes and a set of vambraces he had custom made for LQG. So. Whatever set LQG off clearly hadn’t been resolved. And he really doesn’t want to lose his best friend over… what? He still has no idea why LQG got so upset.

SY resolves to snub his pride and treck to Bai Zhan.

Only, once he arrives, he’s.. blocked? Denied entry? By the Bai Zhan disciples?? They were usually so sweet, charming in their own gruff way, but now they’re just short of openly hostile.

It’s dumb and angsty 🙄 but it tickles something in my brain

TLDR; LQG begins courting SY early in the story, before LBH is born. After TLJ is subdued and SY connects the only heavenly demon to obvi being LBHs dad he sets off to find LBH and ensure he has a better life. He ends up raising LBH with the washerwoman and LBH views SY as his dad and calls him such. Once she passes SY takes him back to CQMT where they meet LQG. LQG hears LBH call SY "a-die" and thinks that SY cheated on him; SY unknowingly confirms this- he also doesn't know that LQG has been courting him. Cue melodrama rivaling QiJiu except the whole sect gets to watch the fallout not just the aftermath.

[andy-15-07]

hi not sure if you’ve done this before but id LOVE a fic with pedro pascal helping reader through a depressive episode! completely understandable if you wouldn’t feel comfortable tho. maybe pedro gets home to find reader still in bed/sleeping on the couch and he already knows that she hasn’t taken care of herself all day but he asks her anyway (stuff like have you eaten, have you been out, when was the last time you showered). and then just description of him helping her do these things whilst reader is kind of fighting the help a little bit? like she doesn’t want to be a burden but deep down knows she needs the help. loads of praise and hurt/comfort and fluff!!!!! you are such a great writer im in love with all your fics ☺️☺️

Even If You Can’t Move, I’ll Be Here

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 939| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

The key turned softly in the lock.

Pedro pushed the door open with one shoulder, balancing a paper bag of groceries in one hand and your favorite takeout in the other. He wasn’t expecting a grand greeting , he hadn’t gotten one in days , but the quiet stillness in the apartment hit him like a sigh.

You weren’t on the bed.

You were curled up on the couch again. Same oversized hoodie. Same blanket from the night before. Curtains still drawn, the faint smell of stale coffee lingering in the air. Pedro’s heart clenched.

He set the bags down gently, not wanting to startle you, though he wasn’t sure you’d even notice.

You did.

Barely.

A flutter of your eyes, then a quick glance away. No smile. Just the sinking guilt in your chest and the shame you couldn’t explain. Your throat felt tight before he even said anything.

Pedro crouched beside you, hand brushing your arm. “Hi, cariño.”

You swallowed hard. “Hi.”

He tilted his head. “Did you eat today?”

A pause.

“Not really.”

“Get outside at all?”

You shook your head.

He hesitated before asking gently, “When was the last time you showered?”

You almost wanted to laugh , not because it was funny, but because it made you feel even more disgusting. The tears started building before you could stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Pedro sat down beside you, arms opening before you could even blink. You fell into them like you always did , like gravity , and he held you close without a word.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just… tired. And that’s okay.”

“I feel gross.”

“You’re not.”

“I haven’t done anything today.”

“You’re still mine. And I still love you.”

Your face crumpled against his shoulder.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to take care of yourself. It was that every little task , getting up, brushing your teeth, opening a window , felt like climbing a mountain barefoot in the snow.

Pedro didn’t rush you. Just let you cry quietly for a while, his hand running slowly up and down your back. When your sobs faded into shaky silence, he pulled back to look at you.

“Okay,” he said softly. “We’re gonna do a few little things together, alright?”

You started to protest, but he kissed your forehead.

“Not all of them. Just a few. I’ll help.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered.

Pedro’s eyes softened.

“You could never be. You’re the person I love most in this world. And I want to take care of you, even when it’s hard. Especially then.”

You looked down at your hands. “I don’t think I can do everything.”

“Then we’ll do the smallest version of everything.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means… we start with one thing. Like brushing our teeth. Together. I’ll even let you pick my toothpaste like a little gremlin.”

That got a soft, tired laugh from you.

“Then we can try something else. Maybe a shower. And then food. Doesn’t have to be fancy. Just something. You can wear one of my shirts after, if that helps.”

You nodded slowly, still unsure, still hollow , but his voice felt like a lighthouse in the dark.

Pedro stood and reached for your hands. “C’mon. Let’s start with the bathroom.”

You followed, moving slowly, socked feet shuffling along the hardwood. It felt weird to be upright. But it also felt a little like relief.

In the bathroom, Pedro handed you your toothbrush with a small smile and squeezed toothpaste onto it.

“There. Hard part’s over.”

You managed to copy him, brushing in slow, lazy circles. He stood beside you, doing the same, humming something off-key under his breath. It made you snort a little, and he beamed at the sound.

“See?” he said, rinsing. “You’re killin’ it already.”

You rolled your eyes. “Barely.”

“But you are,” he said firmly. “And I’m proud of you.”

The words settled in your chest like warmth. Like maybe they were enough to anchor you here, in this body, in this space where someone loved you even at your lowest.

Next was the shower.

Pedro didn’t rush you. He handed you clean towels and a fresh T-shirt (one of his) and sat on the edge of the bed while you stood under the warm water, letting it wash over the weight clinging to your bones.

You cried a little again , not because you were sad, exactly. Just… tired. Just overwhelmed.

And when you stepped out, eyes red, Pedro wrapped you in a towel like it was armor and kissed your cheek.

“You did it,” he said, grinning. “I’m so proud.”

You curled up next to him in bed afterward while he brought the food , your favorite noodles, not too hot, with broth on the side. You only ate a few bites, but he didn’t push. Just smiled and kissed your temple.

“This isn’t forever,” he said softly, pulling you into his arms as you laid back down. “I know your brain’s lying to you right now. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You buried your face in his chest.

“I don’t feel like myself.”

“That’s okay. I’ll hold the pieces until you do.”

Tears pricked your eyes again , but this time, they weren’t so sharp. More like a release.

Pedro pulled the blanket up around you both and whispered again, “I love you. Every version of you. Even this one.”

And for the first time in days, you believed it might be true.

[turtiowo]

Now I’m going to talk a little about my 'Everything Went Wrong AU.' SVSSS

▪︎Shen Yuan is an orphan. He becomes Shen Jiu’s disciple at a young age. He’s the senior brother to all the other disciples.

▪︎At first, Shen Yuan doesn’t have a surname. Shen Jiu gives him the surname 'Shen,' which causes quite a stir and surprise among the other elders.

▪︎Shen Yuan initially sees Shen Jiu as just a villain, but over time, he warms up to him. He genuinely starts wanting to save him.

▪︎Before Binghe shows up, Shen Jiu is strict and cold, but overall, he’s rational.

▪︎Shen Yuan becomes Shen Jiu’s favorite disciple — of course, a must-have in this AU. However, Shen Yuan doesn’t really realize how much Shen Jiu loves him because for a long time, he interprets Shen Jiu as a womanizing villain. He thinks their good relationship comes from years of shared effort. And while that does play a big part, Shen Jiu starts to truly love Shen Yuan for being who he is — for genuinely caring about him.

▪︎As soon as Binghe appears, Shen Yuan shows curiosity and interest in him. Shen Jiu instantly notices that Shen Yuan looks at Binghe differently from others, and for that reason alone, Shen Jiu immediately hates Binghe.

▪︎Binghe seeks Shen Yuan’s affection and protection, always wanting to stay close to him. Shen Yuan treats Binghe more favorably because, in his eyes, Binghe is the main character. This slowly drives Shen Jiu mad.

▪︎Of course, Binghe realizes Shen Jiu hates him, but there’s nothing he can do about it at that point since he’s still weak. Shen Jiu, on the other hand, can’t actually harm Binghe because he doesn’t want to look bad in Shen Yuan’s eyes. Instead, Shen Jiu does everything he can to prevent Shen Yuan from meeting with Binghe, especially giving Binghe the hardest tasks. Shen Yuan always tries to help Binghe somehow.

▪︎Binghe always believes that Shen Yuan cares most about Shen Jiu.

▪︎When Binghe’s demonic identity is revealed, Shen Jiu secretly feels relieved because now he has a reason to kill him. He thinks Shen Yuan wouldn’t love a demon anyway. But when Shen Yuan jumps into the abyss after Binghe, Shen Jiu experiences the shock and betrayal of his life. He completely snaps.

▪︎Later on, Binghe starts to believe that as long as Shen Jiu is alive, Shen Yuan will never love him. So, without Shen Yuan knowing (or so he thought), Binghe wants to kill Shen Jiu (the demonic sword is influencing him).

▪︎Shen Yuan realizes this and takes precautions. As soon as he escapes the abyss, he goes straight to Shen Jiu. This is when that scene I drew happens — the one where Shen Jiu bites Shen Yuan’s lip.

▪︎Shen Yuan proposes a marriage contract to Shen Jiu. (For those who don’t know, in some xianxia settings, cultivators can bind their lives together through a marriage contract — if one dies, so does the other.) Shen Yuan thinks that even if it’s just because of the contract, Binghe won’t be able to kill Shen Jiu.

▪︎Shen Jiu is overjoyed by this contract. In the end, he decides that Shen Yuan is his and that Shen Yuan will stay with him.

▪︎When Binghe finds out about Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu’s marriage contract, he is completely devastated. This is where the other scene I drew of Binghe takes place.

▪︎In this AU, Shen Yuan sees Binghe more like a younger brother. His feelings for Shen Jiu are much more complicated.

▪︎There’s also a scene where Shen Yuan sees Shen Jiu’s childhood and hugs him tightly in the room where Shen Jiu had been locked away.

That’s all I’m writing for now, because I’m feeling too lazy to continue at the moment.

[trevuorzegras]

THE TOWN THAT JUDGED 　QUINN HUGHES

　　　quinn hughes x fem biker!reader

SUMMARY 　quinn hughes didn’t plan on getting close to the town’s most talked-about girl, but the more he learns, the more he questions everything. including who he really is.

contains 　mentions of parental illness/death, financial hardship and poverty, mentions of stripping, verbal judgment, mild profanity, police encounter, emotional struggles, use of y/n.

note 　the wc for this is 2.3k, please enjoy! <3

　　MICHIGAN WAS SUPPOSED TO be Quinn’s escape. A safe haven from the chaos of Vancouver, from hockey season, from pressure. The lake brought him comfort — a stillness that made him feel like he could finally breathe. No eyes on him. No unrealistic expectations. Just water, family, and freedom.

Then he met y/n.

She was like a plot twist in a story he thought he’d already figured out. Different — not in a way that startled him, but in a way that made him curious. She didn’t fit the mold of this town he’d grown to love, and that only made her stand out more.

You couldn’t miss her if you tried.

The deep purple 2021 Kawasaki Ninja ZX-25R she rode made sure of that. Her presence turned heads. Sometimes for the wrong reasons. People around here knew her. Or at least, they thought they did.

Y/n had never managed to leave this place, no matter how hard she tried.

She knew the rumors. Knew what they whispered when she walked into a room. She’d never been arrested, but that didn’t stop people from assuming the worst. In their eyes, she was trouble. Not worth their time.

She worked hard — long shifts at a local diner. But bills didn’t care about pride. So when the diner wasn’t enough, she picked up shifts at the club. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t her dream. But it paid. And she didn’t let the looks or the whispers get to her. Not publicly, anyway.

What people thought didn’t define her.

She knew who she was. And who she wasn’t.

Meeting Quinn Hughes was like sunlight cracking through overcast skies.

She had been mid-shift at the diner when he walked in with his brothers and a few friends. All laughter, easy smiles, and a presence that turned the air electric.

She spent more time watching him than waiting tables that night.

He barely noticed her. Too wrapped up in whatever the guys were talking about. Something more important, she guessed. She told herself it didn’t matter. Guys like him didn’t notice girls like her.

Still, by the end of the night, she was almost sure he knew exactly who she was. Word travels fast in a town like this. And facts didn’t matter. Only gossip did. Truth gets bent, twisted, until even you start to wonder who you really are.

But she didn’t let herself dwell. So what if one good-looking guy thought she was nothing? She’d been judged before. Still, a part of her wished people could see past the rumors — that they could see her.

She had dreams once.

College. Criminology. She wanted to be a detective. Make a difference. But life had other plans. Her mom got sick, and survival became the priority. By eighteen, her mother was gone — and so was the future she’d once imagined.

Quinn saw her. Barely.

The night was thick and quiet, his only light coming from his headlights and a flickering streetlamp. He noticed the bike first. Then her — standing beside it like a shadow trying not to be seen.

He pulled up slowly, rolling down the passenger window.

“Hey,” he called gently, voice laced with concern. “You okay?”

Y/n glanced up, startled. She hadn’t heard the SUV roll up. Her helmet sat on the seat of her bike, strands of hair sticking to her cheek from the humidity. She looked tired — not just from the day, but from everything.

She hesitated. “Yeah. Just… bike’s acting up.”

Quinn nodded slowly, not pushing. “Want a ride?”

She looked at him like she couldn’t decide if it was a trap or kindness. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed her helmet and walked towards his car. “Sure.”

The drive was quiet. Comfortable, even. The radio played low. Something mellow. She gave him directions without looking at him, and he didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t make her explain or fill the silence.

When they pulled up outside a small apartment above a pawn shop, she unbuckled her seatbelt slowly.

“Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” He glanced at her, hand still on the wheel. “I’m Quinn, by the way.”

She smirked faintly. “I know who you are.”

He laughed under his breath. “Fair enough. Still figured I’d introduce myself.”

She paused. “Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

They saw each other more after that. Small moments at first — him stopping by the diner for coffee, her dropping off dinner for him and his family. Neither of them labeled it. But it was something.

They talked about things people didn’t usually talk about. He told her about the pressure, the expectations, the weight of always being good enough. She told him about the dreams she buried and the scars she never showed anyone.

It was slow. Real.

Then one night, she texted him.

Y/n: Wanna see something cool?

Bring a flashlight.

He picked her up, heart racing with anticipation. She directed him through winding back roads until they reached a crumbling brick building half-hidden by trees and overgrowth.

“The old Elridge Theater?” he asked, squinting at the faded marquee.

“Yup. Closed when I was ten. Been sneaking in since I was fifteen. It’s quiet. No one comes here.”

She led him through a side door half hanging off its hinges. The inside was dusty, the air stale with age and forgotten dreams. Rows of broken seats. A stage that hadn’t seen a spotlight in over a decade.

“This is your hideout?” he whispered, his voice echoing.

She grinned. “Welcome to my sanctuary.”

They climbed up onto the stage and laid on their backs, staring at the ceiling where stars had once been painted. It was cracked and faded now — but beautiful in its own way.

“You always do stuff like this?” he asked.

“Only with people who need to loosen up,” she teased.

He nudged her shoulder. “You think I need to loosen up?”

“I know you do.”

They laughed. It was easy. Freer than anything he’d felt in months.

Then, Flashlights. Voices. “Police! Anyone inside?”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Shit. C’mon.”

They scrambled off the stage, darting down an aisle and into a side hallway. She knew every turn, every shortcut. They burst out a back door just as a patrol car pulled up in front.

They ran — breathless, hearts pounding, laughing in disbelief when they finally ducked behind a dumpster two blocks away.

Quinn leaned against the wall, panting. “That was —”

“Insane?” she offered.

“Incredible.”

He looked at her, really looked at her. She was flushed from the run, eyes bright, a wild grin on her face. And something shifted in his chest.

“I think I’ve been living my life trying to be this… version of myself that made sense to everyone else,” he said quietly. “Perfect son. Perfect player. Never stepping out of line.”

She tilted her head, breath still catching. “And now?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Now I think maybe I’ve been missing the whole point.”

A pause. Then, “I think I’ve been looking for something real. For someone real.”

She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t look away either.

And for the first time in a long time, Quinn didn’t feel like he had to be anything more than exactly who he was.

They didn’t talk about what happened at the theater.

But something changed after that night.

Quinn started texting her more. Nothing dramatic. Just little things:

Quinn: You survive the late night drive?

What’s your go-to late night diner order?

I still owe you for that getaway.

They started hanging out more. At first it was late-night drives or quick coffee breaks during her split shifts. But soon, it was hikes, music playing through shared earbuds, or long conversations on her apartment roof — where they’d lie side by side watching the stars fade into sunrise.

Quinn was changing.

And he knew it.

He was finally breathing. Laughing. Saying “no” when he needed to. Letting go of the pressure to be polished all the time.

And when he told Jack about y/n, his brother didn’t understand.

“She’s… different,” Jack said, frowning. “I just don’t want you getting mixed up in anything messy.”

Quinn looked out the window, jaw tight. “Maybe messy is what I need right now.”

Y/n noticed it too.

The way Quinn had started showing up more. Not just physically, but emotionally. He listened when she spoke, remembered the small things — like how her mom used to make mint tea at night, or how she always sat in the far left booth at the diner when she needed space.

He didn’t push. Never tried to fix her. Just let her be.

That scared her more than anything.

No one had ever seen her without expectations. Without judgment.

So the night she opened her notebook and let him read a few of her old detective school essays, she felt like she was handing him a piece of herself she’d locked away.

“You could still do this,” he said, turning the pages slowly.

She shook her head. “It’s too late.”

“No,” he said, quiet but certain. “It’s not.”

The next week, she took him to her favorite spot — a half-forgotten overlook by the lake, hidden behind a crumbling back road and dense bushes.

They sat on the hood of his car, a blanket draped across their laps, passing a thermos of lukewarm coffee between them.

The water shimmered in the moonlight, endless and quiet.

“I used to come here when things got loud,” she said. “Before my mom got sick. When I still thought life might go the way I wanted it to.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her like he was memorizing the exact shade of her sadness.

“You know what I’ve realized?” he finally said.

She glanced at him, brow raised.

“You’re not messy. You’re real. Everyone else is too busy pretending to be fine.”

Her chest tightened. She looked away before he could see her eyes glisten. “Quinn…”

“I mean it.”

They sat there for a long time after that — not touching, not speaking. Just existing beside each other, like two people finally letting their guards down.

Things kept unfolding slowly.

One night, she brought him into the club — through the back door, after hours. She was sweeping up, and he helped without saying a word. She played music from the jukebox and dared him to dance.

He was horrible.

She laughed so hard she snorted. And when he caught her around the waist and spun her clumsily, they were both breathless and shining like kids again.

And later, standing close, hands brushing, she looked up at him.

“You sure you know what you’re doing with me?”

He looked right back, voice steady.

“No,” he admitted. “But I know I want to keep finding out.”

It started with whispers.

They’d been careful. Mostly. No hand-holding in public, no kissing outside her apartment. But in a town like this, it didn’t matter. People noticed things. The way Quinn lingered at the diner after she refilled his coffee. The way she laughed more when he was around.

And just like that, the rumors took off.

She’s using him.

He’s just a phase.

Poor kid doesn’t know what kind of girl she is.

Wonder what she did to get her claws into a Hughes boy.

Y/n heard it first, of course — dirty looks at the club, side comments from the booths at the diner, snide whispers when she walked into the grocery store.

She told herself it didn’t matter.

But the truth was: it stung.

Especially because she knew what was coming next.

It was Jack who showed up first. Alone.

He waited outside the diner after her shift ended, leaning against the hood of his car like he’d been rehearsing what he wanted to say.

Y/n atopped in her tracks when she saw him.

“Jack,” she said cautiously, tightening her jacket around herself. “Did Quinn send you?”

“No. He doesn’t know I’m here.” He pushed off the car, crossing his arms. “I just want to talk.”

“Right,” she muttered. “That’s what people say before they try to make me feel small.”

“I’m not here to insult you,” he said. “I just want to understand. What are you doing with my brother?”

Y/n stared at him. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not doing anything to him? That maybe he just… likes me?”

Jack shook his head, frustrated. “You’ve got a past, Y/n. People talk. You think we haven’t heard the things they say?”

She stepped forward, jaw tight. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard plenty. But did you ever think to ask what’s true?”

Jack didn’t answer.

She took a breath, steadying herself. “You know what? You don’t have to like me. But I’ve never lied to Quinn. I’ve never asked him for anything. If he wants to be around me, that’s his choice.”

Jack’s expression shifted — not angry, but unsure. Like he hadn’t expected her to meet him head-on.

And maybe that’s when the doubt first crept in.

A few days later, Luke cornered Quinn in the garage at their parents’ house, tossing a hockey stick down and crossing his arms.

“You really seeing that girl?”

Quinn didn’t look up from taping his stick. “Yeah.”

“You know what people are saying, right?”

“I don’t care.”

Luke scoffed. “You should. You’ve worked your whole life to build this reputation, and now people think you’re slumming it with some stripper who—”

Quinn stood up fast. Too fast.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

Luke blinked.

Quinn’s voice was low but firm. “You think you know her because of some rumors? Try sitting with her when she talks about taking care of her mom. Try watching her stay on her feet for twelve hours at the diner without a single complaint. She’s been through hell and still wakes up fighting. I respect her more than half the people who judge her.”

Luke looked away, uncomfortable.

“She’s not who you think,” Quinn added, softer now. “But she’s exactly who I needed.”

Jack and Luke didn’t get it. Not fully — until they saw y/n with their mom.

It was an accident, really. Quinn had invited her over for dinner. Something lowkey. Just family, and Jack had been skeptical the entire time.

But then y/n helped clean the kitchen. Shared stories with their mom about how she used to organize canned goods by color as a kid. Even teased Quinn gently when he dropped a glass.

Jack saw something he hadn’t expected: warmth.

Not performance. Not manipulation.

Just a girl, quietly trying to belong in a place that had always told her she didn’t.

After she left, their mom turned to them with a knowing smile.

“She’s strong. And she cares about him. I like her.”

Jack didn’t argue. Neither did Luke.

And maybe, in that moment, they finally started to understand.

The town still whispered.

But now, when people said things to Jack or Luke, hinted at shame or scandal — they didn’t join in.

Instead, they said what Quinn had said all along:

“You don’t know her.”

And maybe, just maybe, people would start realizing they were right.

NAVIGATION　　 ✶ 　　NHL MASTERLIST

© V A M P — plesse do not copy, repost, translate, or use my work without consent.

[teaspacebar]

RIN ITOSHI ˖⁺‧₊˚✦

childhood friends to lovers. hahaha rin is whipped and he doesn't even know it. ~.9k

↩ last

rin never contacts you first.

you’re already messaging him by the time he wakes up at 5am to go for his morning run.

it’s like you think he’s your diary or something.

what you had for breakfast. how your classes went. about a customer at work that was so stupid it sent you spiraling. a new movie that just got announced with your favorite actor.

he replies most of the time — about the stuff that interests him. you’re not really looking for a response anyways. you’ll ask him a question if you wanted his opinion on it.

it used to bother him. in the end, your persistence was something that even he couldn’t fight off and eventually he just let you do it (with some light bullying of course).

but you haven’t texted him in over 24 hours.

which wouldn’t necessarily be a cause for concern (not that rin had any of course), but normally you can’t shut up. or you’ll tell him that you’re busy and will text when you’re free.

but there’s been nothing. not a peep.

so he messaged you. just a simple, hey.

and then another. are you dead, or something?

nothing.

the last one he sent was a few minutes before practice. if this is a joke, it’s not funny.

and rin is itching in his skin. he’s so out of it that isagi is running fucking circles around him. which just pisses him off more.

he has no idea what you’re doing. where you are. did you tell him about a trip that he forgot about? he’s mulling it over and over in his brain until his teeth are grinding so hard that he gives himself a headache.

“you seem off today,” isagi comments as he takes a swig from his water bottle.

“fuck off,” rin snarls, shoving his training clothes into his bag.

bachira comes up between them, grin far too big to be sincere, “now what’s gotten you all riled up? woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

he’s about to bite the little creature’s head off, when his phone lets out a little ding! he all but scrambles for it, seeing your name pop up in his notifications. his head clears; he can breathe. you’re fine. you sent a little waving gif to him.

he’s gonna kill you.

without thinking, he grabs his bag and flings it over his shoulder, putting his phone to his ear after hitting the call button. he storms out of the locker room, ignoring the shouts of his teammates, when you answer.

“oh! rin, hi,” you sound surprised.

he cuts you off before you can start blabbing, “what happened?”

“what do you mean?”

“you go from texting every five minutes to disappearing off the face of the planet without telling anyone?” his blood is boiling. the relief he felt earlier is buried by anger and frustration. he's keeping his tone level, but his fingernails are biting into his palm with how hard he's clenching his fist.

“rin, my phone broke while i was at a friends." your voice is gentle, like you've caught him in his internal struggle. "i didn't bring my laptop with me either. i just got a new phone today on my way back home."

he's silent, tightness in his throat.

"i didn't mean to worry you."

"you didn't," he snaps.

you hum, "okay." there's rustling on your end, giving him space. "i missed you. you have practice today, yeah?" the sentiment is run through by your question, like it's not a big deal. rin doesn't have the wherewithal to think on it.

"just finished."

"that's good!" you go into talking to him about your day trip, and he listens on his drive home.

he's throwing his training clothes into the wash by the time you've settled down for the night. you've swapped to video call, your face barely visible as you snuggle underneath your comforter.

"rin?"

"hm?"

"i really am sorry that i worried you. i didn't think it was a big deal for you, i guess. thought it was more of a me thing."

he knows what you're referring to. the friendship - if rin could even call it that - was fresh then. a year, at most. no voice channel, no video calls. just the two of you messaging each other (mostly on the horror ARG server you two met on, sometimes directly). the two of you hadn't even shared names yet. he shut down, after sae came home - after their fight. he didn't respond to your messages for weeks. he showed back up quieter, hardened.

you chewed him out. thought that he could've been dead, or worse. a typical reaction for a lonely teenager to have. you weren't really angry at him, back then. you were scared. and yet you stuck by him long enough to be okay with not hearing from him for the entirety of blue lock. even when he was being a dick.

he sighs, "it's fine. just, be careful, alright? you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached to you."

you chuckle into your pillow, "yeah, probably. that's what i have you for, though."

"go to sleep. i have shit to do."

a small squeak leaves your lips as you yawn, "yeah, yeah, go be the best soccer player, or whatever."

"text me when you wake up."

he's never asked you that before.

he wakes up the next day with a exactly what he asked for.

didn't know you were a stage-five clinger. have a good day!!

yeah, he's gonna kill you.

[justarkive]

Chemtrails Over The Country Club | JJK - teaser

teaser warnings : dumb jk, party boy loser behavior, milf moms, punishment, emotional damage, impending yeehaw, no one knows where the hell he’s getting weed from, jungkook doesn’t own socks

general taglist : @cristinamajadera @oumy221 @roseda @crisle19 @jjkkkk15 @hoonsbrow @jjkluver7 @angie-x3 @lovingkoalaface @elinaki92 @wettbaby @fiddlebiddls (check pinned tba!)

a/n: back from my lil break guys im sorry once again but heres a new lil fic im starting ! hope u guys likeee :)

song : chemtrails over the country club, lana del ray

masterlist <

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The bass is still thumping through the floorboards when Jeon Jungkook gets exiled from his own party.

His cheeks are a little flushed. not from embarrassment. from the weed, probably. or the fact that he just deepthroated three shots of something vaguely blue and poisonous. he’s slumped shirtless on his couch like a frat house prince. legs open, one hand in his hair, the other cradling a warm sprite zero.

And then his mom walks in. like. actually walks in. not calls him. not texts him. physically. steps over someone passed out on the carpet, knocks a vape out of a freshman’s hand, and enters the lion’s den like an avenging angel in orthopedic sandals.

“Get OUT!” she bellows. “all of you! OUT!” and just like that, the room clears.

Jungkook doesn’t even blink. just lifts his cup to his lips with the slowest, most dramatic sip of his life. like a man on death row drinking communion.

“You know what this means, right?” his dad mutters, standing behind her in a full suit like he just left a board meeting and now wants to die.

“You’re gonna yell,” jungkook says. shrugs. “then you’re gonna ground me. then i’ll sneak out anyway. rinse, repeat.”

“Wrong.”

“You’re leaving.”

“…What?”

“You’re not staying here this summer,” his mom says, arms crossed like a general. “you’ve proven you can’t be trusted. so we’ve made arrangements.”

He snorts. “what, like rehab?”

“Worse.”

“Like prison?”

“Worse.”

He finally sits up. “you’re scaring me.”

“Youll be volunteering,” his dad says slowly. “in the countryside.”

Silence... then “…the what now.”

“Sun-up to sundown. chores. animal care. farm labor. manual labor. and no WiFi. you leave tomorrow.”

He stares at them.

No. no this isn’t happening. Not this close to summer. not when he just perfected his glow-in-the-dark jello shot recipe. not when he was gonna dye his hair silver and bleach his brows and do Molly in a strip club bathroom for the third time this month. NO.

“That’s so dramatic,” he says finally, blinking slow like a confused cat. “you guys are being so dramatic.”

His mom throws a wet towel at him. it hits him in the face. “pack your things.”

“You can’t make me.”

“You don’t even pay rent.”

“…okay.”

——

In his defense, it’s not like he told everyone to put a slip n slide in the hallway. or run a fake tattoo station in the kitchen. or let that one guy with a snake bring the snake again. he’s just a fun guy. a city guy. not a farm guy. he doesn’t even know what farms are.

But now he’s staring out the window of his dad’s car as the skyline fades behind him and the air gets suspiciously cleaner and there are actual birds that aren’t pigeons and his phone has one bar of service and he’s like: what the fuck.