#anyways cleaned the outside of my window and then cleaned my bathroom so it smells good

[mattynmarns]

.

[beetlebip]

Common courtesy when someone is moving into your guest room is to clean the bathroom right? It’s gross🥲

[talesofesther]

I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 17. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: SMUT, PIV, a little bit rough but, like, in a romantic way, author once again refusing to acknowledge she has a hand covering mouth during sex kink

Summary: At Seafarer's Beacon you feel stuck in limbo. McLaggen is determined to do something to give you purpose again.

A/N: I'm sorry I teased a little subby moment with McLaggen at the end of the last chapter but this chapter took so many rewrites because it turns out I don't have a dominant bone in my body so you'll need to pretend it happened off-screen. Anyway...

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai, @marmie-noir, @lolitstiana, @evabellasworld, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @xyzstar, (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

Chapter 17: Purpose

You spot a tiny white spatter on the t-shirt you’re wearing as you finish brushing your teeth before bed in the bathroom. It’s clean. Or at least was until your spearmint toothpaste marked it. Freshly laundered so it doesn’t smell like him in the way you’d prefer. The shoulders are too broad. The seams hang loosely around your arms. But the old Gryffindor Qudditch training top fits you like you’re wearing a piece of his soul.

“I’ve got toothpaste on your top,” you remark absently to McLaggen next door in the bedroom. 

It’s not like you’ve said something profound but when McLaggen doesn’t reply it sticks out like a splinter. You often bat snippets of unremarkable things to each other, like two beaters at bludger practice. If he finds something useful from a book from his uncle’s collection, he just reads it aloud and says “I should remember that,” instead of writing it down. As if imprinting the words on you means he’ll commit it to memory. 

But when he doesn’t fire something back, you open the bathroom door. He’s sitting shirtless in his plaid pyjama bottoms. Even though it’s the coldest Christmas Eve that you ever remember experiencing, your bedroom at the top of the lighthouse is warm. Heat from the hearth in the kitchen on the bottom floor rises the whole way through Seafarers Beacon, making everything feel warm and cosy. You tilt your head, waiting for him to lower the copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet but he doesn’t notice you standing in the doorway - he’s holding it so high that it’s covering his face.

“Are you still reading that?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

You glance at the white, frosty landscape outside the window as you wander over and climb into bed beside him, reading over his shoulder. The development he’s reading about isn’t significant - a short paragraph assuring the wizarding community that repairs to Azkaban are ongoing - but there’s a tiny quote from his dad that he read out to you this morning. And he’s been reading and re-reading all day, ever since his eyes first landed on it on the kitchen table while the rest of you were talking and buttering toast.

“I’m sorry you can’t see your mum and dad tomorrow.”

It’s not that you’ve been having an unpleasant time at Seafarer’s Beacon. But Christmas here has felt like a strained effort to replicate Christmas at home, or even, to some extent, Christmas at Hogwarts. Marietta has spent the past few days decorating the kitchen at the bottom landing of the lighthouse. Paper snowflakes whirl around the empty space in the middle of the empty space between the staircase spiralling around the outer walls and up the seven floors. 

“It’s fine,” McLaggen says and clears his throat. “I’m okay.”

“It’s not fine.” You rest your hand on his arm and he lets the Daily Prophet fall to his lap, still staring at the small paragraph with his dad’s words. “I wish I could see my mum and dad too - it’s okay for us to be sad about it.”

He nods. “I know - I miss them. Especially after reading about Dad today. But this time of year makes me… I - I dunno. It’s complicated. I still haven’t really forgiven him for handing you over.”

“Cormac -” you hesitate. “- your dad… he did what he had to do. I forgive him for choosing to save you and your family over me - someone who’s practically a stranger. I mean, if I was in his position…?”

He presses his palms hard into his eyes. Usually so bright and green, tonight they’re bloodshot. “You’d really make a choice like that?”

“All I know is that right now, I’d do whatever it takes to keep us safe.”

“All of us,” he affirms, sitting up properly.

“Well… yes -” You say slowly. “But if it comes to it, what I meant was you and I.”

“Don’t talk like that. We’re all in this together.”

“Cormac, you had to choose between me and Eddie when you had to get one of us out of Azkaban -”

“That was different.”

“Every single time we’re faced with a difficult decision it’s different. It was different for you. Different for your dad. We’re in the middle of a war and that’s how war is.”

McLaggen tosses the newspaper aside. “I just wish we could do something. Something to win the war. I feel useless stuck in here.”

“I don’t think there is.” 

Because you’ve already racked your brains. You and McLaggen have had this conversation several times already.

Both breakouts from Azkaban have rendered you almost completely isolated from the outside world. Now that Marietta and McLaggen are both assumed kidnapped, your insider knowledge of the Ministry has been shut off. With Krum and Davies here, you’ve got no idea what’s happening internationally. The only real source of information you have that isn’t Ministry propaganda is Potterwatch, and aside from reporting deaths and other swathes of bad news, they don’t seem to have much more information than you do holed up here.

“What about the snatchers they mentioned on Potterwatch? Couldn’t we go after them?” he asks.

“And what are we supposed to do with them? We can’t hand them in to the aurors. It’s not like they’re doing anything illegally - this is all Ministry sanctioned,” you remind him.

“I was more thinking along the lines of teaching them a lesson.”

“What? Like, kill them?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Nah just scare them - rough them up a little.”

“Cormac,  we’re not gonna start dealing out vigilante justice. And especially not when half of us are Undesirables. It could go seriously wrong.” You tilt your head, feeling slightly worried that being so cooped up, being away from his parents and the rest of the outside world is making him want to behave recklessly. “And you’re supposed to be kidnapped, remember? If you’re seen outside again people will get suspicious. All we can do is wait,” you say softly, touching your lips against his bare shoulder. “Wait here and stay safe.” 

He shakes his head. “We should be training. Like when Potter was in charge of Dumbledore’s Army. Duelling. Practising defensive spells. If we’re prepared then maybe, just maybe, none of us will have to make a difficult choice about who to save.” 

You nod and rest your head on your white down pillow, looking at him as you lie on your side. “Let’s start the day after tomorrow. First thing on Boxing Day.” 

“Yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow as if he was worried you’d think it was another bad idea. 

“Yeah, it’ll give us something useful to do - I’m kind of sick of doing nothing.” You sigh. “Being here has made me realise how slowly time passes without Quidditch… I wish there was enough room to fly properly.”

Cormac rests his head on the pillow too, lying on his back and looking up at the curved, coral ceiling thoughtfully. His brow is slightly furrowed in concentration. 

“I could try to work out how to extend the perimeter of the Fidelius Charm?”

“You can do that?” You blink. Your heart soars at the idea that you might be able to feel the wind in your hair again.

“I mean, it definitely won’t be easy but - yeah, I think so. I’ll get it sorted if it’d make you happy. Who knows how long this war will last? You might as well have someplace to fly.”

God, he’s so sweet. 

You don’t say anything else. You don’t need to. Instead you curl into the crook of his arm and you both drift off. You, wrapped in his arms as your dreams take you to the sky once more. 

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

Training breathes new life into Seafarer’s Beacon. Everyone is invigorated by the opportunity to do something that isn’t just lounging around, existing. You’re Dumbledore’s Army, after all. You’re part of the resistance.

McLaggen and Eddie spend days working out how to do an extremely complex piece of magic to extend the perimeter of the Fideleus charm so you have space to fly. You think you could cry when you get onto your broom and fly properly for the first time since your mission to Azkaban. 

Marietta gets to work transfiguring a scarecrow into a working duelling dummy and creating so many duplicates you feel like you’re facing a small army when you step into the garden one spring afternoon.

Cho scours the Daily Prophet - her curious intellect and keen eye for detail help her read between the lines to make sense of what’s really happening. She sends coded letters with her theories to Lee Jordan so he can confirm them with his contacts and inform Potterwatch listeners. You all huddle around the radio every other night and you squeeze her hand when Lee’s reporting follows her leads.

Katie and Leanne find that there’s more than just fiction in McLaggen’s uncle’s old bookcase and find an extensive collection of defensive spells and healing potions that can be used in combat. They forage herbs in the lighthouse’s magical garden and order rarer potion ingredients by owl post.

You, Krum and Davies, put everyone through flying drills until even Marietta is confident on a broom. Everyone practises casting curses while flying - it’s much harder to keep balance than it looks. When Krum finds out just how talented a Seeker Cho is, you can practically see little hearts forming in his eyes. When you toss an apple her way one day in the kitchen and she catches it one-handed without even looking, you think Krum might propose to her then and there. 

Even as the months slip by, the Ministry is taking your threat about breaking into Azkaban again seriously. There have been no more Muggleborns sent to prison. And you tell yourself that as long as you’re here, and the Ministry knows you’ll retaliate, you’re doing something to help win this war.

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

“See anything?” asks McLaggen, one late May evening as the two of you finish clearing up the garden after duelling practice. You can hear the others in the kitchen having final cups of tea before bed except for Cho who had to run upstairs to wash her hair after you sent such a powerful disarming spell your way that she’d ended up flat on her back in the rather muddy vegetable patch.

“I think something might have cracked a window pane on the greenhouse?” You suggest as you wave your wand over a heavily battered and burned duelling dummy. “Reparo!”

“On it,” says McLaggen, wandering over to assess the damage. “...I can’t see anything” He calls from behind the greenhouse. 

“I definitely heard something smash,” you say, frowning at a slightly squashed courgette in the vegetable patch and making a mental note to cast a protective charm over them next time you’re practising in the garden. “I hope it’s not one of the lighthouse windows.”

You follow the garden path around past the greenhouse to find McLaggen standing at the other side of Seafarer’s Beacon, pointing his wand at a window. Beautiful, warm light cascades across his handsome face. It’s late evening but the sun still hasn’t set. 

“Found it. It was a window. Easily fixed though,” he says, lowering his wand and turning to face you. “You’re getting much better at duelling by the way. That last one with Cho was pretty evenly matched.”

“I’m just glad I’m not the worst anymore. I think I’m better than Marietta now. Maybe Eddie too - on a good day.”

“Not everything has to be a competition,” laughs McLaggen before kissing the top of your head and pulling you into his chest.

“That’s easy for you to say when you’re winning. You’re the best at duelling,” you grumble, although you’re not jealous. The thought is a comforting one, you think as you close your eyes and inhale his dark, spicy scent.

“No, I think Krum is probably the best,” says McLaggen thoughtfully.

You look up at him. “Y’know when I first met you, I don’t think you’d ever have admitted someone was better than you at something,” you tease.

He chuckles softly. The garden hums with the sounds of nature as McLaggen holds you to his chest and stares out at the amber sky as the sun sets over the sea, interrupted only by the distant echo of laughter from the kitchen from inside - the unmistakable noises of the others joking together before they retire to bed. 

“Thank you for doing all this,” you tell him. Just being on a broom has - ironically - grounded you. It’s made everything feel alright again. And now that you’re spending every day outside in the fresh air and every night insight surrounded by your new found family, the shadows of Azkaban have long left your face. 

“It wasn’t just me. Eddie helped with the Fidelius Charm -”

“Not just the Fidelius Charm. For giving us all purpose again. And somewhere safe to stay.” 

“It’s my Uncle’s house -”

"You know -" you cut across him, " - when you volunteered to apparate home with Mary Cattermole, I was furious with you because I was scared." Your eyes meet his green ones, finding the warmth and strength that’s become so familiar. "But I should have expected it from you. You always go way beyond what any ordinary person would do in that sort of situation. And I mean, for goodness sake, who else out there can say their boyfriend got them out of Azkaban?"

McLaggen exhales in an embarrassed sort of way and turns his head back from the window. “It’s not - I mean when you say it like that it sounds much more impressive than it is. I’m just doing what anyone else would do. ”

"Most people would save their own skin.” You put your hand directly above his heart, feeling it beating through his chest. "That fact we’re all still alive isn’t because of this lighthouse. It's because of who you are,” you tell him fiercely.

You look up at him, bathed in the warm light from the sun against the backdrop of the whitewashed lighthouse. He looks down at you with an oddly reminiscent look on his face.

“You’re more like yourself again.”

You nod. The past few months have made you feel like you’re the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain again. You love getting to fly with Cho and Davies again. It’s just like old times. But you never dreamed you’d be flying with Viktor Krum, never mind have him actually take direction from you when you yell mid-air about flying formations for combat. 

Cormac curls a finger under your chin and kisses you. You link your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close to him. Everything slots together perfectly. Well, almost perfectly - you need to stand on your tiptoes but to you, that just makes him more perfect. Like he’s your missing piece of a puzzle.

He parts his lips and your tongue finds his. Your fingers become entwined in Cormac’s messy curls as you press your hips into his. The world outside the Fidelius Charm might be chaotic, fraught with fear and devastation and death but in this pretty, seaside garden where the evening light warms your back as you kiss Cormac, you have the sanctuary of each other. 

Cormac’s large hands roam the curve of your waist under your t-shirt and you feel callouses on his palms and fingertips from so much flying and duelling. And you know he believes if you all train enough none of you will ever fall in the war. He trains so hard because he thinks that if he does when the time comes, he can protect everyone. Save everyone. 

And you hope beyond hope that you’ll never need to put your training to use. But you’ve been listening to Potterwatch every night. The tone has been subtly shifting since your giggled huddling and listening back before Christmas. You know things are getting worse out there. Something in the air tells you that you’re going to have to act - and soon. 

But not right now.

Right now all you want to think about is each other.

“You know, you don’t have to be so selfless all the time,” you say, unfastening Cormac’s belt and getting to your knees on the grass in front of him. Fuck, he looks even taller like this. 

He wastes no time helping you and pulls his cock out from his boxers. You blink up at him, taking a shuddering breath when you see him - already thick and hard and ready for you. Even after all this time together, your stomach flips when you’re reminded that his cock is just as beautiful as he is. You take him in your hands and place tiny kisses along the underside of his length.

“You can let me do things too,” you whisper, his tip just brushing your lips as you breathe the words. Cormac leans his head back against the curved exterior wall. 

You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly wrap your lips around his head and circle it with your warm, hot tongue. The light makes every hair visible on the small strip of skin on his lower abdomen, shining and golden. The tiny freckles on his arms are getting darker now the early summer sun has been cascading down on you while you’ve been training in the garden.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, threading his hands through your hair. He’s messing it up but the ache between your legs is pulsing too pleasantly for you to care. It would almost be distracting if you weren’t so preoccupied with sucking and swirling your tongue around him. “My pretty girl.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes as he swallows thickly and leans his head back. His adam’s apple is visible as he swallows back a steadying breath. Just seeing him enjoying the feel of your hot, wet mouth makes you moan around him. The vibrations make his eyes snap back towards you just in time for him to watch you swallow his entire length down your throat. His grip tightens in your hair when he bottoms out and lets out a groan.

You don’t hold back. You press your head down as much as you can, blocking your own airways and feeling saliva dripping down your chin as his cock fills your mouth up. Cormac gently pulls back, letting you briefly take a gulp of air but the way you eagerly take him again makes him pant harder, his shoulders rising and falling with his breathing as you work your mouth. 

“Fuck, let me fuck you.” You detach from him with a gasp and shake your head, blinking back tears. His grip tightens. “I don’t want to cum. Not yet.”

“Be selfish for once. Finish here. Please,” you say through laboured pants as you jerk him off in your hand and present your tongue. You go to take him in your mouth again but he grabs your upper arm.

“I am being selfish.” Cormac hoists you to your feet. Before you know it, you’re being spun around and pressed up against the wall. You feel the bumpy whitewash paint under your palms when he whispers in your ear from behind. “You think I want to fuck you as a favour to you or something?”

His hands unbutton your jeans and he pulls them and your underwear down over your ass. You’re able to turn your head just enough to see him casting his eyes over your body with that appraising smirk that makes you fold every fucking time you see it. It’s been over a year and a half since that stupidly gorgeous dimpled smile made you feel butterflies in a way you hadn’t expected. Just that look is still enough to make you feel like you’ve been knocked off your broom.

And to him, the way you look right this second - dishevelled and pouting because you’re not getting your own way - is equally captivating. Everyone thinks you’re the loud, domineering one in the relationship and that it’s him who goes along with whatever you say. But Cormac doesn’t care what they think because he knows the truth of it. Even when you take the reins, climbing on top of him or setting the pace, all it takes is a single whispered word from him, or his hand gently guiding you at your lower back that keeps your dynamic exactly how he likes it. 

And here you are once again, as malleable as if he’s used a softening charm on you. 

Before you realise what’s happening Cormac’s tongue sucks your earlobe as he presses your body between his and the wall. You open your mouth to argue but instead take a sharp inhale when he slaps your ass, followed quickly by his hands groping and massaging all over your body - going from squeezing your backside to groping your tits and back again like he doesn’t have enough hands to touch you everywhere he wants to at once.

“I - I wanted to make you cum with my mouth,” you complain as he pushes your bra up to pinch your nipple between two fingers but you don’t protest any further - you’re too turned on to care. From how flush he’s pressed against you, you can feel his hard cock pressed up against your backside, wet with your saliva and his precum. 

You’d think after a hard day of training, Cormac would be exhausted - that he’d have no testosterone left in his body. But you know from experience over the past few months that this isn’t the case. You’re not sure whether it’s seeing you fight that turns him on or if his ego is slightly bruised from having Krum as fierce duelling competition - either way, he comes to bed most evenings murmuring sweet things in your ear and slipping his Gryffindor training tshirt off our your body before you’ve barely had a chance to wear it.

This evening is only different because he can’t wait until you’re back in your bedroom to have you. He kisses your neck and draws the tips of his fingers along your slit, dragging your wetness over your clit. 

“I couldn’t let that happen. Not when all I can think about is how wet this cunt is for me,”

You let out a low, shaky breath. Fuck, you love it when he gets in this mood. He’s so filthy. Talking to you like how you sort of expected he would when you first met him. Before you found out how sweet and soft he is. 

Usually.

Fuck.

Your legs twitch involuntarily when Cormac drags the pad of his middle finger across your clit and dips it through your sopping-wet folds. You can’t move much but you can’t stop your hips from grinding with his fingers, chasing the feeling of him toying with you. 

“Yes. Ah fuck - yes,” you squeal as he draws the words from you with his touch.

“Shh, shh, shh…” He soothes, tutting gently. He pulls his wet fingers back over your clit, swirling in circles around the throbbing clutch of nerves. “The others are through the wall. You need to be quiet.”

As if testing you, his wet strokes over your clit pick up pace - his calloused fingers feel so deliciously wet and rough all at once. You whine pathetically. 

“Can’t you - oh, god, can’t you cast a sound-dampening charm?” you whimper, your fingers searching for something to grip. Your palms just claw helplessly against the surface of the exterior wall as his chest presses into your back. 

“I don’t think so. I think you need to show me you can be good.”

You squirm but there’s nowhere you can move while you’re pressed between him and the wall. “I will. I’ll do whatever you say,” you pant. The pads of Cormac’s fingers continue pressing circles the pressure building inside you as your walls clamp around nothing. You need him - you need his fingers, his cock - fuck, anything inside you. “Just fuck me. Please, Cormac.”

You know the drill. You know he loves hearing his name. Having you beg for his cock. And you’re running out of time - your twitching and convulsing is picking up pace. “Q-q-quick, please, I want to cum on your cock.”

Cormac’s hands leave your body so he can take his cock and tease you between your folds. You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance and whine. Fuck, you need to cum. You bring your hand between your legs to start rubbing yourself in his absence but he moves your hand out of the way.

“Keep your hands where they were.”

You place your palms flat against the wall, splaying your fingers, and feel your knees buckle when Cormac sheathes himself into you with one forceful roll of his hips. 

He curls one arm around your chest and the other slips down your body to play with your clit as he jerks his hips up, each thrust sends his hips smacking against your skin.

The burning ache in your pelvis crackles and fizzes inside you while Cormac fucks you. Your hands scrabble against the wall and you feel chalky, white paint crumbling under your fingernails as the walls of your cunt spasm, grateful for Cormac’s long, thick cock to grip onto.

“Fuckfuckfuck-” The curse tumbles from your lips. You’re so boxed in that your cheek presses against the rough surface of the wall. All you can do is close your eyes and fucking take the way that Cormac is brutally slamming himself into your tight heat while his hand dances perfect, rhythmic circles over your clit. 

You seize up and cry out and the arm that Cormac had wrapped around your chest claps over your mouth, pulling your head back and dampening your wailing. “Let it all out for me - quietly,” he growls in your ear.

There’s a drop like when you descend in the air on your broom too quickly - your body reacting after your brain. Your core plummets and everything implodes as you sob against his palm, melting into his touch. 

“Good - that’s it, baby,” he says, more softly this time as your orgasm, blinding hot, makes your cunt convulse and clamp around him.

You cum so hard that you think your legs give way - you can’t tell because his strong body pushing yours against the wall keeps you upright. Tingles spasm from your core right down the backs of your thighs. 

Cormac groans too. He moves his hand from your mouth so he can push his hips against your ass and shove his twitching cock as far as it can go inside you. When you whisper his name shakily and tell him you love him, he’s done for. Warmth floods your insides as he cums, filling you up as he grunts into the column of your throat against your racing pulse. 

Even as you’re pressed up against the wall with his cum leaking out of you, you feel like he belongs here with you. Not in the lighthouse - or against the lighthouse - necessarily. Just here. Inside you. With nothing but the sounds of your heaving breathing and waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance to interrupt you. 

Eventually, his mouth breaks into a smile against your skin and his laugh tickles your neck. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“We’ve got a perfectly good bed upstairs and we’re still sneaking around like we used to do under the Quidditch stands at school.”

He pulls out of you carefully and offers you his t-shirt to clean up the mess. You decide it’d be less conspicuous to wash your jeans and underwear in the laundry tomorrow morning than for McLaggen to return back inside suddenly missing a t-shirt.

“We never did that under the Quidditch stands,” you say, turning around and leaning your back against the wall so you can button up your jeans. “We’d have been expelled if we were caught.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure Madam Hooch would have been totally fine if she caught us just doing hand stuff,” he grins.

“Well, we were stupid back then,” you laugh.

“It was fun though. I kind of miss those Quidditch stands.”

“Even when we’re old and married and I’m winning the Quidditch World Cup. I’ll want to meet you under the stands afterwards to celebrate.”

“Yeah, right. If I wait for Scotland to win the Quidditch World Cup for our next fumble under the stands, I’ll die without ever doing it again.”

“You really think I won’t go out of my way to win the Quidditch World Cup just to prove you wrong?”

“Anyone else? No. But you? I’m counting on it.”

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

When you quietly come back inside the back door to the empty kitchen, you insist on making a cup of tea for yourself and a cup of coffee for McLaggen while he goes upstairs - you insisted that he needs to let you do something for him for once. That beautiful post-sex warmth nestles into your chest and makes between your legs ache pleasantly. Nothing can go wrong when you feel like this. You boil the kettle and set to finding yours and McLaggen’s favourite mugs in the cupboard when a yell from upstairs makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Cho?!” It’s McLaggen’s voice. The urgency in his voice makes the hair stand up on the back of your arms.

You run to the bottom of the spiral staircase and skid to a halt, looking up at all the seven floors winding above you. You crane your neck upwards to see McLaggen on the topmost floor looking over the bannister - a small, gold something glints in his hand. A galleon?

“Cormac? Did you see?” Katie’s head appears diagonally across from McLaggen on the floor below. She looks down at you standing in the middle of the kitchen and then up to McLaggen at the top of the lighthouse.

“Whazgoin’on?” yawns Davies, coming out of his bedroom opposite Katie’s. “Are the others back from Puddlemere?”

“Not yet. But they’re about to be.” Leanne pads out onto the landing directly above you in her pyjamas, closely examining a galleon in the palm of her hand. “Merlin’s pants…” 

“Mine just came through too!” Marietta too appears outside her bedroom door, followed by a bleary-eyed Carmichael. She looks up at Katie, Davies and McLaggen.

“Guys, this is it,” says Cho leaning over the bannister across from McLaggen. Krum curiously joins her, looking equally as puzzled as you are.

“Can someone please explain what is going on!?” you bellow from the bottom of the staircase as if calling everyone to attention in Quidditch practice.

“It’s our coins from when we were in the D.A. The old D.A., I mean,” says Marietta. “It’s what we used to find out when the next meetings were.”

“And? What do they say?”

“It’s Neville Longbottom. He says they’re getting ready to fight at Hogwarts and that we’ve to join them,” says Cho.

“Fight?” Your stomach drops. “Fight who? Why?”

“Only one way to find out,” McLaggen replies as you look up at him in disbelief.

He nods at you reassuringly and you take a deep breath. This is what you’ve been preparing for after all, right? It’s not just pretend. You’re simultaneously more and less prepared than when you broke into Azkaban. You’re much better in combat now but god, you need a plan. More details. Something you can control.

You nod. “Alright. Well, we’ll get some rest and meet up first thing tomorrow with Wood and the others so we can come up with -”

“No,” says McLaggen. “Now. They’re fighting now. We need to leave. Right now.”

You look up at him. Absurdly, all you can think now is that you really need to change your jeans.

Chapter 18: Calling

[abandoned-anemoia]

Smitten

☯ Pairing: Idol of choice x fem!reader (3rd person) ☯ Genre: fluff (with a little angst) ☯ Word count: 1k ☯ Warnings: mentions of food ☯ A/N: I wrote this while deep in my thoughts about Changkyun of Monsta X but decided it should be a “choose your own character” situation. I greatly appretiate any interaction! Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

After touring, all he wants is to do is see her.

The softness of the blanket wrapped around her keeps her warm on the chilly Friday night. The rain falling outside taps softly on the window. The moon shines brightly in the charcoal sky, slipping through the window and softly illuminating the room. The soothing smell of lavender wafts through the small apartment as the candle sitting on the coffee table burns.

He gazes at her from the doorway. She sits on the couch, peacefully looking out the window. She hadn't even heard him come in. She seems to be lost in thought, staring out the window. He smiles, knowing she was only in the living area this close to midnight to see him when he came home. He almost hated to interrupt and lose sight of her focused look.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He spoke softly so as to not startle her.

She turns her gaze from the window to where the voice came from. How long had he stood there, staring?

"My thoughts cost more than that. I have rent to pay." She teases him, letting out a chuckle.

He laughs. He missed this. He missed her. It had been too long. His schedule barely gives him time to breathe, let alone be home. To be with her—the love of his life. The woman who is so patient with both him and his schedule.

She gets up, tugging the blanket closer to her body, and walks over to him. It's late. She thinks. She assesses the dark rings under his eyes and his wet hair and clothes from the pouring rain outside. She can tell he's trying to hide it but he's shivering slightly.

"Go take a warm shower. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat while you're in the shower. Then we can get some rest." The words rush out of her mouth as she discards the blanket she had wrapped around her. She uses the discarded blanket to wipe the rain drops that littered his face.

He stares at her while she dotes over him. Cute. She's always worried about him. She has never complained, just taken the initiative and cared for him.

"Don't worry about that, I ate on the plane." She nods to acknowledge his words but seems to be in another world.

"You're still going to take a warm shower." Her voice is strong. There was no changing her mind.

"The rain is coming down hard enough to be considered a pressure wash. I have to be clean already." He jokes but the stern look she gives him as she rolls her eyes tells him all he needs to know. Don't try me.

He concedes, knowing she would not allow him to ignore her request. He makes his way through her room and to the attached bathroom. Running the shower at the warmest temperature, he peels off his wet clothing and steps under the tepid spray of water.

While he is showering, she is warming up some food she had kept in her refrigerator. She wasn't sure when he would be home so she had yet to make anything for either of them to eat, but she wouldn't be telling him that.

He saunters into the kitchen, having noticed she wasn't in the bedroom when he exited the shower, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He didn't bother putting on a shirt, knowing he wouldn't sleep in one anyway. Standing next to the bar, he waits for her to turn around, confused as to what she was doing.

She knows he is there but pays him no mind, continuing to gather food for him despite his assurance from before. Turning towards him and placing the meal on the countertop, she encourages him to sit down by motioning to a stool tucked under the bar.

Taking a seat on the stool, he sends her a tired smile. He had been awake for most of the plane ride, having not quite been on a set sleep schedule. The love he has for her swells inside of him as he realizes just how much she cares—how she missed him as much as he had missed her.

She lays a kiss on his cheek before sitting next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she rests her eyes—or at least she thought she would rest her eyes, waiting for him to finish eating. It doesn't take long for him to notice that he breathing has evened out and her body is slumping against his own.

Finishing the last bit of food, he looks down at her, her features are soft and he could see her eyelids twitch as her eyes flick around them. She's gorgeous. He carefully moves his body to lift her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.

He gently maneuvers her body so he can pull back the sheets and tuck her underneath them. She stirs but does not seem to be awake. Once she is safely tucked in bed, he turns to make his way back out of the room to clean up the dish he left on her bar. He doesn't make it far as she reaches out to grab his hand before mumbling out a soft, "Don't leave again."

His face falls, knowing she was awake enough to catch his arm yet sleepy enough to believe he would leave her immediately after coming home. Home. He has always stayed over at her place, yet never called it home. No. She was home. Not her apartment—not without her.

He slips under the covers and pulls her against him, muted words attempt to come out of his lips, "I won't ever leave you." He can't say that though. He knows he will have to leave on another tour again—knows he will rarely get time to see you between schedules. He feels as if he doesn't deserve you but knows you would tell him otherwise. Sighing, he squeezes her closer and closes his eyes. He feels nothing but content as he holds his entire world in his arms and falls asleep.

[kasaslovr]

❈ warning: f!reader, established relationship, pet names, consensual filming, marking?, penetrative sex. wc: 1.6k

❈ notes: i just needed to get something out so i have time to write my eren fic 🤞🏼 and i need request cause i don't got any inpso rn :((( anyway likes and reblogs r much appreciated mwah

reigen has always been a confident man, when it came to convincing clients or helping out mob and no matter what you always supported him with whatever. of course there would be those days he would be busy and he couldn't give all that attention you deserve, but that never stopped you from trying.

"y/n was quite clingy today, wasn't she?" serizawa asked as he came back in from the kitchen, he was doing some cleaning before locking up in a few minutes.

"uh huh," reigen answered mindlessly, he was more focused on editing out a spirt for client than what serizawa was saying, he really didn't want any homework.

"i can understand why, if i was asked out by someone so popular like you i would-" serizawa was cut off by reigen coughing behind his desk then stood up. "yes! i did ask her out so obviously she wants to be with me 24/7." he said very confidently and also very sweaty? but serizawa didn't pay any mind.

you have forgotten your keys on reigens desk so as soon as you reached the top of the stairs you heard reigns loud voice booming throughout the office.

"she acts like that cause she's grateful for me clearly, out of..lets see..100 women i chose her so its only right for her to be so needy," right after he let out a loud obnoxious laugh. you could see it, reigen with his eyes closed, one hand in his pocket while his other is moving all around exaggerating the story, you laughed to yourself.

you burst through the door with a cheery smile. "hi rei!! i forgot my keys here and i noticed its almost closing time so i thought we should go home together!!" you said all excitedly. reigen jumped a bit, starting to pack up while wiping the sweat on his forehead.

"o-of course let me help serizawa close up.." he said quickly grabbing your and the office keys. the office keys also had the sets to you twos apartment just in case. he was pushing you and serizawa out the office as he locked the door and as soon as you all got outside, he was pushing you to the car, "get home safe, serizawa!" he shouted out.

the car ride was as normal as it got. his hand was set on your thigh and you were humming to the songs on the radio while looking out the window. "what were you two talking about what when i walked in, rei?" you asked so sweetly.

"nothin.." he mumbled trying to focus on the road and not your cute voice and sweet smell of warm vanilla and how he could feel your eyes on him. "nothin important, don't worry about it, sweets." he reassured you.

with a single glance of you he saw you jut your lips out just a bit. oh how he wanted to kiss you and make you feel all better. he pulled up and quickly got out to open your door so that he could hold your hand on the way in. it was cute and small gestures like this that made your heart melt.

he used the keys and let you in first and then he followed locking the door. you took your coat off slowly enough so he could get his off too. "lemme run you a bath, you must've had a long day," reigen let out a strained laugh and made his way to the bathroom, but you caught his hand and pushed him down on the couch.

"i heard what you and serizawa were saying about me.." you started by straddling him and slowly untying his tie. "how i should be soo grateful and how you're just soo popular." you said giggling a little bit as reigen gulped.

"a-angel listen-" you cut him off by giving him a kiss that was almost straight out of porn filled with lust and need. "but reigen i thought you begged me to date you." you said pretending to think about it tilting your head.

"let me make it up to you please." you haven't even done anything and he was already begging with your hand in his, he was kissing it and you could feel the tent forming in his grey slacks.

"how about i give you a little lesson about you know, being grateful since maybe you got it wrong." there was such a sly smile on your face and reigen felt his breath get more and more heavier and his brain turning into mush.

your hands were all up in his hair as reigens were trying to get your clothes off as quickly as you can, he's been wanting this ever since you two got in the car. why were you being so mean?

you pulled away with saliva connecting both of your lips, his more bruised and shiny, he looked away as you dived into the space on his neck to leave dark purple splotches. "angel baby," he moaned as you got his sweet spot, but that didn't stop you.

he was so fucked out at this point, his neck filled with color, his hair all messy, and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. you pushed his shirt off and not even completely getting rid of his grey dress pants along with his boxers which have been dampened already. you began playing with his red and swollen tip, giggling when he let out small whimpers. you never broke eye contact with him while he was struggling to meet your eyes, he would always get flustered like this when its just you two.

you decided it was enough teasing for now so you casted your shirt off to the floor and along with your skirt that did nothing to hide what was underneath. you moved your panties to the side and started to rub reigens cock along the folds of your pussy, sighing in relief as soon you made contact.

reigens head is thrown back and giving every control in the situation, you could do anything you wanted to him right now and he would be so happy. when he lifted his head, he was met with you cute brown nipples at his level so of course he latched his mouth onto one them and used his hand to pinch and pull at your other boob, you looked down and couldn't help grinning down at him. you pulled away and he wanted more, but before he could say anything you finally took him whole into warm and sticky cunt.

"f-fuck, 's so tight-" he placed his hands onto your waist, but didn't leave any pressure so that you could move at your own pace, even when his brain was turning into mush he was so thoughtful. you started to move at a comfortable pace while clinging onto his reddened shoulders.

"you're just so pretty, reigen i w-wanna stay like this forever," you whispered softly in his ear and soon your pace quickened and soon it was too much for him and he was hiding his face in the crook for your neck, mumbling, "too much, you're too much, fuck.." his voice getting higher in pitch and more difficult to understand, but you knew exactly what he wanted. "you wanna cum, baby?"

he nodded still not making eye contact with you. you grabbed your phone from the little table on the side of the couch and turned the camera and focusing on him. "then look, show me how pretty you are. don't be so shy now." you coo at him, he looked up and all of sudden he feels a spotlight on him like he's then star of a show, but he couldn't bring it in himself to come up with a snarky and confident remark like he always would.

"p-please let me cum, need it," reigen pleaded and you we're feeling nicer so your bounces became rougher and quicker, bringing you both to the edge. "m gonna cum, m gonna-," he cut himself off with a fast breaths and louder moans and with his grip tighter on your waist and his eyes rolling back he shoots his hot milky semen into you.

you tossed the phone to the side not caring if its off and rubbing your clit and your climax hit you like a wave and it was like your cunt was trying to squeeze every little drop of him left while mixing his cum with yours. after a couple of labored deep breaths, you got up to clean both you up and when you came back from putting the towel away, reigen reached out for you.

"baby," he mumbled, his voice sounding worn out. "you know i love you and don't think you're clingy, just wanna see cool in front of everyone," he realizes how pathetic he sounds and almost embarrassing. you chuckled softly while running your hands through his hair.

"f course i know that and i love you too," you sighed out, chest tightening at this small moment of intimacy with him. all you could think about was how good of a boyfriend he was and reigen well he started coming up with ways to get you to be his beautiful wife.

bonus

"reigen-san...why are you wearing that mask? are you sick??" serizawa asked getting all scared. he's never taken care for a sick person. "reigen-san, why won't you talk to me? i won't get infected with whatever you have, i swear." reigen shook his head.

and with a tug on his mask off and a really strained voice, serizawa saw reigens red and still a lil puffy lips. "im fine, serizawa, lets just...continue work like normal, kay?" both reigen and serizawa looking away and reigen putting his mask back and he swore he heard serizawa let out a little chuckle. god reigen was so embarrassed.

[mac-cheez]

My Guide To Surviving The Waynes

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

Thanks again to @arrowheadedbitch for proofread.

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

Sorry for the cutoff in my last entry, the fight between Tim and Damian travelled to the dining room and successfully spilled my cereal onto my laptop. After they were fully chewed out by Alfred, my computer was sent out to be cleaned and repaired. Unfortunately, it corrupted some of the file so I kept that little error at then end to remind myself why I cut this in two. Anyways, where was I?

Oh yes, well he led me to my room which was lightly decorated (I assume they got ideas from my mother). It was painted a light sage green and had small plants around the room giving it an earthy smell that made me feel welcome.

“I had some extra house plants that Master Bruce was gifted, and I figured you’d enjoy them,” said Alfred.

“Yeah I love them,” I said checking out the plants, making a mental note to look up the species later.

Alfred smiled and left me to unpack saying that “Dinner is at 8:00”. I unpacked my things and put everything in their perceived place. I usually would’ve procrastinated this, but the occasional yelling down the halls helped my anxiety keep me stationary.

At about 7:00 I walked downstairs towards where I thought the dining room was. What should’ve been a 2 min walk turned into 30 min as I quickly got lost. Damn my lack of a sense of direction. Once I had finally found the dining room (through smell only), I could hear a mild argument inside, and peeked in to see what was happening. I saw Mr. Wayne talking to Alfred.

“Alfred, I told you there’s far too much going on for a family dinner tonight.” Mr. Wayne said.

“Master Bruce I really think we should all meet her together,” Alfred argued,”You havent even told the others that she's staying here.”

“What I told them…” Mr. Wayne said.

“Then why was Master Duke unaware of her when she arrived?” Countered Alfred.

“Okay…. Maybe I forgot about that detail this past family meeting.” Mr. Wayne admitted pouting. “But just wait till this case is over so I can at least be coherent when we meet.”

“Very well Master Bruce,” sighed Alfred.

I saw Mr. Wayne turn to leave and quickly moved out of the door’s way. When he opened it he passed by quickly and mumbled something about Tim coming along. I guess he didn’t realize that it was me or something, anyways I entered after him greeting Alfred.

I helped Alfred with some cleaning after we ate. He was going to leave me to eat alone while he cleaned up, but I wasn’t having it and insisted that we eat and clean together. Afterwords he showed me around the house, and explained the family to me as well as the ones I’d be seeing most often. The whole trip around the house we didn’t see a single other person, even though he said there was supposedly at least four other people in the house. I guess it is really big, but it just seemed really empty. He showed me to my room and said I was down the hall from Duke and Damien if I had an emergency, though he warned me that Duke is far more amiable.

I sat on my bed going over my schedule and making sure everything was in order for my classes Monday. I also looked up the plants in my room and took some notes on how to take care of them, though I suspected Alfred would make up any slack I happen to make.

I went to bed relatively early as I was tired from my day of moving. I woke up in the middle of the night, and thought I heard something at the window when I came back from the bathroom. When I checked it, it was slightly cracked open, but there was nothing outside so….. I just went back to bed. In hindsight not my best move, but I was tired and wasn’t thinking. 

The next morning I woke up fairly early due to my early bedtime (early as in 9am). I wondered around, cutting down the time to the Kitchen to 15 mins. I found some bagels and a toaster and made a couple with cream cheese. While I was in the middle of one of my bagels a guy with black hair walks in, grabs a monster, and walks out, never once acknowledging my existence. I assume he didn’t see me, but if his eyebags were any indication he was likely too sleep deprived to notice or care. 

Later when I was finished, Alfred walked in and I asked about what just happened. He told me it was probably Tim and that he was notorious for staying awake for long periods of time. Also, that he was my age (19). I took a mental note while Alfred hid the remaining monsters in the fridge and switched the coffee to decaf. 

After that I decided to wander around, and found what looked like Mr. Wayne’s office. I had thought about going in, but decided against it, though the clock did look weird. I guess it was just antique or something. I spent the rest of the day like this stopping only for lunch, which I made myself to Alfred’s chagrin. I eventually went back to my room to play some video games (Skyrim) and stayed up a little late. I heard some weird noises at some point but wrote it off as the house being old or my supposed housemates (who I still havent met and/or seen). This continued on for about a week till the Thursday that Gotham Schools let back in.

I was out of my room heading to the kitchen for dinner when I actually ran into someone. I looked up and it was Duke! He looked a little surprised as well before he seemed to remember who I was. We said hi and made a little small talk on the way to the kitchen. When we got there, there were two other people there. One was Mr. Wayne who immediately got up and came over to introduce himself. He explained that he was incredibly busy this past week and apologized for not welcoming me properly.

“Oh no worries Mr. Wayne, Alfred told me everything,” I said, “and don’t worry I’ll keep your secret.”

“Oh uh I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He laughed nervously.

“Riiiiiiight.” I said teasingly

“Uh look it’s not something that’ll be great for….” he started before interrupted him.

“Why wouldn’t it be good news,” I said confused.

“What do you mean,” he said also seeming confused.

“Well building a supercapaciter to help cut down on energy costs in Gotham seems like pretty good news to me” I said matter-of-factly.

“Oh yes well… I was worried about any critiques due to it still being in progress,” He said.

“Oh well I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” I said smiling. He looked relieved and weirdly so did the other two, like a weight had just been lifted. This supercapaciter project must be reeeeeaally top secret. He started introducing me to the other person whose name was ‘Dick’. I honestly thought he was joking till he shook my hand and sincerely said 'nice to meet you'. I just brushed it off and introduced myself. 

As I talked to Dick and Duke, more people filed in and each time Mr. Wayne introduced each. Eventually, we all were seated and started eating. Dinner went well and it wasn’t too awkward, but I could tell there were things they wanted to talk about but couldn’t. As everyone was leaving I talked to Mr. Wayne and thanked him for letting me stay with him.

“Of course, and you know you can call me Bruce right?” He said.

“Oh, uh, yes sir, sorry. Just how I was raised.” I said a little embarrassed.

“You don’t have to call me sir either” He chuckled.“Yes sir,” I said out of habit. He looked a little defeated, but stopped there and let me head back to my room. It was a pretty quiet night and I got to sleep at a reasonable time. Over the next few days everyone seemed to be more relaxed around me, and went back to their usual shenanigans (according to Alfred). That leads to now, with me sitting in the Library between classes because I no longer trust the dining room or the manor library (dont ask). I’ll probably update when something interesting happens. Though I’m sure nothing too crazy could go down.

[elvispresleyslut]

Daddy’s Best Friend, Elvis Presley | Chapter 2

I woke up to the nice sound of chirping birds outside the bedroom window and squeal with a stretch. After gathering my thoughts I gently sit up and look around noticing how unkept my room must look but somehow I stay unbothered to change any of that.

It’s around mid afternoon and I come to realization that I’ve slept half of my birthday away. But i completely forgot that I was home alone, I was supposed to be awake by now and getting ready for my party that I honestly didn’t want to attend.

Moaning, I walk to my bathroom and begin a shower. Hot water was so needed on my back. As I wash my hair with my scented shampoo I think back to the silk robe that laid over Elvis’ body so naturally, how was all his clothing just so perfect for only him?

My bottom lip becomes caught between my top set of teeth at the thoughts I spur into my mind on accident and my hand begins its own journey down my toned stomach eventually meeting my core.

My head falls back against the tiled shower wall and a soft whimper falls from my lips as the tips of my fingers tease my now swollen clit. I inhale a breath of air out of my mouth and think back to the other evening and i can smell his soft pink pepper and sandalwood scent, I could really just sit and smell his clothes all day. I slip my slender fingers inside my pussy gently making that comforting come here motion inside right against the spot i needed him the most.

His smell almost became stronger in my nostrils as i got closer and before i could take in the fact that i was actually doing this i was having the most harsh orgasm standing n’ all.

My legs trembled.

I clean myself off in the shower afterwards quickly trying to ignore the self embarrassment creeping behind my back and up my already tense shoulders. I step out of the shower drying off and realize I have to now rush to be decent looking.

Now i truly felt useless.

I picked out a short white silk dress matched with a hair band and off white heels with small amounts of jewelry. I wasn’t much for jewelry..not on me anyways.

I brush out my long brown hair and watch the heavy waves form. I felt satisfied with the look and slid on the hair band and smile the best i can in the mirror.

Was my eyeliner too much? Did i look slutty? I frown and look in my lap trying to ease my overthinking brain. I decide to stand up and grab my little handbag for the day and spray perfume before walking out of my room. I grab my keys off the kitchen table and head to my little red cadillac.

I open my door and crouch down into my seat. I look into the rearview mirror and reapply my lip gloss hoping maybe it would appeal to someone.

I buckle up and slowly back out of my driveway and head to the Presley home. I needed something to calm my nerves and cigarettes weren’t cutting it this time, which for me was never so good. I light another and turn up the radio and elvis’ suspicious minds plays.

I sigh with exhaustion of him but i regretfully find myself with my free arm in the air as i sing along with the song swaying in my seat gently as i drive.

Too soon i arrive at the gates of graceland and I can already see that the whole front was full of cars. I throw my cigarette butt out and continue up the drive parking in the first free space i find.

Turning the car off i throw my keys into my bag and unbuckle following steps out of my car. My mom meets me halfway at the front door and lets me inside leading me to where everyone is outback by the pool,i suddenly need another cigarette. Maybe a drink too.

This was going to be too long of a day.

“Hi..Kimberly.” My grandmother says to me softly sitting in the shade forcing a pained smile.

I roll my eyes and instantly hope she didn’t notice. I’m so disrespectful.

“That..dress..is awfully shor-something i mean, darlin’. Did ya leave the rest of it at the house?” she says with a giggle as if her “joke” was actually funny.

I subconsciously tug it down and just laugh her dig off. Bfore I can think of something clever to reply my rather loud friend Anne slaps me on the bottom.

“Hey guuurrrlll!!” She yells right in my ear. “Happy birthdaaaayy baby!” I smile and thank her whilst she pulls me into a big hug.

Anne whispers something incoherently into my ear and I raise my eyebrows at her asking her to repeat herself as I pull out of her grasp. She rolls her eyes and laughs repeating her comment, “I said, Have you seen Mr.P himself? Dude looks like a goddamn snack.” She licks her lips and smirks knowingly at me and I blush a dark red adverting my gaze across the room looking for him.

She points near the diving board of the pool and I shoot my hand over my face as if I was truly shocked. Anne laughs, “Yeah..He looks real good and P-Prescilla couldn’t make it.”

I frown. “Whats up with that?” I ask as I pull out a cigarette and lighter taking a puff of the lit up relief.

She shrugs her shoulders “No idea really. He was pretty blunt about it..seems like a fight maybe.”

I frown and shake my head. What if this was my fault somehow? I sigh and find a seat near the pool directly in the warm suns direction. Anne sits beside me in another chair and we chit chat lightly about the party and guests.

“You gonna even talk to him? Also your glowing. Did you get some? Or is that the birthday?” I gulp. Did I really look fucked just from the shower this morning?

Sighing I reply, “I havent even had a chance to think about what to say to him. Thanking him over and over would just be cliche..” I pause. “And no I didn’t “get some”’ I say mocking her words. “I just.. Am happy I suppose.”

“Please tell me you didn’t go back to Daniel..” She trails off with worry evident in her voice. Daniel is my long time ex who never seems to truly leave my life i take it, not to mention how destructive and harmful he is and was to me and our relationship.

“No. I’d never do that to myself again.” I frown almost disappointed that she’d wonder that. All she replies with is a shrug of her shoulders.

“H-he is c-coming over here..” I jump with panic and extreme self doubt. “So? You are gonna have to talk to him eventually.. Ya dope!” Anne says with sarcasm dripping.

I glare at her and attempt to hide my face behind my drinking cup but I can already see his boyish grin spreading wider across his face as he approaches closer.

God how was I going to make it when all I could think about was what he’d think of me if he found out some young freak like me was sexualizing him to the point she was finding her own release in just the mere imagination of him.

I look up and fake a smile at him and he tries to get to me faster. I almost feel the urge to turn and walk off but that would be impolite and my mama raised me better than to act a fool.

But fuck I was a fool for him, honestly. Deep in my small stupid mind I knew i’d do anything and whatever he wanted from me, no doubts or questions. And how i just wanted to grab his strong jaw right now in this very moment and lick his perfect teeth and his perfect fucking smile.

THANKS FOR READING GUYS! be sure to leave any comments or feedback! and i love making new friends so dm if you’d like. i’d love ideas for this stories future if you have any thoughts on it :) ❤️ thankyou !

[sickstarlight]

I hope you're not sick of me, but how about something for sick Melanie where she has to call somebody to come and help her get home from somewhere?

When she’s finished throwing up for the third time, Melanie sits upright and scrubs the tears from her watering eyes with the back of one hand. She feels awful, shaky and drenched in sweat, her face hot and flushed and the foul smell of vomit still making her stomach churn. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, reaching up to flush the toilet again before settling back down on her heels.

She knew she should have stayed home from work today.

And thinking of home, it occurs to her that she has no idea how she’s going to get back. Even if she felt less like she might puke again at any second, she doesn’t think her legs have the strength to make it even a few blocks to catch the train. She’s going to have to call a taxi, probably, a thought which makes her wince. Quite aside from cab fare, which is already more money than she wants to spend, she certainly can’t afford cleaning fees if she gets sick again on the way.

She groans and leans her head against the metal side of the bathroom stall, one arm wrapped around her stomach as she pulls out her phone with the other hand. She thinks about calling Kellan, but the best he could do for her would be to walk with her, and anyways, he’s at work too right now. Aiden might be home, but she’s not going to ask for a ride back to her room on his bike when she’s feeling so sick. Who else does she know? There’s Levana, maybe, she has a car — but she’s probably busy, and she’s more Aiden’s friend than Melanie’s.

Still, maybe it doesn’t hurt to ask. With a sigh, she pulls up Levana’s contact information and hits call.

“Levana,” says her cool soft voice after the second ring. Melanie swallows, her stomach turning over as if she might throw up again, and takes a deep breath.

“Um, hi,” she says. “It’s Melanie. Blake? I’m friends with Aiden?”

“I know who you are, yes,” Levana replies. “Is there something you needed?”

“Yeah, actually,” Melanie says. “I’m, uh...”

For a long moment it’s silent as she tries to gather her courage.

“I got really sick at work,” she admits in a rush. “I’m downtown, I was hoping maybe someone — um, maybe you could pick me up and take me back to my room?”

Levana doesn’t answer at first, and it’s quiet for so long that Melanie begins to get nervous again.

“It’s just, you’re the only person I really know who has a car,” she says. “If you’re busy, I can, I can call a taxi, I just—“

“What do you mean, sick?” Levana interrupts.

“I threw up a couple of times,” Melanie mumbles, shrinking into herself as if she can hide from Levana’s judgement over the phone.

“Ah,” Levana says.

“But, I mean, I think I’m finished now,” Melanie adds quickly, though she’s not entirely sure about that. “I just don’t really have it in me to walk to the train station, that’s all.”

There’s another long pause, and she swallows hard, slipping her free hand under her blouse to rub at her queasy belly.

“Like I said, if you’re busy...” she begins.

“No, I’ll be there,” Levana says. “Just don’t — please don’t throw up in my car.”

—

Melanie sits on the curb outside to wait, her knees drawn up to her chest and her head resting on her arms. Levana lives on the other side of town, so it’ll take her a few minutes to get here, and Melanie is too sick to do anything but wait in the meantime.

When someone pulls up to the curb in front of her, she lifts her head in time to see Levana roll down the window. “Melanie?” she asks. “Come on, get in.”

Melanie gets to her feet, a little unsteady as her knees tremble under her, and climbs into the passenger seat next to Levana. She looks tidy and severe, her long hair pulled up into a ponytail and her eyes sharp behind her glasses. “Hi,” Melanie mumbles, staring down at her hands in her lap.

“You live in the Stratton building, right?” Levana asks. Melanie nods.

As they pull away from the curb, she feels her stomach lurch, and swallows hard. Only a few minutes, she reminds herself. A few minutes’ drive, and she’ll be home, where she can lay down with the trash can by her bed until she’s feeling better.

Neither of them speaks much on the drive; Melanie doesn’t trust herself to open her mouth, and she’s always sort of had the impression that Levana is a quiet woman in general. For the most part, she rests her head against the cool glass of the window and stares out at the buildings passing by.

Halfway there, though, the nausea building again in her stomach gets so bad that she has to speak up. “Um, Levana?” she asks, her throat tight. “Could — could you pull over for a minute?”

Levana glances sideways at her and goes tense, her shoulders stiffening and her mouth pressing into a thin hard line. She nods wordlessly and eases the car over to the curb, shifting into park with a jolt that makes Melanie’s stomach do a backflip. Mel quickly covers her mouth with one hand, throwing the door open with the other so she can lean out over the gutter.

With a weak retch, she coughs up a mouthful of acid onto the ground, and then a thin stream of watery vomit. There’s not much left in her stomach to throw up now, so it doesn’t last long; after a moment, she’s able to sit up again and catch her breath, wishing she had a tissue to wipe her mouth.

“I think I’m okay now,” she mumbles when her stomach has settled again, and looks over at Levana, only to see to her surprise that she’s shaking, her face turned away and her shoulders drawn in on herself defensively. “Oh,” Melanie says, and feels her chest tighten. “Oh, no — Levana — does it upset you when people get sick?”

Levana hesitates and then nods, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I apologize,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t...”

“No, no, don’t,” Melanie says quickly. “I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I’d known, I should have —“

“It’s alright,” Levana says. “Are you... sure you’re alright for now?”

Melanie nods. “Yeah, I’m okay now. Levana, I’m so sorry...”

“I told you, it’s fine,” Levana repeats, though she’s still shaking a little. “Let’s just get you home.”

“Okay,” Melanie agrees, and pulls the door closed again. “Thanks.”

[the-type-a]

Hey babes✨ I popped in and seen some HC sharing so here *throws these your way*

-When Courtney loses her shit due to stress and overworking herself and because she tends to neglect her mental health, it really gets to her sometimes, so to make her feel better Duncan will say some shit like “Babe you put the Hot in Psychotic!” It’s dumb and sweet in it’s own weird way, but it works.

-adding onto that, Duncan reassures her that she’s dating a criminal with daddy issues, he’s not exactly the most stable either lmao

-Thinking back to season 1 when they said that Katie and Sadie probably got eaten by wolves, I HC that they both have dark humour and enjoy watching South Park.

-Duncan has a bad habit of laughing when he gets nervous so in bad situations he can’t help but laugh and it triggers Courtney into laughing while people look on in horror, they truly do have hearts but can’t handle serious situations(despite Courtney saying otherwise)

-Courtney listens to Dad rock & Duncan decides to collect vinyls for her.

-IDC Courtney is superstitious while Duncan isn’t, until SOMETHING SPOOKY happens lmao Duncan ends up being the chicken while Courtney’s like “I got this, get behind me.” *she proceeds to smudge the place*

-Duncan loves it when Courtney mutters quietly to herself in Spanish and every now he hears swear words which makes him smile or chuckle.

-When the Paparazzi took photos of their matching tattoos after S2, Duncan stole the magazine that published it & put the picture of the article on his wall next to the picture of the KB5 in season 1 he stole from Geoff

-I always liked how Courtney had pink PJ’s despite having neutral coloured clothing, and people HC her to have a plain minimalist room but not me lmao I HC that her room is pink & full of soft things, and things that bring her comfort. Outside she has a RBF, intimidating af & dressed like she means business but in her room she’s chillin’ with her millions of teddy bears under 5 of her softest pink blankets & her princess canopy fr

-Courtney creates her own shampoo using oils & other natural shit which is her secret of why it’s soft, shiny & smells good. Her abuela taught her how to make it and Duncan smells her hair CONSTANTLY, if he hugs her in greeting she immediately hears “SNIFFFFFF” and his face nuzzling her head.

-Courtney looks godly in bell bottoms, so Duncan bought her some in every color.

-Courtney the type of girls to pop pimples & pluck his ingrown stubble, and eventually she starts cleaning his piercings for him, it calms her down & keeps her occupied. So if she’s getting on Duncan’s nerves atm then he’ll be like “hey wanna clean my piercings for me? I’m lazy” and she’ll immediately stfu & give him peace lmao

-I have a HC that Duncan gives courtney a stick n poke tatt, and of course she’s like “you better disinfect that shit GOOD” after he gives her one, she probably falls asleep and when she wakes up she sees him giving himself a matching one in the mirror.

-HC that Courtney really gets into Horoscopes at one point & Duncan’s like “sure babe whatever makes you happy” giving her his time of birth and everything lmao

-also I headcanon that she got him into stargazing and teaches him about the constellations and what star is which, etc.

-Cuz Courtney drinks a lot of coffee, Duncan sends her those memes of coffee making you need the bathroom immediately after & Courtney just tells him to stfu

-IDC Courtney is Coquette af, she drinks coffee, listens to Lana del Rey, loves poetry & has horrible mental health with mommy issues but atleast she’s cute✨

-Duncan’s the type of MF to blow up Courtney’s phone with texts so she doesn’t respond at times when he gets annoying or she’s busy, so she put him on DND(he always presses send anyways) and eventually he makes her pay attention to him by climbing in her window and being like “y aren’t u answering me” “I’M BUSY” “so?”

I miss your Duncney spam 🥹

- Courtney mid-crisis 🤝🏼 Duncan’s stupid one liners. She absolutely cracks a smile but then goes, “I’m spiraling stop making me smile!”

- Duncney spiraling together? Oh boy. Someone go check on them before they burn down the city.

- We 100% needed a moment after those two line deliveries where Duncney just look at each other and go, “Ew, stop that.” simultaneously because they were never supposed to just piggy back off each other like that lmao. Duncan definitely is the one to be watching it and Courtney is so annoyed with it but finds herself laughing during some episodes. Now it’s just something they use as background noise.

- It’s the way some of Duncan’s habits have rubbed off on Courtney. Like when he was laughing at DJ during the intro in season 1? You just know in his mind he was like “Oh shit!” and Court was just not having it. BUT NOW? Oh boy, if anything happens they can’t look at each other or they will bust out laughing. It’s so bad.

- Stop, imagine Duncan just seeing a bunch of things that Courtney loves and surprising her with little gifts every now and then?

- No because Duncan is 100% used to all the superstitions and all. It’s to the point where if something happens he even says what it means before Courtney and she’s just like stunned but so proud that he remembers? Like imagine Geoff dropping a fork and Duncan just going, “Oh. That means someone’s coming over uninvited.” And Geoff is just like dude wtf? And Courtney’s just like, “He’s right.” Now Geoff is freaking tf out with the, “WHO?”

- Duncan cannot get enough of Courtney speaking in Spanish. Don’t get me started on when she’s pissed and just goes off, he’s in love man. He also picks up and bits and pieces of whatever she or her family says because Italian has some similarities.

- Imagine Courtney going into his room and being like, “Is that us?” And he just rips it down like “what are you talking about?” But he’s already been caught 😂

- Courtney can’t even be mad when Duncan cals her princess because she indeed is one. Her room is proof of how much her parents spoil her. The vanity, the walk in closet, the big ass bed with silk sheets and a billion pillows. Like girl, who are you fooling? The first time Duncan sneaks in he’s like, “I knew you were a Princess.”

- Stop I can literally even see Courtney completing those online tests to figure out what shampoo/conditioner works best for your hair. She knows her hair is one of her assets and refuses to let it look unhealthy.

- Duncan subtly buying Courtney clothing pieces that make him go wild? 👀 He knows what he’s doing LMAO

- Sometimes Duncan is lounging around the house without a shirt and Courtney sees a bump that absolutely needs to be popped by her so she’ll just squeeze it without any warning. Duncan’s cursing and flinching and all Courtney does is tell him to stop being such a baby.

- 😱 I NEED FANART OF DUNCAN GIVING HIMSELF A MATCHING TATTOO LIKE THAT.

- *slams fist* LISTEN TO ME. Horoscopes and shit are so entertaining. I begged Marcus to find out his time of birth and even called his mom, grandparents, and was SO close to contacting the hospital because I NEEDED to know. So yes. Courtney is 100% finding out his chart just for fun. And this 100% ties into the stargazing 🥹

- Duncan has no chill. Let my girl enjoy her coffee without the acknowledgment of what happens after 😂

- LMAO YES AT LEAST SHES CUTE 🥲💅🏽

- I just know for a fact Duncan is so damn annoying. She could be in the middle of a meeting and he’s blowing up her phone for no reason at all, then probably calls her work just to be like “What if I got arrested again?”

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Phagophobia Pt. 16

Summary: Isaac flirts with danger.

Words: 3852

CW: Nothing major. Mention of food, mentions of drinking beer and marijuana use, swearing, Isaac getting a little sad while having a bath

The tan adobe-style house Isaac parked in front of didn’t look like it belonged to a kook. Not a scatterbrained one, anyway. The wide, vacant driveway was swept clean, the manzanita trees shading the yard vibrant and tall. He got out of the rental car and scurried for the shelter of the stoop. A flash followed by an immediate clap of thunder rattled the house’s windows and drowned out the doorbell. He pressed it again. After the third try, the iron-bound door swung open.

An old woman short and scrawny enough to be picked up and blown away by the wind blustering outside peered out at him. Isaac could tell since the only thing she wore happened to be a purple tie-dyed wrap slung low around her thin hips. Stringy ash-and-charcoal hair trailed over her shoulders, providing cover for her tanned chest before ending at waist-level.

“Uh.” He could smell the smoke pouring from his stalled brain. No, wait. Too pungent. It was coming from the joint pinched between the fingers of the woman’s free hand. “Sorry. Is this a bad time?”

She waved vaguely, tracing hazy patterns in the air. “Oh, not at all. Just doing some work in the garden out back. Have we met?”

“Er, no. Sorry for just dropping in like this. My name’s Isaac Soto, he, him. I’m from…I’m a friend of Delfina’s. Elfy. She gave me your info because she thought you could help me with a problem I’m having. Um, you are Breezy Shelton, right?”

Her red-rimmed eyes cleared, coming alive along with a huge smile. “Oh, you know Elfy, huh? That settles it then.” Taking a step back, she opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Isaac squeezed by, entering a little hallway bordered by a set of stairs on one side, and an open doorway leading into what looked to be a half bathroom. Glancing down, thorns of guilt prickled him from how much he was dripping all over the polished rosy floor tiles.

“Is there somewhere I can hang my coat? And do you want me to take my shoes off? I don’t want to track mud through your house.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, kid. Tell you what, though: I can toss your stuff into the dryer, if you want. Don’t take this personal, but you’re throwing off vibes about as miserable as a shipwrecked cat’s.”

Pushing his damp curls out of his face, he made a weak attempt at a smile before shrugging out of his coat. A spark from his memory had him reaching into the inner pocket. He transferred both Renato’s rosary and Kinslayer’s contact code to one in his jeans before handing garment and sneakers over. Joint hanging from the corner of her mouth, Breezy jerked her head to command him to follow. He trailed in her fragrant wake through a living room huge enough to host a department holiday party, then stopped outside a kitchen equipped to cook for it. His host disappeared through a door leading to what he assumed was the garage, returning empty-handed. She took a long drag. While holding her inhale, she offered the joint his way, brows raised.

“Uh, no, thanks.”

She shrugged and exhaled smoothly. “Offer you something to drink then?”

The safe answer of just some water waited on his tongue, but Isaac hesitated. “You wouldn’t happen to have any beer, would you?”

That won an approving nod. Out of the stainless-steel fridge she fetched an unlabeled brown bottle. “Brewed local. It’ll sneak up on you, so watch out.”

“Thanks for the warning.” He twisted the cap off on the first try. Took a sip. Darker and thicker than he usually went for, but not bad. Not bitter or sour.

“Take that out back with you and we can talk about this problem of yours,” Breezy told him.

Out back consisted of a deck sheltered by a tightly-woven canopy of bougainvillea, plus a yard filled with river rocks and raised garden boxes. Isaac halted in his tracks, stunned by the view beyond the high fence. A rolling sea of trees clothed in the lavish green finery of spring stretched into the distance as far as he could see. Patches of rust-red rock and the occasional cluster of human habitations peeked through here and there. Lightning fractured the oppressive sky, casting everything in pewter for a moment. The roar from the thunder made Isaac question the wisdom of being outside at all.

Breezy, however, paid the weather no mind. Psychedelic fabric flapping around her legs from the gusting wind, she went over to the nearest garden box and gently stamped out the end of her joint in the soil. Picking up a trowel resting on the box’s corner, she started digging.

“Well, kid, what can I do for you?” By the end of the question, she’d excavated a potato bigger than Isaac’s fist. She dropped the tuber into a metal pail near her feet.

He took another drink, an inexplicable bout of self-consciousness creeping over him. “Do you know much about bloodborn?”

“Shacked up with some for a few months once.” Another potato plunked into the bucket. “Tend to think a lot of themselves, but also pretty sexy and smart, so I guess they can back it up. Really dig the communal lifestyle. Or the ones I met did anyway.”

“They…this wasn’t up in the northwest, was it?”

“Huh? Oh, nah. Back east, Pennsylvania, near Amish country.”

The quota for uncanny connections had been filled for the day, apparently. Isaac settled into one of the high-backed patio chairs arranged around a dormant firepit table. “The one I met wasn’t so peaceful. He, uh, jabbed me in the neck. With a needle. Then…you know.” He held the bottle between his palms, rolling it back and forth. “Now I get these dizzy spells. He’s draining the life out of me without even having to fight me for it.”

Breezy nodded while prizing up more produce. “Tends to happen when they snack on you. Only the lead up was a lot more fun in my case. I don’t suppose you have any of this guy’s blood?”

“Didn’t think to ask for a vial of it, no.” A request Renato might’ve acquiesced to, if Isaac hadn’t beat such a hasty retreat. He kicked the thought into some mental hedges.

“Then the bad news is I can’t break the bond between the two of you. Blood’s pretty much always a key ingredient in anything vampire related. Says so right on the tin.” Catching sight of his face, she put one dirt-stained hand on her hip and waggled the trowel at him with the other. “I said I couldn’t break the bond—that doesn’t mean I can’t help you weaken it.”

“Anything would be a big help. I can pay you up front.”

She made a shushing noise. “Using magic for gain is asking for trouble, so don’t talk to me about payment.”

“You sure? Because I have a second request and it’s…” He drummed his fingers on the beer bottle, wracking his brain for a softer synonym of self-destructive. “Risky.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Can I at least help with digging? Pull some weeds for you or something?”

With a huff, she waved him over. “Oh, fine, if it makes you feel better, knock yourself out.”

Setting his half-finished drink on the edge of the firepit, Isaac used the stepping stones to join her on the other side of the box. The damp soil broke easily under his fingers. It smelled especially rich and sweet from the rain.

“I need to make a deal with another vampire. A psychic one,” he blurted, before he lost his nerve. “Elfy mentioned you might be able to…I dunno. Make sure I don’t get eaten or whatever.”

Grabbing hold of a potato, he pulled it up. Dusted it off. Dared to sneak a glance across at Breezy. Her brows were at their upper limit, but a quiver at one corner of her mouth gave away a hidden smile.

“Is your life always this interesting?”

He offered her the spud. “No, thankfully.”

“All right. Tell you what. Let’s work for a bit longer, go back inside, get cleaned up, then we’ll square away your first problem before we tackle the second. Sound good?”

It did. They managed to collect a couple dozen more potatoes before the storm decided to get serious. Strobes of lightning and a fusillade of thunder cued the rain to step it up from splatters to a world-ending deluge. Bucket in hand, he and Breezy ran for the safety of the sliding glass patio door. Leaving a trail of droplets in their wake, they carried the pail to the kitchen sink.

“All right, now where did I put those sachets?” Swiping wet hair out of her eyes, Breezy went rummaging through a few drawers and cupboards. “Aha! Here, kid. Go upstairs to the second door on the right, and have yourself a nice long bath with this in it. Don’t pull the ribbon off—just toss the whole thing into the water with you.”

Blinking, Isaac took the bulging linen pouch from her. Chunky mineral salt crunched at the bottom when he squeezed. Judging by the smell and color, the dried flowers making up the top layer were mostly lavender. “Is it part of some ritual?”

A wry smile lifted her mouth at one end. “Yeah, it’s called taking care of yourself and relaxing once in a while. No offense, but you look like you’re long overdue for a dose of both—especially if you’re dealing with vampires.”

Heat rushed back into his rain-chilled cheeks and ears. No wonder Elfy had sent him here. She couldn’t tell him off in person for running himself into the ground, so she’d have Breezy do it for her.

“Fine. After the bath, then what?” he said.

“I’ll have the odds and ends for the first job ready down here. Oh, and drop the rest of your wet clothes outside the bathroom. I’ll throw them in for a wash and dry too, then hang them on the door before you’re done.”

Another Elfy-level move, he realized. Take his clothes so he couldn’t just splash around for ten minutes and call it a bath. This way, he’d actually have to soak. Enjoy it even. He puffed up his cheeks and contemplated digging in his heels. Let his breath and urge to be mule-headed go in a huff. Turning, he stomped off for the stairs in a way his teen self would’ve taken notes on.

His indignation dwindled and faded, forgotten, when faced with the sheer scale of the upstairs bathroom. Isaac tried, and failed, to remember encountering a tub big enough to fully stretch out in. With the waterjets and raised marble and faucet shaped like an eagle head it put even his latest hotel room to shame. Shaking off his awe, he got the tap going at the right temperature and plugged the drain. He dutifully stripped and hung his damp clothes—including boxers—from the peg on the door’s exterior. Stays with small communities out in the territories had cured his squeamishness over strangers touching his laundry, and vice versa. Everyone pitched in with chores there, which meant washing someone else’s unmentionables sometimes. At least Breezy had the benefits of modern appliances.

With the waterline halfway, Isaac tossed in the sachet and then himself. Body safely submerged in the tub, he opened the blinds to the nearby window overlooking the backyard so he could watch lightning flicker over the mountains. In the quiet that came once he’d turned the faucet off, and between detonations of thunder that made the bathwater quiver, the tears snuck up on him. The built-up fear, rage, and fatigue had to squeeze every bitter drop from his stony heart, though. His face ached from the pressure, but he refused to throw open the floodgates. Letting a nice, witchy lady bully him into some quiet time was one thing. Having a meltdown in her home was another.

The urge to weep flattened into a general melancholy that had Isaac watching the rain splatters run down the window panes, chin resting on his arms, until the scars covering his back got too tight. He finally sank down into the lavender-scented water up to his nose. Let the warmth go to work on his collection of bruises and knots. Blew some bubbles like he was a kid. Washed his hair with the lilac-infused shampoo and conditioner he found, and hoped he wouldn’t pay for it with frizz later. Admitted he did feel better. Just a smidge.

His clothes were waiting for him on the door peg when he checked, clean and still radiating heat from the dryer. When he returned downstairs and found Breezy, clad in fuzzy pajamas and already eating one of the chicken salad sandwiches she’d made, he didn’t need convincing. He scarfed down one of the triangle-cut halves before nodding at the assortment of odds and ends laid out on the table.

“How’s this stuff work? Or is it a trade secret?”

Breezy picked up a fallen cranberry and popped it into her mouth. “Same way most spells do. Intention through a bit of symbolism and a lot of fuck-if-I-know. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to throw it together. Lucky for us ‘cause your second ask is gonna take some more prep.”

After his last bite they got started. It really was pretty simple. The only real work on his end was getting pricked on the pad of his thumb with a tiny lancet, then squeezing a droplet of blood into the red fabric dye Breezy had poured into a glass bowl. To that she added some other ingredients from various vials, a pestle, and jars, naming them as she went.

“Garlic oil, always a classic. Essence of wild rose. Ash wood shavings. And last but not least, a few buckthorn berries. Legends say it’s the plant that scares vampires off, but I’d say the berries are the real threat.” A wicked grin spread across her face as she lowered a long piece of twine into the concoction. “Hard to go around biting anyone when you’ve got the shits.”

“Does any of the other stuff actually work against bloodborn?”

Breezy gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Depends how you use it. Just hanging a bunch of garlic around your windows won’t keep them out, no. But if you turn the bushels into symbols that contain your will, well, that might be something. Maybe a passing bloodborn just sort of fails to notice your house. Maybe it literally gives off a stink only they can smell. Casting wards and protections can go about any way you want. And plenty of ways you don’t.”

“Is this spell how you kept from getting drained? Before, with your bloodborn friends?”

“Nah. Partly, I just seem to have a knack for, hm, shooing certain energies away. The rest of it was that they’d give me a few drops of their blood, usually on their tongues while we were smooching.” She laughed at his less-than-rapt expression, and pulled the now red twine up from the bowl. “Told you—my experience involved a lot more fun. But since your vampire—”

“He isn’t mine.”

“—hasn’t, or won’t, give back to close the loop, so to speak, we’re going to have to divert the effects. Here, hand me that napkin and we’ll hang this up to dry by the oven.”

That done, they moved to the larger matter at hand. Over a fresh pair of beers, Isaac told Breezy about his introduction to Kinslayer. Her gaze sharpened as soon as he began a description.

“They called themself Ott?” she asked.

“A fake name most likely. Recognize it?”

A tiny laugh puffed out of her and she stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah. That’s how they introduced themself when some friends and I picked them up along the highway on a roadtrip. Right before they stole our van.”

Isaac, having chosen the wrong moment to take another drink, choked.

“Well, maybe ‘stole’ isn’t the right way to put it,” she mused while he doubled over, coughing to clear his windpipe. “They did return it, washed and with a full battery. No clue how they got Skip’s address.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Oh, several years back. During that last big solar eclipse. There was a festival setting up out east where you’d be able to see the whole thing. You know, folk metal bands, witchy people, ren faire vendors, small time cult leaders.” She twirled a hand. “The usual suspects. We made it in time even without the van.”

“Kinslayer…Ott didn’t hurt you when they, um, borrowed it?”

“Nope. The four of us all just kind of nodded off as we were cruising along. Woke up in the middle of a field on the mattress we’d had in back. All our stuff was accounted for too, including the three ounces of weed we’d brought for the festival.”

He stared at the beads of condensation on the beer bottle, processing. Kinslayer could have killed Breezy and her friends on the road, same as with him, Yi, and Curry. She didn’t even have being part of the Coven to provide at least some protection. No bloodborn had paid Kinslayer to treat a group of stoned humans on their way to a tacky party with any decency either.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the contact card and slid it across the table to Breezy. “Ott gave me this in case I reconsidered their offer.”

She picked it up. Squinted at it directly, from the corner of her eye, then let her stare glaze over for a moment, head cocked as if listening for a distant sound. She nodded. “We can give them a call from the living room.”

Asking for another beer, maybe two, crossed his mind. Instead, he compromised by guzzling the last quarter of the bottle in front of him before following Breezy without comment. A clear-ish head would do him more good than liquid bravado, no matter what his squirming nerves and accelerating heartrate told him. Despite that, he doubted he could’ve swiped that code card in front of the holo system scanner, then sat on the sectional couch waiting for the call to connect without someone right next to him. The usual AmNet map was nowhere to be seen. One Moment Please floated in its place. A private line. Not surprising. His knuckles ached from the death grip he had on his knees.

A chipper two-tone chime marked the end of the wait. The floating message dissolved. In its place stood a tall skeleton wearing black jeans, a t-shirt whiter than the clavicles jutting above the neckline, and a brown bomber jacket.

“Hey-yo,” it said, permanent grin of exposed teeth clacking.

Isaac suspected the only reason Breezy yelped along with him was his own shout and the way he latched onto her arm like a jumpy date during a horror movie.

“I’m out stalking the land,” the skeleton chattered on, “corrupting the innocent, devouring the unwary, et cetera at the moment. But leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Unless this is Luxe.” One bony hand lifted to present its middle phalanges. “I’m not saving you from whatever jam you got yourself into this time, asshole. Not until you apologize to Haru.” The hand’s gestures transformed from rude to thoughtful, relocating to the exposed jaw. “Or, of course, if this is Isaac Soto, stay on the line. I got something special set up for you, bookworm.”

The upbeat chime sounded again, heralding the return of the hold message. Breezy took the opportunity to shake him off of her arm.

“Guess that myth’s true about this kind of vampire,” she said.

He stared at her, the primitive lizard section at the helm of his brain not seeing how the words helped with continuing survival.

 “No reflection, or image in recordings.” She slipped a half-smoked joint and pack of matches from the breast pocket of her pajamas. “Wonder how they manage haircuts or make up.”

An interesting question. He had a better one, though: How the hell had Kinslayer been so confident he’d call? No—he could outdo that too. Why was he proving them right?

“Isaac Soto.”

The recorded voice said his name the way someone might read the house special from a menu. A razor-sharp coldness, like the point of a knife, traced along the length of his spine. Stiffly, he turned to face Kinslayer’s skeletal stand-in.

“Have to say, been looking forward to a call from you.” Now that Breezy had mentioned it, he noticed the way the rest of the bones just dangled, Kinslayer’s invisible hands busy moving the jaw and right arm. “I kept setting up a meeting as convenient as possible, but it’s still going to take a couple of things on your end. Clever bookworm like you ought to manage, though. Well. Unless you’d rather just wait until I’m back home.”

No way would he have called if he’d had the time or resources to untangle himself from this web on his own. They didn’t need any supernatural ability to have figured that one out.

“Still there? Good. I suggest grabbing something to jot this down on. Go on—I’ll give you thirty seconds.”

Breezy brought him a magpad from the kitchen. He had the stylus poised and ready when Kinslayer began listing each step. They hadn’t lied. He probably could’ve pulled the whole thing off from the comfort of his hotel room. Assuming none of the enforcers sensed what he was getting up to and busted him anyway. He was in for a multi-part ass chewing for running off without notice as things stood. The shit storm that would occur if Captain Watts found out he’d spoken to Renato, St-Ange, and the Coven’s Most Wanted within twenty-four hours didn’t bear contemplating.

The click-clack of resin-cast bones came through the audio crisply as Kinslayer puppeteered the skeleton into dusting off its hands. “And that’s that. Don’t get antsy and try to whistle me up early, bookworm. I got working hours, same as everyone else. Remember…”

Like that night on a winding road in the canyons, the air in the room fell still, dragging time to a halt along with it. Kinslayer’s voice glided through the quiet, winding its coils around Isaac and slithering right into his ears.

“’Watch for me by moonlight/I’ll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way.’”

The call cut off. Normal atmospheric pressure returned with a faint pop and a dramatic growl of thunder.

“Well.” Breezy held a drag off her joint, released it with a slight, hitching cough. “They sounded a lot more upbeat this time around. Seem to have a bit of a thing for you too.”

“Yeah.” He stared down at the magpad, pretending to check over the instructions instead of notice the tremor in his hands. “I’m the belle of the ball these days.”

[amochi]

I am interested in hell building since my dorm was only like 3 stories tall and also they gave us blinds so

It could just be that I’m really sick of living in dorms but living in that building this last year was hellish for the following reasons, I’m putting it under a read more cuz it got kinda long

- the blinds, as you know, I could not sleep in past 8 most mornings cuz the sun was in my eye and the blinds were sheer and you weren’t allowed to change them

- couldn’t bring in any of our own furniture or stuff at all and the stuff we did get was pretty uncomfortable

- my building was 20 floors of students and 3 different schools and we all shared one single kitchen in the basement which included ONE TOASTER FOR ALL TWENTY FLOORS (we weren’t allowed any sort of toasters or hot plates or shit like that in our rooms) and you weren’t allowed to leave your kitchen stuff downstairs so you had to bring it with you every goddamn time

- I got my extension chord confiscated at one point and the protocol for getting it back was supposedly me filling out a form and having security escort me out of the building with it to take it somewhere else (which I had nowhere to take it) and even if I DID go through with that process literally the only fucking day I was allowed to grab it was literally the day I was flying out of the entire state for Christmas break so I just lost the damn thing

- the shower was cold for the first half of the year

- the wifi literally *never* worked, including my ethernet port which they put my bed in front of - across the room from my desk - so even if it DID work I would’ve had to string a long cable across my room to reach it, I had to use my data or hotspot to connect to most of my online classes

- the vending machines and most of the washing machines/dryers were broken a good chunk of the time

- they forced us to keep the heat/air on during the winter time which made every part of the room dry as hell and also could not sleep because of how hot it was and the windows barely opened for circulation (and even if we left them open, we weren’t allowed to turn on the fan setting during the winter and it was really loud outside anyways)

- the bathroom was vented from outside so if it was cold outside, it was cold in the bathroom, and if it was humid outside, it was humid in the bathroom

- this wasn’t necessarily a dorm problem as much as just a “my neighbor sucked” problem but I was woken up many a times with sex noises, slamming doors, cigarette smell, and music playing at all hours of the day. Not even getting into how I was the only one cleaning our shared space between times I wasn’t locked out for 4 hours

- when I was hounded about cleaning my room for the inspection deadlines and they never showed up on time (as much as 5 days after they were supposed to, when my room wasn’t clean anymore)

- just tacking this on as a bonus but it was annoying how I had to go through security to get every package delivered to me with varying degrees of difficulty

- all of this and I was paying at least $1,800 a month to live there

I’m sure there’s other things I could think of but basically tl;dr it really sucked and I think at least 75% of my quality of life dropped while living there. I think the worst was living out of a microwave/rice cooker/and kettle for 9 months, thank god I don’t have to go back there again I have done my time in the dorms

[mysticmoondancer]

Well, if you don't have a favorite season, what's your favorite kind of weather? :]

Good question. Again. I have my likes and dislikes when it comes to weather. Lol! Maybe I should just break each of my likes and dislikes about each kind of the weather, then, eh?

Sunny 🌞 - Likes: you can practically do anything outside during sunny days and if it's not too hot then you can bask its warm rays while enjoying the nice weather, too. Like a cat or a reptile. Dislikes: sometimes it can get a little TOO hot outside.

Rainy 💧 - Likes: how clean and fresh the air sometimes smells afterward, the sound of hit pattering against the window or nearby objects outside, and how green everything looks if you're somewhere with a lot of trees and other plants around outdoors, too. It makes it seem like you're in a rainforest. Perfect weather to be lazy in and take a nap. Dislikes: you can't do anything outside when it's raining, hardly. Too much of it causes the ground to get all soggy and flooded. Makes me want to take a nap and be lazy when I know there's things to be done around the house.

Snowy ❄ - Likes: how pretty it looks when it falls and all of the fun things you can do with the snow on the ground. Dislikes: how cold it is, how slippery it gets outside on the ground when it starts to melt and then freezes up overnight due to how cold it gets, having to shovel it out of the way on walkways or the porch, and me having to make a trail in it and flattening out an area in the backyard for my mom's dog to walk in and go to the bathroom at (he's a chihuahua) when it gets too deep.

Thunderstorm ⚡ - Likes: the sounds of the low rumbling noise they make sometimes, seeing the cool bolts of lightning streaking across the sky, and the rest is the same as for my likes about rainy weather. Dislikes: the loud ass claps of the thunder that scare the shit out of me when they just come out of nowhere all of a sudden, how sometimes there's also tornadoes that form during them as well, and the rest are the same as my dislikes for rainy weather.

Um... I think that about some it up. If your question was leaning more towards the temperature side of weather than yeah... I hate it when it's too hot outside and I hate it when it's too cold outside, too. But if it's just a little bit on both ends then I'm ok with it, as most people are. Where I live the weather and temperatures can tend to be a bit unpredictable at times. One day it can be chilly outside and then the next absolutely smoldering hot out. Lol! Which coincidently, is happening this week. It's been hot all week long and now supposedly this weekend it's supposed to be a bit chilly out.

Anyway, I hope that answered your question. Sorry, that's so long to read, though. Lol! But um...YEAH! Thank you for the ask!

[greenorangevioletgrass]

sure as hell not jesus (but you're saving me) - b.w.

Masterlist | Ko-fi

pairing: bruce wayne x reader

summary: you and bruce learn to save and comfort each other in your own unique ways.

word count: 1,845

warnings: developing relationship, bruce is secretly a softie, reader helps him remove his makeup, savior complex galore, angst, fluff, smut (unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms)

notes: the brainrot is real y'all i finished this in a day! big thanks to @inklore @summertimestyles @cumholland @sersi-belovas for putting up with my pestering questions and providing me with mad inspo! follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass to get notified for my latest words <3 happy reading and please reblog if you liked it!

***

As a long-time resident of Gotham, waking up to the pouring rain has almost become the norm. Even with the curtains left drawn, the orange daybreak is muted behind the clouds. You’d register the pitter-patter outside your window even when you’re mostly asleep and pay it no mind.

But sometimes, you’d hear another pitter-patter– this time from inside the house. The torrent of water hitting your bathroom tiles, and the unmistakable squeak of your shower tap as it turns to a close.

This one’s relatively new.

Through still-heavy lids, you watch Bruce come out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped low around his hips. His dark hair is still dripping, pushed back even though a couple strands stubbornly fall in front of his face as he makes his way to your dressing table.

You catch his gaze through the mirror, soft –apologetic, almost– and it draws you closer to him. “Morning,” you rasp out quietly.

Your fingertips find his shoulder, tension rippling through his lean muscles. Rubbing circles, hoping your restful calm rubs off on him. However miniscule the effect.

“Sorry I woke you,” he murmurs, although secretly content with your touch, if the way he pulls you into his lap is any indication.

“It’s okay. I need to get up anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, like he’s hoping to join you in bed. It’s adorable, really. You always tease him about looking young and old at the same time. The puppy dog stare gives a boyish air about him, but his permanent frown makes him look like he’s lived a life ten times over. And the dark stains around his eyes…

It’s like traces of camouflage.

He doesn’t need that here. Not anymore. Not with you.

You stroke his cheek briefly. “Come here, let me clean you up.”

He shifts in protest. “You don’t have to–”

“I know I don’t,” you quip back, amused, reaching out for a pack of cotton pads and makeup remover from your dressing table. “Just sit back. You missed a few spots.”

Bruce lets out a long sigh, but he concedes. He settles underneath you, his calloused hands resting on your thighs, absently fiddling with the hem of the ratty gray sweater you nicked from him when he first slept over six weeks ago. It’s strangely mundane, and neither of you are quite used to it. He would never admit it, but there’s a little glint when he watches you work the soaked cotton against the remnants of black paint around his eyes. It looks a lot like fondness, or dare you say… affection?

Ha. Bruce Wayne showing affection. That’ll be the day.

“What?” his gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

“Nothing.” you eye him cheekily, wiping the smudge off from under his eye with featherlight touch. “You, uh, smell like my shampoo.”

“I… yeah, sorry. I just–”

“Don’t be. I think it’s kind of cute,” you admit with a light smile.

He doesn’t say anything, but the slightest tinge of pink spreads all over his face and neck, all the way up to his ears, and you’re fighting the urge not to tease him further. The poor man might just combust. It’s definitely cute.

“Look up.” you tilt his chin up with your forefinger, and he obliges.

You lean in closer to his face, making careful, precise swipes on his lower waterline. His eyelids flutter in discomfort, and you can’t help but chuckle. He takes on crime after crime every night without so much of a complaint, and yet a little micellar water might be the death of him yet.

“Hold still, I’m almost done…” you stroke his jawline softly, sensing his growing impatience.

You notice his Adam’s apple bobbing when you shift his face slightly to the side to cleanse the other eye. His hands trail under your clothes, tracing the waistband of your panties from your hip to your lower back. Neither of you possess superhuman abilities, but you can feel the racing heart rate emanating from his bare chest. And you’re damn sure he can sense yours, too.

There’s a dark mark under his eye that doesn’t go away, and it takes you a second to realize it’s just the exhaustion seeping through. “When was the last time you slept?”

“When was the last time I came here?” he replies evenly.

You pause, recounting the days since he woke you up in a similar fashion; one, two… “Jesus Christ, Bruce,” you sigh, stopping dead in your tracks.

He caresses your back in a desperate attempt to soothe your panic. “I’m fine, I’ve just been really busy–”

“Are you, really?” you search his eyes, and you can see how his half-assed excuse is barely concealed, if at all. Your voice drops to a whisper, hoping it’ll have a better chance of coming through to him. “Bruce. What’s going on?”

But instead, he rests his forehead against yours. His nose nuzzling yours, inching closer and closer to you, kissing you –tentatively at first. Chaste and brief. Like he’s waiting for you to let him in.

As if he hasn’t knocked down your entire walls already.

For every kiss, you return it with twice the intensity– burying your hand in his hair, gripping it selfishly as you deepen the kiss. He tastes like your toothpaste, although the way his tongue devours and his lips encapture you is unmistakably his own. His familiar, broken embrace is enshrouded in your scent; your soap, your shampoo, your whole presence. It almost feels like…

He’s yours entirely.

And the thing is, you’re fiercely protective of what’s yours. Maybe not in the way Bruce is, where he would come out bloodied and bruised, burning bridges in a city on fire. No. Your way is more tender. Caring. That’s why it kills you a little bit every time you see a new bruise. A new cut. Whatever new symptom he’s experiencing in his obsession for the kind of justice you don’t understand. But when he comes home to you; armor laid out on the floor, desperately kissing down your neck, groping underneath your clothes, holding you close like a wordless call for help… you accept your million little deaths anyway.

“Fuck. I need…” his calluses catch on the worn fabric of the sweater you’re wearing. He doesn’t finish his sentence –not verbally– he just tugs it over your head and tosses it aside. The pads of his fingers are rough against your sensitive nipples, ever so selfishly. And it’s not long until his mouth joins in the craving of comfort your body brings him.

It leaves a sick twist in your gut sometimes, knowing that his pain also brings you so much pleasure. It keeps him up for nights on end, and you get to take advantage of his manic episodes in your bed? How could you possibly live with that?

But he reaches between your legs, smearing his own digits with your arousal, touching you like it makes him feel good, and you rationalize the whole thing. It’s not his pain that pleases you— it’s his remedy that coincides with your own bliss. So you let him have it.

You brush his hand away and settle at the head of his cock, sinking down slow. The delicious pain of his girth spreading you open is always overwhelming at first, but he holds you close, cradles the back of your neck through it all. Drawing deep, slow breaths with you as you take all of him inside you.

He pulls you in for a hungry kiss, hips arching up into you as if he needs to be closer to you. However bound together you think you already are, he needs more. He yearns for that peace so painfully, and you’re oh so willing to lift yourself up and fall on his sword time and time again for him. Your ache, his groans, his grasp…

It makes you feel alive.

He claws at your back, arching up to meet your hips halfway, and you can feel him edging closer to his orgasm. He feels so nice and full and it takes you everything to say,

“It’s okay, I got you.”

But he shakes his head, nipping at your neck instead. The hand on your waist finds its way to the swollen nub between your legs again. You really shouldn’t be surprised; Bruce is nothing if not stubborn. And right now, your brain is too hazy to argue with him. Chivalry be damned. Amidst your erratic pace and the building fervor in your cunt, you give into the desire.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he echoes your words back to you, and you let it wash over you. The pleasure, pulsing and spreading to every inch of your body, gripping him like he’ll scatter away if you don’t.

Far from it.

He carries you to bed, not pulling out of you for a brief second until you’re laid out on the mattress. Thrusting in and out of you with all that’s left of him. Fucking you like his whole repentance depends on it, obliviously unaware that you’d give him that ten times over. He floods your senses, floating higher and higher towards another orgasm, but you almost don’t want to get there without him.

“Bruce… shit, I’m so close—” you choke out.

Ever so stubborn, he shakes his head still. “One more. Just one more. Please.” He is everywhere now; mouth latching on your tits, hands strumming your clit, cock pounding in and out of you.

Your second orgasm takes you violently, sending you convulsing around him. And it doesn’t stop. It just keeps going, fluttering tight around his hard length. He hits your spot, again and again until it hurts, and yet you don’t want him to stop. Maybe it’s not so sick to find pleasure in pain, after all.

Your name falls out of his lips, more obscene than anything you’ve ever heard. And there he is; pulsing and spurting deep inside you. Finally able to catch his breath, as if he’s been deprived of it. Just like he’s been deprived of sleep in the last few days.

You kiss him softly, cupping his face with one hand. And for the longest time, it’s all you do. He falls into the empty spot next to you, but he still finds himself tethered to your embrace.

“I should get out of your hair.” he murmurs into your lips, although he makes no effort to move.

“No, stay.” you smooth out his hair, twirling random strands that frame his face. “I’ll just be out for an hour or two, but you go ahead and rest, okay? I’ll… bring some bagels or something.”

You can see his eyelids growing heavy, slowly lulled into sleep, and you’ve never seen him so at ease in your life.

And who can blame you for wanting to keep this fantasy alive, even for just five minutes? Both equally damaged and fucked, finding solace in each other. It's not much, but it's more than enough.

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Barbed wire

Negan x reader

Requested by one of my personal favorites: @yyyyuhhgs thank you for request ❤️

Warnings: violence, sexual comments, implied sexual encounter, and Negan...you know what to expect.

A/n: if you are under the age of 16 don't read! 😊 LOVE YOU!!!! Enjoy!

____________________________________

"Scorched earth! You dick!" A voice yelled from outside, Y/n turned towards the large open window.

"Negan." She growled.

Y/n grabbed her double barrel pistols, loaded them and jumped out the large second story window. She landed on the ground with a summersault, shooting two of his men in the leg in the process.

"Wow, that was some bad ass shit right there." Negan complimented.

She wasn't gonna lie, it did hurt her back and her knees but it did make for an amazing entrance.

"Damn." He said. "She's pretty too."

He held a up finger as if counting.

"First we got bad ass Carl, then we got this hot fuckin ninja. Sorry honey I didn't get your name."

She stood up and holstered her pistols.

"Y/n Y/L/n."

"Wow." He turned to another man. "Simon, can we keeper."

"Your call boss." He replied.

"Always my call." Negan looked her up and down, assessing her.

"So what do you say? We take you and have a look at your skills?" Y/n pulled out her gun and pointed it at his head.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Negan laughed and sarcasticly held up his hands.

"It wasn't an invitation, little lady."

Out of nowhere two men grabbed her from behind and took her to Negan's truck. Simon and Negan sat in front while the other two sat in the bed of the truck.

"You know, that was some next level shit, you jumping out that window." Negan chuckled.

Y/n just sat there and glared at him, Negan turned in the passenger side seat and pointed Lucille at her. Y/n didn't flinch, she just sneered and looked out the window.

"Don't fuckin ignore me, Baby girl." He whispered. "Something bad just might happen to you."

"It already has."

_______________________________________

Y/n opened her eyes to blinding lights, and a voice calling her....

"Wake up sleeping sexy! A new day with new beginnings!" Negan shouted.

Y/n sat up and rubbed the back of her head, Negan gritted his teeth as if to say "Ouch...sorry."

She looked up at the man and gave him a confused look.

"Henry cracked you over the head, he was one of the guys in the back of the truck." He said.

Negan then pointed at a door on the other side of the room.

"That's the bathroom, it has hot running water. Go take a shower and I'll be back in a few."

He went to leave but stopped when he heard her mumble something.

"What was that, beautiful?"

"I said thank you."

________________________________________

Negan returned and Y/n was back on the couch, but this time she was clean.....damn she smells amazing, he thought.

She was wearing black overall-shorts and a gray cotton button up underneath. (I'm actually wearing that right now. And holy fuck is it comfy!)

Negan walked over to her and sat on the couch in front of her, watching her brush her hair.

"Wow, you're fuckin beautiful." He muttered.

Y/n couldn't help but blush, he smiled at her reaction.

"Stand up honey." He said.

She did as told and crossed her arms once again.

"You know I could fuck you within an inch of your life, and you'd most likely enjoy it."

Y/n lowered her brows in confusion.

"What?"

"It's an offer, honey. You could become one of my wives." He stepped closer and caressed her cheek.

"Nah I'm good, I'm getting out of here anyway."

"You think so, huh?"

"I know so."

She turned to the window and said...

"You see.....never leave me alone on the second floor of a house that has a grass lawn. Wanna know why?"

He crossed his arms and nodded.

Y/n shrugged and ran at the window, taking a swan dive through the thin layer of glass. She landed in the lawn, not turning a head.

"Holy shit!" Negan yelled from the window. "You've got some style!"

THE END ❤️

If you want a part two just tell me 😊

[yamagucji]

Embarrassing moments

warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.

HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.

USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”

YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”

KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.

DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.

SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”

ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.

TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.

TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.

GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.

ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.

SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.

OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.

ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.

BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.

OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.

KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.

SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.