#can barely draw before my brain craps out on me again

[returntotheground]

and i just miss having fun. feels like none of my hobbies/interests work anymore

[ptergwen]

If you do smut can you do like stark!reader x peter parker (spiderman) are dating 3-4 month and y/n and peter had their very fluff first time then next morning y/n has hickies all over her neck and her thights stomach... and tony/ her dad sees it and is confronting them with it😂 i love your stories 🤤

just saying hi

w/c: 2.5k

warnings: veryyyy suggestive, swearing, some pretty embarrassing moments

a/n: thank you babe! i didn’t write the actual smut but y’all can guess what happened 😭 also this is super long i couldn’t help myself

-

it was everything. it was everything you ever wanted your first time to be and more.

you’d brought up to peter during a make out session one night that you were ready to go farther than you two already have. there was one base you didn’t hit yet. the fourth, the final. you were thinking about it for a while before that, and peter would be lying if he said he didn’t.

your love has always been physical, whether it’s you kissing peter’s cuts after a mission or him tracing hearts on you with his fingers. there’s also the more sexual side of things. that part, you both enjoy just as much, maybe even a little more because you know exactly how to make each other feel good after all the trial and error.

what better way to combine the two than, well, making love?

last night was your sign from the universe, your go ahead to do it. you had the compound to yourselves because your dad had taken all the “big kids” out for the night. you’re both well into college, but he refuses to see you as adults. that meant no peter and no you. you two were a little offended until you realized you could make use of your alone time.

you started off searching for a movie. that turned into you wrestling peter for the remote because you didn’t feel like watching back to the furure yet again. wrestling turned into you on top of him, which turned into you kissing him, which turned into peter throwing the remote somewhere and carrying you up to your room with his lips still on yours.

neither of you had to say it. you were on the same page, same wavelength, two brains in one as peter layed you down and trailed his kisses lower and lower.

peter was so gentle with you, except for when you told him not to be. those were the times he didn’t hold back. he was attentive and sweet and showed you quite a few times how much he loves you. you showed him just the same. yeah, it was really everything.

“morning, baby. you awake yet?” peter hums against the shell of your ear, arms wound comfortably around you. “kinda,” you mumble back with a goofy smile. he presses his lips to your ear and nuzzles his face in the side of your neck. “kinda... how’d you sleep?” you can hear the grin in his voice. his nose nudges your bare skin where a fresh hickey lies and makes you scrunch your own up.

“good, really good. always love sleeping with you.” you’re both aware of the alternate meaning that has now. “funny,” peter lets out a breathy laugh against you and brushes his thumb over your stomach where your shirt got ridden up. you sigh, enjoying his soft touch and reaching behind you to play with his curls. they’re a lot messier than usual from you tugging on them all last night.

peter removes his face from your neck and carefully turns you onto your other side. you’re facing him now, eyes trained on his concerned expression. “hey, just wanna check. how are you feeling? still sore?” a tiny smile stretches your face. he really does care about you and how you feel after everything. you know for a fact most other guys wouldn’t.

“i mean, yeah. you were... it was a lot, but i’ll be fine in a few days i think.” the mention of peter being a lot makes color rush to his face. you laugh quietly at that, cupping one of his cheeks that’s turning pink. “oh. i, um, i didn’t know that. sorry.” he smiles shyly as you smooth your thumb over his warm skin. “don’t be. it wasn’t as bad after i... adjusted a little,” you reassure him, making him lean into your palm.

“i really am sorry, y/n/n. can i make it up to you?” peter checks with you, eyes going up from yours to down your body. he hooks a finger in the waistband of your pajama shorts. “make you feel better?” the way he finishes his question with a bite of his lip is definitely tempting. so is your stomach yelling at you to put some food in it. you’ll have to wait.

“later. right now, you can make me breakfast,” you beam at him and take his hand. peter pushes his palm against yours, letting you lace your fingers together as he puffs some air out of his cheeks. “yeah, that’s gonna go well.” “i’m supervising. it will.” you capture his lips in a kiss, one he instantly reciprocates, free hand resting on your hip. just as it’s heating up, you break it.

“i’m hungry for actual food,” you giggle and roll out of his embrace. “ok, ok, ok. let’s go see what we have,” peter gives in with a chuckle, grabbing the same hand he was just holding and following you down to the kitchen.

he ends up popping some frozen waffles into the toaster, you sitting up on the counter with your phone out while he struggles through the different settings. “should i put it on bake? no, that doesn’t sound right,” he talks to himself with eyes squinted in concentration. “your dad made this thing so... detailed.” it’s an old stark industries toaster, one with options you probably don’t even need.

“yeah because he loves his toast, so maybe don’t break it. he’ll kill you or something,” you half playfully half seriously suggest. peter is one clumsy guy. he tsks at you and crouches down to read the words on the dial. there’s conveniently a setting for waffles, so he hits that one. he’s not sure how he hadn’t noticed it before.

since he’s down there, he takes one of your ankles in both hands and starts to kiss up your leg. it tickles when he gets to your knee, drawing a giggle out of you, but your phone still blocks his face. you’re doing it on purpose. “baby,” peter tries to get your attention in a soft voice. he presses a couple more kisses to your knee. you have to hold your breath so you don’t laugh again.

“baby girllll,” peter drags out, lips moving up your thigh. he nudges your phone with his nose much like a puppy would. “aye, i’m talkin’ to you here,” he says in a fake new york accent. you finally put it down next to you. “i’m listening.” you’re giving him a satisfied smile as he goes back to kissing you.

“just saying hi,” he looks up at you and moves your shorts aside while he kisses further and further to where you want. you scoot closer to him on the counter.

that’s when he stops. not only stops, gasps in horror. “what?” you ask quickly, his eyes fixed on your inner thighs. “i kind of, uh, marked you up. like, a lot.” he runs a finger gently over the bruised skin. you’re suddenly very aware of it now. it doesn’t exactly hurt, just feels bumpy and weird. you peer down at yourself to see the damage, eyes going wide.

“shit... they’re on my neck, too,” you remember, murmuring to him. you’ll have to cover these up before everyone gets home. worry flashes across peter’s face. “oh my god, i didn’t even realize. it- it was dark and you told me-“ “pete, it’s okay. it’s pretty hot,” you stop his rambling, reaching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. he frowns up at you.

“really? are you sure i didn’t go too far? because you can tell me.” you’ve always appreciated how much peter genuienly values your thoughts on things, in the bedroom and in other parts of your relationship. it does lead to a lot of second guessing, though. you squeeze his shoulder and let out a breath. “i’m sure, okay? it’s really not that serious. i’ll just change so no one can see.”

peter winds an arm around one of your legs, body relaxing ever so slightly under your touch. “okay.” he gives your thigh one final kiss, then rests his chin on it. “what about your neck?” “uh...” you hadn’t considered that yet. “makeup? a scarf?” you’ve seen enough tv to know neither of those work, but they’re your only options.

“yup. mr. stark is really gonna kill me now,” peter says under his breath, tensing up all over again. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “what? we’re literally grown adults, we can do whatever we want-“

tony claps loudly as he steps into the kitchen, announcing his return home. peter jumps up from between your legs faster than fast. he moves so he’s next to you, and you hop down from the counter.

“hello, daughter of mine. spider of man,” your dad greets you two, you pulling down your shorts with a plastered on smile. “or would it be man of spider?” he plucks an apple from the bowl on the table as he ponders his question. steve and wanda file into the room next. “second one,” peter replies, grinning a little too much to be normal. tony takes note of that.

wanda comes over to the fridge for a snack, which is close to where you and peter are. “how was last night?” you ask her to take the attention off you two. wanda settles on a yogurt and turns to you. “it was good. we shared a few hotel rooms, had our own party.” she glances over at peter, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “seems like you two had a fun night of your own.”

peter’s mouth drops open. “how did you-“ he forgot she could read his mind and now knows everything that happened. you slap a hand over your forehead. “you couldn’t think about anything else? for, like, a minute?” you whisper yell at him. he uses his eyes to plead with you. “i’m sorry! i was looking at the hickeys-“ he realizes what he’s saying. “crap.”

shooting you a wink, wanda shuts the fridge and goes to join the rest of the team in the living room. lucky for you and peter, steve started lecturing tony about washing his fruit before he eats it. he didn’t hear any of that. there’s still the problem of your visible hickeys that you have zero seconds to hide.

“how the fuck am i supposed to cover these? they’re right in the center, peter!” you panic, your heart starting to race as peter fumbles for a dish towel. that’s the best he could come up with? “no!” you toss it back at him. he throws it on the counter with a pained look. tony and steve make their way over to you.

“oh, hush. a couple of deadly pesticides won’t shake me, stevey boy,” tony insists and takes another big bite of his apple. steve huffs in disapproval and crosses his arms. “you’re a big baby, tony. if you’re not gonna do the right thing, at least buy organic-“ with the world’s longest sigh, tony chucks his apple into the open garbage can.

“there. no more apple discourse.” steve shakes his head at your dad’s behavior. “that was a waste. you could’ve finished it.” “not with your nagging into my literal ear.” steve raises his hands in surrender before making his way out of the kitchen. tony side steps past him and over to you. “enough of that now. let’s have a welcome home hug from my girl.”

you share a look with peter, a look of pure fear that’s in both of your eyes. he’ll definitely notice the hickeys if he gets that close to you. he holds out his arms expectantly while peter scratches the back of his own neck. “sure, dad. welcome home.” an awkward smile on your lips, you bury your face in your dad’s chest and wrap your arms around him in one motion. this way, he didn’t have time to see you from too close up.

peter exhales in relief at the narrowly avoided disaster. that’s until tony makes a request. “missed me that much, kiddo, huh? come out of there.” “but, i’m so comfortable. i wanna stay like this,” you insist, a niceness to your voice tony immediately sees through. he drops his arms from around you, eyeing peter suspiciously, who averts his gaze to the floor.

“nuh uh, you did something. both of you,” your dad states, taking a step to stand between you and peter. peter gulps down a breath before speaking. “mr. stark, it was-“ tony holds up a hand. “don’t worry, kid. i’ll figure it out.”

he gives peter a proper stare, searching him for clues of some sort. it’s a good thing he isn’t wanda because the details of your night would have been exposed. he couldn’t find anything, so now it’s your turn. he’s a little disappointed you’re the one hiding something.

“oh, y/n. not you,” tony sighs as he gives you a looking over. he starts with your face, your eyes following down as his do. it’s when he gets just past your chin that he sees them. the little hickeys littering your skin, some already deep shades of purple. he rips off his glasses in disbelief.

“absolutely not.” he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with the same hand his glasses are in. “i’m not seeing this. i’m not seeing this if i don’t look.” you scoff at his reaction. “dad, you know we’re together. you can’t expect us to not...” “don’t say it,” tony begs, getting the urge to hurl his half eaten apple. he turns and faces peter.

“parker, you really did all of that?” peter only blinks, nervously meeting the eyes of his mentor. “to my daughter?” tony adds on to scare him even more. “i- i-“ a burst of frustration comes out of peter. “you left two teenagers alone the whole night. what’d you think was gonna happen?” he’s shocked at his own words, his face showing it. tony raises his eyebrows. both your hands cover your mouth.

not wanting to deal with peter, tony addresses you instead. “i don’t care how you do it, cover those up. don’t let me see them ever again. understood?” you nod a good amount of times and reach for peter’s hand. he’s about to give it, then tony glares down at what’s happening. peter pulls back immediatelty. “understood. we’ll, um, do better next time,” you agree, tony winching at the idea of a next time.

“you, parker... treat a lady with a little more respect, eh?” tony clicks his tongue at him. he’s referring to all the hickeys. peter’s lips form a line, a sarcastic one that says oh well. “i tried, mr. stark, but y/n wanted me to-“ “christ, that’s enough.” tony furiously shakes his head and starts to walk away from you two. “never again!”

you’re thanking god when he sets off for the living room, you hiding your face in peter’s chest, his face in your hair. “that was terrible. that was the worst thing ever,” you say into him. “i’m sorry, baby. we gotta be more careful.”

it’s not over yet because then, the toaster dings. you’d completely forgotten about the waffles. you and peter both separate with your millionth shared look of terror. tony comes rushing back into the room, very familiar with that noise.

“first you destroy my daughter, now my toaster? pete... you’re in for it, kid.”

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 2

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC

Part 1 can be found here. xxx

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

Part 2 -

Lunch was over and Pricilla organised the boys to go set up the objects for tomorrow night's scavenger hunt around the camp grounds. The boys had drawn the groups their pairs would be in charge of before leaving and JJ and Caroline had gotten Teens 2, whereas Sarah and John B had gotten Teens 1, which meant that, for better or worse, their groups would be partaking in a lot of activities together, seeing as they were both in the same age group.

The girls were given the job to set up the seating area where the bonfire was going to be, so Sarah and Caroline stuck together as they made their way towards the clearance where it was going to be held.

"Can you believe I got paired up with JJ Maybank?" Caroline sighed.

"Beats Routledge by a thousand, I can promise you that," said Sarah, still extremely disappointed, "At least Maybank looks like he takes care of himself."

Caroline chuckled at her comment. John B had also grown his hair out over the years and it was now down to his shoulders.

"He does seem like he is... in touch with nature," Caroline remarked and Sarah laughed genuinely for the first time since drawing the boy’s name out, "Maybe they won't be that bad to work with, besides, it's only nine weeks, what could go wrong?"

Sarah seemed to think for a second before her lips curled into a devious smirk, "Hey, didn't you used to have, like, the biggest crush on Maybank?"

Caroline's cheeks turned red immediately, "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled quickly.

Sarah started laughing, "You totally did! You lucky, lucky bitch! I wish I got paired up with my childhood crush! Instead I get to spend my last summer before moving away with snot-nosed, bug-eating Routledge... Why was the Universe on your side and not on mine?"

They walked behind the rest of the girl counsellors towards the bonfire area. When they arrived, the logs that Pricilla had informed them would be stacked up in a convenient for them to move around way, were all scattered across the ground. The pillows that were meant to go on top of them were also in disarray. All the girls looked around in confusion.

"Surely this couldn't have been the wind?" one of them said.

"Surely this was the boys." said Sarah matter-of-factly, "I'd bet 50 bucks that Routledge had something to do with this."

All the girls turned to look at her in confusion.

"What?" she protested, shrugging her shoulders, "You know I'm right."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "Boys or not, we better sort this mess out before sundown, we have cabins to set up as well."

The girls agreed, Sarah being skeptical but also finally giving in, and little by little, they set up the bonfire area. It took them a little over two hours before they started making their way back to the cabins, which they were supposed to decorate with welcome signs for the arriving campers.

Since Sarah and Caroline were both in charge of the oldest groups, their campers were meant to be sharing two cabins - one for the boys and one for the girls.

"Let's split up, I'll do the boys and you do the girls," Sarah offered, nearly shocking Caroline, "Try being as quick as you can. Meet me back out here in 15 minutes tops." she ordered before scurrying up the steps into the boys’ cabin.

Caroline rushed into the cabin next door, pleasantly surprised by Sarah's sudden determination to get work done. As she was arranging the banners and posters on the walls and ceiling, she couldn't help but think that Sarah must have had some sort of ulterior motive to being this enthusiastic about working. Sure enough, she was right.

She had barely taken a step out of the girls' cabin when Sarah spoke up, "Took you long enough. Now let's go find those stupid guys."

The sun was setting and the woods had gotten a bit chilly as Sarah lead Caroline towards where the male counsellors were supposed to be. After setting up the scavenger hunt objects, they were supposed to set up the archery area. As they were getting closer to the archery grounds, the two girls could hear the laughter of the boys in the nearby distance. Sarah pretended to gag yet again.

"Quick, around here," Caroline pulled Sarah behind the small hut where they kept all of the camp's archery supplies. From their spot they could see the guys quite clearly and could hear everything they were saying, "Remind me again why we're doing this?" Caroline whisper-yelled at Sarah.

"Because I'm still furious about their little prank," Sarah explained, "Which is why I want to prank them back."

"How are we gonna do that exactly?" asked Caroline, "By eavesdropping?"

"A good villain is one that knows the enemy's weaknesses," said Sarah, "First we listen for a bit, and then we make a plan."

Caroline couldn't help but smirk at this new side of Sarah she was seeing. She much preferred this Sarah to the constantly whining, gloating Sarah she had gotten used to over the years. Plus, being somewhat of a daredevil herself, Caroline couldn't help but find the idea of pranking the boys back exciting.

"Can you believe I got paired with Jenna Kinley?" one of the boys, Kelce, said, "Not only are we supposed to work together, but we're also meant to be taking care of babies..." he face palmed himself.

The other boys laughed.

"C'mon, Johnson, 10 year olds are hardly babies," said another one of the boys, Topper, "Besides, working with Kinley will not be nearly as scandalous as working with Hague!"

JJ spoke up next, "Aw, don't be like that, Top," he said, "Madison's not that bad!"

Topper scoffed at JJ, "Easy for you to say! You and Routledge got paired with the best girls out of the bunch! And you got the teens groups!"

Sarah and Caroline smirked at the remark.

"Boys, boys, boys," came John B's voice suddenly, "Let's put this topic behind us, I'm sure you'll all be glad to hear about what I managed to sneak into our cabin." all the boys were now staring at John B in anticipation, "16 bottles of pure, fine whiskey, m'boys. Safe to say, tonight will be a ball."

"Bingo..." Sarah and Caroline smiled mischievously at each other, the perfect prank idea forming in both of their heads.

They quietly made their way back to where all the cabins were and sat at one of the patios.

"So here's the plan," said Sarah, "We sneak into their cabin, raid Routledge's luggage and steal his bottles of whiskey. Let's go now!"

Caroline stopped her, "No, no, not now!" she hissed, "They're gonna go to their cabin before dinner and Routledge's gonna want to show them his stash! We'll sneak out during dinner. Oh, and, I suggest we throw a party of our own to this occasion."

Sarah smirked at Caroline, "I like where you're going with this, Carrie," she said, patting Caroline's shoulder before standing up to go into their cabin, "Not bad for a nerd."

Caroline sighed, there was the old Sarah again.

~~~~~~~~

“Windsor!” Caroline heard a voice behind her call out, “Been paired up for a whole day now and we still haven’t the chance to talk!”

Caroline turned around to find a beaming JJ smiling at her. Had he come over from the boys table specifically for her? She could feel her cheeks beginning to burn slightly.

“We can talk,” she said quickly.

JJ took a seat next to her on the long bench. She could feel the heat in her cheeks become even hotter. JJ didn’t seem to notice her nervousness, or awkwardness.

“How’s life been then?” he asked.

Caroline took a deep breath to soothe her nerves, looking up, only to find a smirking Sarah crossing her arms across from her at the table.

“Just the regular, nothing too special,” she said, frowning quickly at Sarah before turning to face JJ again, hoping he hadn’t noticed Sarah’s behavior.

JJ jokingly frowned, “Nothing too special? I heard you got accepted into Charleston University, that’s like super special.”

Caroline cringed internally, “Did you happen to hear anything else by any chance?”

JJ smirked, “Not sure what you’re talking about,”

Caroline wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not but she pretended to not be bothered.

“Well I hear you’re throwing a party tonight,” Caroline crossed her arms in front of her.

JJ smirked even more, “Where’d you hear that from?”

“Why?” she tempted, “Is my source wrong?”

“Hardly,” JJ bit back, standing up, “So perhaps I’ll see you there.”

With that he walked back to where the other male counsellors were sat, giving one last look at Caroline, smirk never leaving his face.

Sarah started laughing loudly, “Looks like someone’s got their eye on little Carrie,” she teased, “Lucky, lucky bitch.”

Caroline rolled her eyes at her, “Bullshit,”

Sarah leaned over the table to whisper to Caroline, “I like the way you handled the situation, we’re definitely going to be there, on more occasions than one.”

Caroline looked at her watch, “Shit, it’s getting late, we better go now!”

And with that, they snuck their way out of the Wildcat Lodge and towards the boys’ cabin.

“Crap, the door’s locked!” Sarah cursed.

Caroline looked around. One of the upper windows seemed to be open. This gave her an idea.

“Sarah, do you still do cheerleading?” she looked at the girl, a plan forming in her brain.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “What’s that got to do with anything? And duh, how else would my legs look this good?”

Caroline’s lips turned into a grin, “Give me a lift.”

Sarah’s eyes widened, “Excuse me?”

Caroline nodded her head towards the upper window and Sarah whined, “Why’s it always me?”

Silently, they rushed into position. Sarah took her stance, her hands ready to lift up Caroline’s body. Caroline balanced herself on Sarah’s shoulders as Sarah readied her hands to push her up. In one swift motion, Caroline had pulled herself in through the upper window and was now inside the cabin. She immediately went to the door to unlock the handle from the inside so that Sarah could let herself in.

The two girls looked around the space. It was dark and the only light penetrating into it was the one from the lamps outside. Three pairs of bunk beds were sitting there, covered in unpacked suitcases, boxes and bags.

“Great,” sighed Caroline in annoyance, “How are we ever going to figure out which one’s Routledge’s?”

Sarah took a better look at all of the bunk beds again, her eyes landing on one with a particularly large suitcase with a Green Peace sign on it, “My guess is that it’s that one.”

They went over to the suitcase and Sarah nervously leaned over it, “Eurgh, bug eating Routledge better not have live animals in there,” she said as she quickly ripped open the zipper, flinching away as soon as it came undone.

“That’s it!” Caroline excitedly said, “Help me pick it up!”

The suitcase contained three changes of clothes and a large box filled with unopened bottles of whiskey, just like they had heard John B brag about by the archery area. The two girls combined all of their strength to lift the heavy box off the bed and made their way towards the door, when they heard a loud thumping sound from the back of the cabin. Something heavy had fallen in the corner of the cabin that was unlit by the outdoor lamps, making both girls slightly jump and nearly tip over the box full of alcohol. They squinted their eyes in the direction where the sound came from, however they couldn’t make out anything in the thick darkness.

“What was that?” Sarah said nervously.

“Whatever it was,” Caroline said, leading them out of the door, “We can’t wait around to find out.”

With that they were out of the cabin, closing the door behind them and making their way back to their own cabin quickly.

They hid the box inside the storage room and decided to sneak back into the Wildcat Lodge, so that nobody would question their whereabouts.

There was half an hour left until the end of dinner service as Sarah and Caroline sat back at their designated table, trying to draw as little attention to themselves as they could.

“Do you think someone saw us in there?” whispered Sarah so that only Caroline could hear.

Caroline shrugged her shoulders, “I really hope not, but I did get the weird feeling that we were being watched once we heard that noise,”

Sarah shuddered, “Yeah, major heebie jeebies in there. Glad the boys got that cabin and not us.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, “Relax, Sarah, worst case scenario is it was just one of the guys and he saw us stealing tonight’s party supplies.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I swear to God if it was Routledge -”

“If it was Routledge, he wouldn’t have let us get away with it,”

“Shit, Carrie, you’re totally right!” Sarah unwillingly raised her voice, “Who do you think it was?”

Caroline shrugged again, “Honestly? I don’t think it was anyone, I just think something happened to fall down on its own.”

“Hmm… You’re probably right again.” Sarah turned to look at the big clock on the wall, “We’d better get going, we’ve got to get ready for that party you got invited to!” she winked at Caroline, smirking.

Caroline looked towards the boys table where JJ was already looking back at her, a smile dancing on his thin lips. She met his eyes and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. She decided to give him a little wave to which he happily waved back.

“Hello?” Sarah’s annoyed voice broke Caroline’s focus from JJ, “Are you coming or what? I want us to look good for when we see the guys’ disappointed faces tonight!”

Caroline sighed and followed Sarah out of the Lodge. Tonight was going to be interesting.

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

A/N: I know I only just uploaded the first part, but I want to establish the Camp Willowdale universe as fast as possible so that the actual story can take off and it does in the next part. I'm going to create a taglist for people who have shown interest in the story thus far, so if you want to be included, make sure to leave a reply so that I can include you in the next part.

Also if you haven't noticed so far, this story, aside from fun and romantic, will be quite campy so I hope you're into that. We've also got quite the mystery coming up so stay tuned for that as well x

Alsoooo please give me some inspiration on who I can base Caroline off, I'm kind of leaving her up to the reader's imagination so that you can just imagine yourself as her, but ideally I'd like to have someone who's picture I can use for future photos. I've got my mind set on Maia Mitchel, but feel free to drop recommendations too.

Anyways, let me know what you think this far and feel free to check out the rest of my works in my masterlist. xxx

Part 3 here

[timextoxhajima]

The Misadventures of Ares: Vinculum

HOSTIS MASTERLIST

Taglist: @sunqnyu​​ @taesty-wander-lust​​

“What?”

“Dr. Kyung- He said- The blood test- I-”

“Christ’s sake, give me that-”

Stomping over, you snatch the device out from his grasp and press it to your ear. 

“There’s no way that’s possible. I’ve been on the pill for the last 3 months.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. l/n, I just don’t think a blood test would provide unreliable results.”

“Well- Check it again!” 

“I’ve checked thrice, Dr. l/n. You’re 7 weeks in.”

The device in your hands begins to warm up, but you’re not sure if it’s from the electronics of the thing or that your body temperature was beginning to sky-rocket. Fatigue begins to set in, like you were about to faint. The giddiness clouds your eyes and your brain and before you know it, Hyunjae’s voice was muffled in your ears. 

“...Kitten... Give me the phone... Are you... Do you need to... I’m sorry, Dr. Kyung... Right back...”

The lines in your vision are blur when your lids first open. Inhaling the scent coated all over the bed, which was an embarrassing mix of yours and Hyunjae, you rub your eyes in a bid to clear your vision. 

The room was dark, besides the amber-orange light emitting from the scented humidifier by the bed. Which means it’s not morning. Rolling over, you note the emptiness in the other half of the queen-sized bed, and the coldness of the sheets tell you that he hasn’t even stepped anywhere near the--

Click

The door swings open slowly, revealing a shirtless Hyunjae with tousled wet hair and baggy joggers. With his phone in one hand, the other was busy ruffling through his wet strands with a towel. His eyes gleam in the dark when they look up from his phone, minding to check on you, but he realises you’re already awake. 

“Hey,” He immediately locks his phone and places it by the humidifier on the bed stand. “How are you feeling?”

The mattress by your right arm sinks when he sits down, the citrus scent of his body wash filling your nose when he presses his fingers into your hairline. Drawing gentle lines into your forehead and hair, his eyes are filled nothing but concern. It kind of irks you, when you catch yourself falling for his little ministrations time and time again, even though they have all been for different reasons; under different circumstances.

His soft chuckle jerks you out of your trance when he finally pokes your nose. “Staring in this kind of shitty lighting, huh?”

An annoyed but accustomed groan cues you to swat his hand off your face. “Don’t you ever get tired of that?”

“Nah,” Wrapping his fingers around your wrist and bringing them up to his lips, he presses some light kisses into your hand. “I’ll never get tired of anything as long as it’s you.”

The litter of kisses begin to trail from the back of your hand, down to your shoulder where his light breath tickles your neck. You can’t help the soft giggles that run off your tongue, and his smile is pressed as a kiss into your jaw and then your lips. 

He sighs, pulling away to rest his head on your chest with his arms supporting some of his weight atop you. His damp hair gets tangled in your fingers, just before they trail down to his back to trace his shoulder blades. 

“So... what happened to the pasta?”

“I tried to finish most of it,” He speaks loud enough for you to hear, though you felt most of it as vibrations through your body. “Why, hungry?”

“...No.”

Then your tummy decides to refute and releases the loudest groan you could ever hear. 

Hyunjae laughs as he lifts his head to look at you. “I’m sure the baby isn’t big enough to make that kind of sound yet.”

“Oh, God,” The reminder sours your nose unexpectedly. Your hands come round to cover your face, letting out a soft but frustrated sigh. “I was hoping it was a dream.”

The mischief in Hyunjae’s eyes wear away when he processes your words. The competition in his blood is no longer. Not when there was an other, godly being involved now. Something that he’s given to you, something that you were made to carry, something that’s meant to bond you both. 

Something that would become part of his world, as if you weren’t already his. 

“A dream? You don’t want... it?”

The thoughts well your brain. It feels like you’re drowning on the inside. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want it... I just--”

He sits up and grips onto your hands like his life depended on it. The physical contact sends shudders up your fingers, not because his hands were cold but because they felt hot, like clothes when they just came out of the dryer. The overwhelming sensation forces you to shift and sit up against the bed board, eyes coated with tears and scanning his. 

Two beautiful star-studded orbs look deep into yours before they look down, almost like he was ashamed of himself - then you realise he’s not even breathing. He’s holding his breath because he might just break out into horrid sobs. 

“Jae...” Your hoarse voice sounds like a croak when it comes out, layered with all the effort you needed to stop yourself from bawling too. His cheeks are cupped in your hands as you try to pull him closer, but he refuses to leave your hands. His eyes are plastered to your stomach before he can look you in the eye with all the love he has in himself. 

“You are... everything I ever needed. You are... my life, my world and you have my heart,” His voice is barely recognisable now. It’s so low, it sounds like a whisper, but you know his vocal chords are just strained from his need to control his feelings. “And this... Changes nothing.”

“Jae, I-”

“No,” He shakes his head, still unable to look at you. The emotions that he’s feeling in that gusto chest of his is slowly being translated into thoughts and then words in his head, and even as a doctor, that wasn’t easy. “I know... I know you feel like this isn’t the right time. You’ll think that this comes in the way of your promotion and that things will get harder...”

“Oh,” The ache seeps through you. Guilt surges through your veins and the tears finally fall. “I just... Jae, I worked so hard for this...”

“And I know you did. I swear to God, I know in my bones you did,” His hands find yours that are holding his face, and he finally looks up. He shifts, pushing you further into the middle of the bed so he can fit his body onto the mattress next to you. The strands your hair must’ve gotten the stains of your tears as you wipe his away. 

“But I can’t-” The crack in his voice as he wraps his arm around your lower back feels more like a crack in your heart. He rests his head against your heart, attentively listening to the thumping against your chest. “I can’t... I won’t forgive myself if anything happened to you, or the thing inside you. I don’t care if you want the next promotion, you can have it. But what I care about is you, your safety and whatever’s in you right now.”

Sniffling and barely chuckling, you gently trace his hairline, fiddling with the stray strands of hair off his face. “Are you really gonna keep calling it a ‘thing’?” 

Hyunjae coughs some kind of sorrowful laughter, inhaling back all the mucus stuck in his nostrils. “I mean, we can’t tell what the gender is until your second trimester.”

“Fair.” 

He lifts his head again, and now you can see the pink in his nose and eyes. Your thumb reaches over to his cheekbone and brushes his skin, but he keeps your hand on his cheek and presses a kiss into your palm. 

“Are you sure... about this?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. But it’s your body, and as much as I’d die for you to keep it... I want you to decide... Whether you want to keep it.”

A frown gently forms in your forehead as you wipe your tears away, and Hyunjae gives himself time to climb over you, pulling the blanket over his legs and sliding his arm behind your neck. Resting into his shoulder, your eyes rest on the vapour pouring out from the humidifier. 

“Will you hate me if I said I needed to think about it?” 

A pause. 

“No,” He pecks the crown of your head, resting his nose in your hair. “Your body... and... it’s your kid as much as it is mine.”

“You can’t say that it’s a kid when you can’t even tell the gender.”

“It’ll be a kid if you decide to keep it for the next 8 months, kitten.”

A gulp forces its way down your throat. 

“I’m scared.”

“What about?”

“Whether I’ll make the right choice. Will I regret it if I keep it? And even if I do, how shit of a mother am I going to be?”

His free arm circles around you to turn your torso towards him, and he tightens his embrace with your nose in his collar bone. “Whatever you do, I know you won’t regret it. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are today, so nobody can blame you for wanting to be reward yourself. And if you do keep it, parenting is a two-man job.”

Another pause. 

“Whatever it is, I’ll always be here. Regardless your choice, regardless the outcome. Even when you don’t want to see my stupid snot-face, I’ll still be here. Okay?”

The facial muscles in your forehead relax, and you sigh into his skin. “Okay.”

Hyunjae massages your scalp with his fingertips, moments before he pulls away and slides off the bed abruptly. 

“Alright, enough of that crap,” He picks up a shirt from the single sofa seat in the corner of the room and throws it on. “Come down when you’re not about to faint. I cooked you chicken and clam chowder soup.”

[dimpledlavendeer]

I think I'm running out of ideas 🥲

This is again long and suggestive 😩

I love Hee sm 🖤

Heeseung when he has a night off and wants to spend it with you

He had an hectic schedule so it's been a while since you two saw each other

He was available that night and he asked you to spend the night with him since he was off work early

You missed him sm so ofc you accepted his offer

He looked so tired but was saying he was fine

Correction Hee looked tired and gorgeous

I mean you didn't even know what the reason was but Hee just looked so hot to your eyes rn

"Damn it y/n it's not the time for it, He is tired" you thought

But when Hee said he was gonna take a shower your struggle got worse :')

Now Hee was sitting next to you with his long wet hair eating ramyeon while he was the snack to your eyes LMAO

You were supposed to eat with him but you couldn't bc you were so busy eating him with your eyes

Hee was tired but not stupid especially when it comes to well yk ;)

So he realized you weren't eating instead you were just staring

"Are you not hungry baby?"

"Huh? Oh I... uhm I am hun- hungry.."

You were stuttering and you hated how small you sound while answering a simple question just because of the way he looked

On the other hand he was quite amused so he tried to talk with you more

"Then why don't you eat?" He said licking his lips

Ofc your gaze shifted to his lips and stayed there "I...uhm I am ea- eating"

He got closer to you and looked at you eyes staring into your soul

"Really? Your plate is still full tho..." He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear "and it looks like there's something occupying your mind rn wanna share what it is baby?"

Crap you thought, he caught you

"No no I'm fine really" you managed to say and grabbed your chopsticks to eat

He hold your chin very gently and made you look at him

"You didn't miss me y/n?"

"I did"

"Then why don't you just do what you're thinking about right now?"

"D-do w-what I'm thinking about?"

Hee came close only to peck your lips and pulled off

His stare was on you Cleary expecting a move while he was biting on his lower lip in anticipation

He honestly was so handsome, his long hair complementing his beautiful cheekbones and his lips were just so pink and pretty

So you did what hee wanted being even more daring

You get up from your chair and sit on his lap, making him smile in satisfaction

Pecked his lips like he did to yours and without even giving him a chance for a deeper kiss you just tilted his head

You started to kiss his jawline and then his earlobe

"I missed you so much Heeseung" you whispered while you were still kissing his bare neck

"You did?" He said slightly pinching your thighs

"How can I make it up to you for being so busy and not being able to spend more time with you baby?" He asked in a low voice with a meaning behind it

You knew where this was going but you just wanted to let him play with you like this because you missed him and it has been a while since you touched him like this

"You can kiss me to make me forget how lonely I was" you said in a whispering tone, still kissing his neck

His grip tightened and he hold your hair to make you look at him before saying "as you wish baby"

He just licked your lips and moved on with your jawline and neck getting revenge for what you did to him

He was smelling like vanilla and adding his tongue on your neck, you were about to EXPLODE because of the sexual tension in the room

When Hee finally lifted up his head to look at you already melting under his touch, he didn't hesitate to kiss you

His lips were so soft unlike the way he is kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth, his teeth biting on your lower lip

You let out a whine when he pulled of to say "Is this the way I can make you forgive me baby?"

YES it was but you needed more ;)

"You need to try harder than that" you said with a smirk

You knew how competitive your boyfriend was and you loved it about him

With what you said he smashed his lips onto yours while lifting you up and making you sit on the dinner table

He was in between your legs and he squeezed your thighs before pulling you even closer

One of his hands were behind your back to support you and the other hand was drawing circles on your thigh

It was obvious how much Hee missed you and wanted more although he was trying hard to stay in control

He laid you down on the table

"Stay still" He said with a low voice

When he get down in between your tighs you were about to scream and out of reflex you tried to close your legs

He hold your thighs to let them stay spread open and raised his head to talk to you

"Relax baby, I won't do anything you don't want me to remember?" He said with a reassuring voice

He was kissing your inner thighs using his freaking tongue to tease you more with the wetness he left everywhere his lips touched

His hands were drawing small circles on your outer thighs but nothing was able to calm you down

HE WAS DOWN THERE AND YOU JUST WERE SO NERVOUS

"Heeseung.."

"Mmh?"

You were shaking bc of how nervous you are and he realized that

"Let me calm you down please y/n" he said looking at you with his doe eyes

"Just trust me, I won't go too far I promise" he said eyes literally begging

You pushed his head back to its older position, between your thighs

He carried on from where he left off, moving upper on your thigh and his little kisses and bites got more harsher during the process

You just let out a small moan when he bite on your thigh, sucking the flesh and then leaving wet kisses

Your brain wasn't working at the moment because of him and he lift his head up with a satisfied smile on his face

He lifted you up on the table carrying you to his bedroom

He slowly put you on the sheets and gave you a small kiss on the lips

You pulled him onto the bed kissing him harshly unlike him and that made him smile into the kiss

You dig your nails into his back under his shirt slightly and that made him bite your lower lip

He pulled of and hold your hands on top of your head without letting you move

"Stop teasing me y/n"

"Thank God I'm tired and I can't do more to you Hee"

"Is that a promise baby?"

"Promise?"

"Will you tease me better next time?" Hee said leaving a wet kiss your lips

It made you lift your hips unconsciously, which made him moan

"I swear to God y/n-"

"Yes Heeseung i will tease you better next time" you said, now you were the one who was smirking

You both were tired so you knew he was going easy on you, he released your hands and kissed you softly this time while getting off of you

"You better keep your promise next time y/n"

"You want me that bad huh Heeseung?"

He got closer after your words and you started giggling

"Give me one reason to stop rn, y/n" he said while kissing you

"What if I don't?"

He lifted you from the sheets and made you sit on his lap while you're still on the bed

His hands were ready to lift your shirt up until you stopped him and hugged him tightly

"I love you so much Heeseung, I missed you a lot" you said with a soft voice

A big smile formed on his face and you could feel it while his face was buried on your neck

He let you fall next to him on the bed

"You have no idea how much I missed you y/n"

His gazed was locked on you and it didn't take him long to see how tired you were

He gave you a big "MWAH" on the cheeks "Good night baby, I love you and I'm sorry"

"Don't be sorry, I love you too, good night Heeseung"

Thank you for reading and sorry if I made any mistakes with wording, I speak English but it's not my native tongue, I hope you liked it ^^

[i-cant-sing]

Okay, Moon anon was able to contact me and I'm gonna post their chapters 3-6 here.

Daniel and YN 3 🌗🌗

Rainy days are crazy. Some of YN’s best and worst memories were on a rainy day. It was a rainy day when Daniel was born. His parents overjoyed when he decided to join the world early. The Sunny morning turned rainy when they saw something was wrong. The sky was so dark when the doctored explained that their baby didn’t get enough oxygen in the womb or when he came out. That his brain was impacted by the trauma. It took four years for Daniel’s mother to stop blaming herself, four years for her to understand that she couldn’t have known that something was wrong in her womb. Four years when they had their second child. It was a rainy day when YN and Daniel got lost. Holding each other’s hand, tightly they wandered the Kamino Ward. Hoping that their parents would be right down an alley or around the corner. That was a terrible 6th birthday for YN. The steps Daniel left in the dirt started to get deeper and more burnt. The boy slightly started to tremble. “Daniel.. it’s gonna be ok. Momma and Pop are going to find us we just have to-“ “Are you two lost?” A very tall man in a black suit asked. YN couldn’t remember his face, but his voice was eerily calm and smoothe. His head had snow white hair on it. A look at him would’ve left even the hero All Might scared. “ye…Yes. My brother and I can’t find our parents..” “Oh dear. Well I can help you. They couldn’t have gotten far.” He held his hand to Daniel. And he almost took it had YN not stepped in. “We’re not supposed to touch strangers.” “Oh yes, that’s a very good rule. Well my name is.. Shigaraki. Now what are yours?” “…yn.. and daniel..” “Now we aren’t strangers. Let’s get you two somewhere safe. Your brother’s quirk might level the neighborho-“ “YN! DANIEL!” The relieved voice of their father shouted out. And the two quickly turned away, toward his calls and open arms. Tears running down their faces, swearing to never wander off again. The day was saved. When YN went to turn to Mr Shigaraki to tell him it was fine, he had disappeared into the crowd. But one question lingered in her head. How did he know Daniel’s quirk could be dangerous? It was a sunny day at first when YN and Daniel went out to the park for their Day out. YN had already planned to tell her parents that she wanted to come back here for her 12th birthday in a few months. Daniel kept over-stimulating himself with every single thing that caught his eyes. The anthill, the trees, the way the wind carried the leaves, when he and YN jumped around over the hopscotch drawings. When the rain came down they didn’t want to leave. They wanted to splash in the wetness like a couple of ducks. But Momma was insistent it was time to go back to the apartment. Inside the car YN immediately put on her headphones to listen to nightcore covers of popular songs. It wasn’t until she noticed her mom’s terrified expression and felt her dad’s fear did she take them off. “-I DONT KNOW ITS NOT BREAKING!” “WE’RE GOING RIGHT INTO TRAFFIC! DO SOMETHING!” “..momma?..” “DANIEL! YN GET DOWN!” That was the last thing her mother said to her. The rain hit the car harder. Daniel was quick to cover his little sister as the car swerved towards a large truck. YN felt her brother shield over their bodies. The last thing she heard from her father was a yell. Before they crashed into the truck. Before YN and Daniel were flung out into the side of the road. Scratches beginning to litter their arms and cheeks. YN felt the rain on her face as she tried looking up. Tried finding her parents. It was a rainy day when the last image of her parents was the crushed front end of the car. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN 4 🌗🌗

The incident at the cafe left a bigger mess then was intended. Of course the waitress didn’t say a word about who caused the mess, still terrified of the threat, but the manager still called the police. At the moment it was being investigated as a break in. It wasn’t until they started to bag the broken vases as evidence did they think to call a hero as they believed this was a terrorist villain trying to strike more fear. When the first cop touch the broken vases he immediately fell over and started seizing. Like someone had sent hundreds of volts up through his gloved fingers and into his blood stream. The second cop tried picking up the glass with prongs so that she wouldn’t get the same effect. But she still felt some pain and volts. Even the glass windows were giving off static. When they were examined no one could find a point of impact. It was almost like they spontaneously exploded. Worse and more confusing yet was the fact that the material seemed to give off radiation spikes. From a computer screen image, it was like a red glow was emanated from the glass. When the police tried to check the cameras, all the footage was either ruined, too melted to gather anything. It left them in a stump. So they had to make a plea to the hero society to get fresh eyes and help on the case. Not expecting any big response. Some heroes wanted to solve the mystery because it stumped them as well. This quirk residue was something unseen before. Calls and emails were left. All saying they would look into it. And it seemed like this would just be a mysterious case left forgotten. That is until the All Might showed up in the station one morning. Along with his protege Deku. They said they wanted to solve the case because if this person left such a dangerous residue after using their quirk, then they were a danger to themselves and others. No on saw the real intentions in their eyes. When they asked about the only other patron in the cafe the police said that they tried tracking them down, but they were gone into the wind. The only other patron at the cafe made their way into a compound. Holding treats meant for a little girl. But first he had to make a stop at his boss’s office. “Hey.. Kai. You won’t believe what Just saw.” Meanwhile in the station two separate rats made calls to two separate people. “Put me through to Shigaraki…. Hello. I have something interesting to tell you. Something that might please you and your Sensei.” “Oh hey there Aizawa. Detective Tsukauchi here. Look I you know about that cafe destruction a week ago? Yea well I think you outta here about this.” Indeed the cafe incident left a bigger mess than intended. 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 5 🌗🌗

They’d been gone for at least two months. YN’s feet hurt and Daniel missed his own bed. But they had to keep going, with no intended final destination but a goal to keep away from the previous home they ran from. After the morning at the cafe, YN and Daniel had kept to the shadows for the rest of the day. But they couldn’t keep going like this. They needed to eat today but not at a restaurant. There was only one dreaded… dreaded option. The grocery store. So after they checked in at the latest motel with kitchens in the rooms, the siblings ventured off to the store.YN couldn’t leave Daniel alone yet. He’d panic and probably have a fit. The store was minimally packed. Since it was still early in the day it seemed like they would zip in and out with relative ease. After grabbing the bare essentials, and what she could pack in a backpack without much drag, it was time to go to the candy aisle. It was a long journey thus far, a journey deserving of some sour candies. But of course there had to be another person there. Invading space and looking right at her favorites. She wanted to just grab and go. But her hand and the stranger's hand touched as they reached for the same one. “Sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going heh..” The tall redhead said. A small blush on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. Lemme just grab and go here.” She looked back for Daniel, luckily he was close by staring at the varieties of pocky they had. Turning back she noticed his uniform. UA, that might prove to be a complication. But YN was desperate for some kind words and a brief moment to talk to someone her own age. “So you go to UA? Are you a general student or a hero course student?” “Oh hero course definitely! I even have my hero name chosen!” “Wow that’s great. I hope in a few years I get to be saved by…?” “Red Riot!” “Like Crimson Riot?” “Exactly! I really admire him and I hope I live up to his-“ “OI SH**TY HAIR! WE’RE GONNA BE LATE! GRAB YOUR CRAP AND LET’S GO!” A blonde kid shouted down the aisle, also wearing a UA outfit. YN couldn’t place why but she felt like she’d known him before. That volume felt very familiar, but it startled her brother who jumped in fear causing the pocky he saw to fall off the shelving. Time to go now. “I should go anyway. It was nice meeting you.” “Wait, we could walk you and your brother to your school if you guys want?” “We have to go.” The blonde got closer and she could tell something was perpetually up his ass. “Bye.” “Wait! My name’s Eijiro Kirishima. What’s yours?” “YN. Just YN. That’s my brother Daniel.” And before he or his companion could ask anything else the two siblings fast walked toward the checkout and were out the door before they got another chance to talk to them. “YN… huh she was pretty cool right bakubro!” “What ever. Let’s get going before we show up after Deku.” But that name was familiar to him. The girl had long since faded from his mind, but how could anyone forget the day when a quirkless kid tried bashing your head into the dirt. He planned on apologizing the next day for his comments but she was gone. Gone and almost forgotten. It could be possible that this was just someone who shared the same name. But maybe.. possibly.. the universe was giving him the chance to apologize. “YN.” 🌗🌗

Daniel and YN part 6 🌗🌗

YN never really liked her neighbors. She never outright loathed them, but she was uncomfortable with how Inko kept trying to be her mother, and how Izuku had this strange obsessive stare when he looked at her. As long as they stayed in their apartment and never bothered them it would all be fine. But their parents couldn’t watch them all the time. So on days when momma and pop went out Miss Midoryia would graciously watch them. YN never liked pity. So when Miss Midoryia tried to pity and feel sorry about YN’s quirkless status, that just made her dig her heels in longer. She didn’t need people to fuss over her like she was a glass doll. At least with Izuku she could’ve had a companion. She did try to get along with him. But he was so weird. Just because they both were quirkless didn’t mean they’d would be close. “So why are you homeschooled?” “I get into fights.” “Why?” “Because people are mean and they think they’ll have no consequences to their words. I proved them wrong.” “Were they mean because you’re quirkless or because Daniel is… different?” Now obviously he didn’t mean any harm by that. But an emotional 10 year old girl is not someone to mess with. So with a sharp glare to his face the conversation quickly died. In the dining room, Daniel would usually be coloring. Or playing with his legos. Something to stim and distract his mind. Sometimes he’d just pull out a old painting his dad got him, and he’d spend hours looking at the strokes and would mentally add a new feature. Twirling the hair on his head whilst sucking/biting his thumb. “Daniel? Would you like some water?” “No miss. I want momma.” “I know sweetie but she won’t be gone forever. And you call me Inko” Though she’d prefer him to call her something more affectionate. Throughout the night Inko kept trying to mother them. She hovered over YN’s neck and tried petting her head which resulted in a swipe from the little girl. By the time YN’s parents got back, she was relieved and spent the rest of the night complaining to her mom about how she didn’t want to go over to the neighbors anymore and how she felt uncomfortable. Across the hall the two greenettes were enamored with the two kids. Inko adored how sweet Daniel was, how shy he looked to her. Izuku was star struck at this girl without a quirk who was so quick to fight against the norms put in place by a society against them. They'd soon make it a habit to try to talk to the family in the hall, or bump into them on the street. One day, after the family had been gone for a couple weeks, they saw the two with several police officers and a social worker packing away all their belongings. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something terrible had happened. When Inko offered to watch them, the social worker confirmed the worst and took the children away. Three weeks later, as her son was at school Inko kept trying to find the legal way for her to gain custody of the kids when her door was knocked. Her husband, AFO, on the other side. She tried telling him to go away. Tried saying that he had no part in Izuku’s life anymore. But he had a bigger role than known. “How can you be so cruel my love? Especially now that I’ve opened the door for you to gain what you want?” “What do you mean?” “I’ll help you gain custody of the two children you are craving. I happen to have a fascination with them as well.” “I can’t ever guarantee that we’ll be a whole family ever again.” “Of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. But let’s try something for now.” So Inko made a deal with the devil, to gain two angels. 🌗🌗

Now that AFO is in the story, I'm like so excited! Great work, Moon anon!

[pride-moth]

You only get what you grieve [Stolitz Week Day 5 Hurt/Comfort]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

Stolas has been drifting in and out of consciousness in his tight restraints for hours by the time Blitz, Millie, Moxxie and Loona break down the door to his holding cell. It’s a big, empty room, all metal and a single cupboard. Stolas is tied to a chair, has been for days, no food, no water in his reach. To get it, he would depend on Stella’s mercy and she has shown him none.

It takes him a moment to force his eyes open, and attempt to feel his own limbs when they all pour into the room. He can’t, the ropes around his body have cut off all sensation in them. He can faintly remember them hurting when he was first put in them, but all the pain has long been replaced by unbearable numbness.

Blitz rushes towards him to hold his face between his hands. “Millie! Give me your knife!” he yells and cuts Stolas free the moment he receives the knife.

Stolas’ arms fall to his sides uselessly. “Blitzy?” he says weakly, his voice barely more than a rasp.

“Sir, I think he’s dehydrated,” Moxxie remarks.

“Then get some water, Moxx!” Blitz yells, making Moxxie scurry into the back of the room, stands in front of Stolas again and takes his face back between his hands. “Stolas? Hey, it’s… It’s okay, we’re here now, you’ll be okay.”

“Stella?” Stolas asks, it’s all he can get out.

“She… She’s dead. We… Took care of that. It was… I was… Sorry, there was no other way.”

Stolas doesn’t say anything, but is overcome with a hefty cough.

Moxxie comes running back with a large bottle of water. Blitz yanks it from his hands and holds it carefully to Stolas’ beak. “Slowly,” he says softly, perhaps more softly than Stolas has ever heard him speak.

He drinks, trying to slow himself down, but he hasn’t had a drop of liquid in three days and his body is aching for it with every fiber. His arms start to itch again, so that’s a good sign as well at least. He stops drinking for a moment to whisper “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I wouldn’t just let you die in this hole.” There’s a rumbling above them. Blitz looks up in obvious concern. “Can you get up?”

“I don’t know, I barely feel my limbs.”

The steps above them grow faster. “Loona, you’re strong, can you throw him over your shoulder when we get in a hurry?”

She shrugs. “I guess. Either way, we should probably get running.”

“I thought…?”

“Yeah, we got rid of Stella, but unfortunately Striker still has a bit more of a personal problem with us,” Millie explains while she gestures for Blitz to give her her knife back.

As if on cue, Striker appears in the doorframe, already bleeding from his shoulder, but his eyes hungry for a fight. “You killed my source of income, you destroyed my job and you’re even trying to save this pompous asshole?”

“I’d rather have a pompous asshole than a deranged one!”

“Hand him out to me, I’m sure there are enough overlords and royals in Hell who would be more than willing to pay a good bounty for him. And I would even be generous and give you all 10%. As a peace offer.”

“Fuck you and your peace,” Blitz says, draws his gun and takes a single shot.

The bang echoes throughout the small room and leaves Stolas’ ears ringing. A stinging pain takes over that makes it hard for him to look up and focus. But when he manages to lift his head again, he sees Striker on the ground, struggling to hold onto this bleeding leg.

“Let’s get out of here,” Blitz sighs and motions for everyone to follow him as he jumps over Striker and leaves him behind on the ground.

“Sir?” Moxxie says as though to raise an objection.

“Shut it, Moxx. Loona, take Stolas. Now.” Blitz doesn’t even look back at them.

Loona throws Stolas over her shoulder with surprising ease and carries him outside.

They make their way through the abandoned warehouse building in uneasy silence, only the sound of steps on metal between them.

When they make it outside, the light almost burns Stolas’ eyes. “Let’s go to the office,” Blitz offers.

“But Via…” Stolas says weakly, still hanging over Loona’s shoulder, suddenly overcome with fear for his precious baby.

“She’s there, we got her out of the palace first thing before we went on our little rescue mission. Took one of your butlers, too, so someone can look after her.”

“Oh thank the stars.”

“No, thank me maybe, but you can save that for later.” Blitz fishes his phone out of his pocket and stuffs it back in, frustration all over his face. “Moxxie, would you call an ambulance?”

“What?”

“An ambulance. Weee-oh, weee-oh. Takes people to the hospital, do you even have a brain up there?!”

“Sir, I know what an ambulance is, but why?”

“Well, Striker is bleeding out in there, for one.”

“Don’t you want him dead?”

Blitz laughs. “Are you insane? He’s the only motherfucker in Hell to put up a real fight, do you really think I want to deprive myself of that fun?”

Moxxie sighs, shakes his head, but calls the ambulance without further discussion.

Loona sits Stolas down on the couch of their waiting room. Stolas thanks her and feels sleep gnawing at him more intensely than ever before.

It takes not even two seconds before Octavia storms in and throws her arms around him, “Oh my God, Dad! You’re safe!”

Stolas weakly lifts his arms, thankful to feel them again at all, and wraps them around her. “Of course, Via. I would never leave you alone.”

“I assume Mom didn’t make it?”

Stolas’ looks around helplessly, unsure of how to respond.

“She was on the way to fully execute your dad, so we didn’t really have a choice,” Blitz says, as a matter of fact, but he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it. “I… I’m sorry.”

Octavia nods. A thousand emotions run through her big eyes in a matter of seconds. Grief, relief, anger. “I… I’m glad you’re safe, Dad. I just… I need a moment.” She lets go of him and gets up. She leaves the room.

“Via-” Stolas tries to get up but his legs don’t quite allow him to yet.

“Leave her,” Loona says, “Her mom might have been a bitch, but she was still her mom and it’s hard to lose that. I’ll check on her later.”

Stolas wants to protest, run after his daughter, but simply gives her a sad nod. He’s not running anywhere yet.

“How are you feeling?” Blitz asks as Millie enters the room with some hot chocolate for everyone.

Stolas can only shrug. “Like shit, mostly. I can sort of feel my body again, at least. But, I just… I can’t form a clear thought, it’s all so… foggy. I… I can’t even think of how I feel about Stella being dead. It doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real.”

Blitz nods and hands him one of the hot chocolate cups. “That’s okay, take your time.”

“You’re being extremely nice to me,” Stolas remarks.

“Stolas, I’m coming off a 72 hour rescue mission and I’m mostly just glad you’re alive. I don’t exactly have energy left over for snarky sarcasm, okay. Being as charmingly abrasive as I am takes work.” Blitz plops down on the couch next to him with a shaky laugh. Stolas leans against him.

“Thank you. I don’t think I would still be alive without you.”

“I would never let you die,” Blitz whispers.

Across the room Millie is gesturing at Moxxie and they excuse themselves from the room moments later.

“Where are they going?”

Blitz sighs. “Ugh, they want to give us the room. As if I’m gonna drop a whole confession speech on you when you barely function.”

Stolas stops. “Confession?”

“Oh crap.” Blitz blushes. “I… Don’t worry about it today, okay? Worry about your daughter and the very awkward funeral you’re about to attend soon. Just… Just let me help you put yourself back together.”

Stolas stays silent.

“Let’s start by massaging your shoulders, those must be killing you. Sorry, maybe not the best time to make jokes about murder. Uhm, anyway.” Blitz puts his mug down, gets off the couch to walk behind Stolas. He starts carefully massaging Stolas’s shoulders.

It feels good, it takes some of the edge off, it brings warmth back into Stolas’ body. It makes everything feel a little less horrible. It makes everything horrible he has experienced in the past few days feel a little farther away. He doesn’t want Blitz to ever stop touching him. He wants to feel these hands on him for as long as he lives. It should be some earth-shattering revelation, but it simply feels like the culmination of everything they’ve been through. “I love you,” he whispers, without thinking.

Blitz stops massaging him for a moment. “You should call a therapist.”

“Because I love you?”

“No, because you’ve just spent three days tied up in a storage unit without food or drink and your wife had to be murdered to get you out of there. You might need some help processing that.”

“Were you even listening to me?” Stolas asks, a little heartbroken.

“I was, Stolas. And I love you, too, you big idiot, but I’m not going to talk about this with you now. Not before we’ve slept for 24 hours. Not before things aren’t somewhat okay with your daughter. I don’t… I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

“It’s not-”

“Please, Stolas. Let me just… Be there for you for now. Platonically.”

Stolas swallows but then he nods and that’s all that’s said about it for the evening. It’s enough, though, for now, that Blitz brings him hot chocolate and massages him and helps him talk to Via and helps him get up and walk again. And Blitz is right, he has other concerns for now. The horror of the moment is over, but there’s so much work ahead.

[funkymbtifiction]

This pandemic has brought out the worst in me. My sleeping schedule is a mess (I go to sleep at 6am and wake up at 2pm), I'm barely able to get out of the bed, I can barely do the dishes and take out the trash, I spend too much time on YouTube and inside my head, thinking about all the stuff I wanted to work on but being unable to do it.

My memory has also gotten worse - if it's not something I'm not obsessed with then I'll not remember the details. I was trying to snap myself out of this hazy floating by trying to focus my mind at least on reading, which is something I absolutely love, but now I'm unable to focus even on a plot I find interesting and intriguing, my mind immediately starts to wander, or I need to do at least 2 things at once (reading and checking Reddit, or reading and listening to some ambient music). I've also started to not finish stories where I once used to read a book a day.

I know the theory of what I should be doing, but that's it. I'm unable to JUST DO it. I think my Te is trying to motivate me by trying to wake up my conscience, but it's not enough. I hate this because I know I can do things and concentrate and be responsible and productive, but because I'm fine and all my basic needs are met I don't have the need to pull myself together. I used to fuel my 7 by travelling and observing people, but now that we need to stay home, and I have covid (so my friends bring me groceries), my 9w1 core sloth is all too happy to be left alone, with my devices.

I know that this pandemic brought pandemic fatigue with it, plus it's spring and I'm always tired in spring (plus my years-long medical issues with thick blood and low blood pressure), but it's driving me crazy that I could've gotten better at my hobbies and could've reached some of my goals by now only if I DID things. Things that used to work don't help anymore. And then I don't even stay mad long because some new video distracts me.

Is there something from a mbti perspective that can help to start doing things and concentrating on them? (For context I'm an ENFP 9w1 7w6 2w3)

Also thank you so much for this blog, thank you for helping lost souls find their way and be better people, both inside their head and outside when interacting with the outer world ❤️ I haven't been studying mbti for that long but so far I've seen so much valuable information on your blog, and for free!

Are you mad enough at yourself yet to change your behavior?

That's really the bottom line here, because you KNOW that YOU have to start being responsible and doing things and not just wasting your time... but YOU are the only person who will force yourself to do things.

A couple of thoughts. First, I recognize this phenomenon / brain fog. It happened to me several times last year during the pandemic (where I am, things are opening up, so hopefully they will soon for you as well) and I hated it. My mind was unclear, I had lots of things I needed to do but could not focus on any of them. It was, to be honest, a Si grip, which yanks you out of Ne-dom (possibilities, excitement about doing projects, seeing things made real) and turns your intuition into a "fog." There's no access to Fi (do I care about this? if I care, am I a principled person enough to do it?) and no Te (how am I going to prioritize my tasks?), just Si (I'm comfy doing nothing and feeling depressed) and flits of Ne, which only show up as being bored, easily distracted, etc. So some of this is a Si grip, and some of it is general depression (being unfocused, sleeping in late, not taking care of yourself, no motivation even for things you love, unable to finish things). You need to approach it by dealing with both -- getting back into your stronger functions (Ne: envisioning possibilities and finding a purpose, Fi: drawing upon your character and who you want to be and what you care about, to take action, Te: making a plan, forcing yourself to do what needs done, and keeping track of your progress to self-motivate) -- and by recognizing and admitting that you are depressed, and asking what you can do about it.

Second, you have built up some BAD habits during the pandemic. I get it. I fell into some of this as well last autumn, when I ceased being my usual productive self and started leaving work (from home) at 3pm every day. I developed a bad habit of just watching television, which numbed my brain and ultimately bored me. It's only now that I have hope and can go to the store without a mask on that I am feeling happier (my little 7 wing rejoices and has PLANS) and can work through into the late afternoon. I'm re-establishing a schedule that is productive throughout the day instead of allowing myself to "meander" in life. So what you need to do is look at your habits. Make a list of them. Look at what you told me: basically, it is I have become undisciplined, my sleep schedule is bad, and then I wake up late and feel lazy so I don't do anything. What is ONE THING that would jolt you into a different routine? Go to bed on time. Set a time every night, shut off all your devices an hour ahead of it, read a book until you get sleepy, and go to sleep. Wake up at a decent hour. If you wake up at 7am instead of 2pm, your body won't fall into its usual "welp, afternoon is half over, guess I'll watch YouTube" habit. It will go -- wait, what new habit are we forming? Breakfast? Then work?? Okay!

Lastly, and this is HUGELY important for an ENFP -- decide the night before what you are going to accomplish or work on tomorrow. Why? It prepares your brain to know what is expected from it. Unless I do this each night, and have a notion of how I am going to spend my time, my Ne goes ?!?! and I get very little done or waste three hours trying to decide what to do. But if I say, "Okay, tomorrow I am finishing chapter four," I usually finish chapter four (and then some). Today, I have to work at my paying job. I knew this last night, so I am mentally clear and prepared to focus only on the task at hand. I don't treat today as "mine." It belongs to my employer. I know what I am going to do, I intend to do it, and when I get home, I know what else I can work on. Learn to create this habit each night before bed. Decide what tomorrow is going to be like and commit to it.

As for tasks you don't want to do that still need done -- just do them. You can spend 2 weeks avoiding them, or spend an hour and get it over with so you don't feel like crap about yourself because you have kept avoiding it for weeks. Decide, "Tomorrow, I am doing that thing first thing in the morning," and then do it.

You will find that when you start setting yourself tasks (Te) that your Ne starts working properly again -- it will become more focused, less hazy, and more interested in what you can contribute, rather than just mindless "consuming." It's fine to have a down day now and again (even so, it's also useful to have a vague idea the night before of what this day will contain, even if it's fun -- it's fun and exciting to anticipate things) but your life NEEDS structure, or you won't do anything.

I hope you can pull yourself out of this, because you won't be happy unless you do. ENFPs need to get things done, contribute, feel like they are moving forward, and have something to show for their time. Without it, they will get angry at themselves -- as you well know.

[pinkjiminssi]

So.. About That Hickey..

I think I’m still processing all of this and reminding myself I’m not dreaming 🤣 I seriously only got 3 hours of sleep last night and when I woke up the first thing I did was check twitter to be sure this “drunk bridal-style spinning hickey neck biting proudly showing off” moment actually happened!! 

.. I hate the way my brain works though. I was so happy that it took me forever to fall asleep, spent all day on cloud 9 despite being tired, .. and then my old nemesis, anxiety, stepped in. Well kind of. TBH if all of the MOTS ON:E Jikook moments we got happened with Jimin/anyone else or Jungkook/anyone else.. I would seriously be sitting here saying “well fuck.. I believe they WERE a couple, but looking at all of this it seems they are no longer together.” So really, this just confirmed what I already knew about Jimin and Jungkook: they’re a couple. My anxiety is over.. why? Why show us this? If they can cover all of JK’s tattoos, a hickey/bite mark/whatever we’re calling it should be super easy to hide. Sure it was just rehearsal.. but it was rehearsal with cameras rolling with every intention of releasing what was being filmed as future content. It could have (and some might argue should have) been covered.

Guys... I’m confused. And concerned. ❗❗❗ TW for drama, hate, homophobia, the usual anti issues

That “official” explanation.. again.. why? I’m assuming Jimin and Jungkook were asked and allowed to explain because of the chance of it being spotted and armys freaking out, so BH (or possibly even Jikook) thought to get ahead of the speculation by just being up front about it all.. but THAT explanation? I suppose it works for covering up the army panic of “Jungkook has a girlfriend?! *insert fangirl sobbing*” .. but that’s literally all it does (and only barely if you go looking at some of the anti’s reactions to it all). Really, all it did was draw even more attention and speculation. I mean.. this is, essentially, what we were told: Jimin and Jungkook were together the night before drinking, apparently without the other members as they didn’t seem to know all of this already (and they would have if they had been there), somehow hanging out and having drinks turns into Jungkook picking Jimin up bridal style (random but some of the k-army reactions on twitter were translating through google into “princess style” and I just think that’s so cute 🥰), spinning ensues, Jimin gets dizzy and wants Jungkook to put him down, ... and so he proceeds to do the only logical thing that any of us would have done in that situation... biting Jungkook’s neck? And hard enough to leave a mark the next day?? And instead of being peeved about it (like most of us would have been if our friend bit the crap out of us), Jungkook looks happy?? proud even??? 

And they arrived together the next day and continue to be cute and playful? 

I just.. I mean.. come on. First of all.. that’s a hickey. A bite leaves teeth marks. And one would assume a wild, drunken “let me down” chomp would be something that happens suddenly and ends very quickly. I know I for sure would drop someone on their ass if they decided to take a bite out of my neck (assuming I was even picking up and spinning around with one of my friends like that to begin with.. but let’s not even get into why that was going on at this point) .. but the way this bruised? Yeah. There were no teeth involved (at least not hard enough to leave indentations) and this took more than a couple of seconds of mouth-to-neck contact to still be that visible the next day. So.. in short. Jungkook arrives with a hickey, JK decides to not cover it up (or he would have shown up with it hidden and we see him get out of the car that morning with it clearly visible), BH staff sees it and also decides to not have it covered up and actually have it explained... and the explanation is “oh yeah Jimin just bit him, you know.. no big deal hehehe isn’t that funny?” 🤯 WHAT?! Yeah.. that’s totally normal, platonic behavior between adults...

I’m not saying Jimin and Jungkook are lying btw. I have no doubt it played out more or less exactly as they said with the exception of what they’re calling the end result. Jimin and Jungkook are fine.. I mean, what were they supposed to say? They’re not going to show up saying Jimin was sucking on Jungkook’s neck the night before. We’ll probably never know why Jungkook decided to not cover it up before arriving, but it’s his body and he gets to decide. It’s BH that has me so puzzled. Other than antis and people who refuse to see what’s literally right in front of their faces when it comes to Jikook.. who were BH expecting to believe the bite thing? Just among staff and the other members, it’s a laughable but safe “oh of course *wink wink*” explanation that allows everyone to carry on like normal. But to the public who don’t know them personally, don’t know their usual behavior and patterns, and who don’t have something like a non-disclosure agreement or professional courtesy preventing them from openly speculating.. it doesn’t fly. Pretty much everyone teen and up knows what a hickey looks like (either from having gotten/given one or at least seeing one on someone else in person or online). It’s immediately obvious what it is. And even if there was some uncertainty.. that it’s on his neck (instead of other easily accessible and less sensitive/stimulating locations) and just so happens to be right near his mole as it Jimin were aiming for it? Just another “too many coincidences” thing when it comes to Jikook.

Even antis on twitter couldn’t deny what it was and, so, had to resort to the “well I do that with my sibling and my uncle’s pet raccoon all the time it’s just family things” excuse and/or the “yeah well someone ELSE in the group (or a girlfriend) gave him that and they’re just covering by saying it was Jimin.” Oh. And the same old “it’s just fan service” excuse (as if Jungkook would let someone bruise his neck for the purposes of fanservice which, again, BTS has never done or needed to do. Forever pissed off that so many in this fandom act like Jungkook is a puppet doing whatever the “evil company” tells him to do regardless of his personal feelings or boundaries. The man has tattoos covering nearly every inch of his arm despite that being looked down on in Korea. At this point he can do whatever the fuck he wants). So.. why?? Seriously, why? This all could have easily been avoided with simple makeup.

When they’re doing official content they’re all literally followed around by a flurry of staff fixing hair, dabbing sweat, touching up makeup, etc. Even though it was rehearsal, staff were everywhere in the footage that’s made its way online. If they were worried that it would be seen in the background and “taken the wrong way,” just have the staff occasionally touch up the makeup. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” But instead of doing the obvious, BH decides to: not cover it, draw attention to it by asking about it and letting them continue to talk about it, go out of their way to get a camera on it, and then include it in the final cut of the content they sent out?

BTS is literally the most popular group in the world right now and BH has become a behemoth of a company that runs like a well-oiled machine. They’re not stupid; this was not a mistake. For some reason they wanted us to see this and, one would assume based on the lack of a more believable explanation, they wanted us to come to the conclusion that we all have: Jimin gave Jungkook a hickey. You know they have teams dedicated to monitoring reactions to content on social media. You know they know the dialog surrounding Rosebowl, Black Swan MMA, the Memories 2020 “almost kiss,” etc. etc. All of this got “jikook,” “hickey” and variations of their names trending for HOURS (in multiple countries and worldwide). 

Out of curiosity, I decided to check the trends at the time of writing this. As of 3 AM CST (about 24 hours AFTER the clips started showing up online), there was still a hashtag trending related to all of this: #FREEJUNGKOOK.. and the tweets being directed toward BH are.. disturbing to say the least:

While I agree that the boys should trend more often based on their talents and music.. what’s going on right now is a homophobic 💩 show accusing BH of “scripting” interactions (rather than.. you know.. Jungkook interacting with whoever he wants however he wants.. the usual “mindless puppet JK” narrative), trying to coordinate the mass sending of angry emails, trying to get people to stop buying paid content, accusing BH of taking advantage of the members.. I mean it goes on and on. And BH know what’s going on right now. They’re seeing the reactions... the good and the extremely negative. And still they let this out. And this is all not even CONSIDERING the mountain of other moments that made the cut on MOTS ON:E. 

(side note, the above pic just oozes happiness and it’s so cute I love it!! 😭)

So.. even though I’ve said it dozens of times already... WHY? W H Y? I’m an anxious person by nature and not very trusting. I believe Jimin and Jungkook and I don’t think they’ve been lying and pretending for “fanservice” all of these years. I respect them both too much as individuals and artists to believe that they would stoop to such tactics just to generate a little more “interest” and revenue. I’m suspicious of BH. BTS doesn’t need fanservice to get attention; literally all of 2020 and 2021 so far has proven that beyond a doubt. Even if they suddenly made the decision to do fs.. why not go with the most popular ship (taekook) or at least one that isn’t so hotly debated on social media (remove Jimin, Jungkook and Tae from the equation and you still have four members to “play” with who have much less potential to have fs devolve into a toxic crap show all over the internet). Showing us this will do nothing to help BTS as a group or Jimin and Jungkook at this point. In fact.. all it can do is hurt. Hurt BH, hurt the group, and hurt the individual members, heck.. even potentially hurt other BH/HYBE groups. I’ve already seen people on twitter saying they’re “done” spending money on anything BH or BTS puts out because they’re “sick of jikook in their faces and just two of the seven hogging all of the screen time.” Whether or not that “spending freeze” actually materializes into anything noticeable remains to be seen of course.. but the threat is there and always has been. What is the motive? And why now? As much as my “hopeless romantic” heart would like to believe they’re preparing us for Jikook to be “out” .. I seriously don’t think that is ever going to happen. Certainly not now at the height of the group’s fame, with them being given Presidential honors and ambassador status, and with military service still looming over them all. And let’s not forget... Korea is NOT a safe place for a queer couple. Letting us see and know what they did through what was released has the potential to put Jimin and Jungkook (and the other members by proxy) in danger. Sure.. BTS has never been hardline rule followers and have been breaking molds and shattering norms from the start, so “officially” having an openly gay couple in the group wouldn’t be impossible.. just... highly highly improbable. Especially right now... and I’m concerned. I don’t want to sound like the creeps I posted a screenshot of above throwing blame at the company. The boys chose to renew their contracts with the for a reason so we have to trust their judgement as a group... but still, I’m worried and I’m questioning what the purpose was here. 

[polaroid15]

Worst Date Ever

Summary: Peter and MJ go to the movies. Turns out, all it takes is an ex-Stark employee with a grudge and a sniper rifle to ruin the mood.

Read on Ao3 here :)

------

“That movie was terrible. Like, Captain America PSA bad.”

Beside her, Peter huffs out a small laugh. “Oh come on MJ, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It totally was!”

“But as bad as the PSA’s?” he stresses.

“Worse.”

“No way!”

MJ can’t help but laugh. It’s cold outside the theatre and she shoves her hands deep in her coat pockets to combat it. “Why’d he even agree to make those?” she asks.

Peter gapes at her for a moment. “Um. I don’t know. I haven’t exactly asked him.”

“But you could!”

And it’s true, crazy as it sounds.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Peter says, contemplating. “Maybe he was blackmailed.”

MJ hums in disagreement. They link arms at the elbows and start their long walk home, kicking up leaves from the sidewalk. “Do war criminals really have a good reason for anything?”

“Oh my God. You and Tony would get along.”

Tony. MJ smirks. “What happened to calling him Mr. Stark?”

Almost looking embarrassed, Peter shrugs deep in his coat. “Uh- did I say Tony? I meant Mr. Stark. Totally.”

“Right. And I definitely believe you.”

“MJ!”

“You know I’m messing with you. The fact that you’re on a first name basis with the Avengers is just-”

“Crazy? Hard to believe?”

“Well, duh. But I was going to say cool.”

Peter smiles again. It makes her stomach dissolve. “I guess.”

The streets are quiet, dark. It feels like they’re the only two in the world aside from the occasional flash of lights from a passing car. So what if she leans in a little closer, or tightens her grip on his arm?

Sue her.

“I had fun tonight,” Peter murmurs. He turns his head toward her but looks away just as quick. It doesn’t prevent her cheeks from heating.

“Me too,” she says. “Even though the movie totally sucked.”

Peter opens his mouth to respond but tenses before he speaks, eyes widening and head snapping towards the opposite side of the street. Feeling her heart rate spike, MJ digs her nails into his jacket. “What is it?”

His eyes narrow against the darkness. She can see his pulse jumping through his neck. “My- it doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

With urgency, he slides his hand down to her own and grasps it tightly, moving to pull her down the street. They barely make it three steps before Peter jerks beside her, a sound like someone being punched hard in the gut reaching her ears. Before her mind can catch up to what’s happening Peter makes a low gasping sound and folds over like wet paper, dragging her down with him.

Her knees hit the cement hard, though she hardly registers the pain through the blind panic coursing through her bloodstream. Peter continues to gasp horribly, his hand leaving her own to clutch up at his stomach. “Oh- oh man-”

“Peter what happened? What’s wrong?”

“MJ-”

“Peter! Talk to me!”

“We have to- we have to go.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Then she sees it.

Red circles on the cement, growing steadily with each passing second. All the information snaps together in her head in one terrifying second and she forgets how to draw in air, tears of panic making her eyes sting.

“You got shot,” she concludes numbly.

“Don’t-” Peter whines, curling the hand supporting him into a fist. His gasps morph into short panicked breaths. “I can’t think about it, okay? Help- help me up.”

What? She feels glued to the cement, stuck forever in the whirlwind of the past thirty seconds. Peter isn’t Spider-Man right now. Getting shot shouldn’t have even been in the realm of possibilities-

“MJ please.”

“What?”

“I need- I need you to help me up. I can’t do it myself.”

Some semblance of coherence returning to her, MJ shakes her head vigorously and tries hard to separate her mind from her body. She sits him back and registers the growing stain above his hip bone before she’s pressing her palms into it. He bites back a scream at the pressure and tries to squirm away. “You need an ambulance!”

“No. No. Spider, remember? Just help me up before someone comes-”

“Peter Parker!”

“MJ! Trust me, okay?”

Their eyes connect for a millisecond. It’s all it takes. She nods, hands shaking as they release his wound and instead work to wrap around his arm. Together they manage to stand, though both of them sway once vertical.

“Tell me what to do,” she says, white spots eating away at her vision through her panic. She keeps looking across the street to where the shot was fired from, but it’s quiet. “I’ve got you Peter. Just- you gotta tell me what to do.”

Peter looks around deliriously, the skin under his eyes wet. She wonders in detachment if he knows he’s crying. “There,” he says finally, dipping his head towards a gas station on the corner. “Bathroom.”

Without wasting another second, MJ gathers her strength and helps Peter walk. He stumbles more than once, but she manages to steady him before he hits the ground. She ignores his slurred apologies and focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

By some miracle, they make it. The bathroom needs a key but Peter breaks the handle clean off in his desperation to get inside. They collapse inward, laying gasping against the cold tile as Peter continues to fight for breath.

“Need- need to get it off,” he slurs. He crawls towards the sink and MJ lags, brain short circuiting. She watches him as he pulls himself up, eyes rolling for a moment before refocusing and turning on the taps. He lifts up his shirt with a shaking hand and throws the water against the gore on his stomach.

Move, MJ. Help him.

His breathing is getting worse, his face more pale than she’s ever seen it.

Move!

“Peter,” she wheezes, standing on weak knees and rushing to his side. She grabs his wrists gently and pulls them away from the water. He won’t look at her, fighting weakly. “Peter. Stop-”

“Need to get it off,” he says again, chest heaving. “Ben-”

Oh.

Tears returning to her eyes, MJ rests a careful hand against the side of Peter’s face, rubbing her thumb under his eye. It carries blood underneath it like the stroke of a paintbrush. “Peter look at me. Look at me.”

Slowly, he does, though she’s not sure he really sees her. “This isn’t Ben. You’re not there, okay? You’re going to be okay. We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Bleed- bleeding?”

Heart aching, MJ guides Peter to sit against the wall and maneuvers his hands to press into his side. When they stick, she rushes to the paper towel dispenser and rips out sheet after sheet until her hands are full.

“Where’s your phone, Peter?”

“Phone?”

MJ crouches down beside him, her knees sticky with blood. She moves his hands and pushes the paper towel over the wound, applying pressure until he grunts. “Yes, your phone! Give it to me.”

“Right.” Trembling, Peter wrestles it out of his jacket pocket and drops it before it reaches her hand. She picks it up off the floor and unlocks it, careful to ignore the way her thumb leaves an ugly streak of red against the screen.

“Come on, come on,” she whispers, her vision seeming to narrow down to a pinprick. She holds her breath until she finds the contact.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

“What’s up kiddo?”

MJ sobs in relief. Peter looks at her in confusion, reaching a weak hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She feels blood transfer onto her cheek from his fingers and shivers. “Mr. Stark? Thank God.”

“Who is this? Where’s Peter?”

“I’m- my name’s MJ. Peter’s hurt. We need help.”

“Damn it. Okay. Crap. Jesus. I’m on my way. What happened?”

MJ spaces. What happened? “We- we were at the movies. We were walking home. Peter- Peter sensed something bad and then- and then he got shot.”

“Shot?”

“Yes.”

Stark curses loudly. Multiple times. “Did you see who it was? Are you in danger?”

“No. They- they were across the street. I didn’t see them. I think we’re okay now.”

Whatever his response is, it’s lost to her ears as Peter relaxes under her hold, his chin dipping and eyelids fluttering. She yelps and shakes him, though perhaps too hard because he flinches hard, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes.

“Ben,” he moans, lips wobbling. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a heavy silence on the phone, filled only with Tony’s sharp breathing. “Damn it,” he mumbles eventually, as if it hurts to talk. “Three minutes. I’ll be there in three minutes, alright? Try to keep him awake. Distract him from thinking about his Uncle.”

“Okay. Right. Sure.”

Peter curls his hand around her wrist. It leaves a bracelet of red. “MJ.”

“Peter. Oh man. I hope you know that you’re scaring the hell out of me right now.”

“Sorry.”

“No it’s not- nevermind. God, you’re annoying sometimes.”

At this, he smiles. There’s blood streaked on his face from where she had tried to comfort him, already on its way to drying. “At least- at least this is more exciting than that movie.”

Unbelievable. MJ huffs out an anxious laugh. “Are you kidding me right now Parker?”

“Memorable,” he slurs before his head dips again. MJ sacrifices a hand to catch it.

“Don’t pass out on me,” she says fiercely. “It’s rude to pass out on dates.”

“S’ry.”

“Tony will be here soon.”

Peter moans low at this, his touch around her wrist weakening. “Can’t- can’t invite dad’s on dates. That’s- that’s lame.”

MJ feels like she’s spinning. “Peter-”

Metal hits the ground hard from behind and she doesn’t need to look to know that Tony is here. He collapses at her side within seconds, his laboured breaths filling the small space and his hand reaching to cup the back of Peter’s neck. His other hand pushes Peter’s hair back in a movement more gentle than MJ could think possible.

Like a dad.

“Hey Petey, how’re we feeling?”

Peter doesn’t even try to look at him, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Been- been better.”

“I’ll say.”

“Bad date,” Peter murmurs, resting his head more fully against Tony’s hand. “Shot. Whoops.”

“Whoops indeed,” Tony agrees, “God, kid you’re a disaster.” He turns towards MJ. It’s her first time meeting the billionaire in person, though the shock factor is diluted against the fact that her boyfriend is actively bleeding out underneath her hands.

“You must be MJ,” Tony says, offering a hand. The fact that her own is covered in blood doesn’t seem to cross her mind as she reaches to shake it, feeling increasingly dizzy. “Sorry about all this. Parker luck, you know.”

“What-”

As if to steal back the attention, Peter gives one last guttural moan before his body goes limp. It takes both MJ and Tony to keep him from kissing the cement.

“That’s my cue,” Tony says, gathering Peter into his arms. Shifting the position, he looks at his watch. “Happy will be here in two minutes, alright? Do you know who Happy is? Actually, doesn’t matter. You can trust him. He’ll clean up this horror show and take you over to the compound, alright?”

After an inappropriately long pause, MJ finds enough sense to nod, distracted by Peter’s lax body in Tony Stark’s arms.

“Okay. You did good. Don’t freak out. Deep breaths. Stay here. Two minutes.”

She blinks, and Tony is gone.

Blinks again, and a flushed man in a black Audi pulls in front of the bathroom. She sits in the corner and can’t make out what he says to her as he pulls at the paper towel and mops away the blood. On the sink, on the wall, on the floor.

“Can you stand?” he asks when he finishes. It looks like Peter had never even been here. She looks at him through swimming vision. “What?”

“Stand. Can you stand?”

“Oh.” After a short nod, MJ makes it to her feet. The man’s hand wraps around her elbow, warm and gentle, and she lets him lead her out to the car.

-------

The Avengers Compound looks much bigger in person, she decides. She stares at it and shoves her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking. She smells like blood and movie theatre popcorn.

Happy tries to make conversation, to assure her, but her frazzled mind tunes him out to a dull static. Her teeth chatter with chills unrelated to the cold and she must lose time because the next time she becomes aware the car is parked and her door is open, the man named Happy standing in its place and talking. Surprised her ears have spontaneously stopped working, she fights to break the spell and blinks to clear her vision. “What?”

Happy sighs, though through his tough demeanor she sees a flicker of empathy. “You need to get out of the car.”

“Oh. Right.”

Nauseous, MJ stumbles out onto the driveway and from there allows Happy to guide her up to a set of double doors. The Compound is warm and for a moment, she lets herself relax.

“P-Peter?” she asks. “Have you heard anything? Is he- is he going to be okay?”

“It’ll take more than a bullet to take down that kid. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”

Though his words feign confidence, MJ remains unassured. They stop outside a large door, which Happy opens, and gestures for her to enter. “Clean the blood off. You’ll feel better.”

It’s a bathroom. She pauses at the door until the request processes in her brain. Then, strangely untethered, she nods and steps inside.

As soon as the door shuts she slides back against it, stars floating across her vision. She digs her nails into her scalp and forces herself to fill her chest with air.

“Oh God.” She crawls over to the toilet and barely has time to lift the lid before she gags.

She feels better.

Feeling more coherent, MJ makes her way to a fancy porcelain sink and twists the water until it steams. Then, without focusing her attention, she dips her hands under the stream and scrubs with lemon soap until her hands burn too badly to continue. She wipes violently at her face, at her arms, at the darkened denim at her knees.

Not sure how much time has passed, MJ exits the bathroom to find Happy standing in the hall, phone pressed to his ear as he paces. His eyes catch her and his expression softens. “I’ll call you back,” he says. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good news. Peter just got out of surgery. They have him all settled. I’ll take you up to see him.”

He begins to walk away, though MJ doesn’t follow. Her feet feel like bricks. “He’s really okay?” she asks.

Happy stops. “Yes. He’s fine.”

A sharp pain in her chest she hadn’t fully realized was there loosens at the confirmation. Lightheaded, she follows.

The hospital room is dimly lit, casting long shadows. Peter is laying in the center of the room, pale and unconscious but alive. Hardly able to register her relief, she freezes in the doorway as Happy wanders in, his face a picture of undeniable worry. Stark is sitting in a chair close to Peter's bedside, his eyes bloodshot and his hand resting protectively against Peter’s arm.

Happy stands beside the man, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other on Peter’s blanketed leg. They share a quiet conversation before Happy nods and moves to leave. He pauses beside her. “What are you waiting for?” he asks.

Then he hurries out into the hall.

It takes a couple of long seconds before she regains control of her legs. She drifts in and eases down in a chair on the opposite side of Tony, who regards her with sharp eyes.

“How’re you holding up?” he asks, which almost surprises her more than the gunshot.

“M-me? I’m fine. How’s Peter?”

“Also fine.”

“He wasn’t-”

“He is now.”

Stark is running his thumb across Peter’s arm, almost absent mindedly. MJ is transfixed by the obvious display of affection and feels, to some relief, the confinement of her worry slowly dissipate.

“Do you know who it was?” she asks. “That shot him?”

The man’s eyes darken, something like guilt passing through them. “Yes, actually. A bitter employee.”

“What?”

“Someone who used to work for me. They were- unethical, to say the least.”

Once again, MJ’s mind is spinning. “Why Peter?”

Tony frowns, but quickly trades it for a look of nonchalance. He doesn’t look at her. “Hurting Peter hurts me more than actually hurting me. He knew that- the bastard. Though how he found you guys in the first place-” Tony closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This should’ve never happened.”

“Oh. It’s not your fault. All that matters is that Peter’s okay.”

“Right,” Tony agrees, regarding her weakly. “Thanks for taking care of him. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

MJ shrugs.

“No, really. I don’t know what I would do if-” Tony tapers off, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. “You know.”

“I know,” she says softly.

Clearing his throat, Tony shifts, though his hand never leaves Peter. “So it was a date then?” he asks. It’s so undeniably paternal that she can’t help but laugh in exasperation.

Before she can respond, Peter moans between them. He swats Tony with a heavy arm, eyes still closed. “Don’ grill her,” he slurs, words barely coherent.

“Oh lordy,” Tony grumbles. “Only you would wake up from a drug-induced sleep to stop me from talking about your dating life.”

But when MJ looks at him, Tony’s face is soft and painted in relief. For some reason, it makes her eyes water.

Peter swivels his head towards MJ, managing to pry one eye open to half mast to look at her. Fighting for courage, she grabs his free hand and intertwines their fingers. “S’ry,” he murmurs.

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Then, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Peter smiles, though it falls into a wince. “I owe you one.”

“Definitely.”

Face relaxing, Peter’s head dips before he catches in with a startled breath of air. Tony rests a hand on his forehead and pushes him back against the pillow gently. “Go back to sleep kiddo. We’ll be right here.”

Peter hums, far from the surface. His head lolls into Tony’s hand and his hand squeezes MJ’s weakly before growing limp. “Love you guys,” he whispers.

Her stomach jumps. She squeezes his hand back.

Love you too, loser.

Tony sits back in his chair. He looks at her almost apologetically.

“Welcome to the family.”

[kitsunesakii]

Experimenting, had fun writing this!

I wouldn't have it any other way:

"Great" I muttered, looking into the dingy hotel room, Onix pushing past me into the room. This day couldn't be any worse. Stupid hero agency. Most people would be happy to be in my position, I was stationed in a stake out with a local villain that was trying to prove that he had changed. A massive operation. My problem with it?

     First of all I was only chosen because I was the most expendable since I was not only a sidekick, but I didn't have a drastic power. He was a telepath, and since I was an empath, I was the only one that could be sent in that could keep certain secrets about the agency. But that's not why they chose me. I wasn't considered a super hero, barley looked at as a sidekick. People laughed when they heard about me, a girl who could distort emotions? Stupid compared to someone who could move brick and stone, or shoot lightning. I was the one they sent when there was a possibility of death. The only upside was Onix, he was the reason why I accepted the mission. He could switch from playboy to gentlemen to evil in three seconds flat. And while I can hold my own, it was easy for him to make my heart melt. Which was only slightly annoying.

     "Ah, we seem to have a problem"

     I was pulled from my thoughts as his voice echoed through the small room. "Only one bed dearest" he cooed. I stared at the room's bed. It looked cute, with a baby blue blanket with white pillows. In the corner of the room was a comfy looking chair. I tried to force down the red that was growing on my face, letting out a nervous chuckle instead.

     "I'll sleep on the chair" I stated, giving him a forced optimistic smile. This day was just getting better and better. He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest. Instead of watching him I pulled out my laptop and started hacking through the main frame of the building next door. I don't even know why they sent me, I'm no hacker, at least, not skilled like "Cypher" or her sidekick. And I was getting a headache, brought on by the lecture I had given before I was assigned this case. Don't forget that the only reason your here is because you are lucky enough to be able to force him out of your thoughts. It's the only thing your useful for. I grimaced at the memory, I wasn't really in the mood for being stepped on. And I was reaching my breaking point. Fast.

     "I'll just sleep on a chair" he mocked, a playful smile dancing on his features. It had been a while since I had seen him. The last time was when I worked with an insufferable hero people called "bolt" he had been the only one that took me on and only because I didnt outshine him. We had been assigned with a bank robbery, Onix had been there, along with about three other people. He had gotten the upper hand, just my luck, taking me into a room for interrogation. The minute I figured out that he could read minds I had shut him out. Instinctively fogging all my thoughts.

     That was the moment the agency realized I has some ounce of worth, Keeping the secrets safe. But Onix  hadn't gotten angry, didn't hurt me, just stared at me in wonder, in awe, a sight I never got to see. It made my stomach turn in knots.

     "Your gonna sleep on a chair, for 3 nights?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his teasing smile growing by the second.

     "Yes" I deadpanned. The heat in my face steadily rising. I guess it wasn't all bad, he didn't look down on me like everyone else did, or at least he pretended. I couldn't know for sure because he also instinctively  tuned me out of his subconscious.

     "I know I'm irresistible to look at but I'm even more fun to sleep with" he hummed.

     I dipped my head below the laptop screen. My face was burning, I wasn't used to someone speaking to me like that. And it was a bit annoying, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it. it was that it could all be fake, and I was simply setting myself up for disappointment. I typed away at the computer, ignoreing his comments, it had been a while since I was asked to hack into something so complex, this was going to take me a while. I felt a hand drag down  the length of my scalp, onto the base of my neck. I went rigid. "W-what"

     "Shhhh, you get so tense, just relax"

     He traced a finger lightly through my hair, sending ripples throughout my neck. The pleasure ripped through my back. That was enough.

     I forced myself to stand, shaking free of his hold and moving to the other side of the room. "Don't, just don't" the surprise on his face was evident, as he also jumped to his feet, confusion seeping through his eyes. I felt the anger bubble under my skin.

     "Everybody treats me like crap, and you come in here and pretend and I just have had enough!"  I tried to breathe, tried to see reason, but I was so tired of it all. "I put up with it because I feel like I can maybe make a difference, and everyone looks down at me because I'm a bloody empath" I covered my face with my hands, feeling a hot tear make it's way down my cheek. "And you come in here, and treat me with pity" this shouldn't of been happening, I shouldn't of been here. My stupid emotions, his stupid good looking features. Two hand hit the sides of my shoulders, gently drawing circles on my skin. I wiped away the angry tear that had fallen, leaning into the touch, too tired to argue.

     "Do you think I'm giving you the time of day out of pity?" His voice was a whisper, and it was straight into my ear, I stiffened. "Over this past week I've gotten to learn a lot about you, I learned your power, how your looked down apon. But mostly, I learned that when you put your mind to something you won't let anyone lead you astray." He moved a hand, placing it under my chin. Tilting it so our eyes met. "Your beauty comes from the determination coursing through your veins. Your kindness comes from experience. And you patience is one of your greatest virtues." He paused, his gaze burning through my eyes. A dangerous smile resting on his smooth face. "And, I also noticed, that when your around me, your thoughts do this thing. Almost like a low hum. Almost like," he lowered his voice to a purr "you get flustered around me, and dearest? You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off of you~"

     with that he pressed his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands met my hair, and he combed through my scalp. Sending more shivers down my spine. I let the wall behind me support me, feeling all my strength leave with every small tug at my hair. One minute his lips were pressed against mine and the next they traveled down my cheek, riding the length of my neck. My breath hitched as his cool tongue grazed my exposed skin. He paused, moving back up to meet my gaze. I had held onto his shoulders, desperately trying to fight against gravity.

     He smiled. Looking at my fire coated cheeks. Tracing the tip of his thumb against my lip. His other hand still hypnoticly playing with my hair. "If you really think I'm going to let you sleep on the chair, then you don't know me at all" he teased, once again closing the distance between us. Nibbling at my ear. I let out a tiny squeak, unsure at what I was reacting too since his other hand was running up and down the length of my back, each time going a little further, causing goosebumps to creep along my skin.

     I moved my hands, gliding them down his shirt, feeling the grooves in his chest. My mind was hazy, all common sense and reason leaving me with every sigh. I didn't really know what to do, and he wasn't making it easier. Skillfully making every shift of his hands, every flick of his fingers, melt my brain more than the last. His lips met mine and I could taste the salt of his lips, feel the satisfaction rolling off of him. His hands moved down my front, rewarded with another small squeak from me, before slowly making his way to my hands, that were still absentmindedly tracing his chest. He held them in his, only then I was realizing how big his hands were compared to mine, suited with little cuts and bruises here and there. I breathed, taking a moment to pull his hands up to my face, studying them closely. Forcing my brain to stop spinning. He stayed quiet, watching me closely as I brought his knuckles to my lips, brushing against his hands, moving  them to brace against my cheek.

     "There so warm" I whispered, feeling him shape his palms to fit against my face. Still wearing the same smile that dug it's stare into my own. He stayed there a moment, his chest rising and falling quickly, sucking in a breath before settling his lips against mine once again. His hands moved, one taking residence behind my neck, and the other flew against my side. Making it's way to my hip, gingerly tracing circles over top of me, dragging his fingers slowly.

     He pulled me fully off the wall, startled, I braced myself against him even more. using his neck as a way to keep myself up, stretching flush against him. His lips were still planted on mine, I wouldn't have it any other way, especially considering I couldn't bring myself to speak. Instead, he hummed into my gasps. Skillfully holding me, just enough to feel his own heartbeat thrumimg rhythmically to mine. He lifted both his hands back up to my shoulders, fiddling with the front of the T-shirt I had on. The fabric smooth under his fingers. He said something, but I didn't hear it, between my heart ringing through my ears and my own breathing, I couldn't bring myself enough to hear.

     "Dearest? Did you hear me?" He didn't sound out of breath, making me jealous. I could barely speak. Instead, I shook my head, thanking God that I could at least have enough sense to do that. His smile only got wider, "I said, this is going to be a fun 3 days. "

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[ofmythsandmadness]

c’mere, honey | d.h

BASED ON THIS ASK... can i ask for a like happy fic wit female pronouns and prompt 34? diego hargreeves pls ily -- anon. WARNINGS:  female pronouns used; no physical descriptions of the person are made, but I didn’t go gender-neutral on this one, per the anon’s request. this was written a while ago, but i’m reposting bc tumblr refuses to let anything of mine be shown in tags anymore. :( hopefully this works. x

HE WASN’T SURE WHEN THE NIGHTLY VISITS BECAME A SERIOUS HABIT.

He never did it with the intention to start a regular schedule. It had only been a combination of piss-poor factors -- his late night street-stalking habits, his inability to stay away from the one friend he hadn’t lost yet, and the fact that no matter how bad his night had gone, he couldn’t make it past a minute without laughing at one of her stupid jokes, or smiling at her dancing stupidly in the kitchen in an attempt to make him happy. He wanted to be around her, and his body dragged him to her apartment even without thinking about it, and then...it just happened.

He came to her almost every night. Sometimes he felt bad about it and skipped out, forcing himself to take a break from bothering her. But she scolded him about that every time. Like she actually wanted him there, stinking about her living room and staring at her swivelling form every chance he could. He didn’t really believe her, but he came anyways.

Couldn’t keep himself away.

That night started just as they always did. Diego slipped in through the half-cracked window, and she hailed him in with a loud cry too cheery for that time of night. He used to flinch at her touch; over time, he grew to expect it. Even going so far as to reach for her incoming arms, pulling her to him as tight as he could and burrowing his cold face in her neck. Sometimes, he debated pulling back enough and kissing the soft, sweet-smelling skin, just barely pressing his love into the curve.

“I missed you,” he said instead. The words were muffled by her thick red sweater, but when her arms squeezed a little harder, he knew she heard him. “You good?”

“All good,” she replied. “Better, now that I’ve seen you.”

They’ve always shared a flirtatious relationship -- it built naturally and lingered even when they remained strictly platonic. Maybe it was what he liked most about her. She didn’t seem to bother with the strict guidelines of most friendships. Lines always blurred with her and the way she hugged, how she held his hand and traced soft details into the calloused skin -- how she pulled him to the couch and sank into with his arms still around her, forcing his shivering body to lean into her own honey sweet touch.

She pulled away from him a little, holding onto his gloved hands. Her own fingers danced over the black fabric.

“You’re always so cold.”

“M’sorry.”

She shrugged. Her grasp still held. “Not a bad thing. Just an observation.”

Diego wondered if he should pull away. If he should just pull his hands out of her grasp and throw himself out from whence he came. He didn’t want to ruin her. Pull apart her naturally warm energy with his cold, bitter touch. She was too good...for him, for the world, for life in general.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Her brows furrowed dark and heavy over gentle eyes. In the back of his mind, Diego imagines reaching out and smoothing the worry lines that formed. He considers letting his cold hands press into her skin. His fingers almost leap forward on their own accord. It takes all his inner strength to hold the eagerness back, to remind himself to keep some distance.

His hands fell limp in her grasp. She didn’t miss a beat.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Diego didn’t look at her. He knew she would catch the strand too quickly and pull the lie too fast and he wasn’t built to withstand a loss like that. “I’m okay.” But his voice caught, and he stumbled over his own falsehood. “I...just…”

“...just?”

“Tired,” Diego sighed. And he is. It’s not far from the real, full truth. “Just tired.”

Her head cocked, surveying his sunken form. Her tongue clicks; the sound made him think of a hen, and his brain imagined her fussing over him with the grace of a mother.

“You need to sleep more, honey.”

God, he loved when she called him honey.

“Nah? And miss hanging out with my favourite person?”

Her nose crinkled. If he was more alert, he would catch how her eyes glowed dull red in the lamplight, or the way she had to blink away the fuzzy feeling creeping into her mind. He’d later chide himself for it. “There’s no way I’m your favourite person.”

It was easy, though, to just know his answer was right. Not because of the fact that he could count the number of people he liked on one hand, or because she let him show up too late and stay too late and bother her until it was way too early. She was comfortable. He didn’t have to think about what he said next with her, or what was going to screw things up, or if she was going to leave him because everyone else had.

“Regardless of your lies,” she said, cutting him off before a single syllable could leave his lips, “you should sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m good.”

“Yeah, and I’m a superhero.”

“Are you?”

She didn’t laugh at that, just clicked her tongue again before suddenly, out of nowhere, pulling her hands from his grasp. She left him cold and stranded on her dilapidated couch and he just watched, seeing her rush out of the room before he could protest.

“I - is--” the words failed him, because his brain failed to catch up to the point where she left him and hadn’t yet provided a reason why. Diego stared at the point he last saw her go. “Is everything okay?”

THUMP. THUMP. CRASH.

“What -- are you okay?!”

“I--” two more thumps come crashing down, echoing into the tiny living space. “I’m good! Just -- stay there!”

“How the -- what the -- why can’t I come?!”

“--don’t get up! I’ll be right back!”

It took every single inch of him to remain seated. He yearned to rush over, pull out a knife and slice through whatever danger she must be facing -- it’s only her voice that stopped him. The reminder that ‘throwing knives in her apartment is absolutely off the table, no matter the circumstances’. She taught him patience, forced him to swallow the bitter pill and remain in his seat despite the fear careening through his bruised and battered frame.

When she returned, he could see the surprise on her face that she was still there. And even when his heart raced and threatened to pop in its shallow cavity, Diego smiled. Are you proud? he wonders to himself.

“Take off your harness,” she instructed. The bundle in her arms fell to the ground with a decided plop of fabrics; his eyes immediately caught on the brightly coloured comforter, and the mound of pillows she had stuffed into it. “Get comfy, you know, whatever--”

“--what are you doing?”

“Oh,” she said, like she was only just then realising the oddity of her actions. Her gaze flitted down to the blankets, then back up to him. “Well, I just...call it setting up camp.”

That didn’t answer anything at all. “What?”

“Take off the thing-y!”

He obliged, still waiting for an answer.

She rushed forward and pulled her blankets with her. Diego followed every motion. “We’re going to make you relax. It’s cold, and I know you’re tired, and you need to take a break at some point. The city’s gonna lose it’s Knife-Boy if you don’t take a little break.”

He huffed. His gaze caught on her own, sharp and amused. “What, we’re going to cuddle?”

“Don’t laugh, honey. That’s exactly what we’re gonna do!”

“I -- what?”

Her grin is bright and unwavering. Yellow, he mused to himself, just as bright as the first rays of sun or the polkadots on her pillow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never cuddled before, honey.”

“Uh…” Shit. Crap. “Well…”

“Holy shit, have you never cuddled with someone before?!”

He shrugged haplessly, too embarrassed (was this something to be embarrassed about?) to look at her again. “Never came up in life?”

That was somewhat true. Childhood rarely offered moments of comfort amidst the grueling battles he fought with, for, and against his siblings -- and when it did, it came in brief cheek kisses and pats on the back when his father wasn’t looking and his mother saw his face fall most. He never realised there was even more to intimacy of any kind until he left the Academy and he fucked up his first relationship, then fell into another with Patch. And Patch hadn’t craved physical touch like he secretly did, so he pushed down the desire to pull her tight to him and let her leave him cold and high. He never fought for touch because simply he didn’t believe he was deserving of such things. That he was too stiff and wild and red all over to be embraced like a kid.

Not until her, did Diego crave it most. But he fought it and settled for the little things. To avoid hurting her, too.

“Oh, honey…” her voice drips of yellow sympathy, sweet and soothing against his wounded heart. He let it sink into the cut. “C’mere.”

Diego didn’t fight her. He let her pull her in. He watched, almost out of his own body, as she tugs off his gloves and tosses away his domino mask, smiling softly back at him with the gentleness of a dove. Her arms draw an inviting embrace and he would be a fool to not fall into it, even when he felt stiff and awkward in her hold.

“Relax,” she whispered into his ear. She smiled slightly when he shivered, pulling back so she could rest against his shoulder. “Just...relax.”

“You know I got places to be tonight, right?”

“Not right now, you don’t.”

“I can’t just…”

The hand that wasn’t clinging around his shoulders pulled at his fingers; he smiled despite himself as they once again twisted around his, intertwining the slender digits. He fought the urge to kiss her knuckles.

“Lay back, and relax, honey.” Her head curled in, resting more on his upper chest then. He wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart. “Even badass losers like yourself, need their rest.”

“You don’t have to do this, for me.”

Her face shuffled closer, moving from his chest to rest just where his neck curved down to his torso. He might have imagined it but Diego thought he felt just the slightest brush of her lips against his skin -- soft enough so he could pass it off as nothing, but there enough for him to roll the moment back, over and over and over in his mind.

“Sure, I do,” she mumbled. His embrace pressed even closer. “Everyone needs a cuddle buddy.”

Diego snorted, half out of principle and half because he never thought he’d be in a position like this with anyone. Especially not someone he would trust so indefinitely and without question. Someone who called him honey, without questioning the sounds before they left her lips. He wondered if one could get addicted to a physical sensation, and if he would be the next victim, that he would become obsessed with the feeling of someone actually holding him.

“Just relax, honey.”

And in spite of all his worries and his mind, he obeyed his heart, and did.

A/N - I’m purposely choosing not to reread and reread this because I’ll hate it. I already sort of do, a tad, but...oh well. Not my best work, but I hope this is alright and you enjoy. :)

[neonponders]

I FINALLY uploaded again to my first Harringrove fic ever, so here’s an easy way to read ch. 1 since a lot of people here don’t know me from Dracula Has a Mullet haha

Read on ao3 here ~

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.