#i usually have a delay between seeing messages and replying to them so if it takes me like a week to respond it’s not because I I’m annoyed

[caravanlurker]

Hi I'm Lauren I'm new to this app, I'm just trying to make some friends. Can i be your friend?

Oh—sure! Cursory glance at your blog shows that we have a few interests in common. Who’re your top 3 Owl House characters?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has accepted that she'll never be wanted, not only by the man she's crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: I could blame yall for talking me into it but we know it's all my fault.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The sharp zip cuts through the air. Lloyd hauls the long black bag up and checks his watch. He struts over to you and shoves the heavy luggage at you, letting it go before you can wrap your arms around it. You nearly topple from the weight.

You grunt and hug it tightly, the long duffle isn't exactly a vacation's worth Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. You can feel the long metal barrels as cases of ammo dig into your arms. You manage to get a hand on the handle and swing it after several tries onto your shoulder.

He's already halfway out the door. You trail after him, nearly stumbling to keep up. He's so tall you often find yourself running after him like a stray dog. So tall and handsome and--

Shut up! That's not what you should be thinking about.

Your phone vibrates and you struggle to pull it out of your pocket. You sigh as Lloyd continues along without notice, whistling casually as he approaches the stairs. Shit.

As he begins down the stairs, you stop at the top, leaning with the pull of the bag. You try to reply to the text as he makes quick progress to the bottom. 

He whistles up at you and snaps his fingers. You pop your head up and amble down the steps, barely catching yourself against the railing as you slip. When you get to the bottom, he's standing at the door, huffing impatiently.

"What's goin' on, kid?"

Kid. That's what he's always called you. Even though you're not that much younger than him. It's never sweetheart or honey like the pretty ones. Just kid.

"Plane's delayed. There's headwinds--"

"Christ's sake," he snarls.

"Sorry, sir, the pilot's trying--"

"Boring," he chops his hand through the air to silence you, "let's go."

He stands by the closed doors. You try not to let his impatience bother you. You can't blame him. He has an important mission. There's no time to be waiting on a cloud cover.

You open the right door and he steps through, tramping down the stone stairs to the mosaic walkway. Once more you're on your toes as you scurry after him. You watch how his jacket stretches between his shoulder blades. His sleeves hug his arm tightly, showing off his hard work and muscle. You shake your head, stop. Ten years. You know better.

You're out of breath as you get the idling car. Jackson, the driver nods but is similarly ignored as he opens the door for Lloyd. You go to the trunk as it pops and you put the gun bag inside.

You get in the other side as Lloyd splays his legs out and unlocks his phone with his thumb. You keep your cell clutched tight and tap it nervously. He doesn't handle roadblocks well, he's the type to demand and get. Something he hired you to make sure of.

"Well, extra time, I guess," he mutters as he swipes across the screen.

The car rolls up the long drive as you check your messages again. Still no updates. You cross one leg over the other as Lloyd's loafer nearly touches your oxford shoe.

"Hmmmm, can't decide on this one," he grumbles and tilts his screen toward you, "what do you think, kid?" He wiggles it at you as you look at the woman on the screen, "tits are nice but the tattoo screams Hep C."

You nearly gasp but just raise your eyebrows instead. He's always looking for a reaction. Your cheeks set alight and you twiddle your fingers around your own phone.

"Well, sir, I… she's pretty."

"Relax, you won't be invited to threesome," he scoffs and leans back, swiping left, "that's what this is for. Variety."

You don't say a word as you bring your hand to the side of your neck, feeling the heat of your skin. It's not just that it's him saying it, it's that gnawing feeling of inadequacy. The mystery of the unknown makes you self-conscious and wary of saying the wrong thing. The same way when you talk to your sister and she tells you about her husband. Well, you don't hear from her much these days.

"I'll send you their info. You can make a few calls before we get back," he snickers, "get everything ready for me."

"Uh, sure, sir, but uh… like I said before, that's not exactly part of my job."

"Don't tell me what your job is," he barks as he blacks his phone, "goddamn, you're always such a tight ass. Usually I'm all for a tight hole but you really know how to squeeze a man by his balls."

"I'm sorry, sir–"

"Another fucking 'sorry, sir' and I'm gonna snap. I can't do eight hours on a flight with you pouting like that."

"Understood, won't happen again," you dip your head down, "sorry, s–"

You clap your hand over your mouth. The words are so habitual they start to fall out before you realise, and yet another urge to say them. Just stop talking. You peek at Lloyd with wide eyes and drop your hand.

"You're a fucking downer, kid," he sits forward, "Jackie, pull the fuck over."

"Yes, sir," the driver replies from the little speaker under the barrier between the front and back seat. "You, get the fuck out."

You're surprised by his sudden flare of anger. There's not much about him that truly shocks you anymore but as irritable as he can be, this is unusual. His agitation has boiled to molten hot in a matter of minutes.

"Sir?"

"You can walk back and start getting shit ready. I mean, we'll see if you can since you can't get the goddamn plane on the ground," he growls as the car pulls onto the gravel wing of the road. "You're getting fucking soft, kid."

"Sir, I didn't–"

"You did. You fucking killed my boner so get out," he shoos you with his finger and unlocks his phone again, "buh bye."

You hesitate. You slowly move to the door and let yourself out. You're buzzing in disbelief. He can be a jerk, you're used to that, but this all seems so abrupt. You can only assume there's something else bothering him.

You shut the door as you stand on the side of the road. You hear Lloyd's deep timbre muffled inside the car before it pulls away. You stare after it, crossing your arms as you sniff and the sun glares along the edge of your vision.

You slowly turn and face the horizon. You're not that far. Maybe twenty minutes. Well, the single silver lining. You can't help your disappointment. You look forward to missions. It's an excuse to be with Lloyd. A reason for him to put up with you.

You set off, trodding along without urgency. There's nothing at the compound for you. It's not like you go on every mission but it's the unexpected change that gets you. More so, his temper. You see it aimed at others more than yourself.

Your phone buzzes again. The plane's landed. That's good news. As you continue your trek, you dial out to Lloyd's phone and put the speaker to your ear. No answer. Several more tries have a similar result, the last call clicking dead right away.

You send a text and it bounces back as undeliverable. You don't get it, your signal is strong. It's a military grade phone. You slide your phone away and try not to let your anxiety get the best of you.

He wouldn't block your number, would he? 

You're not special, that much is clear, but you've stuck around so long that you just can't see it ending over one slip-up. Sure, Lloyd has screamed agents out of the compound, he's even stranded them in hostile grounds, but they weren't there as long as you've been.

You drag your feet as you approach the gate. You let yourself in with the code and ignore the gazes of agents as you cross the yard and go back inside.

All this and for what?

If Lloyd fires you, you've spent ten years pent up in places like this, doing his grunt work. The tail end of your twenties and much of your thirties traded for imagined cues and empty hopes. You accepted long ago that Lloyd would never see you, just the woman he called 'kid', but the thought of losing even that makes you want to cry. You can accept that you're not as good as the models he fucks around with, but you can't accept not being there at all.

You're overreacting. You always do this. It's always the end of the world.

Lloyd will come back and everything will go back to normal. You're the only one who gets his coffee right and knows that he hates mushrooms but loves Salisbury steak. He needs you, just not like you want him to.

❤️‍🩹

Radio silence. You don't hear from him and any message you try to send is unanswered. He's on a mission, he's in blackout mode, yet you can't help but be paranoid.

Without him to order you around, you're not quite sure what to do with yourself. It's sad but that's just who you are. You're not the one doing, you're the one listening to those who do. 

The first day is the worst of it. On the second, you're not as addled and a bit relieved not to be hidden in some safe house waiting for a signal or listening to Lloyd make sick jokes. Still, you'd rather be with him.

The second night, you expect some sort of word from him. Still nothing. 

You lay in bed, restless. You don't dream about him anymore, you don't close your eyes and think about what it'd be like to be beautiful or interesting, you know it will never happen. But you worry about him. That you'll never be rid of.

The third morning, a Saturday, you go down to make your coffee. Other agents mill about as the tech crew speak into their headsets and type furiously. Something’s going on.

You near the doorway and listen in, trying to discern the chaos. There's cams to switch cameras and directions given, coordinates read out and warnings about oncoming targets. It's the usual, the same chatter you listen to over the comms when Lloyd's out in the field. Now you can only hear one side.

As the tempo builds, there's another furor. The chime that signals the censor at the front gate. Rico storms out of comms central as you flatten yourself to the wall and wait to trail him until he's past the stairs.

"What the fuck is going on?" He waves an agent in black close, "who the fuck is here?"

The agent puts his fingers to his earpiece, "we have sights."

"I asked who it was, not if you can make a shot," Rico shoves the man and stomps to the front doors, shoving them open before him. "Tell them to go the fuck away."

An agent runs up the driveway, puffing as he holds his gun securely in front of him. He stops as Rico gets to the bottom of the stairs 

"Sir, sir, it's… it's Valhalla."

"Val-what?" Rico snips.

"Valhalla!" The man repeats louder.

"Shit. Fuck." Rico continues in a rampant flurry of Spanish, "they're early."

"Sir," the agent bows his head as another appears before him.

You frown and watch from the doorway, trying to stay out of sight as you eavesdrop. 

Hm. Valhalla. You know the name, rather well, but only through correspondence. A code name. For a faceless man and his deep pockets. You hadn't heard it recently though. You thought that whole thing fizzled out.

"Fuck, Hansen, take your fucking time," Rico mutters between his Spanish diatribes, "let them in. Full search." You hear him clop back up the stairs before he blusters inside, "I need men. Now!"

He turns and sees you cradling your coffee with a dumb look. He sneers and rolls his eyes, "perfect. You'll do. We need rooms. We have guests."

"What?" You squint. 

"You're a woman, you should know how to make them at home."

"You're not my boss," you grimace and drink your coffee.

"Don't get smart with me just because that idiot keeps sniffing at his heels. Go and do something useful for once," he claps at you.

You don't move. You take orders from one person. Otherwise, you stay out of the way.

"Fuck!" He hollers and twists on his heel again.

He marches into the next room and you slowly near the front doors, still ajar as they gape out at the golden day. You come outside and descend the steps, standing just by the plinthed flower vase at the bottom. You watch the gates roll apart, letting in the convoy lined outside.

There are four cars in total. All ivory and gleaming. They hardly seem like military vehicles.

You don't get it. You pull out your phone and scroll through your emails. The last message you got from Valhalla was months ago and it left you at a stalemate between them and your indomitable boss.

The first car pulls up and stops, the other fanning out behind it. Agents circle, keeping a broad perimeter as they watch with similar intrigue. Rico appears again, muttering to himself as he holsters a gun.

You look back to the grated bumper of the luxury SUV. The engine rolls over as you find yourself holding your breath. This is it, the vaunted Valhalla. You keep your mug close to your chest as the car door opens and your jaw nearly hits the floor.

It's a man more gorgeous than anyone you've ever seen before. Well, maybe not everyone but damn close. His golden hair is braided down his back and a few wavy strands hang loose around his face. His sky blue eyes shine in the sunlight as he smiles, the expression lining his face immaculately. You gulp and force your mouth shut.

There's a brief lull before anyone reacts. Rico is the first to snap into action. He clamours down and offers a hand, "Valhalla, hello, Rico. Hansen is in the field but I will be your host."

"Ah, Rico," Valhalla repeats with a keen lilt, "you'll do for the time being."

His blue eyes scan the facade of the compound. It appears nothing more than a remote and overpriced mansion. The man takes a deep breath as if tasting the air and pauses as his gaze falls upon you. His brows twitch but he does not react otherwise.

He turns back to Rico and claps his back, "well, we traveled far, we require food and sleep and if you can spare it, lots of alcohol."

[piccionethepigeon]

Helping hand part 1

Part 2

Summary: you give a wounded Ghost a helping hand, then he needs to help himself

Warnings: I don’t know jack shiii about Cod I’m just horny for beefy masked men so he could be out of character and other things inaccurate, sexual content, injury and blood, pining, clueless reader, also probably bad writing and grammar as this is not even my first lenguage , size kink, obsessive! Ghost

Your legs were twitching nervously under the table while working, fingertips raw from biting your nails and stomach flipped upside down; they should have been there hours ago but still no trace, no message of delays in the return, no nothing…. with worry itching under the skin it was impossible to focus on other task, even while checking the stock of medical supplies you dropped several items breaking some in the process. But doing nothing was doing no good either, they are soldiers for fucks sake they can handle a simple rescue mission without incident they had been on plenty missions way more dangerous than this one and everything went according to plan usually. They were some of the best around after all.

But this time felt different your gut was telling your so, and each tick of the clock on the white wall made the itch worse. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock… it was making you feel insane and all you wanted to do was get up take the fucking clock and smash it on the floor, stop it and then maybe burn the pieces… you were definitely going insane, for what a bit of delay? You tought you were more rational than that.

Then the doors flew open with a push so rough that the hinges made a sharp sound that made you fear for the integrity of said doors, the doors became the last of your worries when you saw who was the culprit.

Soap was blodied, winded, and still in full gear supporting with one shoulder a man in a mask that seemed far more bloodied and limping. Ghost.

Without question you ran to support Ghosts other side even if struggling a bit since the man was massive. Soap spoke between rough breaths. “He got shot in the thigh, doesn’t seem to have hit an artery but he lost a lot of blood” you were quick to reply “place him on that chair and then go get checked by another medic, I’ll have this handled” with a tud and a groan your patient was settled in the chair and Soap was rushing out holding a gauze to his temple, thanking you before going to find another medic.

Y/n kneeled in front of him to have access to the wound not caring about being on the floor and began examining, the pants were ripped and started sticking to the skin with the blood making it hard to see the wound “Ghost im going to cut your pants for access, clean the wound, take out the bullet and suture. It’s gonna hurt but I know you can handle it” he gave a nod of acknowledgment and you began to cut the fabric carefully.

Then all the blood and dirt had to be cleaned otherwise there could be an infection, hands gentle and quick with a disinfectant and a gauze stroking the naked and raw skin you sometimes gazed at him to check and smile reassuringly, his eyes were looking in your direction but they looked distant.

No matter how gentle you were,tough he was trying to hide it but he was trembling and that could not have been a good thing. Once everything was clean the bullet had to be extracted, y/n grabbed the tweezers and sank them in the flesh using the spare hand to hold the skin around it “this is the worst part put it’s also quick since the bullet is intact, we’re almost finished” who knew if you were tried to reassure more him or yourself, keeping a steady hand was difficult.

The bullet came out and you put it away, almost done, only sutures were left. “Done, now I’ll see you up then send you to rest, hold on for a little longer please” y/n said before sinking the needle in the skin, Ghost choked a groan, and you stroke the thigh to soothe him while working, once the wound was closed you smiled up at him again while bandaging the leg. “We’re all finished, all you alright?” Y/ns eyes met Ghosts and the gaze looked weird on him, his usually almost cold eyes were scorching. Several moments passed and he didn’t reply so you tapped the his knee lightly “Simon are you alright?” His pupils shrank and then dilated again till his eyes were almost black, then finally replied “Yeah, thank you doc” he choked out.

Then he got up and before you could say anything else he disappeared limping out the door.

Was he in such a rush? Huh.

Ghost slammed the door of his barrack, then threw himself on the mattress hissing when the moment pulled his stiches. His blood was hot. No it was boiling under his skin. Closing his eyes all he could see was You, the girl that filled his thoughts more than he would ever admit kneeling in front of his crotch, ripping his pants off him… eh should not fantasize on y/n for that, it was your job after all but he could not help himself, he reached his hand on his clothed groin to palm himself and let his mind roam.

He was shaking before when y/n had cleaned the dirt off him and he began shaking but not because it hurt, the adrenaline made him numb to the pain, but somehow the soft hands on his skin made every nerve ablaze. Oh fuck then your pretty eyes looked up at him, he could see your breasts down the the collar of your shirt, and you smiled and he felt whatever blood he had left rushing, your beautiful mouth would look even better stuffed full of his cock milking him dry while he grabbed a fistful of your hair. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers.

You would surely caress his thigh like you did before, and he would praise you for being such a good girl for him. Lifting his mask he spat on his hand to pretend it was your wet warm mouth.

Even while the needle was closing him up he could only feel your hands on his skin and could not look away from your lips pouting a bit in concentration.

An then while bandaging him up you asked him if he was alright, too caught up in fantasies he didn’t answer… and then you called him Simon. He groaned and shuddering he began working his thick hard length. Before that he was getting hard but after that he was stiffer than a rock and pretty sure all his blood had gone in his loins, also grateful for either the pants hiding it or you being too concentrated on his health to notice it.

Ghost cringed at the memory of himself rushing out without saying much, but he could just not help himself any longer… laughable, a man with so much self control was crumbling under the gaze of a woman half his size.

And there he was stroking his cock like a mad man, he teased himself with slow languid movements like he imagined y/n would, you looked like a saint but he was sure you were a teasing one, a naughty girl who just wants to be spanked… and he would have liked to spank you a little too much then caress and squeeze the reddened flesh, then he would finger your pussy till it dripped down your legs and then fuck you till you were cockdrunk and overstimulated, y/ns pussy would have squeezed him so good he knew it. Ghost wanted also to mark you, suck hickeys on all visible places to let all know you were his, then cum so deep in you it would drip out for days to remind you who you belonged to. He would die for you, he would kill for you.

He would claim you because you were his and his alone.

Ghost moaned and his muscles clenched while he cummed painting his hand and abdomen in white. Bloody hell.

When his mind was clear and his breathing had calmed down he realized something.

Simon Riley was fucked, he was fucked big time as he did not only desire you, he loved you

That was the only way to explain the warmth in his chest and the raw possessiveness he felt in that moment, of course he always tought you were attractive with a beautiful face to match, competent in your job, intelligent, funny, and he cared for you but he had never realized it was more than a crush, he was beyond fucked.

What was he a teenager getting hard and jerking off for a few cresses on his thigh?! He grabbed a towel to clean his mess and went to sleep with a still rock hard cock.

[jimmywilsonschutzpah]

In the episode don’t ever change, why do you think house changed his mind about amber and okayed Wilson’s relationship with her?

Hi anon, I’m so sorry for the delay in getting back to you! I don’t usually get asks and I didn’t see your message.

Ok, so. The theme of the episode is that people are capable of change. House repeats over and over again throughout the episode that no one changes, but the ep points out that he, Wilson and Amber changed (and so did the patient). House accepts Wilson’s partner, Wilson is suddenly attracted to a woman who is self-assured (and not needy) and Amber is no longer necessarily putting herself first.

I think House accepts Amber due to the fact that he respects her and that he deeply sympathizes with what she says: that her whole life she had to chose between love or respect, and she always chose respect. With Wilson, for the first time, she gets to have both. And that this combo is worth more than a fellowship or a job. House gives her a stunned look at that, and I think he realizes he is the same and that Wilson is also the only person capable of giving him both love and respect. And we know House is the same: at the end of all things, when he is about to lose Wilson, House did give up his job and career for Wilson’s love and respect. Back to the scene: when Amber is about to leave the office House says “You’ve changed” with a knowing smile and Amber replies “I hope so”, telling us that she did change and that House’s screaming at the top of his lungs that no one changes is a lie. She did change, for Wilson. House understands that and respects it (and he respects her as a doctor too, as he says she had a good guess about the patient’s diagnosis). So he finally accepts her as Wilson’s partner and part of Wilson’s life (and a part of House’s life by proxy).

My personal headcanon tho? The episode also has to do with House 100% admitting to himself he loves Wilson in a romantic and sexual way too. The C plot (or D plot, I’m not sure anymore) is about how both Foreman and House clock Thirteen as bisexual. In my headcanon that’s about two established characters who are queer (in my headcanon) nodding to Thirteen in a “I see you” way. While House might have been in love or attracted to Wilson before, or maybe even acted on it in a friends with benefits way or however else, this is the episode to me where House changes and in his own head logically accepts what he truly feels for Wilson. It is also the episode where House says he doesn’t do self-sacrifice, and we know he does exactly that for Wilson at the end of this season, and at the end of the series as well. So to me he also accepts Amber because he likes the idea that Wilson is with a proxy for himself—Mr ‘So Far In The Closet I’m Shaking Mr Tumnus’ Hand’ Wilson can’t be with House, but at least he chose a House proxy, and showed he is capable of change in chosing a romantic partner who is like House. I hope this also makes it clear why I love the House/Wilson/Amber ot3 so much. The three of them have such deep respect for each other (even if they bicker all the time), and I do think House would also be capable of giving Amber love and respect (and Amber would also be capable of the same), as they all so deeply crave.

Sorry this is so long, nonny, but I hope it made sense. Thanks for the ask!

[wordofthewicked]

Showtime- Paul Lahote

Fic description: A chance meeting one sunny afternoon on La Push brings you face to face with Paul Lahote. Your strange connection with him, and the fact that it was his soccer ball that broke your nose, you were wrapped up into an unseen world that lived in tandem with yours. How far are you willing to go for true love? How far are you willing to go to protect the people you love?

TW: underage drinking, drug use (weed), disgusting fluff

Showtime Masterlist

General Masterlist

Part Seven

To say that I am overwhelmed is an understatement. The amount of love this story has received recently is nothing short of insane. I’ve been writing online since I was 11, and I’ve never had so much love like this. I see every comment, reply, reblog, like, message- even if I don’t respond right away. It makes my heart happy that you guys love this little silly story like I do. I’ve got several more works I’m writing currently (Jacob, Seth, Embry, and a fun little Embry and Paul) that I’m planning to begin uploading soon. Thank you for your support and encouragement, it revitalized my love for writing in a way I didn’t know was possible. Part nine might be on a delay, as I head back to school in a few days! But don’t fret, I won’t make you wait too long! Feel free to send in requests, I’m working on some rn for Paul! I write for any of the boys, plus the Cullen’s as well!

~~~

Part Eight

The night you spent alone at Paul’s house was nothing short of magical, but in the coming days, you felt a sort of shift in your relationship. Paul was more physically affectionate than ever before, much to the dismay of the pack. Yet, whenever you caught him staring at you, it seemed like an unspoken question was hung on the tip of his tongue.

You two managed to spend nearly none of your time alone, always having some assortment of the pack by your side. Once Tuesday had rolled around, you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

You didn’t have it in your heart to question him, afraid that maybe he regret iti ted sleeping with you, or taking the relationship that far. It seemed silly to worry, since neither of you were virgins and you were basically bound together as soulmates. Still, every time you thought you’d have the courage to ask, someone would come barging through, ruining the moment.

By Thursday, you’d had enough. During a usual hang out with the pack, you’d all decided to marathon as many horror movies you could scrounge up at Blockbuster. You were curled against Paul’s side, your mind not focused at all on the movies.

Without speaking, you stood up, turning to walk through the kitchen and out the side door. You were certain Paul would follow you, and your confirmation came at the sound of the screen door falling shut.

“Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked, his voice so soft and full of concern. “Did the movies get to you?”

You laughed a little, shaking your head. “No, it’s not the movies. I’m just… what’s going on with you?”

Paul furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like ever since we… you’ve just been avoiding me.” You answered, your anger fading away.

“I don’t understand, babe. We’ve been together every day.”

You sighed, running your hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant. We’ve been with the boys every day. I don’t want to monopolize your time, but I figured, I don’t know, that we’d spend more time together? Just us, you know?”

Paul frowned, moving to close the gap between you two. “I’m sorry, I thought you liked hanging out with them.”

“I do! It’s just… was I that bad in bed that you regret it?”

Paul paused for a second, before bursting out in laughter. His head was thrown back slightly, and his whole body shook.

You slapped his arm, your eyes widening in shock. “Paul! I’m serious!”

“I know, that’s what makes it funny!” He answered, resting his hands on your hips. “Why the hell would you think I didn’t enjoy having sex with you?”

“Because it feels like you’re trying to prevent it from happening again.” You drawled, not understanding his confusion. “You’re sending me such mixed signals, honestly. You’re practically on top of me 24/7, but you’re afraid to be alone with me. I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Paul pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That was the second most amazing day of my life, baby, believe me. I just wanted to give you some space, since we had promised to take it as friends, first. I thought I’d let you process it without feeling like you needed to discuss it with me.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an idiot?” You questioned, grabbing his face with your hands. “Why on earth would I want space? I wanted to talk about it, dumbass.”

The door of Emily’s cabin swung open again, and Seth poked his head out. “Paul, Y/N? Everything okay?”

Paul stiffened at his voice, and turned around to tell him off. You jumped in first, pushing away from him and smiling at Seth “Yes! I just wanted to stretch my legs for a bit. We’re coming back now.”

You ambled up the wooden stairs, and pushed yourself in past the younger boy. The lights inside the living room were now on, and the half the pack was standing around.

“We decided to take a snack break,” Embry explained, opening another bag of popcorn. “Jared ate all the popcorn.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the boys’ unrelenting hunger. Emily was giving you a curious glance, and she swept across the kitchen to lean over the counter and eye you and Paul. “You two alright?”

You nodded, sending her a quick smile. You glanced back at Paul and saw his jaw was tense, and his gaze was fixated on your figure. You nudged him playfully with your shoulder, and he broke out of his trance to capture you in a hug. He pressed his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We need to talk, Y/N.” He spoke, his voice deep.

“Later,” you whispered, trying your best not to draw attention to yourselves.

It didn’t work. Even without their supernatural hearing, the pack had definitely picked up on the strange vibe shift between you two. You didn’t want to make things awkward, and you knew that Paul was likely delaying your conversation because he was avoiding the inevitable. Your relationship had changed, things weren’t the same as before.

Did you want to make things completely official? You’d been planning to move across the country for the last four years of your life, and attaching yourself to Paul would only complicate that further. Yet, you were already attached, in a way that no time or distance could change. You were meant to be together, and each day that passed just made that clearer.

You wiggled out of Paul’s grasp, turning around to kiss him gently, before you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had closed and locked the door, you flipped your phone open and tried to think of some excuse to head home. It was still early, and your curfew wasn’t for another two hours. Still, you decided the best thing to do would be to leave, so you could think without prying eyes, or Paul’s intoxicating scent. You held your phone up to your ear, silently wondering why you were making such a show of it when you were alone.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” You spoke to no one, knowing that your voice would carry to the living room. “Ugh, seriously? No one else can come get you guys?”

You paused, trying to make it seem like there was your father’s soft pleas on the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll be there in like 45. Yeah, love you too.”

You flipped your phone shut and slid it back into your pocket, before flushing the toilet and washing your hands to make things seem normal. You took a deep breath, ready for the amazing show you were about to put on. When you reappeared in the living room, you donned your best bummed face.

Paul furrowed his eyebrows at you, trying to seem like he hadn’t obviously listened into your fake phone call. “Everything alright babe?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. My parents were heading back from dinner in Port Angelous and got a flat. The jack’s in my trunk, so they need me to come get them. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut movie night short for me.” You explained, moving to put on your jacket.

Paul frowned, meeting you with your coat and helping you put it on. “Do you want me to come with you? I could help change the tire and then we could head back here when we’re done.”

You smiled and kissed him, holding his hands in yours. “As sweet as that is, I’ll probably just go home after I get to them. It’ll be easier than driving around all night. I’ll see you on Sunday though, right?”

“Right.” He repeated, his face clearly disappointed. “Well, let me at least walk you to your car.”

“Always the gentleman, Lahote.” You winked, standing on your toes to give him one last kiss, before biding everyone else a goodbye.

When you got into your car, you drove back home, your parents confused to see you so early. You explained you were tired from the day and didn’t want to be out driving late, and they appreciated your foresight.

You raced up to your room, turning on your ancient computer and waiting for it to finish loading up. You headed to your email and clinked on the acceptance link for John Hopkins, staring at the words on the white screen.

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you clicked decline.

~~~

The party was on full swing, and your head was spinning as you stumbled outside.

“Y/N? You alright?” Mike asked, following after you.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Tyler’s been cornering me. I’m just gonna call Paul to come get me.”

Mike frowned at this, but didn’t press. Instead he pulled a brownie in a sandwich bag out of his pocket and broke it in half. “Snack for the road?”

You laughed and accepted it, eating it as you dialed the familiar number. Paul answered on the second ring, his deep voice concerned. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address.” You asked, avoiding his question.

You could hear shuffling and the jingling of keys. “On my way, where are you?”

You gave him Tyler’s address, and shortly hung up the phone, trying to pass the time until he got there. You probably had over half an hour, unless he floored it there, which you wouldn’t put past Paul.

Someone reached for your arm, and you jumped, turning to see Jessica’s smiling face. She was definitely a few drinks in at that point, but still much more sober than you were.

“Jess, you scared the hell out of me.” You enthused, grabbing her arm.

She rolled her eyes, steadying your swaying frame. “What’s this I hear about you leaving?”

“Paul’s coming to get me.”

“Y/N, you’re drunk as hell. You aren’t leaving with some random guy.” Jessica argued, her drink sloshing a bit as she flourished her arms in emphasis.

“He’s not some random guy, he’s my boyfriend.” You reminded her, giggling at her confused face. “How much have you had to drink?”

Jessica frowned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you high right now?”

You stopped and widened your eyes. “No, I’m on the ground.

“Christ.” She muttered, smiling at you. “You’re gone.”

“I’m right here.” You joked, nudging her arm playfully.

You saw a familiar figure traipsing his way across the lawn, and Jessica followed your gaze. You weren’t sure how so much time had passed, but perhaps that had more to do with the edible in your system than anything else.

Jessica smiled widely, eyeing up Paul as he approached. “Hey, I’m Jessica.”

Paul gave her a quick glance, but his eyes returned on your messy appearance. “Paul. How much have they had to drink?”

Understanding lit up Jessica’s features. “Ooooh, you’re Paul, I see. Uhm, I’m not honestly sure. I only saw them take three shots, but they were playing beer pong for a few hours, so…”

“Lovely. Alright babe, let’s get you home.” Paul laughed, coming over to wrap his arms around you.

You nearly melted into his touch, half jumping into his strong arms. “I can’t go hooooome. Not like this.”

“I know, I know, I’m going to take you to Emily and Sam’s cabin to sober up.” He responded, as you stumbled a bit into him.

You giggled, glee filling up your face. “Oh I love it there. Will everyone else be around, too?”

Paul laughed at you, shaking his head. “Probably. Though I don’t think they’re going to be prepared for you.”

“Carry me.” You demanded, jumping up suddenly, so Paul had no choice but to catch you.

He scooped you into his grasp gently, laughing again. He thanked Jessica, who was still slightly open mouthed and staring at him.

Paul carried you and placed you in the passenger seat of his truck, buckling you in before moving to the other side to get into his seat. He started the car and headed towards La Push, while you incoherently began telling him about the party. You were definitely nearly yelling, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once you arrived at the cabin, Paul opened your door and lifted you up, cradling you against his chest. You snuggled into him a bit, inhaling his familiar scent deeply.

“Try your best to not be too obviously drunk, alright? I don’t want us to get lectured by Sam.” Paul whispered as you stepped into the porch.

You nodded furiously, but knew that Sam could probably smell the alcohol on you from where you were now. Paul opened the door and walked in, setting you down on your feet. You stumbled a bit, but leaned against his side for support, and wrapped an arm around his middle. You shot the group a wide smile, and they returned your gaze with a knowing look.

“I’ve already lost my chance to seem sober, haven’t I?” You asked, your face red and warm.

They all nodded, Quil laughing loudly. “We knew you’d be drunk as soon as Paul said he was picking you up. You don’t leave a party before 12 if you’re not super fucked up.”

Emily snipped at him for his language, while you giggled to yourself.

“Actually, for your information Mr… wait what’s your last name? You know what, it doesn’t matter. What was I saying? Oh yeah, I did not leave the party because I was too fucked up. I left because Tyler kept flirting with me and he was making me uncomfortable.” You drawled out, giggling as you struggled to find the right words to say.

Paul looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me that? I would have sorted him out.”

You giggled again, stumbling as you moved back to place a hand on his chest. “Well because Mr. Lahote, see I know what your last name is, I didn’t want you to wolf out on a stupid 17 year old at his house party. Would’ve caused a lot of problems, and I’ll be honest with you, I am waaaaaay too drunk to have helped you calm down.”

Paul stiffened a bit at your words. “You don’t think I can control myself?”

You sighed, your limbs becoming tired as the alcohol kept seeping into your body. “I don’t know, either way it would’ve made a scene. And I didn’t wanna have to explain why my boyfriend was trying to fight the party host.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his grasp on your waist tightened. “Boyfriend?”

You stared at him in confusion, your mind too slow to comprehend what he was confused about. “Is that the wrong word? Isn’t it boyfriend? Boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend. Well now it doesn’t even seem like a word.”

Paul laughed lightly, shaking his head. “You’ve just never called me that before.”

“Oh,” you furrowed your eyebrows, your mind beginning to process the situation. “Is… I mean is that not what this is? Are we like, platonic talking everyday, and falling asleep on the phone, and kissing? That doesn’t feel platonic to me.”

“It’s definitely not platonic, no.” He confirmed, moving forward to hold both of your hips.

You smiled up at him, standing on your toes to kiss his nose lightly. “Well, then you’re my boyfriend. Calling you my soulmate feels too cliché to me, plus other people wouldn’t understand.”

Paul laughed at you, kissing your forehead. “No, boyfriend is good. Great even. I just didn’t expect it.”

“Well that’s what you get for making me wait a week to talk to you about it.” You replied, your head lolling over on your shoulder, the weight of it becoming unnecessarily heavy. “You’re my boyfriend, Paul. Even told Jessica and everything.”

Suddenly you became overly aware of your breathing, feeling like it had become manual. You took a step back and closed your eyes as the room began to sway around you in that familiar way. Between calling Paul to pick you up and heading outside of Tyler’s house, Mike had slipped you an edible, and you had forgotten about it until this moment, until it hit you like a bus.

“Woah- you alright?” Paul asked, seeing you sway on your feet.

You giggled in response, nodding happily. “M’fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He murmured, his eyes taking in your face in concern.

You hummed a bit, falling into his arms dramatically as you laughed. “I am absolutely fantastic, actually.”

“You definitely can’t bring them home like this.” Emily commented, frowning slightly. “You both can stay here for the night.”

“I’m supposed to stay at Bella’s.” You responded, leaning back drastically so Paul had to hold you in a dip. “Oh well, now I didn’t plan on how to get back to Bella’s.”

“I’ll text my dad and tell him we’re staying here.” Bella spoke, pulling out her flip phone.

You squealed upon hearing her voice, pushing away from Paul to stumble over to the loveseat she was curled up on. “Bella! It’s Bella, oh my gosh I didn’t even see you! Bella!”

Bella laughed, shaking her head. “It’s me, Y/N.”

“How has your night been?” You asked, leaning against the armrest of her chair.

“Much less exciting than yours was, I presume.” She responded, smiling up at you.

You hummed in thought, before frowning. “My feet hurt.”

Paul walked over to you, a backpack in hand. “Alright, let’s get you comfortable.”

Bella stood up to give you her seat, and you plopped down numbly, giggling as you ran your hands over the soft blanket that she had left behind. Paul kneeled down in front of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows as he unzipped the backpack.

“What is that?” You asked, leaning forward in interest.

Paul chuckled, unzipping your heels and tugging them off, before replacing them with a pair of soft fuzzy socks. “It’s my go bag for you. I figured since you’d be spending a lot of time down here, I should have a stock of things you might need, that way you’re always comfortable.”

You leaned forward even more, peering down into it. “What did you get for it?”

“Uhm, let’s see… the socks, makeup remover wipes, deodorant, hair ties, a hair brush, tooth brush, toothpaste, pads, tampons, chocolate, pain killers, and some snacks so your blood sugar doesn’t get low again. Oh, and I have a pair of my pajamas in here as well, just in case.” He responded, digging through the bag as he spoke.

You didn’t reply, staring at him wide eyed. Paul shifted under your gaze, discomfort flooding through his body.

“Is that weird? I wanted to help make the transition of being here easier on you. Emily helped me pick things out. I live with my dad and brothers, so I didn’t have any of this stuff at my house. I didn’t want you to need something and not have it.” He spoke, rambling a bit as he became nervous.

You giggled, falling back into the chair and wiggling your toes in the fuzzy socks excitedly. “I am absolutely going to marry you one day, Paul Lahote.”

Paul paused at your words like he was stunned, before shaking his head and standing up. “Alright, let’s go get you changed into the pajamas. You can’t be comfortable in those clothes.”

You knew he was right- the tight red skirt and black bralette were both revealing and uncomfortable- but the thought of getting changed seemed like too much work. The room was still spinning, and your high was making you sleepy. “You can’t be comfortable in your clothes.”

He laughed, leaning forward to grab your hands and pull you up. “Jeez, Y/N, if you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, you should’ve said so earlier.”

You giggled at him, realizing how short you were without the aid of your heels. “You didn’t give me the chance, unless you wanted me to ask in front of the whole pack.”

“Do you need help getting changed?” Paul asked, holding tightly onto your waist, and doing his best to ignore your comment.

“Mmmm… maybe. It seems hard.” You replied, closing your eyes and resting your hands on his forearms. “Everything is hard. Except your skin, it’s so soft. Are you always this soft?”

“Uhm, I think so? Are you sure you’re alright?” He questioned, tilting his head at you.

You giggled in response, opening your eyes to look at him. “Can I tell you a secret? You can’t tell anyone else, okay? Mom and dad will get mad.”

“Mom and dad?” Bella repeated, confused.

You rolled your head to the side, resting it on your shoulder to look at her. “Yes, Sam and Emily. Mom and dad, or I guess dad and mom.”

“I could see that.” She replied, smiling.

“Right. Well, don’t tell them, but Mike gave me a special brownie.”

Paul sighed, wrapping his other arm around your waist. “So you’re cross faded right now?”

You hummed in response, pausing at the look on his face. “You don’t seem happy with me. I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no, no. I’m glad you did, baby. I just don’t have much experience caring for intoxicated people, and the weed isn’t going to help any.” He admitted, ushering you off toward the bathroom.

You stumbled into it, and Paul shut the door behind him as he placed the backpack on the counter. He began pulling things out, and you sat down on the toilet lid to wait. The room was still swaying slightly, and you felt uncomfortably warm with the substances flowing through you.

Paul grabbed your hands and stood you up again, his hands moving to your skirt before freezing. He silently asked for your permission, and you nodded. He unzipped the red fabric, and pulled it down your now bare legs. He kept his face forward as he held out his pajama pants for you to step into, and you held onto the counter as you did. Once they were on, he tied them tightly around your waist so they wouldn’t fall.

Paul looked at your bralette in confusion, trying to figure out a way to get it off of you. You giggled a bit, turning around to reveal the zipper that kept it together. He didn’t hesitate, pulling the metal down as the fabric split in half, and he tossed it on the floor. You felt him stiffen at the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra, and you turned around without hesitation. He kept his eyes trained on your face as he slid the shirt over your head, and you pushed your arms through it. He then sat you back down on the toilet, and took out a makeup remover wipe, before cleaning your face of the few layers you had painted on.

You felt your heart swell as he worked, watching the intense concentration on his face. You’d never had a guy treat you so gently and affectionately before, and it was taking everything in you not to wrap your arms around him. When he was finished, he pulled out your updo and had you turn to the side. Gently, he brushed your hair out of its knots, and ended up braiding it.

“Wow you’re good at that.” You admired, holding the finished product in your hair.

Paul laughed, picking up your clothes, and zipping them into the backpack. “My hair used to be longer than yours.”

You tried to imagine that, but your brain couldn’t come up with a steady image. “You should grow it out again.”

Paul smiled at you. “Maybe one day, darling. Let’s get you back to the living room, alright?”

You nodded and stood up, immediately stumbling again. Paul wrapped an arm around you, and you looked up at him. You took one of your hands and pulled his face towards yours, trapping his lips in a passionate kiss. You felt such an intense desire to have more of him, to have all of him right then and there. You tried to deepen the kiss, and his grip on your waist tightened. He let the bag fall to the floor, and pressed you back against the counter of the sink. Instinctively you hopped onto it, and wrapped your legs around his waist, before returning your lips to his. He groaned slightly, and to your displeasure, he pulled away.

“Y/N, you’re drunk. You should go lay down on the couch.” Paul spoke, backing out of your grasp.

You hummed in annoyance. “Or we could stay here. I mean, no one has to know.”

He shook his head, picking up the bag again and grabbing your hand. “Doesn’t matter, baby. You’re still drunk.”

You sighed, hopping off the counter and slipping, while muttering to yourself. “Jeez, no drunk hookups for us?”

Paul didn’t respond, he just returned his hand to your waist to steady you and pulled you into the living room. You returned to the love seat, and smiled to yourself, brushing your hands along the fuzzy blanket again.

“This is the best place in the world.” You mused, squeezing it between your fingers. “This house, all of you. I can’t imagine being somewhere better.”

Paul shot you a weird look. “You’re an affectionate drunk, huh?”

You laughed, letting your head loll to your right shoulder as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Depends on the situation. Usually I’m a horny drunk, but you shot that down in the bathroom.”

Jared and Quil burst out laughing, before Paul shot them a death glare. Emily moved to the kitchen and handed you a glass of water, and you took it with a shaking hand. You nearly spilled it on yourself as you felt your arm jerk unexpectedly.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Why are you shaking that badly?” Paul asked, kneeling down to be level with you.

You dismissed him with your freehand. “Happens when I smoke too much.”

He frowned. “When did you smoke?”

“Sometime before playing pong. It’ll go away soon, it happens all the time.” You answered, reaching out to play with his hair affectionately. “Your hair is so soft. You really should grow it out again. Maybe I can learn to braid then.”

Paul rolled his eyes, standing up and squeezing next to you on the loveseat. “You can’t braid hair?”

You shook your head, drinking half the glass of water before handing it to him for safe keeping. “You shouldn’t trust me with glass. I always break glasses when I drink. Mike nearly banned me from coming over after I shattered 2 of his mom’s in the same night.”

Emily took the glass out of Paul’s grasp, and returned instead with a plastic cup. The room was mostly silent, and you realized that you were something of a spectacle to them. It made you almost sad, knowing that none of them got the typical high school experience, or could even really get drunk since their bodies were so warm and they burned the alcohol off easily.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, sweeping the room with your eyes before looking at Paul. “I should call someone to come get me. I’ve intruded on your evening.”

Paul frowned, placing an arm around your shoulders. “You haven’t intruded on anything, okay? I’d rather be the one to take care of you while your drunk, that way I know you’re safe.”

“Okay, thank you. For coming to get me. I appreciate it a lot. I got really overwhelmed being there tonight, which I’m going to assume had something to do with the shots Mike kept handing me while we were playing pong. I’m only really good at it when I’m drunk, you know. We’re the champions of our grade- nearly undefeated.” You babbled, reaching up to play with his hair again.

“You seem to go to a lot of parties.” Emily frowned, her voice worried, not judgmental.

“I mean, yeah. It’s senior year, you know? Everyone’s getting ready to adjust to the college party scene. Except me, of course.” You laughed, smiling widely. “I’m not going to college anymore.”

Paul sucked in a sharp breath. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not going to college anymore?”

You smiled at him, running a hand down his toned chest before returning it to your lap. “I mean, I’m going to go to Forks Community College, then I’ll probably transfer to SU to finish my degree.”

“But that’s not what you want. You wanted to go off to the East Coast. I know you got in to John Hopkins, so why aren’t you going?” He questioned, his face concerned.

You giggled a bit, rolling your eyes. “I can’t leave you, obviously. I hate not seeing you for a day. Do you think we’d survive being apart for 5 month stretches?”

“We’d figure it out. I don’t want you to give up on your dreams for me, ever. That’s not something you should have to compromise.” Paul argued, his face incredibly serious.

You shrugged, drinking more of your water before returning it to his hands. “Doesn’t matter, I made the decision already and declined Hopkins. I can study biology here just as well as I can out there.”

Paul sighed, cupping your face gently. “I wish you would’ve talked to me about it. I would’ve encouraged you to follow your dreams, go where you need to be.”

“I am. I mean, I went back and forth a lot before I made up my mind. Tonight just made it so clear, you know? The whole time I was at that stupid party, all I could think about was how much better it would’ve been if you were there. I don’t want to go off and get drunk in a frat house, I don’t want to go anywhere away from you.” You admitted, shrugging at him. “I never had a reason to stay in Forks, but now I do.”

Paul seemed like he wanted to say something more, but he just smiled at you and handed you the glass of water. You continued drinking it, falling somewhere lost in your thoughts. You stayed silent, mind focused on the boy next to you, and the trajectory of your life now.

“What’re you thinking about?” Paul asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

You finished your drink and handed the empty cup back to him. “Fate, I guess.”

“Fate?” He echoed.

You hummed, smiling. “Fate. It’s what brought us together, isn’t it?”

“Dunno, haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, I have. And I’ve decided it’s fate. For us to have met on the beach, you to have broken my nose. All of it had to happen exactly as it did for us to end up together.” You concluded, nodding as you spoke.

Paul smiled and ran his hands down your arms. “Fate it is, then.”

You smiled back, before your face fell in realization. “Oh, I should’ve talked to you before calling you my boyfriend.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No! That’s a big step. We were just friends, but then I mean, we slept together Paul. That’s not something friends do.” You emphasized, your eyes widening.

“It is if you’ve got the right friends.” Quil suggested, which earned him an uncomfortable look from the rest of the room.

“Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, when you’re sober, okay?” Paul suggested softly. “And when we’re alone.”

You groaned, rubbing your itchy eyes dramatically. “It’s not like they won’t just hear about it later, anyway. What’s the point in having a private conversation if they can just read your mind?”

Paul sighed, frowning at you. “Doesn’t mean they have to witness everything first hand, you know.”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want you to be mad at me for calling you my boyfriend. I didn’t think about it, I guess. It just felt right.” You continued, pursing your lips. “Once I said it to Jess, it was like I had said it a million times before.”

“Please don’t hold it against yourself, baby. I would’ve let you call me your boyfriend the day we met if you’d wanted to.” He confessed, his face a bit dazed. “You took me by surprise, but there’s nothing else I’d rather be.”

You smiled at him, licking your lips as you realized how dry your mouth was. Emily refilled your water, and you took large gulps before talking again. “What was the best day of your life?”

“What?”

You giggled a bit, sitting up straighter. “You said that the second best day of your life was when we slept together. So what was the first?”

Paul looked away from you, suddenly finding your hands interesting. “Dunno how you’re still so with it when you’re this far gone.”

“It’s a talent, really. I can’t walk for shit, but I can talk coherently, and run from the cops. Or danger, probably. But then again, I guess there is no danger when I’m here. You’d never let anyone hurt me.” You mused, pushing your hands against his chest and shaking him gently. “Stop avoiding my question.”

He sighed, looking at you with feigned annoyance. “The day I met you.”

You laughed, your whole body shaking and convulsing, tears falling out of your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself, though what you found funny about his answer, you weren’t quite sure.

Jared whistled lowly, quirking a smile across his tan face. “Even your partner things your answer is dumb.”

You spoke through giggles, wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “No, it’s sweet. The best answer I could’ve imagined. I just didn’t expect it, so it was funny.”

Paul chuckled at you, pulling you against his chest to kiss your head. “You’re a mess right now, babe.”

“And you get to deal with it for the rest of your life. Aren’t you a lucky man?”

“The luckiest man alive.”

~~~

Tag List:

@sorrow-and-bliss @fangirling-4-ever @emme-looou @swidkid @sunsetevergreen @yourwonkywriter @avis15 @shawrs @rottenstyx

Comment, message, reply to be added!

[starkwub]

This Is Love

(Tw. Starkercest, uncle/nephew, non-con/dub-con vibes)

Okay so I wrote this last night and kept it drafted because it turned out a bit darker than I usually go for, but alas I slept on it and am feeling much better about it :). I also couldn't decide between non and dub con, so I tagged both at the top there to play it safe. Probably going to tag it in a similar way on AO3 as well ^^

(Also starkercest anon, if you're seeing this and aren't a fan of the darker stuff I do have other drafts that are a bit more consensual and kinky that I'm working on too XD)

WC: 3,215

-- -- --

The familiar sound of train tracks kept Peter awake that night. He supposed the sound of a gentle oscillating fan as well as the memories of the night prior to his reclusive sleeping arrangements also didn't allow him to fall asleep either.

His mother and her boyfriend were down the hall, as were his aunt and her husband, the grandparents who owned the home, as well as his uncle (although he was currently MIA from the function).

Tony should be here--and yet, nothing. His laughter could not be heard at the dinner table nor around the tree. His stupid expensive car wasn't parked in the driveway alongside everyone else's cheap rides--and his bag wasn't by the couch where he usually took to resting it.

Peter sighed and continued resting on his back with his feet nearly dangling over the edge of the bed, and as his mind wandered to the times when his favorite yet illusive uncle was normally home, he heard the sound of a car door shut and a gentle grunt of frustration through the crack in his window.

"Stupid ice.."

Peter shot up in the bed which warranted his vision going dark and his head pounding for a few staggering moments before he stood and as quickly, and quietly as he could manage--walked out of his room, down the creaking stairs (though he knew stepping on the outer edges made it less noticeable), and through the living room towards the front door.

There was a jingling from a key fob on the other side but Peter was already unlocking it and muttering through the chill that he felt from the cold night air hitting his warm cheeks.

Tony jumped when he noticed, "Peter?? What the hell..what are you doing up?" came an urgent whisper, but his uncle was already walking past Peter before he had the chance to reply.

"Couldn't sleep." He confessed idly and continued on after he heard Tony's car lock from the driveway, "What are you doing here so late?"

"My flight got delayed--didn't your mom mention it?"

She most definitely had not because Peter would remember hearing anything that had to do or was in any way related to Tony.

Why hadn't she mentioned anything?

"No she..it must've slipped her mind. When did you text? She might not have seen it if it was later in the day." He tried, though when he noticed Tony's face scrunch up and contort in a sour sort of way, he knew that hadn't been the case.

"I called her--had a whole five minute conversation about it and everything."

Tony sighed heavily as he untied his shoes and placed them near the rest of the others and shot the front door a hard look.

"You lock it?" and as Peter nodded, eager to please as always, Tony nodded as well.

"Good, good.."

The silence that wore on in-between them was something that he'd experienced before. It was mildly awkward and a tad..tension filled, though he wasn't sure how exactly to describe the latter feeling. It often kept him up at night after getting home from family functions such as this--leading him to feel just a tad bit crazy which thankfully always passed on after a while apart.

Peter often would stare at family photos and the curt short messages the both of them had sent betwixt themselves in the dead of night when he felt particularly strange.

But why.. Peter began to ponder, shivering a bit from the cold air that brushed against his bare hair covered legs.

"Where you sleeping at?" Tony suddenly asked in the same whispered tone as before, making Peter's gaze snap up to see his uncle placing his bag against the usual foot end of the couch.

"Oh um..just upstairs like usual."

Tony nodded again.

He's so quiet tonight..though Peter supposed it made sense considering the time.

He also was, to his knowledge and hopeful guessing, completely sober. normally Tony got more talkative after a couple drinks--especially with him. Perhaps he just had nerves like Peter did, though he didn't think he was all too intimidating.

Peter shuffled into the kitchen and noted the glaringly green time staring back at him from the stove.

11:46

I guess it isn't too late..he wondered as he brought his arms up to cross across his chest, feeling the familiar chill of the house once more. He should've put on a robe (if he had one, that is).

A hand, shocking in its placement as well as its warmth came to rest across his back--it could only have belonged to Tony. Why was Tony putting his hand on him? Peter had grown so intensely accustomed to their 'singular hug at the end of the visit'. This, though, was foreign. It was unexpected and felt in many ways strangely intimate.

Peter knew that probably wasn't the right word to use in relation to his uncle--but how else was he supposed to describe it? It wasn't like he was trying to be weird or anything..

When Tony let his hand fall away he couldn't help but let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding and turned towards his uncle who was staring at the time as well.

"We should probably get to bed, hm?"

We?

"Y-Yeah."

His uncle seemed to sway just a tad too close when he hummed because as suddenly as the familiar strange feeling began to get worse, Peter was turning and watching his uncle's back return to the couch.

It was strange, the way Tony made him feel.

Peter's bare feet padded across the hardwood flooring till he was at the foot of the stairs and staring into the darkness towards where he knew the couch to be. He could see a subtle outline of a person, but nothing more than that. He'd thought to go get his eyes checked out but just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"Goodnight Peter." He heard from the figure in a whispered huskier tone, and Peter nodded in the dark to comply with the underlying 'you can leave now' message that his uncle was sending his way.

"Goodnight Uncle Tony." and with that, began the hesitant and quiet walk up the stairs. Thankfully nobody had woken up, he thought as he shut his temporary bedroom's door shut with a gentle click.

He was glad to have his uncle in the house. He also wanted to say he felt just a tad bit safer, though he was also the one that slept with the window open, so safety mustn't have been such a huge concern.

He also couldn't..shut the thing either even if he wanted to since something was jammed, but that was neither here nor there.

Peter wished also to ponder on why his mother hadn't elected to mention Tony's flight predicament. Who had she told, if anyone? Had he been the only one on the outskirts of this thing? Why had they all lied?.. Why had his mother lied?

He supposed it wasn't out of the norm for her considering their recent strain but it still seemed strange to not at least mention something as simple as 'Tony's going to be late, he had some flight trouble' during dinner when the man had come up in conversation.

A sneeze suddenly resounded through the house--though it sounded muffled enough for Peter to not think anything of it.

He'd just have to figure it all out tomorrow since he couldn't imagine getting any answers now.

-- --

"Peter." Came a whisper to his left, though he elected in favor of not moving incase it was his dreaded mother trying to awaken him to cut the fruit.

A few moments later, his name came again, only a bit more masculine and a bit more stuffy.

"Pete--" which was soon followed by a muffled sneeze,"--ugh..shit."

He blinked, eyes straining in the dark to try and catch whoever it was that was standing over him, and noticed it was his uncle. What was he doing up here?

"Tony?.." He muttered whilst stretching his legs a bit.

"Yeah it's me kid..listen, I hate to ask this--but can I bunk with you tonight? Maria forgot to remove the stupid feather stuffed pillows and I didn't think to bring any allergy meds with me."

Maria, his mother--the pillows..right. Tony was allergic. That must've been what the sneezing and the stuffy voice was all about.

Mumbling under his breath Peter shuffled and closed his eyes whilst hoping Tony could take the hint and just get in. it of course couldn't have been that easy.

"Why do you have the window open?--"

Ugh..not this..just let me sleep god damnit..

"It's jammed." He stated bluntly, and rubbed his face as a shiver ran throughout his body via the lifting of the semi-warmed bedding.

"Sure is cold in here..not really seeing how you're fine with that." Tony started up again as he shuffled from Peter's left in an attempt to get comfortable. He shrugged sleepily and curled in on himself.

"M'tired Tony..that's how." He grumbled.

There was a bit more shuffling following his exasperated words, but thankfully things seemed to quiet down after a while.

Peter was nearly asleep again--or at least on the verge of it when he heard his uncle speak in a frustrated hush.

"blasted bed.." And Peter felt his back touch something warm--hot even, instead of the familiar cold air he had been forever used to.

"Never enough space on bed's like this.." his uncle muttered again and while Peter figured he could continue to lie as still as possible and attempt to fall back asleep, it became impossible when he noted even more shuffling along with a shoulder jabbing into his spine.

"What in the world are you doing.."

"Peter! Sorry if I woke you.." though he didn't sound entirely too apologetic when his words came out ecstatic, "Do you think you could scoot over just a smidge?"

his uncle turned again and while it was dark and cold and..strangely warm up against his back, Peter could feel something even softer press up against his spine..

"Or..this'll work fine."

How was he sober and doing this? He thought to himself as physical boundaries continued to be crossed.

Peter was aware, and he figured the word intimately was the correct term to use in this instance because his uncle was pressed up against him, chest to stomach to..and Peter felt his cheeks flush with heat.

"Mm.." Tony hummed against his hair as he seemed to take a deep breath in.

"Your shampoo is fantastic Peter.." which was soon followed by a hand wrapping loosely around his much thinner waistline. Tony's fingers brushed his t-shirt down for a moment before letting it lie still yet again.

That strange feeling was back at full force now that they were there--this close..it was..god it was almost too much to bear. A touch of the back to this?? How on earth was he supposed to be mentally prepared for this sort of thing.

Peter attempted to shut his eyes again and get some sleep--knowing that this would all be over in the morning and that he'd get his own bed back after the pillows are removed and the area is disinfected with whatever spray Maria keeps under her kitchen sink cabinet. It would all be fine and dandy..yeah, definitely.

Peter wasn't so lucky though because as he was trying to even out his breathing, that same hand of Tony's began to wander.

It was dark and very much unfamiliar to him--the chill brushing his front had nothing on the heat that was occurring behind him, and while he had never felt something other than a pillow brush against anything lower than his tailbone before, this was definitely not a pillow.

It was stiff and..and warm.

Peter blinked his eyes awake and shuddered in his uncle’s grip. It was loose but something told him he wouldn't be getting let go anytime soon.

I don't.. Peter thought suddenly.

"Tony I--" he swallowed thickly between words, trying to decipher how he was suppose to react in a situation like this. He'd heard about it at school and read about in in articles online..he'd..he'd--

Peter sniffled hard and felt his shoulders begin to shake.

"I don't.."

His words were soon followed by a hand slowing in motion and gripping his t-shirt tightly.

"Oh Peter I--I'm sorry..I didn't mean--" but Peter himself was shaking his head and turning to face his uncle.

The eyes he was met with were moon-lit and haunted, and the skin he watched contorted into something grave, giving his heart a sudden jolt.

"oh no..no Tony don't cry." Peter muttered out while reaching his arm up and around his tubbier uncle's waist in order to reach his back. He caressed the area in a way he hoped could prove to be soothing..and as he felt those large warm hands snake up his back he wondered if he should be trying to sooth his uncle at all.

Had he nearly just been molested?

A shiver ran down the length of Peter's spine that followed the trail in which his uncle's hands had just taken. What was going on?

"Oh god I don't know what's wrong with me.." and as Peter felt the familiar warm length now pressed against his upper thigh, he began to wonder if perhaps he should make a hasty leave for the bathroom.

The hands that continued to hold him close now felt like claws and clamps instead of the regular plush innocence they supplied.

it hadn't been him, Peter realized as something rutted up against him.

All those times he felt weird and..and sexually frustrated, it had been Tony.

Tony, Tony.

his Uncle Tony.

"T-Tony.." He wetly tried but to no avail was quieted by the other man's freshly shaven cheek.

"S-Shh..Peter be quiet..please just.." and it truly did sound like a plea on his uncle's lips, "close your eyes..don't..try not to think too hard, okay?"

Something murky settled in his gut like a stone to a chain as he was pressed up against the warm spot on their full sized bed. A leg rested between his as he felt yet again something hard and hot pressed against his loose pair of boxer shorts.

He felt the strange urge to cry.

Tears did indeed slip down his cheeks as he closed his eyes and tried to do as his uncle told him to. He tried his best not to think too hard but it was difficult when something harder was pressing up against him. Something wet and stiff--something that was too hot to be normal.

It burned and made Peter want to gag as a hand pressed against the top of his back in order to hold him down (as if he were going to go anywhere).

Was this really happening?.. He kept expecting for it to all be a joke--o-or a nightmare as a result of those weird familiar feelings he'd get when his uncle was around after one too many drinks under his belt.

More tears streamed down his cheeks as he heard his uncle grunt from behind and shove in a bit more--no doubt making his insides become coated with something sickly and red.

God he was a virgin!

He hated how much he hated it and he hated even more how much he couldn't stand to stop it.

He hated how much it hurt, and again hated even more how much he lived for the pain.

This corrupt saddled love that was shared between the both of them.

"A-ah.." Peter clenched the bedding tightly and felt the hand on his back disappear for a long moment before it moved to grasp his wrist.

It was wet and so was his hole. Tony had no doubt licked his hand and..and made it easier for his cock to go in, hadn't he?..

Peter shook his head and nearly cried out from the feeling of something being entirely entered into him, but restrained himself to muffled silence once more while his jaw strained against itself.

"Mmph..Pete.." His uncle muttered from above after bringing his now other free hand to his neck. He idly wondered if he would be choked but was shocked to feel the heavy body fall down against him.

"Don't want to move," Tony whimpered, "went in too dry.. don't want you to hurt m-more.."

Peter shook his head and attempted to raise his backside--bucking up into the pain and holding in a cry that would no doubt sound like the loss of his innocence.

When he felt tears hitting his still clothed back he couldn't help but wonder as to who was raping who in this moment. He figured Tony had started it, clearly, and then..well..now they were both crying and Peter was the one bucking into it.

Peter thrusted up as much as he could manage once more in hopes of being able to become the victim of this double edged crime, and grunted past his mute wishful words.

Tony, being as smart as he is, seemingly got the gist.

The pain was nothing short of utter agony scraped from the bottom of hell's dirty pavements, and while tears fell from both of their eyes and the mess that had been produced took a gentle warm rag and many kisses to clean..Peter couldn't help but yawn.

He was tired and never wanted tomorrow's light to shine through the open unchecked window behind him. He didn't want to see his mom or her blasted boyfriend. He didn't want to see the stupid feather stuffed pillows or the way that breakfast would look absolutely breathtaking in the morning.

He didn't want to breathe, but that wasn't really an option.

Instead he turned and wrapped his weak and battered body around the man that had done so much in the short time they'd spent together, and hoped that this love that had been shared between them hadn't been a mistake.

All he ever wanted to do was please his uncle. To be a..to be a good boy.

"I love you Peter..." Tony murmured against his temple, and kissed the area sweetly as if dirty blood had not just been shed as a result of his shame induced love.

"I-I love you too Tony.." he murmured back, and snuggled impossibly closer only wishing now that he could crawl beneath his uncle's skin and die there like a prematurely decaying pet. Wished that then maggots would infest the man in front of him so then he would feel as dirty as Peter did.

If he thought about it though, he presumed they felt much of the same in that moment. Perhaps they were both already infested with something much worse than maggots and creatures that thrive on the carcasses of the dead.

God he hated love..he hated everything that had to do with it because what else was this supposed to be?..Love love love..he repeated, on and on like counting sheep until he fell into a dreamless slumber.

-- -- --

[fixa-ryeter]

here's ageswap!Ritsu!

before we go on, quick heads-up: this is a heavier and wordier post; there’s going to be discussions about PTSD, its symptoms and Ritsu's response to them, and because i’m on PC i can cut off that section with a ‘Keep Reading’ bar? so i’ll do that and try to lay out the rest of the facts before that. also there's gonna be a bit of a format change here bc PC so afblakdhbf

a few people have shown interest in Ritsu and i was. so happy. im still new to tumblr imo and im so excited about all of this FBALDKHFBASFB so here he is. and with this it’ll be a huge look into what happened between him and his brother. also shoutout to my friend bc she is VERY MUCH part of the creative process. i’m not sure if she wants to be mentioned here but credit goes to her too! (bestie if you see this please tell me) update: SHE SAID YES @escape-from-twinkov say thank you escape from twinkov

Ritsu! Popular, all-rounder kid in academics and sports who started burning out in university and dropped out to pursue music with a few of his friends. it worked out for them, and his life is relatively stable. kinda stable. a little stable. really depends on your definition of stable. here’s the facts:

he's a good 5'11, about 24 years old

he/they demiboy. doesn't really feel the need for a solid label for his sexuality

plays guitar. is the band's frontman. he has three other bandmates and Shou Suzuki is one of them.

suffers from PTSD and anxiety (more on it below the cut)

loves playing Just Dance (even though he sucks at it) and Guitar Hero (he's better at this one)

your average My Chemical Romance + vocaloid enjoyer, AND a closeted 1D fan

he's a quick thinker, but when they're anxious he can barely think at all

loves udon. loves tofu. give this man either or both when he's upset and it cheers them up quite a bit.

tells people he has a diary no one should read. not because it's his diary, but because he doodles a lot in it and finds it embarrassing. of course Shou finds out. of course Shou thinks it's adorable.

he went through a lot of friends in his later school life. had many, lost many, and struggled to make friends in university. Found some buddies in their second year, made a band, dropped out with them at the start of third year.

if you've decided not to keep reading until here thanks so much for getting to this point already!!!!! heavier stuff below the cut so read at your own risk. it's lore so if theres a need for it i'll post a summary on it.

So remember the ???% incident in childhood that led to Ritsu getting hurt and Mob being unable to remember what happened? That's where we're getting at. It was never resolved in their childhood or adolescent years. Ritsu tells Mob he doesn't remember either, and tried to sweep it under the rug. Worked for the most part.

his PTSD was delayed onset. his symptoms were there, but not enough to fit the diagnostic criteria. they got worse in university because he was experiencing heavy burnout with no one he felt like he could turn to. he'd moved out and was struggling to make friends.

he has nightmares which only increased in frequency, something he never gave much thought to because they figured it was a logical response to the event. didn't bother to question it either even when he had been experiencing them for months since he had other things to worry about. doesn't mean they didn't bother them and scare them though.

sometimes they just don't show up and don't reply to messages after shooting a quick text to his mates about feeling ill. his bandmates were getting concerned.

a little bit difficult to work with in the studio sometimes because he has difficulty concentrating and doesn't seem present.

terrible sleep quality, something he and his brother have in common.

often lacks motivation to do anything outside of his music job and things he feels like he's obligated to do, like hang out with his friends sometimes. never moves things out of place in his apartment, but his room is usually a mess because he struggles with cleaning up.

Ritsu had no fucking idea how to cope with any of this and made a decision to remove their perceived source of trauma from his life. He completely cut out Mob from his life for a few years. Blocked his number. Blocked his socials. Moved and never gave him a new address.

at first he felt as though he really did something to fix things for himself. after all he didn't need to bother checking up, visiting, hanging out with a person who had caused him all this trouble. he felt optimistic about it at first. waited for their own symptoms to get better. eventually no matter how he looked at it he hadn't fixed anything. he was still being stubborn for years after cutting his brother off.

had a breakdown in front of his bandmates and they started asking him to get help. he caved in and he did! now they're learning to live with their PTSD and their issues in a healthier way. but he's also starting to really miss his brother and feel like an asshole for lying to him about the incident and leaving him in the dark.

soooo that's all that's going to be revealed in this post. more on mob's side of the story and how they try to fix things next time? i've actually already written a oneshot on it but i'm not sure if i should share it. i'll go ahead and burn that bridge when i get to it afbdhsakfb but if you're still reading at this point thanks so much for reading until here 😭😭😭

[bluesfortheredj]

A helping hand.

A/N: You can tell when this was meant to come out... anyway, sorry again for the delay but I'm finally settled in the house now and will be getting the last requests out when I can :)

Christmas.

The most wonderful time of the year.

Supposedly, anyway.

Yours seemed more stressful than usual this year though; between worrying about money, what presents to get people on your tighter budget, and how you were going to organise Christmas this year between the two families you had very little to smile about. The festive cheer had certainly evaded you so far and it was already the beginning of December.

“Right, Jane’s said she’s not doing presents this year which should give us some wiggle room for others,” you sigh, having just received the fortuitous text message.

You look down to the notebook which had a list of names and the gift ideas next to them, then cross her name out with a relieved huff and look over to where Rufus sits tapping away on his phone enthusiastically. A grin spreads across his tired looking face and he suddenly meets your gaze with wide, excited eyes.

“I know this is super last minute but look at this!”

He jumps from the armchair to the seat next to you on the sofa with a bounce and thrusts his phone under your nose for you to see the email that had got him so riled up, then you make out the main words that make your heart sink a little; fly out to France for two nights, back on Christmas eve.

“Oh… Wow… It’s, uh… a great opportunity.”

“So it’ll be a week in total what with rehearsals in London…” he grins, “but this is amazing!”

“A week?” you repeat, having missed that part of the email completely, “but we’ve got so much to do before the big day…”

“It’ll be fine,” he says with a wave of his hand, “don’t worry! I’ll do what I can before all this, and I promise you’ll have the bare minimum to do after.”

You give him a nod and a smile but you knew Rufus too well by now, and he wasn’t exactly the most organised of humans, in fact he was quite simply the complete opposite and regularly left most things until the last second. His attention turns back to the device in his hands as he excitedly types his reply back to this thrilling event he’d been invited to, and you can’t help but feel a heavy sensation in your stomach at the thought of the next couple of weeks.

It was edging ever closer to the big day when Rufus finally appears from the stairwell just as you place your plate in the sink and grab the reusable bags from the side, “you ready?”

He briefly looks up from his phone with a questioning brow, “for what?”

“Christmas shopping, silly! You said we’d get it done today while you’re still here.”

“Shit, of course, yeah, I’ve just gotta meet Danny in town and then I’m all yours, I promise.”

“But…”

He gives your cheek a fleeting kiss then shrugs his jacket on, “I’ll meet you at the shops, I’ll phone you when I’m done!”

With that, he disappears out of the front door, leaving you with the bags gripped firmly in your grasp, your fingers tightening with anger as you stare at the door he’d only just exited seconds before. You knew this was going to happen and yet you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that it had.

“Hmph,” you huff, grabbing your handbag and deciding to do this by yourself instead.

Your mind is a jumble of emotions as you walk around the shops picking up bits for everyone; on one hand you knew that Rufus couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this, yet on the other you wished he didn’t let it totally consume him, especially now with it being so close to Christmas and you needing help with the preparations for it. You eye yet another bath set for your mum and place it down in the trolley in front of you with a sad sigh before making your way to the checkout and checking your phone for a call you knew wouldn’t be coming.

It’s late when you finally get home and you can see the lights on inside indicating that someone was already there, so you trudge up the path with your hands full of heavy bags and give the door a couple of taps with your foot.

“Babe!” he grins when he opens up to find you standing there, “let me take some of those.”

He grabs a couple from each hand and you follow him inside, pushing the front door shut with your elbow as you watch his familiar blonde ponytail disappear into the lounge.

“Busy day then, huh?” you say quietly, trying to keep your anger from bubbling over.

He pouts as he lowers the bags carefully to the floor, leaning them up against the sofa, “I’m so sorry, everything took longer than expected and then we got something to eat and I knew you’d be done by the time we got out of there so I just-”

You can’t help but scoff at his answer; you were already enraged and his bumbling excuse about going for dinner rather than helping you tipped you over the edge, “I can’t do this,” you shrug, dropping the bags with a thud and turn to walk away.

“Can’t do what? Where are you going?!” he worries.

“You said you were going to call and meet me in town to help with all this,” you reply, spinning around and gesturing to the bags scattered across the floor, “you said that before you had to fly off you’d make sure you could help me so that I had the minimum amount left before Christmas.”

“I know, and I’m sorry! What about tomorrow?”

“No,” you reply sternly, “no. I have a job too you know, and it’s our busiest time of the year as well, but no, don’t worry about me, I’ll just sort the presents, the food, the budget that’s required a hell of a lot of adjusting this year…”

“That’s why I’m doing this! I know we need the money, so that’s yet another reason why I agreed to it!” he reaches out for you but you step backwards and shake your head.

“I appreciate that, I really do, but I also just really needed your help today. It wasn’t like you were being paid to go eat after the meeting was it? Ru, I’m exhausted, and I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m going to have to do everything else without you when you jet off again, so I genuinely really did need you today.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs morosely.

You sniff a little before pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, “so am I,” you whisper, once more turning towards the door and heading out to your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, attempting to grab onto the vehicle door as you shut it.

“My parent’s place.”

“What?! Why?!”

“I need to cool off.”

You hastily put the car into reverse and make your exit as quickly as you possibly can without seeing the hurt in the eyes of the man you love. As soon as you get onto the main road you regret it but you have to stand your ground and reluctantly continue the short journey to your parent’s house in a stony silence, not even the radio uttering a note. Once you turn into your parent’s road you park up and sit in the quiet that had accompanied you on the entire journey as your mind whirs with regret and sadness.

“Fuuuck,” you whisper as your forehead connects with the steering wheel.

The engine is still running as you roll your head from side to side slowly until eventually you make the decision to turn straight back around and head home. The last thing you wanted was for Rufus to leave while you were in the middle of a disagreement so you knew you had to make things right even though you did want to stand your ground about the matter.

You open the front door slowly and carefully once you get back, not wanting to make your appearance known straight away, but Rufus soon comes bounding down the stairs as soon as you shut the door behind you and his lips land on yours in a desperate kiss.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He cups your jaw delicately yet firmly as he presses his lips on and around your mouth while your fingers weave into his blonde hair with ease, “I’m sorry,” you manage to mumble when his lips move.

He pulls away with a slight frown, “I’m sorry,” he sighs, “I didn’t mean to be such a selfish asshole, I wasn’t thinking, I-” you cut him off with another kiss.

“It’s okay, do you wanna apologise here, or upstairs?”

There’s a moment where he processes what you’re saying, then his eyebrows lift as his lips turn up into a smile, “upstairs.”

Request: Could you please make one with Rufus where they have a Big fight, reader leaves and come back later and they reunite + more

[mephicchi]

((Apologies for the delay in messages, I was predisposed yesterday.

I know what you mean about the NPC voices. I can do voices well enough, but switching between characters frequently makes me forget what the voices were supposed to sound like to begin with with my swiss cheese brain. I have to admit playing one consistent character as a player has been a lot more stress-free on that side of things. I miss all the planning and plotting though, I do really enjoy it.

Many of those ttrpgs mentioned I don't think I've heard of before! I'll have to check them out when I have better internet access, from the names alone they sound interesting.

I've played about 2 sessions of Pathfinder 2nd Edition. There are certain things I could see that would be fun, but for the most part I was more familiar with and vastly preferred dnd 5e. That’s just me though.

It would be my delight to carry on some form of text RP even after the "letters" reach their conclusion if you so desire. You may also have a handful of text RPers in your pocket already with the friends you interact and RP with!

A fortunate upside of text RP is actually having the time to translate a word or seek out a certain word and curate a reply. I for one have no regrets if it means you are having fun throughout the exchange!

I fear I may need to apologise in advance if I withdraw again after the cover is blown. Anonymity has made me far bolder than usual.

Honestly I sent you the first ask entirely on a whim! Intended for your enjoyment and to spread some positivity, and to combat the lack of asks that circulate around tumblr these days. But when you responded ic the RPer in me could not resist replying in kind. I can assure you I am entirely overjoyed and spend far too much of my day just pondering how my bastard would respond.

Speaking of, time to get to it. I should really try to shorten these replies ghhfsdkl.))

((And I apologize for my delay, dear Mephiston will probably take some more time to answer your the newest letter than I already took, but worry not, one day his answer will suddenly appear.

I don't actually know if I have voices for any of my characters, I just kinda.... talk, it feels wrong quite often since I hate my own voice and it could never do the character I'm playing justice in the slightest.

I do really recommend looking in to all the ttrpgs I mentioned, even though I've not played a single one of them myself, except for 5e, you're already further than me on the topic by having played two sessions of Pathfinder 2e.

Continuing in some way after the last letter has been sent would truly be a pleasure, especially in the form of some kind of text RP, especially since I will not be seen in FFXIV again anytime soon.

My appreciation of you sending that first ask and everything that followed it is quite immense, and I'm incredibly sorry if I'm making you wait too long for the next letter, but I'm afraid it will have to wait another few days.

Have a wonderful day, my friend.))

[wayward40k]

knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier. ( repost do not reblog ! )

✿ name:  Kaz :D

✿ PRONOUNS:   They/them

✿ preference of communication:  I'm usually on Discord and Tumblr simultaneously 99% of the time. Regardless of which messaging system is used, there may occasionally be the ADHD error where I see your message, I plan to reply to your message, tab away from that window, aaaaaand promptly forget, thereby delaying a reply until I realize I'm an idiot.

✿ name of muse(s):   Alethea, Clementiya, Valrain, Raiq, Shyael, Mahvaris, Serge, Laelia.... Neeq? I'm still debating adding Neeq because sometimes, we need Dumbass Shenanigans on the dash.

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?):  Uh. I've been RPing on tumblr since... 2013? on and off? And I' think even before that. And I've been RPing since even before that. I want to say 2002-4-ish? (Granted, it wasn't very GOOD RP...)

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED:  I've RPed on Tumblr (does anyone remember M!As? I loved the chaos of anons using magic to fuck up your character's universe), Discord, Skype, streamed RPGs (don't ask me about my TTRPG characters because then there are even more idiots for me to talk about and no one needs that xD), in MMORPGs (don't ask about those either), a couple different LARPs, uh.... to make me feel really old, I also RPed on forum boards, with Yahoo Messenger and AIM and in Yahoo Groups.

✿ best experience: Even if I narrow down to all my best experiences on Tumblr, there's a lot. I've met many awesome folks, had some amazing RP arcs and ships and everything.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS:  Uuhhh... If I feel uncomfortable/unhappy/dissatisfied, I will say something (and please please PLEASE do the same with me). The dealbreaker is when that's ignored. I understand that we're only human and sometimes we slip up and forget, but efforts need to be made to avoid that. And I fuck this up, too, so please? Tell me if I do?

✿ fluff, angst or smut: Any selection or combination of the three? Absolutely. Yes. -Chef kiss.- Perfection.

✿ plots or memes: What are memes but embers by which to potentially spark the fires of passionate plotting? I enjoy both~

✿ long or short replies: Either, and I can vary quite a bit. Sometimes I prefer the shorter replies because they're easier for me to write, and they're usually more casual RP. Banter or general silliness. If there's a lot of information to react to, or if there's a significant reason for story development, my reply might get a bit... long.

✿ best time to write: I work third shift and try to keep that schedule on my days off, too. So I'll usually be active between 6 PM to 8 AM EST, and the level of activity will vary quite a bit depending on whether I'm at work or otherwise busy. I do queue up memes to post between 2 PM and 9 PM EST, because that's typically my 'sleeping/busy morning' phase of the day.

✿ are you like your muse(s):  I guess a little bit? In various ways. Some of them have a particular trait of mine that is fun to tap into.

TAGGED BY: @starbound-prince

TAGGING: U h h h ... @asklordcaptaincastronova, @chapter-master-darius, @akhenaten-imhotep, anyone else that sees this~

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[ashasmonsters]

The Skateboarder

Female reader x Female orc (Morn)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: brief alcohol, stupid memes

Words: 9k

Morn reached between the legs of some intertwined partygoers, retrieved a beer from the strategically placed cooler, then opened it on the strike plate of the living room door. Some of it foamed out and fell on the carpet with the bottle cap but she didn't seem to care. The owners of the sorority house didn't care either.

"...so yeah, she said I stank and got up and left." Morn finished her tale of an attempted one-night stand.

"She didn't even touch you yet?" You asked, leaning in close so she could hear you over the thumping music. As was usual for parties like these, you and Morn had carved out a corner where you could be ignored by everyone else and gossip.

"Well, yeah, but not below the belt. That's what pissed me off. She was all over me all night and as soon as I say I want her to go down on me, she insults me and leaves."

"I mean..." you grinned, unable to resist, "did you stink down there, though?"

Morn punched your shoulder and chuckled.

"Fuck off, it's not like roses and daffodils are the norm. You know, it's like I always say..." It was Morn's turn to grin mischievously.

"Don't fucking say it. I swear to God, Morn. I'm going to laugh really hard and everyone's going to look at me weird. " You pleaded. You knew what would come next; Morn's favorite turn of phrase that she managed to use more often than one would think.

"—like I always say, good pussy smells like the heat coming out of the PS4."

You were true to your word. As you caught your breath between peals of laughter, a few partygoers did in fact stare at you. Despite your prior protests, the stares didn't bother you that much. Here in Morn's gossip corner, all that mattered was whiling the time away until the other half of your group was ready to leave. Dera's whereabouts were unknown but Lash was visible in the corner of the room.

"Looks like Lash's plan is all coming together." You noted. Morn turned to look as well; she was aggressively making out with an Elf boy. He licked her tusks. You grimaced.

"Goddamn. When Lash wants something she gets it."

"She mentioned that guy... what, like, yesterday?" You asked. "From staring at him across the classroom to heavy petting in less than twenty-four hours. That's a new record."

"Makes me feel like I'm not even the same species," Morn complained, finally turning away from Lash's public display of affection. "I know Orc boldness is a stereotype but it's not one I'd mind living up to."

"That's not Orc boldness, that's Lash boldness," you chortled. "Don't be down on yourself for not having it. Besides, she's not looking for a one-night deal; if that Elf doesn't call her back tomorrow she's gonna have her week ruined."

"I guess that's true..." Morn sighed.

"Morn." You firmly squeezed her shoulder and stared at her. "I love Lash to death, but you've never called me at three in the morning crying over the end of a week-and-a-half-long relationship. It's okay to not be dating a new person all the time."

"Yeah, I know." She finished her beer and smiled a bit.

"Besides, if you were hunting down an object of desire every time we were at a party, I'd have no one to chill with. Morn's Gossip Corner is the only thing getting me out of the dorm on Friday nights."

"I'm glad to be of service." She dramatically saluted. "You're right, though. I guess it's just the party atmosphere that makes me forget sleeping around and dating have drawbacks."

"Definitely the party vibe getting to you," you affirmed. "Speaking of sleeping around, though... where's Dera?"

"If I had to guess, upstairs. Text her." Morn suggested.

You pulled out your phone and opened the group chat, aptly titled "THA HOOLIGANZ 👩‍💻👩‍✈️👩‍⚕️🕵️‍♀️" and sent a message:

You: dera where tf are u, its almost been an hour

Almost immediately the indicator that Dera was typing popped up, followed by her reply:

Dera: upstairs. firbolg football player. huge 🍆

"Oh, god." You gagged. Morn pulled out her phone in response to see the cause, then had a similar reaction. She started tapping away at her phone's keyboard.

Morn: damn, dera, chill. we just wanted to make sure you were ok.

The typing indicator preceded yet another reply from Dera.

Dera: lol ok mom

"She's got an attitude tonight, sheesh." Morn shook her head and put her phone away.

"I think tonight an early exit might be a good idea. Dera and Lash seem pretty occupied," you said. You couldn't find Lash or her Elven paramour in the room anymore.

"I think you're right. Text the group and tell 'em we're leaving."

You nodded and did so, receiving 👍 responses from both Dera and Lash after a short pause.

"Let's go." You got up from your place on the sunken-in couch and helped Morn up. The two of you navigated through the fire code-violating sorority house to the front door, where you met the cool night air and the odor of cigarettes. Morn's skateboard was next to yours, propped against the thick trunk of a long-dead tree.

"I don't wanna go back to the dorms yet. It's not that late," Morn said, checking her watch.

"Pizza?" You suggested.

"Pizza."

Before long you were both skating into the night. The entire university town was built into the side of a mountain with the greek life houses at the top, making it a breeze to fashionably exit parties like this one. There were a few drunken revelers to dodge on the way down, but once you cleared the sororities and fraternities it was smooth skating. The incandescent streetlights flew past as century-old houses gave way to newer corner stores and parks. Before long, you and Morn were skating through the thick of the city on a course set for Main Street.

The pleasant sound of plastic wheels on stamped concrete was soon married with the aroma of cheap, indulgent pizza. You wouldn't have needed any senses other than smell to know you arrived at your destination: "Get Stuffed," the type of place where a slice was a dollar and you could write on the walls. As was usual for the time when Friday became Saturday, it was packed with the university crowd; too packed to even sit inside.

You and Morn shimmied to the counter and ordered your usuals. Fortunately, Get Stuffed had nailed speedy service and it was only a few short moments before you were on your way out with greasy pizza on flimsy paper plates. You set your skateboards on the curb and sat on them, side-by-side.

"Thanks for fleeing with me," Morn said, folding her slice of pizza and tucking her loose black curls behind her ear.

"Anytime, Morn." You mimicked her pizza fold before noticing something about the beanie she wore. It was oddly familiar, so you delayed your first bite. "Hey, where's that beanie from?" Morn looked at you, chewing.

"This thing?" She tugged at the chunky burgundy yarn. "You should know."

"I should know?" You mused, finally chewing on your first bite of pizza. It was just as greasy and gratifying as you expected it to be. Then, as realization dawned on you, it almost fell out of your mouth. "You kept that thing for this long?!"

"Of course. It's a good beanie. It's lasted... what, since second grade?" She smirked. "It's one of the best birthday gifts I've gotten. Thanks, by the way."

"Thank you for holding onto it," you countered. "The memories... wow."

"That was the birthday party where we had a sleepover afterward. We played tag, and—"

"Oh, no," you moaned, remembering.

"...you ran so hard that you threw up." Morn giggled. Your cheeks still burned at the vivid memory. You almost forgot crocheting Morn's beanie, but you never forget throwing up at someone's birthday party.

"It's crazy we've been friends for so long." You gracefully changed the subject and started working on your pizza slice in earnest.

"It's not that crazy. You've always been there for me."

"I mean... I try..." you were hiding your blush, feeling warm as Morn readied to shower you with compliments.

"Like the time Chrissie Becker rejected my invitation to prom. You started crying when I started crying, and I hadn't even told you what happened yet." Morn giggled warmly. "Or when our families went camping together and you let me share your sleeping bag when I forgot mine."

"I couldn't just let you sleep on the ground!" you sheepishly defended yourself against the flattery.

"Even though you knew I kicked in my sleep." Morn looked up from her plate and smiled at you, her tusks glinting under the streetlights.

"You're more important to me than my shins," you said quietly.

"Hah!" Morn laughed heartily, bumping her skateboard into yours and wrapping an arm around you. "You're more important to me than my shins."

In Morn's embrace there on the sidewalk, you melted. She had such a way of effortlessly making you feel safe and loved. She had been there for you as well several times and was damn good at it. You enjoyed the feeling so much that you just sat there quietly until she got a little worried.

"Hey, did I tease you too much?" Her wry grin had been replaced with a slight frown and sympathetic brow.

"No, no..." you reassured her, savoring the dreamy feeling. "It's all good. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad we're... friends," you stumbled a bit over the last word.

"Me too," she gave your shoulder a little squeeze.

You both finished your pizza in silence, enjoying each others' side and the ambiance of the city street. After a moment you both tossed the greasy plates into a trash can and skateboarded back to the dorms. The courtyard was where your paths diverged, and after bidding one another goodnight and farewell, you parted. You shared your bed that night with a familiar feeling. Embarrassment, shame, and maybe even guilt. All for the way your heart skipped a beat when she put an arm around you, or the unstoppable smile when she recounted her memories of you. You weren't super familiar with love, at least not in the way Lash and Dera were, but the way Morn made you feel in recent months was more than simple friendship. You agonized over the thought that she wouldn't return those feelings. It was a miracle you managed to sleep at all.

Saturday morning arrived, and with it, a text. You groggily pulled your phone into bed with you to read it after rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was from THA HOOLIGANZ.

Dera: hey sorry about my sass last nite. i figured y'all left early and that's cool, i was kinda doing my own thing anyway

Lash: LOL sameeee. anyway, does anyone want to meet up for coffee or something? i’d rather be hungover around you guys than my parents 😭

You considered the offer; it would be nice to actually see Lash and Dera after missing them last night. Your moment on the curb with Morn still bothered you, and a distraction from that would be nice.

You: im down, where u wanna go

Dera: u know that cute little cafe on that corner? main street i think?? the one thats literally 100% pink???

Morn: you're thinking of tokidoki cafe! i'm down to go, that’s my spot!

You sighed. This outing wouldn't be very good for distracting you from Morn if Morn was seated across from you.

Dera: thats the one. lets gooooooo

Lash: yes. literally right now. start running

Morn: thanks, but I think I'll skate there. see y'all in a bit

You: same

The morning air was crisp and cool in the way spring mornings always were. It was a shame Lash and Dera were too busy downing aspirin and chugging water to truly enjoy it. Your skateboard served you well as a means of transport on mornings like this; you and your friends were the rare few students who didn't usually sleep in on Saturdays, so you enjoyed the empty sidewalks. The soft plastic wheels gripped the concrete well enough to accommodate any street corners.

The cafe was 100% pink, as promised. The sweet, pillowy smell of crepes mingled with the robust aroma of coffee and met you as you hopped off your skateboard. The tiny size of the place made it easy to tell you were the first to arrive. You ordered the latte-crepe combo that took up the most space on the menu and sat while you waited. You were idly scrolling through your phone when you heard the rhythmic thumping of a skateboard wheels on slabs of sidewalk.

She looked painfully good as she stepped through the cafe's front door. The morning sun made her long black hair golden around the edges and she still wore that damn beanie. Her tusks poked out from her smiling lips when her eyes met yours. Illuminated by sunbeams, her well-toned arm showed every muscle and vein as she gripped her skateboard by the trucks to carry it in.

"Good morning!" she beamed at you. The employee behind the counter smiled at her knowingly.

"The usual, Morn?" he asked.

"Yep!" She quickly answered before sitting across from you, the pins on her denim jacket jingling. "You got here quickly."

"Yeah..." you answered weakly, your conversational skills still recovering from the way Morn held you last night.

"You weren't drinking last night, were you? You alright?" Of course, Morn immediately picked up that something was the matter. It would be stranger if she didn't.

"I'm fine. Where are Lash and Dera?" You deflected. As if on cue, your phone buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ chimed in.

Lash: lol srry, throwing up. cant make it

Dera: yeah same.

"Unbelievable. Those girls can't seem to show up anywhere lately." Morn had a slightly disapproving tone. She tapped away on her phone.

Morn: this is going on your attendance sheet

Lash: see u in detention, dera

Dera: enjoy your crepes you two!

You chuckled at the exchange.

"That's more like it. I like when you smile." Morn chimed in. "Do more of that."

The waiter saved you from needing to respond by stopping at your table with your orders. A steaming, folded crepe landed before you covered in a sauce just as pink as the rest of the cafe. A warm latte arrived with it and you wrapped your hands around the warm mug. It soothed you a little.

"Morn..." you began, not quite sure what you were going to say. Was this it? Were you going to lay your feelings on the table right here, right now?

"What is it? You can tell me anything." Morn leaned in over the table. "I can tell something's been bothering you lately."

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn't even know how to begin; should you preface it with an apology? Some sort of explanation or disclaimer?

"I don't even know if I can tell you. Like, if I can get the words out," you said before sipping your latte. You savored the taste, hoping the espresso would ground you somehow. At the very least you wouldn't be expected to talk with your mouth full.

"There's no rush. I just... I want to help. I've known you long enough that I'm sure there's something I can do." Morn hadn't even touched her crepe yet.

"Let's just, um, eat." You answered.

"Good idea. I'm sure you'll feel like yourself once you've eaten and the coffee starts kicking in." Morn nodded to herself, cutting open her fruit-filled crepe. You similarly started to work on yours. The two of you ate in silence and, for a moment, you did feel better. Fully focusing on the aromas, flavors, and textures of your breakfast stilled your trembling hands. The slightest bit of confidence grew within you halfway through the meal.

"I... um..." the words slowly formed in your mouth. Morn paused, setting down her fork and knife and looking at you intently. "I fell in love. With someone I don't think I should be in love with."

Morn listened but said nothing. She was thinking.

"How do you know it's love?"

"What?" you asked.

"How do you know it's not just a crush? Or, you know, lust?" Morn inquired. You considered the question carefully. Memories of platonic cuddles, impromptu sleepovers, and late-night conversations with Morn came to mind.

"It's love because it's lasted way longer than any crush. I trust this person, and they trust me. I'm not like Lash, pining for the new guy from across the classroom; I know this person really well."

"I see." She paused again. "Why would it be bad to love them? Wouldn't a good history make a romantic relationship easier?"

"Only if they felt the same way..." you sighed and nestled your head in your elbows.

"Ah, right..." Morn looked sheepish. "Well, personally—and I do mean personally, so it might not apply to them—if I had a long-time friend that I had feelings for, I would just tell them."

"Really?" Your eyes widened.

"I mean, yeah. If I and this person had such a long history of trust, then I would trust them to still be friends with me afterward if they didn't feel the same way. I'm sure it would be awkward for a while, but I really don't think it would be, you know... destructive or anything."

More memories came to you. More times where you felt completely open and vulnerable with Morn, and when she did with you. Times when you comforted each other and shared secrets under blanket forts and playground swings and gymnasium bleachers. Words formed inside your mouth, desperate to make themselves known to the world. Perhaps now would become another one of these memories. You'd look back on it in the future and remember the smell of pink crepes in the pink cafe.

"Morn... I have these feelings for you. I'm talking about you."

You fought the urge to cover your mouth, and you didn't stutter or stammer in the slightest. Though working up the courage was difficult, letting the words go was one of the easiest things you had ever done. Morn didn't react much; an eyebrow rose slowly as she finished chewing. The silence was agonizing.

"I'm happy you trust me enough to share that with me," Morn said calmly. You wanted to shout that's all?! but held your tongue. She took a sip of her latte, clearly in no rush to say more.

"So..." you began, well and truly lost. All your effort had gone into mustering courage and now you had nothing left. Even your anxiety and worry had gone, and you were strangely content, though eager, to hear Morn speak.

"So..." Morn parroted, "does that mean you want to... you know, date me? Like, romantic dates, not besties dates. Kissing dates."

Again, your impulses screamed duh!

"Um, yeah..." you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'd like that, but... only if you'd like that too."

She sipped her latte again, still calm.

"You know, over the years, I've imagined what we would be like if we were romantic with each other. Like, girlfriend-girlfriends. How could I not? We've known each other for so long."

You nodded, bidding her speak more.

"I never knew you wanted that. I can't imagine how you felt; I could tell something was wrong but I couldn't figure out what." Morn set the mug and her cutlery down, intentionally and warmly looking you in the eye. "I think...

You didn't even breathe.

"I think we should give it a shot." Morn smiled widely. "Does that sound good to you?"

"Yes, yes it does," you finally drew breath. If Morn was feeling a similar tumult of emotions that you were, she was hiding it considerably well. Morn wiped her lips and tusks with a napkin and got up from the table.

"Well, I've got to visit mom and pops tonight, but we've still got Sunday tomorrow. How about we have our first real date then?"

"Uh, sure!" You sat there, dumbfounded. Was it really going to be this easy?

"Cool. I'll let you pick where we go, just like most of our... non-date hangouts," she said, turning to the cashier. She gestured widely to the table. "Put it all on my tab."

"You have a crepe tab?"

Morn chuckled. Making her way to the door, the sunlight caught her hair and skin deliciously.

"I'm a regular. Anyway," she grabbed her skateboard, "see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow." You answered. She gave you one last toothy grin and stepped out before gliding out of sight, disappearing past the edge of the window. You rested your chin in your hands and sighed like a lovestruck teenager in a coming-of-age movie. Before long, your window-gazing session was interrupted by an employee.

"All done, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, I was spacing out."

"No, it's all good. Thanks for coming by, and if you don't mind me saying..." he looked somewhat pensive.

"What?"

"Don't tell Morn I said this since she's proven that she could snap me in half like a twig, but... speaking as the crepe guy she visits several times a week, I think she's a good match for you."

"But you've never met me before. Maybe once or twice, but—"

"She's told me all about you. All good things, don't worry. It's less about you and more about how Morn talks about you. She gushes when she mentions you, seriously." He paused awkwardly then started to clean up the table. "I've said too much."

"No, thank you," you said. "It's good to know."

"Glad I could help. Anyway... um, thanks for coming in." He waved at you as you got up and left. You nodded and made your exit.

Back at your dorm, you couldn't decide if you wanted to pace or lay in bed and kick your legs. You had so much energy inside you, trapped. It was equally nervous and thrilling. You wondered how Morn kept herself so well composed; something in the back of your mind nagged at you, wondering if it was because she didn't really feel that strongly for you. Enough, you thought to yourself. Morn was your best friend for almost as long as you could remember. She wouldn't toy with you like that. Hell, she explained her entire thought process on the topic before you even confessed to her.

You decided to pace to distract yourself. Those thoughts weren't helpful. Right now you had to choose a place for your first officially non-platonic date. It was never this hard to pick a place to hang out with Morn before...

Then, an idea. It sprung into your mind out of nowhere, and it just felt right. You made sure that the place was open on Sunday, checked the ticket prices... it was perfect. You readied your phone to text Morn the details... but Lash had already sent you a private message. You opened the notification.

Lash: yo how did crepes go?? sorry i no-showed

Your brow furrowed a bit. Lash's random interest was a bit strange, even more so since she was hungover. A dehydrated, vomiting Lash was bedridden for a good half-day in your experience.

You: the cafe was cool! the crepes were good

Unsure if you should be forthcoming about your new development with Morn, you figured they could find out tomorrow once your first "real date" was underway. A change like that would likely be a big deal in your friend group, so a text message wouldn't do the announcement justice anyway.

Lash: how's Morn?

You: shes fine? did something happen??

Lash: no lol, just wondering lol

Two "lol" in one text? You wanted to indulge your suspicions and investigate further, but you decided to leave it at that. You had a date to arrange.

You: still at your parents' place?

Morn: yeah, I'll be back in town tomorrow though

You: k, cool. does meeting at the aviary at 2pm work?

Morn: yeah definitely! what made you pick the aviary?

You: idk if you remember, it was so long ago, but it was the first school field trip we went on as friends

There was a pause as Morn's typing bubble hovered on your screen.

Morn: 😭OMG YOURE SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY😭

Morn: i cant wait to see you tomorrow!!!

You: me too 💕

Your phone landed on your bed with a thump and that nervous energy returned with a vengeance. More pacing, more leg-kicking, even some giggles. This situation felt both extremely real and like a scene from a movie; you never imagined this sort of thing happened in real life, especially in yours. Against all previous expectations, things were going fine. It was thrilling, scary, and made your heart race, but it was going fine. The homework you had to do took a back seat to your excited daydreaming and scheming about tomorrow. You thought about how you would greet her, how you would hug, if and how you would go for a kiss, walking while holding her hand... predictably, sleeping that night was incredibly difficult.

In the morning, you finally executed the plans you fantasized about prior. You decided to err on the side of being overdressed, picking an outfit that wasn't formal but still a little more special than what you would usually wear. You showered, brushed your teeth, swished some mouthwash, and even flossed! Breath mints, a small assortment of Morn's favorite snacks, and an extra water bottle found their way into your bag. If you were going to overthink, then you would take advantage and be overprepared as well. Squeaky clean, dressed to impress, and with a heftier bag than usual, you skateboarded down to the aviary intent on arriving ten minutes early.

The journey was uneventful save for your steadily increasing heart rate. By the time you were waiting for her by the entrance gate, you were fully flustered. You stood still with a kind smile on your face, but anything more complex would have been asking too much of you. The mental rehearsal in your mind's eye ran over and over again: smile, say hi, hug. Smile, say hi, hug. These were all things you had done with Morn before, but with platonic intent instead of this newfound "why not?" intimacy. With how calm and composed Morn had appeared throughout this whole process, you felt as if you were at a disadvantage somehow. You worried in a juvenile sort of way that she was too cool for you.

The way she pulled up to the aviary in her car didn't help that worry at all. Her ride, an old, angular, black thing that roared like a beast, was her pride and joy. She had practically built the thing herself with the number of parts she swapped out of it. It was fully manual and she had the skills to maneuver it gracefully into the parking space. Out from it stepped your actual, honest-to-god, bonafide date.

She smiled at you and your brain melted. You held up a hand in a sort of mellow wave, offering a faint grin. By the time she closed the distance, your simple three-step plan was gone with the wind. Luckily she also decided that greeting with a hug was the correct choice and you were in her embrace quickly. You paused before realizing you should probably return the gesture and wrap your arms around her as well.

"It's so good to see you! You look great," she said, pulling away and looking you over.

"You too..." you breathed, taking your own chance to get a proper look. Her outfit was just as sleek and dark as her car: a pair of black jeans with accompanying boots, a matching leather jacket, and of course, that classic burgundy beanie to top it off.

"Shall we?" She extended a green, competent hand to you. She wasn't wearing her driving gloves today, which was good for your composure; otherwise, you would have well and truly swooned. You accepted her grasp and she gave your hand a firm squeeze before strolling with you to the ticket booth. Thanks to your student IDs, you got in with discounted admission.

The aviary itself was fairly large, and on this particular Sunday, you and Morn practically had the place to yourselves. Other than the idle chatter of a few other scattered visitors, there was only the sound of wind in the leaves and bird calls. The two of you meandered between the exhibits, chatting but not about much in particular. Instead, you were simply content to enjoy each other's company and look at the birds. The birds liked looking at you, too; at one point a pair of free-roaming peacocks followed you and Morn around the aviary.

"Looks like it's a double date," Morn quipped, gesturing to the two plumy birds. They were both mostly brown and lacking the massive, fan-shaped tails.

"They're a pair of girls too. Male peacocks are the ones with the crazy feathers," you noted.

"It's almost like having Lash and Dera tagging along." Morn chuckled. "In fact, if they keep failing to show up these birds would make good replacements."

You looked at the two peacocks, who had started preening each other's feathers.

"Do you think they're besties or girlfriends?" You playfully asked. "That's some pretty intense preening."

"Maybe they're both, like us." Morn wrapped an arm around you and offered you her shoulder. You melted again. "If you had feathers, I'd be preening you right now."

"If I knew how to return that compliment, I would." You said, deliciously rattled by her closeness and warmth.

"I have an idea... if you're cool with it." Morn kept holding you close, turning to make eye contact with you. You faced her and realized how close you were. Trapped in her gaze, you couldn't speak. You gave a faint nod.

The first thing you felt was her tusks on your cheeks. They met the corners of your mouth, pressing gently just before her lips met yours. In reality, the kiss was a quick peck. In your mind, time froze. You could no longer hear the birds calling or wind blowing, only the sound of your heart beating like a drum and a feeling like fire in your chest. Morn pulled away from the kiss with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry if my tusks poked you. I'm still getting the hang of that."

"Hey, practice makes perfect, right?" you let slip with a suaveness that surprised even you. Morn's eyes widened in surprise before she let out a hearty laugh.

"That's the spirit!" She cheered, squeezing you hard. "I'm gonna hold you to it, so be aware: I'm gonna kiss you a bunch more before we're out of here."

"That's fine by me." You couldn't do anything else but giggle. Morn gave you another peck immediately after, angling her head a bit so her tusks didn't have such a lead on her lips. Your first kiss with Morn was perfect as far as you were concerned, but this second one was a bit more graceful.

"Better?" she asked.

"Better."

Your stroll through the aviary continued in this fashion: chatting about this and that, generally gushing about each other and punctuated by more quick kisses. It was strange to have a first date with someone that you knew so well, but you weren't complaining in the slightest. Each kiss felt natural and fun, not nerve-wracking and awkward as in the dates of your past. Before all this, you scoffed at yourself for wishing that there was a switch you could toggle to go from best friends to girlfriends, but so far it seemed to work precisely like that.

To the sound of your giggling, the sun was poised to set soon. The aviary closed early because it was Sunday, and you found yourself with Morn leaning against the gleaming hood of her car. You saw your reflection in it, the two of you framed by the orange sky. She came to your side, attaching to you like a magnet.

"It's probably time we headed home, huh?" she suggested.

"Yeah, probably," you replied reluctantly. "I almost don't want it to end."

"It doesn't have to." Morn smiled. "Did you really think I'd kiss you goodnight and leave you on the curb?"

You giggled. That would certainly be the plan for a first date with a stranger, but this was Morn.

"You could come by and hang out with me in my dorm for a bit?" she asked.

"I'd love to." You answered. Her dorm building and yours were right next to each other, after all. She stood up from the hood of her car and opened the passenger side door, offering the seat to you. Not long after stowing your skateboard in the trunk, you were cruising through the city streets bound for the university. Morn's focus made the ride a smooth one, her hands expertly gripping the steering wheel and gear shifter. She wore a focused but pleased expression as she deftly maneuvered the growling vehicle.

"Oh!" Her concentration broke. "We should get food! We haven't eaten at all."

Tires squealed as she veered right, making a turn she wasn't expecting to make. You gripped your armrest and giggled. The engine roared and, within moments, delivered you to a drive-through whose location Morn seemed to know by heart. She was so familiar with it that she blew past the lit-up menu and instead went directly to order.

"Don't worry, I'll get you something you'll like." She reassured you before making it out of the drive-through, takeout bag in hand, in record time. The bag landed in your lap and delicious smells wafted from it. You were tempted to peek inside and sample its contents, but even while entranced with Morn's driving skills you knew eating in her car was a no-no. Untoasted Pop-Tarts during a late-night study session on her bed were okay but her car was like a temple. You folded the top of the bag to make it easier to resist the temptation.

After she had parked and gotten out of the car, you followed her with takeout bag in one hand and skateboard in the other. This late on a Sunday night, the sky was a deep navy. Stark white light from the lamp posts illuminated the web of pathways that connected the dorms, parking lots, student union, and myriad other places you'd typically skateboard solo to.

A few beeping locks later, you made it to Morn's dorm room. Like yours, it was spartan and tiny, but it belonged to her and her alone. You set the bag down on the solitary table and determined to chow down, but Morn caught your attention. She sat on the twin-sized bed that you had shared with her many times before; platonically, of course. She had an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"You okay?" You asked, not sure where to begin.

"I'm great, actually," she said, brushing her hair out of the way so she could look at you. "Sorry if I overdid it with the kisses earlier—"

"You didn't," you interjected.

"I just... It felt great to kiss you. I don't know if it's just my nerves, or the newness of it all, or something else, but... I'm kicking myself for not making the first move on you sooner." She looked away, blushing a forest green on her cheeks. You sat next to her on the bed before she could say anything more.

"Hey, don't feel bad just because I was moping for a bit. The fact I was so worried is proof that you can't really know how someone feels about you until you ask. Even if you were friends since forever ago." You reversed the usual arrangement by wrapping your arm around her. She chuckled softly.

"I can't believe I was stressing myself out over random sorority chicks at parties rejecting me. Being with you just feels so much better than the dating apps and the parties and shit like that," Morn sighed. "I know it's technically only our first date but I really think we're something special."

"We are special," you held her tighter, "we went on our first date after... what, a decade and a half of knowing each other? That kind of history sure beats cheesy Tinder pick-up lines."

"Sure does," Morn punctuated her sentence with a kiss. Instead of giving you a quick peck, she pressed her lips into yours even harder. Within the privacy of her dorm room, your heart fluttered at the notion of Morn being able to do whatever she wanted to you. You felt the beginnings of her tongue at your lips, then she pulled away and took a deep breath. Her face was inches from yours as you caught your breath.

"I really like kissing you," Morn uttered. "Now that we're alone... are you okay if I really kiss you?"

"Really kiss me?" you teased. She got even closer.

"Please?" She played along with her best begging tone.

"Go ham." She kissed you again, giggling at your choice of words with her lips pressed against yours once more. She immediately cradled your head in her strong hands, gently placing you into a reclining position. There wasn't much room, but she managed to fit alongside you in the twin-sized bed all without breaking the kiss. You opened your eyes after pulling away to breathe, and all you could see were her dandelion-colored irises.

"I'm gonna go again," She said, smiling. "I just had to get a good look at you first."

"You can do whatever you want, Morn." You grabbed her arm and placed her hand on you. "Just don't keep me waiting."

Morn kissed you hard for the third time, the hand you held now caressing your body ravenously. As her tongue gently played at your lips, her hand found its way to your chest and played with your breasts. She hardly gave you time to gasp, coming back to your mouth with fervor. Her tongue met yours in earnest now, both of you closing the space on the bed between you. Her body flush with yours, you could feel every muscle as she held you close.

You felt one of her legs settle in between your thighs, and you whined into her mouth as she teasingly rubbed you against it. Even fully clothed the sensation was electric, no doubt due to the person giving it to you. Many nights alone had involved fantasies just like this. Now they were coming true.

Desperately, you began grinding yourself against her leg. You chased the sensation as far as you could, moaning into Morn's kiss. Just as you felt yourself approaching the edge, she removed herself from you. Her leg pulled away and the kiss stopped. You opened your eyes, bewildered. Morn had gotten off the bed and kneeled just next to it, her eyes level with your aching need. She grabbed the waistband of your bottoms before looking you in the eyes again.

"You said you didn't want me to keep you waiting," she grinned, tusks glistening. "This okay?"

"It's more than okay... stop teasing me!" You whined. She nodded, pulling your bottoms off entirely before hovering in between your legs. You could feel her breathe on you through your underwear. God, she was so close; you twitched with each puff of warm breath. Her tusks brushed against the inside of your thighs. With a tentative finger she eased your underwear out of the way, gently planting kisses all around your bare mound. She held your legs in place as they twitched and reacted to her electric touch. She deliberately avoided your tender nub with her warm lips. She was playing with you.

"Morn, please," you begged. She paused to look up at you and give a toothy grin.

"You're so cute when you're frustrated," she teased, quickly going back for more. She felt unimaginably warm against your already hot entrance. It wasn't unlike all those other times you melted at Morn's touch, only now it was so intense you couldn't help but let out gasps and squeaks. She held nothing back this time. Hungrily, she lapped at your slit, each lick finishing with a flourish on your sensitive little nub. You mewled in time with her curling tongue.

"Oh! That's— ah! So good!" You moaned, your back beginning to arch as you squirmed around on the mattress.

"You flatter me," Morn uttered between licks, looking proud. You saw something in her eye before she let go of one of your thighs and brought her hand to your entrance. Her tongue didn't let up at all as she slowly introduced one of her substantial fingers. It fit comfortably inside you at first, but you gasped hard when it started moving. Morn added another soon after, stretching you deliciously.

"I'm gonna come if you keep that up," you panted, your face burning red and lungs desperate for air.

"My pleasure," Morn said before redoubling her efforts. Her fingers curled inside you, making a "come hither" motion that made your hips rock. By this point, Morn's tongue had trouble staying on you as you writhed. You gasped with every finger curl, well and truly lost in the heat of the moment.

"Ah! Morn!" You cried, rocking yourself against her fingers desperate for more. She gave up on trying to lick your nub, instead palming one of your breasts with her other hand and pinning you to the bed. With the new leverage, she worked your insides with her fingers, pumping them in and out of you with her muscular arm. You could see sweat beading on her taut green skin.

"Come for me. I wanna see you come," Morn urged. You could do little else but cry out and oblige her. Your body spasmed hard as you cried out gibberish interspersed with her lovely name. Her fingers didn't stop rubbing against your inner walls, leaving you breathless and faint and tightly wound around her. The coiling pleasure within you finally snapped. Your back arched, completely leaving the bed as Morn pressed her lips into yours. She kissed you hungrily as you wailed into her mouth. There was nothing in your mind but the feeling of her fingers coaxing you through the height of your bliss and holding you there for as long as possible. When the pleasure finally started to subside and your breath returned to you, Morn finally withdrew her fingers and lips and wiped her forehead. She smiled at you wordlessly.

"I love you, Morn," you said, panting. There was nothing else to say, nothing else on your mind. If you had given yourself that sort of bliss on a lonely night, you would be drowsy and lethargic. Instead, with Morn turning her love for you into pleasure that made you cry out and curl, you had never felt more alive. She gave you a moment to catch your breath. Leaving your lips unkissed, she sat by your side and stroked your hair.

"I love you too," she planted a quick kiss on your forehead. "Are you tired?"

You shook your head enthusiastically. Sure, you would likely be sore in a few hours, but you wouldn't dream of denying Morn more of you.

"Good, because I wanna get off too." She chuckled and pecked your lips. Undressing herself completely, she helped you out of what clothes remained until you were both completely bare. You were completely flush against her on the bed once more, your skin perfectly complimenting her green form. Her body was toned and full, muscled yet smooth. Even after all you had just been through, the sight of her still made your heart skip.

"I've always wanted to try this. Spread your legs," she commanded, gently grasping your ankles. You complied and she lifted one of your legs aloft just in front of her as if about to hug it. Still holding your leg pointed toward the ceiling, she straddled your dripping warmth with her own. She eased herself onto you and those lovely electric feelings returned. She moaned for the first time, her pleasured sounds like music to your ears.

The position was a little awkward and bent your back in a strange way, but the feeling of her slick sex pressed against yours was delicious.

"I'm gonna start moving," Morn said. She initiated a gentle rocking motion that made you both gasp. The friction between the two of you felt gorgeous and you soon found yourself reciprocating with your hips. Interlocked and sharing the same squeaks and mewls, you wanted desperately to kiss her but couldn't. You had to lay there at her mercy as Morn clung to your leg and ground herself into you. She doubled up on her pace.

"Oh, shit," Morn groaned, both with pleasure and with effort. She had the same expression as when she was driving; when her head wasn't thrown back with a sigh, she was looking at you with love but also intent. Her grinding made you moan and her glare made you shiver delightfully. You had never felt anything like this before, nor had you even fantasized about Morn pressed up against you like this.

"This feels amazing... ah! Morn..." you sighed between yelps when the friction between you peaked.

"I—I..." Morn gasped, her entire face contorted and flushed. She had brought you to your peak once already, and now you wanted nothing more than to see her reach her own ecstasy.

"Please, Morn, come," you pleaded, mirroring her own urgency when she had brought you to orgasm earlier.

"No, I... Shit, I've got a cramp." She sighed, this time tinged with disappointment as she stopped her grinding. "Ouch." She gently disentangled herself from you, rubbing her thigh. The realization that her creased brow had come from pain and not pleasure embarrassed you a bit, an emotion that Morn echoed.

"Hey, it's okay." You sat up and held her shoulder. Her eyes were downcast as she massaged the cramp out of her muscled thigh. "Just so you know, I'm having a great time."

"You were having a great time." She winced as she shifted her kneeling weight on the bed. "Serves me right for thinking I could fuck like a pornstar on the first date, huh?"

"I already came once, Morn," you reminded her. Sitting alongside her, equally naked and sweaty, there was a clarity in the air that made it effortless to speak your mind. You felt bold, yet comfortable. You felt like you wanted more of Morn's body. "Let me take care of you. I think I can make this work."

"Take the lead, babe," Morn relented. The way she said babe made you giddy inside, but you were focused on her now. "Just mind the leg, it still freakin' hurts."

"Morn, when I say I'm gonna take care of you, I mean it. Just lie down," you said, easing her onto her back. With the positions reversed, you had a moment to look her up and down. Laid bare before you and anticipating your next move, the sight of her awoke something within you. Something that told you not to hold back.

You practically pounced atop her, squarely laying yourself on her body. She met you with a kiss that you eagerly returned. You channeled all your built-up desire to please her into that kiss, at the same time aligning your mound with hers. It took a few tries, but eventually, you found the angle where your clit could meet hers without requiring pornstar-style flexibility. Pleasure jolted through both of you and she broke the kiss to gasp.

"Told you I could make it work," you grinned, focusing now on the movement of your hips. You started slowly at first as to not tire yourself out but quickly increased the pace as the coiling warmth inside you grew. Instead of kissing her, you buried your face in her shoulder so you could hear her sing. With every roll of your hips she moaned, louder and louder as you humped her harder and harder.

"Oh, god, babe," Morn panted. You could feel her frenzied breath on your neck as she cried out. You could feel your own orgasm building but all you cared about was her.

"Tell me how you feel," you commanded, maintaining your hips' pace. "I want you to come so bad."

"Keep going," Morn grunted. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close!"

You furthered your efforts, grinding your desperate nub into hers with vigor. You panted as you began to feel tingles in your extremities and your breath became impossibly tight. Morn matched your desperation, her hips weakly pushing upwards so that her mound would meet yours sooner. Just a little more! More! You shouted to yourself mentally as Morn's hands squeezed your waist to signal her impending orgasm.

You frantically let go of her body with one hand, giving up precious leverage in order to make sure Morn couldn't escape the pleasure you were giving her. There was nothing you wanted more than to reach the peak together. You gently caught her pearl between your fingers and rolled it as you ground into her, drawing out deep moans from her. She spasmed in your grasp, gasping in time with your own pleased sighs.

"Oh god!" She cried out, throwing her head back into the piled-up blankets. Her whole body tensed and you could feel each of her rippling muscles press against you in a desperate bid to ride out her orgasm. You followed soon after, the air forced from your lungs as an explosion of tingling warmth knocked the wind out of you. All you could do was cry out with her and press your nub into hers where your hand was still at work. You rubbed and rolled, trying your best to prolong the mutual climax before finally catching your breath and collapsing into Morn's tired embrace.

With your body limp and your face buried in her neck, you could feel her breasts rise and fall with each breath. You held each other loosely for a moment, just listening to her breathe. After only a few heartbeats, she started giggling.

"What's so funny?" you asked, lifting your heavy head to look at her.

"Nothing," she stifled her giggles, a tear rolling down her cheek. "That was just really, really good."

"Are you crying?" You asked, concerned but secretly proud of your handiwork.

"No, I'm not crying. I'm tearing up, there's a difference," she chuckled. "Thank you."

"Thank you. You're the one that started it," you cooed, stroking her hair. "plus, you ate me out first so I think I owe you."

"It's on the house," Morn sighed contently. "But you're still on me... could you roll over, please?"

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly shifted your weight off of her and onto the mattress.

"Don't worry about it, I just figured the bed was softer than me." She chuckled again.

You said nothing, instead opting to resume your embrace with her from the side. She reciprocated, rolling over so she could be the big spoon. She wrapped her arms around you snugly.

"Ah, shit," Morn cursed under her breath.

"What? What's wrong?" You craned your neck a bit to see her golden eyes in your periphery.

"Our food is definitely cold by now," she grumbled, "and I don't have a microwave."

“I’ve got snacks in my bag.” You replied.

Morn readied a compliment, but delayed when both your phones buzzed. THA HOOLIGANZ had something to say.

“What is it now?” Morn rolled over and grabbed her phone, reading the messages as they rolled in. You did the same.

“What the…?”

Lash: did you two kiss yet???

Dera: they did more than that 😳😳😳

Morn shot you a look of disbelief before tapping away frantically.

Morn: wtf are you guys talking about?

You: ^

Lash: the crepe date! u two are dating now right?

You: what do u mean crepe date? the breakfast u failed to show up to u mean??

Lash: lol, relax. we just thought you two needed some time alone. for the record, i was actually hung over. me and dera just agreed you two needed to talk it out

Dera: seriously, u look at Morn the way she looks at crepes, and she looks at u the way Lash looks at literally anyone

Lash: or the way u look at dudes bulges

Dera: shut up

“I…” Morn began, jaw agape. “I don’t know if I should be mad or amazed. I’m both.”

“They set us up like lonely freshmen.” You shook your head, chuckling.

Lash: u two are dating now right???

Morn: yes dumbass

You: can confirm

Lash: CUTEEEEE

Dera: morn fucks on the first date. respect.

You: wait how- what?

Dera: ur in Morn’s dorm right

Your texting was interrupted by three solid thumps coming through the wall.

Dera: i’m right next door and these dorms are made of fucking paper

Morn: hey, i’ve dealt with hearing every single time you slept with some guy. fair is fair

Dera: no judgment from me!

Lash: suddenly i’m glad i still live with my parents…

You put your phone down as you really didn’t have much to say. Morn gave up on it as well, your phones resting together on the floor. She resumed spooning you and a moment later, you felt her chest start to heave with laughter; a hearty laugh loud enough for Dera to hear through the walls. You joined her, laughing until your diaphragm ached. The whole situation, the realization that Dera and Lash knew before either of you did and that they had a master plan… utterly ridiculous. It was like something out of a movie, yet with your arms wrapped around one of Morn’s, completely real. You feared this was all a dream, and as soon as you succumbed to sleep in Morn’s cozy twin bed, it would dissolve.

Morn could tell sleep started to take you.

“I love you,” she whispered into your ear. She squeezed you tight. You had never been more sure of anything in your life that Morn would still be cuddling you when you woke up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[drmmyrs]

Remember Me (Becca x MC) Part 2

Hiii I’m back. Sorry again for the delay 😬I had such a hard time writing the ending so thank you so much @samanthadalton for all your help 😘Also, a big thanks to M anon for their suggestions and song request which I used some of.

tag list: @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs @doey-eyes8 @itszdavenport (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Read Part 1

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 2289

It's been an hour since Emily last came into my room to remind me of my doctor's appointment. And it's been about thirty minutes since I've been ready to go, physically at least. Naturally, I tried to get Chris to come with me instead because he's my boyfriend, right? Ughh fine, ex-boyfriend. But can you blame me, though? How am I suppose to move on when I literally have no memory of some sort of breakup or closure? I stare at the dull beige-colored ceiling, a view which has me panicking in the mornings right after I wake up, before I remember that I don't live at the sorority house anymore. I then close my eyes and get comfort in the memories I have left, my only anchor on the reality I knew, away from this freakish place with the people I don't even give a shit about.

After a couple more minutes, I begrudgingly get up with a groan and trudge downstairs, finding Emily waiting on the couch. She smiles upon seeing me, but I don't return the gesture, being genuinely annoyed at the prospect of having to spend an incessant amount of time with her. So instead, I walk past her towards the door, my heels clattering on the wooden surface. Emily then follows behind me from a distance, careful not to invade my space. Once outside, I walk straight towards the passenger door of Emily's junk of a car, grabbing the handle as I glare at Emily impatiently, waiting for her to unlock it. As soon as unlocked, I sink into the seat, slamming the door close harder than I intended. Emily, though, takes a second before going in, eyeing the seat suspiciously as if it might shatter anytime. Once seated, she places her hand on the gear stick, slightly trembling. And then it dawns on me, I may have forgotten about the accident, but it's probably still fresh from her memory, terrorizing her at every reminder. All this time, I've been complaining about how unfair everything is for me, not once considering how it may have affected her.

"Who was driving?" I ask. It may not be the best thing to talk about right now, but I have to know.

I see Emily flinch at the question, and before she even opens her mouth, I know. She looks out the windshield, her voice cracking when she replies, "I was."

I nod. My mom told me it was a drunk driver running a red light that hit us, so I don't blame her at all, not anymore.

"Is it–" The words come out sharp, so I stop and soften my voice. "Is it the first time you drove since?"

Emily doesn't reply immediately; instead, she shifts the gear and steps on the gas pedal as we begin to make our way towards the hospital. She grips the steering wheel tightly, anxiously looking at the road, her eyes obsessively sweeping for any oncoming traffic at every intersection.

"No. No it's not but..." Emily trails off, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

But it's her first time to drive with me in the car. I turn my head to look out the window, knowing full well I can't ease her fears. How can I when I'm the living reminder of everything she lost?

---------

I immediately regret my outfit choice as soon as we get into the waiting room, the frigid temperature biting at my skin, sending sharp pains like that of a needle across my exposed skin. I try to play it cool, but a shiver escapes my body, desperate for any source of heat. A few seconds later, a jacket appears in front of me, held by Emily who is wearing an annoyingly cute little smile on her face. I mumble thanks and take the jacket, placing it over my shoulders, smelling the scent of lavender as I bask in the comfort of heat.

I take out my phone and browse my socials, catching up on all the events I missed–or forgotten–while ignoring the get well soon messages from both people I know and don't know that have been piling up ever since the accident. A few minutes later, the doctor calls my name, and as I stand up, Emily does as well but then sits back down almost immediately, clearly unsure if her company is welcome.

I roll my eyes. "Come on."

---------

After a useless consultation–apparently, they can't do much to help me regain my memories–Emily suggests we stop by an ice cream parlor not far from here. I assent, but only because I need the comfort of a sugary snack right now, and it's been ages since I had one, or at least I think so.

We reach a store I don't recognize, replacing an office space that, while I never paid attention to before, was a pleasant fixture in my reality, not this... eyesore. I shake my head; I can't keep living in the past. I follow Emily into the store, reminding myself that this is my reality now.

Inside, the floor is patterned with alternating pink and black tiles, and the walls are coated with somewhat fresh pink paint adorned with decors that scream ice cream as if one might stumble into the shop looking for lunch or something.

"Welcome t–ah Emily and Becca! I haven't seen you girls in a while."

I turn around to see a guy, probably in his mid-twenties– smiling at us like...  I shoot Emily a side-eye. She, of course, fails to mention that the guy working here is buddy-buddy with me. So, is this the kind of couple we were? Those who frequent an ice cream parlor enough to be on a first-name basis with the ice cream guy? I internally groan in disgust at the thought.

"–Becca." I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear my name. Emily and the ice cream guy are looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry I didn't hear," I mumble.

"You'll be having strawberry, your usual, correct?" says the guy with a wide smile.

I do want strawberry, but I shake my head and say, "Vanilla," just to spite him, annoyed how some stranger knows my favorite ice cream flavor.

"Ooh, trying something new today, are we? One rocky road and vanilla coming right up," he announces in an annoyingly high pitch voice. I struggle not to roll my eyes.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, which is met by a look of confusion followed by a laugh.

"You know wh–" 

Emily quickly interjects, "The bathroom's there, Becca," pointing at a door at the back of the store.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, heading straight towards the mirror. I stare at my reflection, nitpicking every tiny detail that has changed throughout the years, changes I don't recognize at all. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away. I'm Rebecca fucking Davenport; I don't cry. I grip the sink tightly, overcome with a new resolution. I know who I am; they don't, convincing myself more than anyone else.

Once finishing up in the bathroom, I head back outside, noticing a different aura in the room. Emily is holding our orders with an apologetic look while the ice cream guy regards me with pity, something I've grown used to in the past few weeks. I take my ice cream from Emily, not meeting her gaze, and walk out of the store, striding ahead of her towards the car, not once looking back.

--------

On the ride home, silence weighs heavily between us as Emily bites at her lower lip, either contemplating what to say or waiting for me to go off on her. After an awkward amount of time, Emily finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry I–"

"Forget about it," I cut her off, too exhausted to engage with her. I think about the previous encounter, wondering if that would be my norm. Unfamiliar people coming up to me, sharing inside jokes and anecdotes while I stare blankly at them, wondering if I should explain my situation or just ignore them, being the bitch I know I am. I stare out the window, seeing all the changes in the city, musing about the memories I may have had alongside them, memories that I may or may not recover. It's as if an impostor had been living my life for the past two years, and now I'm forced to follow in their footsteps. It's obvious I had changed a lot during those years, my previous enemies becoming my closest friends, my greatest rival supposedly becoming the love of my life. Was she the love of my life? Was I happy with Emily?

It's already dark outside when we arrive home. I notice a few cars parked down the road, something unusual considering this is the only house for at least a couple of blocks. What do I know, though, it's not like I remember much about this place. I turn my attention back to the house; the lights inside are turned off, leaving a lone street lamp and the car's headlights as the primary sources of light, accentuating the jagged grey bricks of the house, almost giving an appearance of something sinister. This is ridiculous; I chide myself for being scared of a stupid house. 

Emily walks ahead towards the door while I follow a few steps behind. As soon as I walk inside, the light turns on, and I'm greeted by a chorus of surprise echoing throughout the house, coming from people whom I only recognize half of. I stare at them blankly, unimpressed but just mostly confused. My mother walks over to me and gives me a big hug.

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

Birthday? I inconspicuously look at my phone. Huh. I could've sworn I've seen the date today at least a few times. A few moments later, Emily steps forward with a cake in her hands.

"Happy birthday babe," she says, immediately followed by a look of horror. "Becca. Sorry."

Of course Emily had planned this. It doesn't really matter if I wanted to have a stupid party. She had to go ahead and decide for me.

"Go ahead and blow out the candles," my mom urges.

I blow out the candles, faking a smile for my mom. As much as I want to storm into my room, I'm not about to break my mom's heart by causing some unnecessary drama.

--------

Just a few moments into the party, and I'm already exhausted–people lining up to greet me, asking how I've been doing since the accident. I realize that most people here don't know about my condition, which means I have had to engage in quite a few conversations about the things I've supposedly been doing for the past few years, things I have no recollection of, to which I gave vague answers to avoid having to explain everything. 

I down my fourth glass of virgin cuba libre, eyeing the display of alcohol with contempt, resentful that I can’t drink because of the medicine I took earlier, when Zack drags me across the room to play some truth or dare with a bunch of people, some of whom I don't recognize. Thankfully, if there was one thing the sorority has taught me, it's that you don't have to know someone to ask the right questions or expertly avoid the common ones. That is of course until someone asks you the most unexpected question.

"Do you have a date for the wedding yet?"

I stare at them blankly, fumbling for words. Wedding? 

"I–I–"

But before I can make up an answer, Kaitlyn arrives with Emily in tow, and that's when I notice it, the ring on Emily's finger. I gasp for breath, feeling like the air is taken out of my lungs. And I almost don't notice it when Kaitlyn takes out her guitar and starts singing, joined by the others.

When all the tears are rolling down your face And it feels like yours was the only heart to break When you come back home and all the lights are out And you're getting used to no one else being around

Oh, oh, I'll be there

I look at the unfamiliar faces, singing their hearts out, gazing at me fondly. I then turn my gaze to Emily's ring finger, and sitting on it is a small but glistening diamond and part of me chastises myself for not noticing earlier. I feel the entire room’s eyes on me and suddenly, it becomes too much for me to withstand. I stand up, scrabbling to go to my room, footsteps following behind me. Once I got on the stairs, Emily shouts my name from behind, and I stop at the sound of her voice, turning around.

"We were engaged? Why didn't you tell me?" My voice comes out harsher than expected and it seems to take Emily by surprise too because she just stands there motionless, speechless. “Marriage is a big thing Emily, that’s not something you can just conveniently not tell me.” I let out a frustrated groan, momentarily letting the anger wash all over me before I’m left with a bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sick of having random people tell me things about my life which I can’t even remember when my own fianc–” I stop, not even being able to say the word, shaking my head as the agony brought by my predicament proves to be too much. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry," I croak before running towards my room, slamming the door behind me. I then curl myself in bed as the tears fall freely.

[bethansfandoms]

Prompt suggestion — Remus masterminding a marauders prank (as usual) and Sirius just loves this version of his boyfriend so he's all heart eyes and he kinda stops paying attention to what he's saying and his minds starts wandering...

this prompt got a tiny bit away from me and is a little more marauders shenanigans with wolfstar on the side but anyway i hope you enjoy.

in the summer before their seventh and final year at hogwarts, remus and peter had stayed with the potters for the first two weeks rather than the last two as remus was going on holiday with his parents.

what this meant is when sirius greeted his boyfriend on the train station platform, he hadn’t seen him for four weeks and the closets he was allowed to get to fulfilling his desire to kiss him, was to embrace him in a brotherly hug which felt weird and wrong.

they’d planned to tell james and peter about them over the summer but when it transpired that remus would be away for the end of it, the beginning felt far too soon and both of them backed out.

sirius kept a hand on remus’ upper arm, squeezed, and then reluctantly let go as remus followed him onto the train. peter had claimed a carriage near the very back as the marauders needed top secrecy.

today was the day that their prank for the first day back of term would be finalised. of course, they hadn’t accounted for the fact that james potter would be made head boy. it hadn’t even been within the realms of possibility. james said he’d keep sneaking off patrolling the corridors to come and join them and him being head boy didn’t seem to deter his enthusiasm for the prank.

“hey moony, padfoot.” peter greeted. “how was france!”

remus smiled and told peter a few anecdotes as sirius listened to absolutely none of it and instead focussed on the fact that remus lupin had a tan.

remus never had a tan. during summer, he’d wear so much sun cream that his face actually got paler and the rest of his body was always concealed with clothing.

apparently remus’ freckles came out with the sun and sirius couldn’t stop thinking about the ones that smattered his nose and cheeks and how he’d quite like to kiss —

“okay, lads,” james snapped him out his daydream. “what’s the plan? quickly now because if evans notices in gone, i’m toast.”

remus grinned and pulled down a book from his trunk. “i researched it a lot. it’s entirely possible. even better, i think i found a way to choose what it says.”

a mischievous smile spread across james’ face. “you mean... when we put the spell on the sorting hat—”

“we can also add one that means it’s limited to whatever words we choose.”

james quickly stood and took out his invisibility cloak. “take this now incase i get called away. i assume you’ll be doing the spell, moony?”

the small smile that made it’s way onto remus’ face made sirius’ stomach flip. he loved remus like this. his eyes bright and excited with mischief, the dimple on his left cheek visible. sirius found himself contemplating just kissing remus right in front of them. that would probably give james and pete the message.

“sirius,” peter said, “any ideas?”

sirius blinked and looked quickly away from remus. “uh... about what?”

james laughed. “merlin, sirius, you feeling okay mate? this is the first and last prank we’re ever doing during the welcome feast and you’re a million miles away.”

remus smiled rather sheepishly at him. “any ideas as to what we should get the hat to say?”

they all went silent as they thought about it. well, the others all thought about it, sirius’ mind was still transfixed on the thought that kissing remus right here would be a pretty quick and effective way of coming out.

“we could get it to sing a song?” peter said slowly.

remus’ face lit up and sirius nearly did. kiss him for it. “pete, that’s brilliant! i don’t think i could get it to actually sing, but if we made it so every time it opened its mouth it could only say the lyrics to—”

“dancing queen?” james suggested. “i really feel like some abba.”

remus shrugged. “sounds great. peter?”

peter nodded enthusiastically, “if this works, we’re about to get the quickest detentions in hogwarts history.”

remus laughed, sirius decided his laugh was one of his favourite sounds. “sirius?”

sirius’ eyes flitted down to remus’ lips and it was mostly subconscious, however it meant that when he looked back up to remus’ eyes, he really couldn’t help himself.

sirius reasoned that they’d planned to tell james and pete at the end of summer originally and it was now the end of summer. sirius was also the one who’d requested they keep it a secret anyway and remus had always been okay with telling them. he also hadn’t kissed him for four weeks and he really needed to.

sirius cupped his face and felt remus laugh against his mouth as he kissed him. remus didn’t protest at all, instead he gripped the front of sirius’ shirt and pulled him slightly closer.

when they pulled away, james was watching them with a raised eyebrow and a grin and peter looked thoroughly surprised.

“that’s how you’re telling us about you?” james asked. “really?”

remus laughed again. “that was all sirius, i literally didn’t know he was about to do that.”

james shrugged and clapped sirius’ shoulder. “good on you. how long has it been then?”

“few months,” sirius replied, looking at remus and smirking a little.

james pouted. “weird. i only realised at the beginning of summer.”

“you knew?” sirius, remus and peter had all said it at the same time and it set them off laughing again.

“sirius, mate, you have the least discreet heart eyes known to man and this is coming from the guy who’s been pining after evans for years.”

sirius threw remus’ spell boom at him. “so you don’t mind?”

“as long as you two don’t break up and make me choose between you, i don’t mind.”

sirius gasped, “you’d choose me though, right?”

james looked to remus and hung his head. “i’m very sorry, moony, he’s my brother. you can have peter.”

“we’re not breaking up,” remus replied, rolling his eyes. sirius grinned and fought the urge to kiss him again. he quite liked the idea of being stuck with remus for the rest of his life.

+ bonus

sirius felt remus sit down next to him on the bench. they’d told the girls he was with madam pomfrey as the invisibility cloak would stay firmly on; appearing from nowhere would raise questions.

the group of shivering first years stood nervously in front of the stool, waiting. everyone else knew how this worked. the hat gave a speech, the sorting ceremony happened, they had the feast, they sung the school song.

the hat opened the the seam at the front and the hall went silent.

“you can dance, you can jive,” it’s voice rung out, “having the time of your life.”

some of the students got it immediately and burst into laughter. sirius couldn’t help but grin as well.

“see that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the dancing queen.” remus was right, they hadn’t been able to get the hat to sing it, instead it recited the lyrics to abba’s dancing queen like profound and meaningful poetry.

mcgonagall had realised what was happening now and quickly waved her wand at the hat to stop it talking. some students booed in response.

she flicked her wand at the hat experimentally and waited for it to speak. “friday night and the lights are low.” she silenced it again.

the sorting was delayed until after the feast. they eventually managed to reverse the spell and the sorting hat gave it’s song, not one by abba, as normal.

after it was over, dumbledore announced it would be time for the school song. he flicked his wand and the lyrics appeared. everyone sung them in mismatched tempos, rhythms and pitches, just like always.

everyone aside from the marauders. they stood on the table and continued where the hat had left off. “looking out for a place to go! where they play the right music, getting in the swing, you come in to look for a king!”

the marauders, including remus as although nobody had seen him, they figured he was involved, were given detention on their first night back in the castle. mcgonagall informed them it was the quickest detention in hogwarts history and the first time gryffindor had ever been on minus house points.

to her dismay, they all seemed to see this as a grand achievement.

[jschlattsbabydoll]

Thunderclouds (Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader) pt. 3 [end]

A/N:

Hi!

I’m sorry for the delay, needed some stuffs to be done here. But thankfully I have finished this chapter.

 This is the last part for this story. I know, I’m kinda sad as well.

 Thank you for the kind messages I have received for this story. I’m happy that Thunderclouds made y’all happy!

 Here’s part 3! Enjoy!

  If you would want to check out the story, Here’s a directory

Part 1 // Part 2 // 

 --------------+------------------

“How will you use me again this time, Chishiya?”

 Memories clouded Chishiya’s mind of you, he can’t stop thinking about what happened. He’s trying to accept that you’re gone, but inside him, his mind and heart can’t accept that you’re gone.

 Your warm, laugh and scent is gone. All he can go through are memories of you with him…

 And you leaving him.

 “I need to stop…” He said, as he walked through the department store inside the mall that you currently reside in,

 “but how fucking Ironic that I’m here….” He said in his mind as he was brought to where your hiding location is. He saw you in a department store bed, tucking yourself in the bed,

 He saw you cry multiple times and pray towards god about him, he heard you again and again.

 And he felt so hopeless, he can’t do anything at all. He can’t comfort you nor hug you or even kiss you.

 He saw you again in the same position as you have been for the last 8 days that you have stayed in that bed, looking up at the department ceiling while laying down while your hands are clasps together.

 “Kamisama….” he heard you speak, he was hiding not too far from you, good thing the fake wooden wall where they would usually display wallpapers are strong, he leaned his back down on the fake wall, and slid down to a sitting position. As he sat down, he placed his arms on his knees and his face on his hands.

 “Kamisama….” You started to cry, “Thank you… For keeping me alive through this journey that you have given me. I don’t understand why I am here and what’s my purpose… But I am just happy that you have guided me with everything.”

 Chishiya couldn’t understand you at all, you two have different beliefs. He didn’t pray at all because he believes that there is no god at all. But yet he is somehow with you, joining your prayers as well,

“I want to see him… “ You said, Chishiya’s head went up, that’s the first time that he has heard you with that line. His heart fluttered, “Oh…. I don’t know. Maybe my heart is wrong again this time. I’m finding a hard time to trust my heart again, is that bad?”

 “No… it’s not.” Chishiya whispered to himself,

 “I do really love him a lot… but if he’s going to use me again… I might---” you sighed, while wiping your tears over and over again… “I haven’t even really placed myself together. The thought of seeing him again in a game terrifies me. What if I fall again and break myself again? What do I do?”

 Chishiya knows what he has done and for the last 8 days, he has been repenting his sins towards you. He can’t even understand why is he even like this? Back then, when you were still by his side, he would always expect you to come to him everyday at the roof. He knows that whenever he kisses you that’s your weakness and you would melt in his arms until night comes and you two would share passionate nights together.

 He understands that he took you for granted… Maybe that’s why now… He’s paying for everything that he has done.

 He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes…

 “Is this my payment for being selfish? For being manipulative? Using others for my gain?” he asked, “You brought me to someone who I can easily break, but can open my heart again for emotions… So that when time comes that I would get off my guard, you can tear her away from me to teach me a lesson. How cruel?” He didn’t realize that his tears are falling with you as of right now, He heard how slowly your cries became quiet. Still with his eyes close, he leaned his head towards the wooden fake wall.

 He didn’t notice that he as slowly giving up to his body... His heart, mind and body are too tired… He fell to a sleep.

 Guess he was human after all?

 Chishiya’s eyes slowly opened as he heard a loud squeak, “Wha--?” he opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw who was standing up in front of him, he saw you.

 You looked so surprised, but yet you still stayed where you stand. Looking at the man who was awoken by your surprised squeak. How you wanted to touch him again…

 “Chi… Chishiya, what are you doing here?” you asked him,

 “Hm?” he only replied, as he slowly stood up from where he was sitting,

 There was silence between you and Chishiya, you puffed your chest, “Even though I asked you for space, you still went here… Since when have you figured out that I was staying here?”

 Chishiya looked at you in the eyes, you just wanted to melt, “8 days ago.”

 Your eyes widened, “8 days ago?! That was when we spoke… Did you follow me here?!”

 “Yes.” That was his only reply,

 “You’re…. ugh…. I can’t with you!” you screamed, “I need to go… I need to find somewhere different! FAR FAR AWAY FROM YOU!”

 “maybe this is for the best…” you said in your mind. As you were about to leave, you felt Chishiya hold your hand to stop you, “Please don’t go.” You heard him say, you fought out of his grip, when Chishiya opened his mouth again,

 “I heard your prayers every night.” You stopped getting out of his grip, “I heard them every night… And you don’t know on how sorry I am. I took you for granted. I’m sorry.”

 Tears formed in your eyes, they slowly fell when they started to hurt and you blinked, “What I told you was true, I miscalculated everything. If I knew that Arisu would fail, I would have kept you by my side. I always took big risks, because I knew I was using a different person to do the deed for me. Watching people die every other day was something I got used to, even before back when I was in the real world. I never had feelings before since I never felt it with my parents.” He breathed in, and stopped then clicked his tongue,

  “I don’t know how to reciprocate my feelings back when I still had your trust, I thought that I’ve been clear. But now I understood that I just took you for granted.” You saw tears in his eyes fell one by one, “Funny, god is so unfair. When I’ve just understood what love is… he took you away from me… I don’t understand his ways.”

 He slowly fell down to his knees still holding you hand, “Please… I want to keep you safe. Stay with me.”

 “How can I assure myself that you won’t use me again? How do I know that those are real tears?” you asked, your tears fell with him, “How do I believe that I’m not some part of your plans.”

 “I love you.” Chishiya said as he looked up and went straight for your eyes,

 Your eyes widened, your tears kept flowing down, as you slowly realized that he said it… He finally did…

  “you would kill just to be with me. Do you love me?”

 “You’re becoming stupid.”

 “I love you so damn much that it hurts my chest to the point where I can’t breathe. Yet I want to come close and feel your warmth for the last 8 days… 8 days yet felt like 8 years. I love you so much, but the guilt inside has been killing me, telling me inside that I only deserve to watch you.” Chishiya stood up from the ground with tears in his eyes, “This is ridiculous… I’ll take my leave now.”

 He tries to let go of your hand, yet you gripped his, unable for him to leave.

 “I love you too.” You said, looking down towards his hands, “You’ve heard my prayers every night. I still really love you, Chishiya. Please don’t leave me now… I can----”

 You weren’t able to finish your sentence, as a warm body envelops you with a hug and lips that kissed yours. You felt things cleared out.

 You survived. No more thunderclouds.

    [end]

  A/N after editing the story:

 Is it too cheesy? I wanted for it to be a sad ending. But… I felt that it would be unappropriate…

And Chishiya deserves a happy ending too….

Let me know if your liked the ending, if I have any lapses or mistakes! I would greatly appreciate it! Thank you so much!

If you would want to check out the story, Here’s a directory

Part 1 // Part 2 //

 -Hestia