#the way they fuck each time too… where is the class where’s the decorum

[agentbootyreportingforduty]

ted, depressed and experiencing a traumatic ass event:

sassy, immediately:

[hannie-dul-set]

PAIRING. huang renjun x fem! reader. GENRE. high school! au, suggestive. WARNINGS. attempted murder, mentions of blood and self injury, veryy descriptive kissing, mc has a few screws lost, swearing, depictions of unstable behavior. WORD COUNT. 1.8k GENRAL TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @leejunini @astroboy-lele @unknown5tar @yunoyeol @w0nni3wrld @charm-art @bat-shark-repellant @keemburley @deliciouslyyellow​ (pls dm me to be added/removed!)

NOTE. ah yes, the only two genres: murder and making out. inspired by the dream i mentioned earlier. different events, but same vibe HAHA. disclaimer that no matter how much you hate your academic rival, never ever turn to attempted murder! thank you and enjoy

huang renjun— with all his picture perfect smiles, prim and proper tucked in shirts, a pretty face enough to have you on your knees, and with a perfect gpa to top it all off— was someone you wanted.

wanted six feet under the ground.

“hey, congrats!”

speak of the fucking devil.

“you always do really well,” huang renjun towers over you in front of your desk as you sit down. you look up from the wrinkled certificate that have the abhorrent words second honorable mention printed on it's scented surface, only to face his fucking face instead. he beams at you with a smile. you feel convulsions wringing inside your throat. “congratulations again.”

you don't miss the first honor certificate tucked between his books in a measly attempt of concealment. it takes everything in your power to force out something of a smile.

“thanks. you too.”

with that, he quickly scurries away into his seat next to yours with red ears.

your first period teacher enters, beginning class with a greeting, but your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only midterms, you breathe out through your nose, hugging your arms above your desk while sketching out a study plan for the rest of the semester in your head. there’s enough time before graduation. the hold you had on yourself gradually becomes tighter.

still, you know that even if you worked yourself day and night until you bled cold and crimson, huang renjun would still be one step ahead. you bite down your lip, peeling off the dry skin with a sourness writhing in your gut, digging your fingers deeper into your arms. if only he were gone. you leer at the boy diligently taking his notes beside you. if only he were gone gone gone gone—

your eyes widen, ignoring the blood staining your nails.

if only he were gone.

after class, you walk up to his desk and asked if he wanted to work on the physics homework at his place tomorrow. he says yes with starry eyes in a heartbeat.

the next day, renjun couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring. you, too, couldn’t remain in your seat— albeit for a different reason. so when the ringing occurs, the both of you don’t waste a second in finally heading out of the campus.

it’s a silent walk to his place, a standard suburban neighborhood, the sky slowly turning orange in the background. every time you turn your head to look at him, he looks back with a small smile, and you can’t help your hands from twitching at your sides.

renjun unlocks the door and meekly welcomed you inside.

“you can leave your shoes here,” he says, digging his keys into the back pocket of his school slacks with dangling noises. you look at him, smiling, and with a soft hum you leave your school shoes next to his, trailing behind him into the living room.

looking around, you ask him. “are your parents home?” there was an opening that leads to the kitchen, glass doors showing the backyard. the stairs that lead to the second floor are made of sleek, dark oak. it’s a modern interior. they have a fireplace inside.

“no,” he breathes out, wetting his dry throat with a swallow before turning back to face you. “they’re out on business. i don’t think they’ll be home until the weekend.”

the both of you stop right in front of the staircase.

“i see.”

he quickly muffles a cough and leads you up to his room.

the inside of renjun’s room is neat— organized books on the shelf and sheets neatly pressed. There’s a set of candles beside his bed. you hold back a scoff. as expected from the top student.

your eyes flit over from the window above his bed to look at him, instead.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, you know,” you muse, dropping down your bag to join him on the floor. worksheets littered with numbers and constants, gravity and acceleration, all scatter on the floor. they blow with the wind knowing that they wouldn’t even be filled in, anyway.

“sorry,” renjun sputters out, loosening his striped necktie with two fingers. his vision is kept trained on the wall behind you. “i’m not— i’m not doing it on purpose.”

you adjust your legs on the floor, skirt riding. “is there a reason?”

“a reason?” he gulped.

“why you can’t look me in the eye.”

renjun thinks he sees the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

“i’ll— i’ll go open the window, it’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” scrambling to his feet, his knees sink into the navy sheets of his bed, reaching for the window in a nervous flurry to let the air in. “the news said that the temperature’s slowly gonna start rising but i didn’t think it would be—”

he bumps into you when he turned back.

there’s a click from behind him.

the wind stopped coming in.

“it’s not really that hot.”

the way your breath fanned against his lips makes his head spin in circles.

you have an arm out against the glass, your sleeve’s fabric grazing his tempered cheek when you went to shut the window down. renjun feels a ghost in the air where there’s a space in between you. “i— i guess you’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “i never expected that you’d ask to work together.”

there’s syrup at the end of your sentence. “you seemed pretty happy when i did, though.”

he isn’t sure if it’s just him or if you’re slowly getting closer. “well, that’s— that’s because i—”

“you don’t have to say it.”

your voice digs deep into his bones like chains of velvet. he can feel your chest pressing against him now, crushing the sense of rationality that he was bestowed with from birth and is replaced with a warm lush of rabid, violent waters gushing into bit of him stomach,

it comes off a whisper yet it sends him reeling.

“i know.”

renjun swallows. hard. but he’s afraid you’d hear the manifestations of a tempered restlessness that had managed to crawl its way up to the tips of his fingers— which found themselves resting onto the curve of your back. stray strands of his swair sweeps above his eyes, obscuring the closeness of your face, and he wants to ask how. how did you know that he likes you.

he never got to.

the question doesn’t even get to resurface after the first hit of your cherry flavored chapstick, his bottom lip caught in between yours, teeth grinding against the plush, pink skin. the second hit has his decorum slowly peeling away from his skin when his tongue traces over yours in a hot mess of delirium, when you settle between his legs, a coarse groan vibrating in his throat. the third has him forgetting his own name.

his eyes are hazy when you pull back with a rough smacking of the mouth. with a short-winded voice, you ask him.

“do you mind if i make a call?”

renjun looks at you in a fit of breathlessness.

an airy laugh leaves your lips that he can’t stop staring at. you press a kiss on his nose. “my parents need to know that i won’t be going home tonight.”

dazed, he answers. “y-yeah, sure.”

he blinks a few times before letting you go.

“take your time.”

you send him a smile before fishing your backpack from the floor and leaving the room.

just like that, a switch was flipped.

upon closing the door, you quickly twist the knob, locking it with the keys that you’d snatched from him earlier. it’s convenient that he has each one labelled— a belated thank you to your school’s ever organized golden boy who never fails to make you sick in the stomach.

at each wall you pass, you make sure to seal the windows shut and have all the doors closed. the contents of your bag make steady pangs against your back as you shuttled down the stairs. you lock the back door shut, close all the windows, turn on all the lights, and throw a match into their fireplace, waiting for the fire to come to full bloom. all that’s left is the kitchen.

there’s no time wasted in turning everything on— the microwave, oven, and the stove until you can't crank them any further. embers fly into the air. it’s getting hotter. you duck down to the compartment under the stove to reveal a white painted propane tank, taking out a cordless soldering iron to seal the safety relief valve close. you place a rag over the opening valve and twist it halfway through. a hissing sound whizzes through the air.

with that, you leave through the front door, locking it for good measure. his keys disappear into the bush nearest to their porch.

it’s only a matter of time until huang renjun ceases to be a pest anymore. if not for good, then at least lethally injured.

you head home to finish your physics worksheets that were due tomorrow.

for the first time in god knows how long, you wake up and head to school with a well rested air.

you take your things out of your backpack, humming a soft tune right before the bell rings for your first class. your other seatmate— donghyuck— notices your unusual cheery demeanor, and inquires about its oddities. you simply answer him with an allusion to finally being free. he laughs it off and turns his head to the chalkboard.

five minutes before eight. the doors creak open. you’re ready to stand and greet your teacher until you realize that it isn’t her.

it’s not.

it’s not.

it’s not.

something nauseating knocks into your lungs and stifles your throat, eyes wide and stinging. it squeezes your neck with poison prickling the surface.

huang renjun enters the classroom with his usual nods and smiles to everyone he passes.

“holy shit, dude. you look like hell.”

“i didn’t get any sleep last night,” he laughs, lightheartedly. “guess i’ll have to sleep through recess.”

your teeth grind against your lips, supple skin turning redder at each nip. your nails leave scratches on the desk as you rattle in your seat, thinking, thinking, panicking. each breath feels like choking on pulverized copper in sulfuric air. there’s a ringing in your ears and you hear nothing except your own voice screaming why is he here why is he here why is he here?

he doesn’t go to his desk. he’s standing right in front of you.

“you look well.”

it sears your fingerprints off your skin.

you don’t answer, don’t even look at him. he breaks into a small smile and leans forward, one hand pressed against your desk and the other reaching for a lock of your hair as he nears and nears and nears. “there’s something here,” he says.

there isn’t.

“you left my window unlocked, baby.”

his hot breath hits your cold cheek, tucking a strand behind with a smile. to everyone else, it would look sweet— heart fluttering. to you it was a death sentence. renjun breathes out a contained chuckle into your ear before letting his hand fall on your shoulder, a tight grip at the last second.

“better luck next time.”

© HANNIE-DUL-SET. 2021.

[heli0s-writes]

Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom  really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff​ and @tropicalcap​ for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

-

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.  

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

-

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

-

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

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[missdawnandherdusk]

Slytherin Extensive Dating a Malfoy Headcanons:

Here’s to all of my lovely Slytherin followers!

You’re sorted into Slytherin and you don’t quite understand why, but there had to be a reason. Draco didn’t quite understand either but not like he cares. pffft. nope. 

You’re a odd Slytherin. No one can deny your ambition or hesitancy to do things just right, but there are some times that you surprise everyone

Draco thinks you don’t belong in Slytherin but damn you’re good at Quidditch

You play as a Keeper. He thinks that it’s stupid but you give him a flash of your smile and maybe he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to be doing on the field too

He swears your part veela because people just stop and do things for you all the time

“Oh, I’ve forgotten my quill, does anyone have an extra?” There are about ten at your disposal from others that you always return with that same distracting smile not that he noticed 

You always get out of trouble, no matter what it is. With Filch or Snape or McGonagall. You just had a way with words and it frustrated him

And oh the way you snark at Potter. It’s not cruel like his normal taunts but you always have a way to sneak that smile in and a wicked quip leaving both he and Harry gaping after you

When Buckbeak goes to attack him, you’re right there, smiling and speaking softly to the beast and it backs down, charmed like everyone else “It’s alright, there’s no need to feel threatened, just calm,” Buckbeak then lets you and Draco approach and you give him that smile and the boy is a goner

“Malfoy?” You call his attention. “Huh what?” He blinks. “Are you alright?” You laugh and maybe he wasn’t paying attention the first time you asked him

You always looked so put together and confident whenever he was around, whenever he noticed you, you were always smiling and flawless and it wasn’t fair in his opinion because it just looked so effortless

First years from any house are hanging onto your every word because you’re always there to show them the way or give them advice on how to get on a professor’s good side which has him sulking because you never talk to him like that

Oh but wait until someone crosses you. He thought you had the patience of a saint but bloody hell 

One of your friends lies to you constantly? Someone betrays you? Oh you have receipts and evidence lined up against them. People from other houses and different years are at your defense because they know it just like you do. You’re ex-friend is a backbiter and damn Merlin if they think you’ll let them get away with it and honestly Draco can’t decide if he’s scared or turned on when he sees the fires of hell in your eyes

But then you catch sight of him and your smile is back and you wave and he’s gawking because yeah he’s definitely both scared and turned on

Even though everyone whispers around the school about what went down, you still hold your head high and still look flawless

But one night he finds you in the Slytherin common room, sitting in the window seat, watching the murky water of the lake, crying silently Draco starts panicking because what is he supposed to do you’re always put together what do you mean you’re crying alone

“Uh... are you okay?” He has no idea why he’s asking, but he can’t just leave you here... can he? 

You immediately wipe away your tears and smile, but Draco can see right through this one. He leans against the wall beside the window, waiting for you to explain

“Am... am I really vindictive, manipulative, and controlling?” You seem so insecure as you hug your knees. “I... I know Slytherins are cunning and ambitious... but I don’t want to be a bad person...”

He’s staring again because you always seem to keep him on his toes for trying to figure you out. And he’s never seen you as anything less than perfect and he’s not stopping now. You’re just more real

“You’re not a bad person,” He finally says, sitting on the window seat with you. Teary-eyed you look at him, and now he’s furious towards whoever thought they could make you think you’re a bad person

You laugh hopelessly and again, wipe away your tears. “Thanks Draco,” It’s the first time you’ve ever used his first name

He just nods and leaves you to your thoughts again. Now he’s asking around to what could possibly have you so upset and doubting of yourself even though you’re still put together in the halls, your head held high and maybe he hopes that someone might understand him back he’s not as put together as he seems either

You often come to him now when you’re really stressed out and you don’t want anyone else to know, but you know Draco won’t tell anyone nor judge you

Sometimes he just knows where to find you when you’re thinking alone and he has some sort of sweet, or tea, or something. You two just sit together, not saying anything, but not acting like you have it all together either

You notice in Fourth Year that Draco starts to slip through the cracks of falling into being like his father and you know he’s scared to be like his father but you also know what it’s like to not know what else to do

Draco notices that you’re getting a lot of attention from Viktor Krum and his school buddies. They all seem to have fallen for the same smile that he did but they couldn’t have you, they would never understand you like he did. How dare they even think it

“Do you want to go to the first task with me?” You ask him and he snaps his quill because Merlin how do you move so quietly “Me? Why don’t you go with one of your Durmstrang blokes?” He snaps. 

You gape at him. Sure, you knew you were getting attention from those guys, but was it really enough to make Draco jealous? “I don’t want to go with them, they’re entitled uncivilized imbeciles.” You scoff. “I want to go with you. Idiot!” Then you storm off. 

Draco realizes oh my stars I fucked up shitshitshitshitshitshit uh um bloody hell what to i do

So he chases after you and grabs your hand in the middle of that hall between classes so there are students everywhere

“I’m sorry,” He rushes out and you tilt your head, waiting. “If... if you still want to go with me...” 

“Malfoy bothering you?” One of the Durmstrang asks, coming up beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder and Draco’s blood just boils

But before Draco can get his wand out, you have the guy on the floor groaning in pain taking him down muggle style and Draco has gone back to being scared and turned on You smile at him and take his hand, on your way to the pitch to watch the task

He guesses that you’re dating now? No one ever offiaclly said anything and not much has changed except you always find him in the halls and hold his hand and maybe his most recent batch of Amortentia smells just like your perfume and favorite sweet... And maybe yours smells just like his cologne and favorite tea...

He eventually gets the words out: “Do you want to go out with me?” He’s stuttering and blushing because you two are alone and he doesn’t have to be Mr. PerfectTM and you’re smiling at him again and you’re making it so difficult for him and you know it

“Well duh,” You finally laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes Dray,” 

Everyone thinking that you are the EliteTM couple on campus because of how well you both charade perfection...

When you’re really just total goofballs. You like doodling stupid things on his notes and he always has a cheesy pickup lines at the ready. You two flirt but it’s more like banter because you’re already his and Merlin does everyone ship it 

Tickle fights / “For you my lady,” “Well thank you kind sir,” / Inside jokes / Maybe a prank or two that eventually escalates and ends when Draco has vibrant blue hair and you get the last laugh but merlin does he look good

His parents and your parents believe that they have the perfect couple between you two. Such decorum and tradition, and refinement. (And you and Draco are flying upside down on your brooms, running barefoot through the Manors, making a mess in the kitchen trying to bake without magic, blasting music in the halls and singing off key and dancing) Narcissa knows all of this and adores that you bring such joy to Draco’s life

Umbridge has met her match with you. She is completely enchanted with you, even though you’re running an underground network against her at the school and she doesn’t have the slightest idea Draco is so impressed and Merlin does he love how cunning you are

When No Nose comes back and fear is a constant lingering in the school and amongst Slytherins, you slowly drop your prefect facade and let others know it’s okay to not be okay. “Little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect is she?” “No, but I am real,” 

You get fascinated with Dark Magic, because well, everyone keeps talking about it and you think that it’s stupid to be afraid of something you don’t know about so you learn and it doesn’t seem so scary when you realize there are counter curses and jinxes that spread like wildfire in the school in an underground network you and Hermione set up

Draco takes the Dark Mark, and so do you. You won’t leave him on his own. You want loyal and cunning and ambitious? Bring it No Nose who honestly believes that you’re on his side and for his cause because who can lie to him? You can.

 You stay at the Manor with Draco during the holidays. It’s almost vital that both you and Draco pull your masks of perfection back on for the sake of surviving. Which leave you both doing things that has you breaking down in each other arms in the quiet of the night because how did it come to this?

Using the same underground network, you feed encrypted information to the Golden Trio and Hogwarts. You always go down and talk with Luna and keep her company behind a silencing charm or two

You punch Pansy in the face when she suggests handing over Harry. 

You and Draco both stand with Hogwarts during the battle. You actually laugh when confusion breaks out across the Death Eaters and No Nose and you have the urge to scream “I’m a Slytherin! Who did you think you were dealing with!?” And maybe you do

After the war it’s hard facing anyone because for so long they thought that you and Draco had gone dark side, but slowly tensions ease and things get better and there’s a light at the end of the table.

You and Draco redeem the Slytherin House and later after you’re married to each other, McGonagall comes and asks you to teach and to be the Head of House for Slytherin

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87@artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland@shookyungsoo @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180 @slytherin-emerald@chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey@theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings@fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans@darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@dietkiwi@katsukink@takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things@tmnt-queen@mccloudchloe @hxneybgb@justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms@howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte@mccloudchloe @braelynn-j@jiggllyy @honeymarvel@go-whovian-universe@darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289@boredashaeck​ @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco@the–queen-of-hell@langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing@tulippings @thestressedprincess @sunflowerxsadnessw@caps-wilsonn @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08@thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread​ @gweaslvy​ @okaydraco​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @ughjjloveme​ @honeymarvel​  @gaysludge​ @cleopatera​ @ray-of-sunrise​ @artist-bby​

[lillupon]

I have social anxiety, so I usually refrain from reaching out, but I love all your fics so much and AEV is my current obsession. I don't like reading WIP fics because I am an impatient person, but here we are. Anyway, chapter 8 *chef's kiss*! Imagining Mingyu's POV of the whole classroom interaction (sexy times) keeps me up at night. He must be so scared Mr. Jeon won't go through with it and when it does happen, I love that he keeps laughing like he just can't believe it. Thank you for this fic!

Hi Anon! I'm glad you reached out. Thanks for joining me here (つ≧▽≦)つ I love imagining AEV from Mingyu's POV--chapter 8 especially! He was truly in heaven that night.

At the beginning of the chapter, during winter vacation, we see Wonwoo putting his utmost effort into tamping down his thoughts about Mingyu. Mingyu, however, has no such qualms. After he gives Mr. Jeon his gift, that boy is floating for the next two weeks straight. The astonishment on Mr. Jeon's face when he flipped open the giftbox lid? The way Mr. Jeon's entire body went soft with emotion? The smile curving his lips when he looked up at Mingyu and said, "I love it."

It made Mingyu feel like he was the only alpha in the world.

It gets Mingyu grinning every time he imagines it. And he imagines it a lot. He wishes Mr. Jeon weren't on blockers, so that he could smell the shy and pleased scent of him. At some point, Chaeyoung asks, "What's wrong with your face?" She squints at him. A slow realisation dawns on her face. "Oh. You have a new omega, don't you?"

It's the first time in Mingyu's life that he wants winter break to be over quickly. That first day back, Mingyu feels like a puppy who had been separated from its owner for fourteen days too many. He missed Mr. Jeon so much. When Mr. Jeon asks him why he's glad to be back, he almost bursts out with, "I wanted to see you."

Fast-forwarding now to that fateful Friday night:

Mingyu loves spending time with Mr. Jeon after school, just the two of them. Rationally, he knows nothing will happen between them, but he finds it thrilling all the same because the possibility is there.

Then again, he never thought Mr. Jeon would go into heat in front of him, so maybe he is a little hopeful...

Mingyu gets bolder when they're alone. The way Mr. Jeon gets flustered--stammering and blushing to the tips of his ears--when Mingyu flirts with him is so cute. He kind of wants to say 'fuck it' to the homework and spend the next two hours flirting with Mr. Jeon and seeing how red he can get. He doesn't even really have homework. He's caught up in all his classes; he just wants an excuse to be around Mr. Jeon.

Mingyu bites back a coo when Mr. Jeon stares down at a stack of quizzes with a certain determination. Mr. Jeon has put a hand on his forehead, as though shielding his face from Mingyu.

A handful of minutes later, Mr. Jeon peeks up at him, equal parts shy and apprehensive. Their eyes meet. A smile curves Mingyu's lips, growing into a grin when Mr. Jeon drops his gaze and a bloom of colour spreads across his cheeks. The alpha inside Mingyu goes wild. He needs to be close.

Mingyu stands and makes his way over to Mr. Jeon's desk with a textbook in hand and a math question on his mind. It doesn't escape his notice, the way Mr. Jeon tugs at his collar, trying to get some air to his heated skin.

That moment when Mingyu realises that Mr. Jeon is going into heat in front him?

Mingyu doesn't believe it at first. He thinks he's just smelling what he wants to smell. Mr. Jeon went into heat last month. It's too soon for another one.

But then Mr. Jeon's tempting and honey-sweet scent grows stronger and more seductive. Mingyu's body reacts to it immediately, flushing hot with arousal.

No way.

The first time Mr. Jeon went into heat in front of him could be attributed to bad luck.

A second time? And following in close succession to that first time?

He doesn't want to assume. But maybe, just maybe... He triggered Mr. Jeon's heats.

Which means, perhaps, that Mr. Jeon is attracted to him, too.

No fucking way.

Mr. Jeon sways, subconsciously drawn forward by his own heat and Mingyu's arousal, and then he yanks himself back. Tripping over his feet; over the chair--sending it rolling into the wall behind. Mingyu doesn't think: he just reacts, lunging forward to catch Mr. Jeon by the elbow. He twists to take the brunt of the fall.

They land in a heap on the floor, limbs entangled. Mingyu's head throbs where he hit his head against the linoleum. Black spots dance across his vision. He groans. "Fuck, that hurt. Are you okay Mr. Jeon?" It's instinct, to check on the omega he likes, before he catalogues his own pain.

That's when he realises that Mr. Jeon is lying stiff atop him, face smashed into Mingyu's neck. They are pressed together from chest to knees in a searing hot line. Their groins are rubbing against each other.

Mingyu smells it before he feels it: Mr. Jeon's growing arousal. Mr. Jeon's erection prods against him.

It gets Mingyu so hard, so fast.

Wonwoo's fingers twitch against his shirt.

"Mr. Jeon?" Mingyu breathes out, shakily. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs.

Mr. Jeon lets out the most piteous whimper Mingyu has ever heard. And then a bit of slick leaks out of his hole. Mingyu catches a whiff of it in the air and it sets his mouth watering.

Mingyu lost the chance to comfort Mr. Jeon when he entered heat back in December, but he sure as hell isn't going to let the opportunity slip by a second time.

He tightens his hold around Mr. Jeon's waist. Tentatively, he places both hands on Mr. Jeon's back. Waits a split-second so that he doesn't startle Mr. Jeon away. He has to act slowly and carefully; Mr. Jeon could bolt at any second.

"It's okay. It's okay..." Mingyu says quietly, pitching his voice low to soothe. I'm going to take care of you. He smooths his hands down Mr. Jeon's back, travelling lower and lower until his hands are gliding over Mr. Jeon's asscheeks. His thumbs skim over the middle seam of Mr. Jeon's trousers, following the crevice of his ass.

Mr. Jeon moans, hot and damp against Mingyu's skin. He spurts slick, just from having Mingyu's hands on him. Mingyu can feel Mr. Jeon's trousers getting wetter and wetter as he kneads his asscheeks. Sweet omega is preparing himself to take an alpha's cock. Mingyu can't resist rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mr. Jeon's hole, pushing down as far as the fabric will allow him. He can feel it clenching and pulsing under his touch.

"Fuck, Mr. Jeon..." He muffles a groan into Mr. Jeon's hair.

When Mr. Jeon starts rocking his hips Mingyu's brain whites out. His teacher is grinding on him, taking his pleasure and making sweet little noises. It's surreal.

Their erections rub against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure through Mingyu's loins. The motion is hesitant at first. Mingyu holds Wonwoo by the ass and guides the movement, turning the stuttering rhythm into something forceful and desperate that has both of them groaning.

Mingyu digs his fingers into the crevice of Mr. Jeon's ass, forefinger finding his rosebud entrance. He thinks about sliding his hand beneath Mr. Jeon's belt and trousers. He wants to feel, skin-against-skin, how sloppy and heated Mr. Jeon's hole must be, if the amount of slick he is producing is anything to judge by. Just imagining dipping his finger inside to feel the hot and wet clutch of Mr. Jeon's inner walls has him groaning.

Mr. Jeon's cries grow higher in pitch. Mingyu didn't know he was capable of making noises like that, so used to the low and smooth tenor of his voice when he's lecturing in front of the classroom.

"Mingyu," Mr. Jeon chokes out. "Oh, god, I need, I need--" He cuts himself off abruptly.

Mingyu's voice is strained when he says, "What is it, Mr. Jeon? Tell me what you need."

Mr. Jeon shakes his head, his hair tickling Mingyu's chin. The grip he has on Mingyu's shirt tightens. Mingyu can detect the edge of frustration against his pleasure.

"It's okay, Mr. Jeon, you can tell me," Mingyu says.

“I-I can’t," Mr. Jeon strains out. Wetness smears against Mingyu's skin.

Tears?

Mingyu croons. He wants to know what it is that Mr. Jeon wants so much that he's crying with it. What could it be, that Mr. Jeon feels the need to hold back when they've already barreled headfirst beyond all semblance of decorum?

Mingyu suspects he might know. He gives Mr. Jeon a tiny nudge. His voice goes rough and low, drawn from a place deep within his chest; it vibrates with an alpha's command: "Tell me."

Mr. Jeon blurts out, “Fuck me, oh god, please, Mingyu. I need it. I need it—just the tip. Oh, just the tip. Please, please, please—”

Mingyu damn near comes in his pants. His hips jerk and he groans. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Jeon. You’re so fucking hot. Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it to you.”

He can't believe Mr. Jeon is begging for his cock. He's determined to fuck Mr. Jeon so good that he keeps coming back for more and more.

The entire scene feels like a dream, something straight out of his wildest fantasies. No--even his wildest fantasies could not compete with the sight of Mr. Jeon presenting for him: thighs quivering, his needy pink hole desperately clenching down on nothing, his pretty cock dangling heavy between his legs and drooling a clear line of precome onto the ground...

[cattles-bians]

damie vibecca exes au part 21

post directory

em: viola and becs love their lil hikes

em: oh actually did we already designate hiking as a damie thing

em: hmm.

em: yknow what damie and vibecca can both enjoy their weekend hikes

em: they bring isabel and she’s RUNNING up the path and tires herself out in 10 minutes and rebecca and viola swap out piggybacking her

obsetress: yeah it tracks because they both like fitness and viola likes her walks

obsetress: plus viola's like "it's good for isabel"

em: vibecca power lesbians love the challenging trails and damie just enjoy the sights

obsetress: dani venting to jamie one night: they don't even LIKE hiking, but they still had to do the blackjack loop, and WE won't even do the blackjack loop,

em: dani and her fanny packs... every time she sees isabel on a trail she like

em: stuffs her pockets w granola akdhdkfhdj

em: drives viola NUTS she’s like we packed our Own snacks

obsetress: dani gets SO excited

---

obsetress: man i love these lil gay bitches

obsetress: no but um

obsetress: jamie gets in some fight w rebecca early on after they've reconnected

obsetress: prob about her dating vi tbh

obsetress: and jamie's so put off by the whole thing and is ranting to dani about it and dani's all like "you just need to have better boundaries, jamie, they're her choices, aren't they? not yours"

obsetress: and jamie just stares at her like.........................................

obsetress: "dani, you literally continued hooking up with viola for weeks after you broke up"

"oh, c'mon jamie, it wasn't weeks"

"no?"

"it was months"

em: dani shooting herself in the foot to like. correct jamie is so funny

em: not even ‘no that’s different’ or ‘no i’ve changed’ like ‘actually it was months’

obsetress: she says it w such a lil pleased smile on her face too

---

obsetress:

obsetress: like who the FUCk gave her the right???

obsetress: a whole babe

obsetress: she didn't need to smirk like this

em: god she’s so Hot

obsetress: just think about all the times she and viola get into the banter

obsetress: and this exact face

em: i know we veered dramatically into soft territory w exes au but vi extremely stubborn lloyd and rebecca lawyer do no harm take no shit jessel truly. have some spectacular arguments

obsetress: they have absolute blowouts

obsetress: and then blowouts after the blowouts iywkim

obsetress: like dani's do no harm take no shit but she and vi also enable the SHIT out of each other

em: like dani tried but dani wasnt like. fully baked yet

obsetress: yeah! and then when she finally does and breaks up with her, she's back in her bed a few weeks later

obsetress: rebecca is the first person to not take viola's shit and to tell her no and viola can't fucking stand it

em: jamies convinced it’s a ruse for more make up sex

obsetress: dani's like "no, babe, trust me, i know what that looks like and this––"

"wot"

"what?"

em: dani (hushed) no she’s regular mad this isn’t fun mad

em: jamie (hushed but incredulous) FUN MAD?!

obsetress: please tell me how dani explains fun mad

em: a lil eyebrow waggle and a wink but then i like

em: thought abt her going to lift jamie up on a bench ‘well she kinda’

---

obsetress: the way rebecca looks at peter when he is (seemingly) (unfortunately) good w the kids has me thinking about like

obsetress: rebecca seeing vi w isabel for the first time and just

em: turns out the evil landlord shes banging is also…… soft

obsetress: rebecca and jamie on the phone and rebecca's like "i know she's... a landlord and all, but you should've seen her with isabel"

"you've gotta be fucking kidding me, becs––"

"no, maybe you're too quick to write her off. maybe people can be more than one thing"

and jamie just groans

em: poor jamie and her class traitor ex gf

em: blows kiss to rebecca

---

em: dani: i gotta go to the bathroom i’ll be right back

em: jamie: ok love

em: dani; (elbows jamie) ive Gotta Go To The B

obsetress: screamed

obsetress: dani trips over her own feet as she gets up to go

obsetress: then i just start thinking about dani absolutely pouncing on jamie the second they get into the bathroom and then i just start thinking about. how often that happens

obsetress: bathrooms or closets or wherever else

em: dani has this 6th sense for places to sneak off to

obsetress: god she DOES

obsetress: she's so good at it

em: she enters a new building and is taking lil notes just in case

obsetress: meanwhile rebecca and viola exchanging a look while they wait, knowing EXACTLY where they're going

em: viola leaning in like how much time do we have and becs is like vi. where’s your decorum

em: then she looks down at her watch and lists it down to the second

obsetress: she pauses

obsetress: then

obsetress: "and another six minutes if––" and vi's like "she'll want to go again"

em: viola buffing her nails on her blazer: she’ll want to go again

obsetress: rebecca rolls her eyes but she's grinning

obsetress: "you're all too smug" "me? smug?" becs just shakes her head and tugs her in by the lapels of her blazer

em: damie coming back to a fairly chaste vibecca kiss: BLEH can you guys GET A ROOM

obsetress: rebecca's just verly placidly like

obsetress: "dani, your zipper is still down, by the way"

em: dani; thanks :)

---

em: dani clayton voice i’m braver and severely Weirder than ppl think

obsetress: she's a bit of a weirdo

em: see now i’m thinking about dani glancing away going dang i thought i was keeping it under wraps

obsetress: ngl i think about that a lot like

obsetress: she IS a weirdo but what does jamie know

obsetress: that she's like yeah she's a fucking weirdo

obsetress: like she's anxious and jumpy but jamie wouldn't call that weird

obsetress: what did she know and when did she know it

em: i’m thinking about jamie catching dani doing something like. idk eating a burger layer by layer or w a knife and fork and going

em: what a freak. i’m gonna marry her

em: dani tells jamie no this is a normal american thing and then when they go to vermont jamie realises no this absolutely is not

obsetress: she says something about it and dani doesn't even remember saying it in the first place

obsetress: "i didn't say that"

"you literally did say that"

"why would i say that"

(jamie taylor eyebrow raise) "you tell me"

(dani clayton flush and stutter) "i–– i..."

em: dani mumbles something like i didn’t think it’d pan out like this i just wanted the cool gardener to think i was. semi normal

em: jamie waggles her eyebrows like cool gardener???

obsetress: dani bumps her shoulder into jamie's "shut up"

"don't think i will, actually"

em: jamie starts to v seriously eat her burger layer by layer. danis like ‘ur taking the mick!’ and jamies like (sheepish) naw i just. wanted to see what it’s like

---

em: every so often they’ll run into someone who went to school w jamie or knew her as a youth and they’re like ‘wow you’ve mellowed out heaps’

em: therapy queen

em: theyre in a pub and someone’s like ‘as i live and breathe! jamie taylor! i heard you died! someone told me you were arrested for (crime that becomes bigger and more outlandish w every new person)’ and jamies like ‘aye’ and they’re like

em: all sharing a beer at a quaint little pub n this old acquaintance from before has these v chaotic stories and danis like

em: jamie? my jamie? u must be confused. jamie goes to bed at 9:30pm watching antiques roadshow

obsetress: jamie just grins a lil

em: danis like haha jamie wow ur so mysterious and (she is already casing the joint for places to sneak off too)

---

em: damvibecca sittin in a circle passing a joint around

em: a nice thought

obsetress: Wholesome

obsetress: dani falls asleep first, with her head in jamie's lap and they're all just kinda vibin and rebecca gets up to get her a blanket or smth and vi's just kinda like

obsetress: "you're really good for her, you know"

obsetress: all quiet and pensive

em: jamie takes a loooooonng pause and she’s like. i was sceptical but. you’re good for becs too

em: and then even quieter she’s like

em: thanks

em: the softest thank u from one jamie taylor

obsetress: rebecca gets back and looks back n forth between the two of them

"why are you two being weird"

"we're not–- what?"

"we're just sitting here, baby"

obsetress: rebecca narrows her eyes

---

obsetress: jamie likes vi for becs because vi reminds her to live a little

obsetress: and can also keep up with her temperament because holy shit did jamie hate all of becca's bougie shit

em: jamie absolutely has um

em: like a repairs pile that shes gonna get around to Some Day re fixin clothes etc and

em: as much as i love 'rebecca and jamie worlds most calm and collected no drama couple' im defs toying with like

em: their ONE Big fight is beccs throws out the repairs pile

obsetress: "i was gonna––"

"no you WEREN'T, jamie!"

em: jamies like i The Tool I Needed is outta stock i had to- and becs is like? what, like you couldnt make do?

em: and even then when the heat dies down its still v calm and civil but like

em: FINALLY a lil dramatic angle to jamie rebecca

em: dani loves the repairs pile bc she loves a project

obsetress: she's also very content to let jamie have her silly little thing

obsetress: because it doesn't bother her and jamie is very good at keeping it in her space

obsetress: rebecca asks her about it one day and dani's like "oh i'm just glad she has a hobby :)"

em: couple times jamie's like. shes been tryna repair this one chair for months and eventually shes like

em: (swings axe) winters coming

obsetress: dani just watches with the dopiest grin

obsetress: jamie's all wot

obsetress: and dani's like

obsetress: :) you're hot :)

em: danis like hey i know its a brisk autumn but um

em: if u wanna

em: mimes taking shirt off

obsetress: jamie does it

obsetress: jamie rolling her eyes as she unbuttons the top couple buttons then tugs her shirt over her head

obsetress: but she's grinning

obsetress: dani sneaking up behind her as she's sorting the wood and just leaning into her bare back

obsetress: jamie jumps "oi!" and dani grins and nuzzles between her shoulders

---

obsetress: been having so many becca feelings in our rewatch

em: oh gosh

em: i love her she truly is a tragic character

obsetress: same

obsetress: i just want her to live happily ever after in her lil power lesbian outfits with her lil power lesbian wife

obsetress: like she needs someone who can MATCH her

obsetress: her energy and her intensity and her passion

obsetress: and like she and jamie can push each other to be better but jamie’s just kinda like “lemme chill n do my gay little tasks” yknow

em: ya and like they Worked but they worked Much better as friends than anything romantic

em: jamies the lesbian best friend that’s like girl. stop settling for mediocre men with accents

obsetress: yeah!

em: jamie ‘how soon is too soon to ask out my good friend rebecca jessel after her v messy break up w peter quint’ taylor

em: and then rebecca ends up being the one like ‘have you ever thought about us?’ while jamies agonising over it like four months later

em: rebeccas a little go getter and jamie needs a little bit of a shove sometimes

obsetress: jamie, surrounded by three shovers,

obsetress: rebecca says it so casually over dinner like she’s talking about the weather and jamie’s like !?

obsetress: i can also see like

obsetress: rebecca says that bit about "have you ever thought about us" at dinner and jamie blanches and second guesses everything they do "is....... is this a date" becca just shrugs "do you want it to be?"

em: jamies motormouthing like ok but i cannot stress enough that i was comforting you about ur break up in a friend way no ulterior motives way i am ur friend first and foremost and rebecca just like

em: lets her get it out of her system

em: ‘well what about my ulterior motives’

obsetress: she WOULD

obsetress: "did you ever consider that maybe i had ulterior motives"

em: jamie: (pursing her lips, furrowing her brow that way she does) you had a messy break up with peter quint….. to seduce me.

em: rebecca: mmhmm

obsetress: jamie: me?

obsetress: rebecca: well, maybe a couple of reasons, but... yeah. you were up there

---

em: after i asked out [ex] i spent ages agonising over when it would be appropriate to kiss her (i know...) and then one night at a party she’s like ‘so why haven’t u kissed me yet?’ and i’m like are u fucken. mate it takes two to tango

obsetress: oh my god?

em: drawing from that

em: jamie thinks they’re taking it slow (but not that slow) and rebecca is like girl what

em: ‘i never took you for old fashioned’

‘wot, me?’

'mmhm’

‘old fashioned?!’

‘well, you haven’t kissed me yet-‘

‘you haven't kissed me! i figured you wanted to take it slow after p-‘ and then rebecca like full on dips jamie and kisses her

em: rebeccas like always wanted to do that at least once lol

em: jamie is speechless for a couple minutes

obsetress: rEBECCA

---

obsetress: thinking thoughts rebecca jamie same height but rebecca heels

obsetress: jamie looking up @ her all

obsetress: rebecca in her heels and is chilly and jamie getting up onto her tip toes to wrap her big coat around rebecca's shoulders

em: softtt

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

[9r7g5h]

Teach to Learn, Learn to Teach

Fandom: Fantasy High

Rating: T

Genre: General/Friendship

Summary: Ragh and Tracker both have a lot to learn from each other. 

Words: 3269

AN: So, the topic of Ragh taking a level in cleric and Tracker taking a level in barbarian came up on tumblr, and I was so intrigued I had to write something for these gaybies. It will probably be three parts, one focusing on Ragh, one on Tracker, and one about them going home, or something like that. Just enjoy chapter one. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Fantasy High.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

They had both known, when Tracker first brought up her goal to Ragh, that it would be rough going. Fallinel wasn't the most welcoming of outsiders as it was, though at least High Elf decorum granted adventurers safe passage, so long as they weren't causing issues. But causing issues was the entire reason they were there, and Ragh's official adventurer certification he had received at graduation only did so much when he was helping Tracker constantly shoulder her way into temples of Galilea, trying to turn back the carefully placed lies the high priests had said to turn their goddess away from her wilder ways. 

The fact that she was actually making headway with the younger elves, the ones who saw how prim and proper their elders were and balked against that fate, only made things even worse for them. Add in the newly formed 'Pack of Galilea,' younger elves who not only wanted to worship the wild of the night but become wolves themselves, their leader constantly trying to convince Tracker to bite her so she could turn the rest of her pack and give more strength to the wild form of the goddess they loved, and, well. 

Honestly, they really should have expected something like this. Should have expected that the high priest would deem her a problem. Should have expected him to decide to end it. Should have expected him to know that only silver could hurt a werewolf, and armed the elf he had hired to do his will properly. 

Had they expected it, maybe she wouldn't be gasping in the back of their van, the silver poisoning from the arrow still stuck deep in her side seeping into her veins while Ragh tried to avoid the trees, putting distance between them and where they had been attacked. Had they expected it, maybe she would have cast Moon Haven earlier, ensuring their safety. Had they expected it, maybe they wouldn't have been goofing off, listening to music and chatting while their dinner cooked. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe she wouldn't be dying before she got to see Kristen again. 

"Ok, I think I lost them." 

She wasn't sure when Ragh finally pulled the van over, or how long it had been or how far they had gone, just that now he was besides her, talking. A knife in his hand, cutting through her second favorite shirt (damn them for that), pulling the cloth away from the wound. 

"Sorry sis, this is gonna hurt."

She barely felt him cut into her skin - the head hadn't gone all the way through, couldn't be broken off and the shaft pulled out, it had to be cut out and stitched up - but she did feel as he began to pull it out, the silver arrowhead brushing against the dying skin, making her howl in pain as everything within her wanted to flee. Flee the pain, the sheer burning agony of every single one of her cells dying, flee into the night and the moonlight until she could curl up somewhere that felt and smelt like home. 

But then it was gone. The silver was gone, she could think again, and though everything hurt, she could focus on Ragh's words. 

"Shit shit shit sorry sis, I had to get it out, shit. Fuck, god damn it, what was next? Think, Ragh, you know this." His voice fell to muttering for a bit as he pressed a cloth to the wound, looking through the medical kit. She wanted to say something, give him a hint or encouragement, but she was so tired. "Sterilize it, fuck, that's right! Where are you, you tiny little shit, you're hiding better then Riz to get out of PE... there you are!" He held up a small bottle triumphantly, used his teeth to undo the top, and splashed a generous portion directly into the wound. 

Tracker thankfully passed out immediately, her thoughts a dozen swirls of pain and Galilea thanking her for her efforts and wanting nothing more then to just sleep. 

It was morning when she next woke up. Her tank top had been replaced with a sports jersey, her side covered with enough bandages that she was almost sure she now classified as a large creature instead of medium, and the smell of burning fish covered everything else. Her stomach growled, despite the acrid smoke, and that was enough to get her moving, sluggishly kicking open the door to see what kind of trouble Ragh was in now. 

He was, surprisingly, doing well for himself. He had built a decent fire pit, had managed to grab a dozen fish or so from a nearby river, and only two of them seemed to have caught fire. The others actually looked amazing, and before she could even think the actual thought, she had grabbed one, sinking her teeth into the flesh, ravenous. 

Ragh just chuckled. "Good morning to you too, sis. I'm so glad you're ok. I was worried I was going to have to call Kristen and give her bad news, and honestly, your girlfriend scares me."

She couldn't help but laugh through her mouthful of fish, forcing it down so she could respond in a timely manner. 

"Full honestly, and I'll kill you if you ever tell her? She scares me a little bit too. Love her, but she has some weird shit going on with the gods that's just on a whole nother level."

She had been sleeping for two days. Ragh had done the best he could, keeping her comfortable and hydrated, just glad he had remembered enough from his mandatory healing class to stabilize her. He didn't know enough to actually heal, he had spent too much of the class mooning over a cute cleric guy in the front row, but cutting out arrows used knives, so he remembered that at least. 

"I just always relied on having a cleric," he admitted with a shrug. "Never thought much more about it."

"You thought enough to save me," Tracker pointed out, resting her non-cash covered hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." 

It took another day for her spells to come back, her energy finally high enough after gorging on fish and the few rabbits Ragh caught to finally cast a healing hand on herself. Ragh watched with a new found fascination as she unwrapped the wound, showing his shoddy stitches to keep her held together, only for the silvery light to flow from her hand, popping out the stitches and leaving her with healed, slightly pink skin. 

"Sis, you gotta teach me how to do that."

A raised eyebrow, a glance over at him as he half reached out, as if he wanted to touch her newly healed wound to make sure it was truly one, a tilt of her head as she waited for him to continue. He didn't, instead his skin flushing a deeper green as he shuffled his feet. 

"You want to become a healer?"

Ragh just shrugged, rubbing at the back of his head. They both needed to get haircuts soon, Tracker noticed and mentally filed away, watching as he felt the longer hair tickling the back of his neck and tried to move it away. Her own shaved side was growing out as well, much to her annoyance, though she quickly shook her head, forcing away the random thoughts as she looked back at her friend. 

"I know I'm not that smart," Ragh muttered, giving a shrug as if his lower intelligence score wasn't that big of a deal to him, "but even doing my best, there wasn't much I could do to help after, you know." He waved towards her and the pile of bloody gauze next to her. "I've never had to take care of someone before, someone else always did that, but now it's just the two of us, sis. What if it's worse next time? I don't know about all this religion stuff, but I've thought about it a lot over the last few days, and while I'm still gonna be the tank, it might help if I can also help take care of us." 

She wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Tracker could tell he wasn't expecting her to lean over and pull him into a giant bear hug, only to pull back a few moments later and punch him in the arm. 

"Don't sell yourself so short, big guy," Tracker said sternly, waggling a finger at him. "You kept me alive, which is the best thing you could have done. As for the healing, well, do you have a god in mind?"

Ragh immediately perked up, a half grin as he began to think. It would be a process, they would both soon find out - when he had come up blank, she had immediately begun with the most obvious of the gods: Cassandra and Galilea. Going over the pros, the cons, how both goddesses would easily accept him, though Cassandra might be a bit happier about it then Galilea was. But, eventually, neither of them just felt right to him, which was the most important thing. 

And so began their side quest - finding Ragh a god. 

"What about Tempus, god of war," Tracker asked one evening, gutting fish by the fireside as Ragh attempted to mend a hole in his shirt. "A neutral god, popular with a lot of fighters." 

It took him a long moment to answer, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he tried to keep his stitches straight. Tying off the line, he gave a small shrug. 

"Nah. I'm not much of a war guy. I like bashing heads, not overthrowing other governments for whatever reason I come up with, yah know?" 

“What about Gruumsh,” Ayda asked a few days later, pulling out the many goods she had brought from Riz’s borrowed suitcase of holding. She didn’t come often - Tracker had made it clear that this was her mission, and while all of their friends were ready to come the moment she said she needed help, she wanted to do this on her own first, or at least try. But every few months Ayda would show up in their camp with care packages and letters (Gorgug had made them satellite phones, but not all of them had planatar fueled vans to keep them charged with, so those were for emergencies only) and a few creature comforts they missed from home, stay for a meal, and then take back whatever they wanted to send with her, letters and keepsakes of their own to their own loved ones. 

It was always wonderful, getting the stack of letters from Kristen and Jawbone and the others, and this time she brought advice as well. 

“He is already the god of the orcs, which you are at least half of. I would need some of your blood to analyze the exact genetic makeup, and while that is a topic of conversation we will have to revisit in the future, for now I do believe Gruumsh would welcome you into his army.” 

Ragh was already shaking his head before she even finished, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Nah sis, Gruumsh isn’t my kind of guy.” 

For a moment Ayda just stood there, watching him, her head tilted to the side. But then her eyes glowed just a bit brighter, and a look of understanding appeared. “Of course. You are neutral good. He is chaotic evil. Your alignments wouldn’t be compatible. I apologize for not thinking of this beforehand.” 

Ragh waved her off, giving her a fanged smile. “No harm, no foul, sis. I just get tired of people always thinkin orcs are evil, you know? I’m not, my mom’s not, Gorgug’s for sure not. So I really don’t want to get mixed up with an evil god if I can avoid it.” 

Ayda gave a deep nod of understanding. “On my honor as a wizard, and as both the mother and the daughter of the same quite wonderful half-orc, I swear to you, Ragh Barkrock, I shall not make that mistake again. Would you like an orange?” 

Ragh happily took the fruit from her outstretched hand, and Ayda gave a small, happy trill before returning to her unpacking, crying a few tears when he handed her a slice. 

“What about Talos, our lord of the storms and tempest that ravage our forests almost as well as you ravaged me last night?” 

Tracker could barely hide her eye roll and fake gag as she paid for their rooms at the inn, Ragh’s lately hook up hanging off his arm and batting his big elf eyes at him. She had known this was going to happen, again, and had warned him, again, that he needed better tastes in hook ups, but Ragh seemed to had a soft spot for elven twinks, and always ended up bringing one back to the inn whenever they were lucky enough to stay in one. She was just glad that they had separate rooms this time, and hadn’t had to sleep as a wolf in the nearest bush. 

“I’m not really a ravishing kind of guy,” Ragh said, trying to free his arm from the elfs’ grasp. “Sure, it’s fun to do every once in a while, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to commit to a ravishing lifestyle yet. What’s that, Tracker? We need to go?” Ragh looked at her with such desperation that she couldn’t turn her back on him like she had last time. 

“Come on Ragh, I have important things to do for Galilea.” 

“You hear the boss, important god cleric wolf stuff to do. I’ll call you, bye!” Ragh almost ran out the door past her, leaving the poor elf boy pouting at the table, wondering what Ragh meant when he said ‘call.’ 

“You need to work on your taste in guys, my dude,” Tracker said with a shake of her head as she slid into the driver’s side, glancing over her shoulder at the half-orc hiding in the back seat. “At least stop choosing the clingy ones?”

“Please, just drive.” 

In the end, it was Ragh himself who found his god, as was strangely right. 

The small town they had stopped in was, by far, their favorite stop so far. Mostly high elves, sure, but high elves strangely welcoming, much more like Adaine then the others they had met so far. A few other species were there too, half elves, a few fairies, and even a couple of gnomes that had taken residence in a nearby cave, turning it into a mix of apartment complexes and work stations. It was the most welcoming town they had been in; it almost felt like home. 

And, centered in the middle of town, were their shrines. 

It was common for towns this small, Tracker had learned, to not have a temple dedicated to every single god worshiped in the area. While for some towns that meant only one temple, maybe two if there were multiple families with influence, other towns had too many to count, each family or inhabitant following their own deity. So, instead, they had a shrine building instead, each deity with their own table and candles and cushions in front of them so those who worshiped them could pray. 

It was there, after he had gone missing for hours on end, that Tracker finally found him. He was just sitting there on one of the cushions, staring at the flickering candle, eyes both vacant and seemingly touched with a new found peace. He didn’t even notice when she sat down next to him, only starting out of whatever trance he seemed to be in when Tracker put her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. 

“This is him,” Ragh immediately said, his face lit up with almost the same happy glow as whenever he reminded people he was gay and was met with acceptance instead of the hatred he thought he would find. “I was curious what was in here, so I walked in and thought it was some kind of weird like, massage parlor, but I found my guy, and this dude totally rocks, Tracker!  Hoot growl, up high!” 

Tracker immediately gave him his high five, giddy with excitement for her friend. And taking a look at the shrine they sat before, she couldn’t help but agree that it fit. Torm, god of courage and self-sacrifice, a provider of protection. Symbolized by a white gauntlet raised against a coming sword. For her bodyguard and best friend, yeah, it felt right. 

Of course, finding the god was only the first step in becoming a cleric. Then there was the training. 

Not all clerics were as blessed as she and Kristen were (though, of course, no one was as blessed as Saint Kristen Applebees, chosen and denier of Helios, creator of the planatar YES!/?, healer of the Goddex Cassandra). Some clerics had to work to gain their deity’s blessing, to prove that they were good enough vessels of the gods’ holy power. Some were just pains in the asses to get a hold of. 

Luckily, Torm seemed to approve of Ragh. 

It took a while, a few days after they left the town, Ragh standing between her and a weird lizard creature neither of them could remember the name of, for Torm to finally respond to the prayers Tracker had been teaching him. An almost imperceptible white light seemed to surround Ragh's hand as it came down against the lizards' jaw, just bright enough that Tracker's wolf enhanced eyes caught it as she bit deep into the creatures' tail. And each time he fulfilled his role of protector, showed courage as he walked by her side into the temples of Galilea, took up his weapon to protect her against whatever else Fallinel had to throw at them, it grew a little bit brighter. 

Until one day, without even thinking about it, he cast a Sacred Flame at an enemy on the other side of their camp site, the burning bright light zapping into the creatures' side, sending it scampering back into the wilds of the untamed woods in the far reaches of the country. Together they quickly finished off their enemies, Rahg wielding his weapon and a new found spells with an enjoyable ease, taking joy in the blessing of his god. 

She remembered that feeling, the power and joy from being blessed by one of the gods, the sudden innate knowledge of exactly what to do to make everything perfect and wonderful and right. 

The fight eventually ended, Ragh having taken the brunt of the damage, though one of them did get a slice at her flank. Before she could shift back and heal it herself, Ragh had reached out and touched her shoulder. Another burst of brilliant white light, something she would have to teach him to control later, raced through her veins and across her skin, invigorating her and closing most of the wound, leaving a scratch where before there had been a gash. All while Ragh stared in awe, eyes and smile wide, though clearly he was exhausted from the small use of magic. 

Another moment and she was back in her human form, healing him herself as he sat back, staring at his hands as his wounds closed around him. 

"Tracker..."

She raised her head from examining her work, making sure there wasn't something she had missed. 

"This fucking rules." 

An easy smile shared between them, Tracker knowing exactly what he meant. 

"Yeah it does."

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.15

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 15/16

Previous <- Chapter 14

Chapter 16 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 15: Graduation

Katsumi was cradled between Izuku and Katsuki, a rare treat for all three of them. She'd started to sleep through the night which was good, but there were still nights where she refused to settle down unless she was between them. They'd made it a point to never let her sleep in their bed, but sometimes, they couldn't help except to cave.

Arm outstretched and pinned beneath Izuku's head, Katsuki stared at the pair. Katsumi slept just like Izuku, flat on her back, mouth wide open and unapologetic, dead to the world. She was cuddled in the crook of his arm, head pillowed against his bicep. Her feet peddled slowly in her sleep.

He sighed, letting his eyes drift closed. Since Katsumi had been sleeping through the night, he'd started to sleep longer as well, but there were still times where he jolted into consciousness, ready to attend to a baby who didn't need him. Some times it took longer than others to drift back to sleep. It seemed to be one of those nights.

So, instead, he listened to his mate's and baby's steady breathing, Izuku muttering in his sleep, the settling of the building around them. This time a week from now, they'd be in the apartment that his parents had helped them find and they'd be heroes. They'd finally be heroes, climbing the ranks with single minded determination, and they'd be raising Katsumi without anyone else's input.

As he drifted, he wondered if there was anyone else awake. If they were worried about the practicals. If they were too excited. If they were doing what he was doing and staring at his mate. If they were still scared they'd never become heroes.

But they were way passed worrying now. They were almost there. All of them.

.....

The buzzer screamed overhead, signaling the end of the practical exams. Katsuki panted, face splashed with oil and his own blood. His skin steamed, hot beneath the freezing rain he'd been made to fight in. The rain stopped, and he stared around in a daze. Several of the others were around him including a few from 3-B, but Izuku was nowhere to be seen. They'd been split up before the exam.

The practical had been a combination of everything they'd learned in those three years. Rescue efforts, battle, team work, and so on. It had been hard, just like every exam they'd ever had, but there was no doubt in his mind they'd all made it.

"Come on, man," Kirishima said with an unsteady grin as he gripped Katsuki's shoulder, "Let's go get our scores."

Together with the others, they trudged back to the main area of the exam arena. Already, the scores were being projected over the stage. And right there, tied for first place were Katsuki and Izuku's names.

"You came in first! Way to go man!" Kirishima yelled in his ear, but he wasn't listening as he looked over the sea of students for that familiar tuft of green curls.

He could barely smell Izuku on the air, everyone's scents mixing and intermingling to make it impossible to trace where the scent was coming from. Growling out his frustration, he turned in a slow circle.

"KACCHAN!" Katsuki spun towards Izuku's voice, catching him as he flew into him. Strong legs wrapped around his waist and stronger arms around his neck as Izuku sobbed uncontrollably. "We did it! We did it! Kacchan, we finally did it!" Izuku shouted, smothering his words against Katsuki's mouth as he kissed him over and over again.

Katsuki couldn't help the laughter that spilled from him. "We still have to pass the licensing exam, dumby." He held Izuku tight against his body, hands gripping his hips and ass to hold him in place.

Izuku rolled his eyes. "Compared to this, that's going to be a cinch. Watch. We're going to blow it out of the water."

"You two already did that here," Ochako said with a grin, finally catching up from where Izuku had literally leapt away from her.

Kirishima laughed. "Yeah, man, give the rest of us a chance."

The others were slowly starting to appear, crowding around them and staring up at the screen. There were no names that had less than a passing score, and that was all that mattered.

And then there was Iida. "Have some decorum, you two! We are still on school grounds! Please get off of each other!"

Katsuki and Izuku looked him straight in the eyes as they sealed their mouths back together before closing their own in pure bliss. The rest of the class laughed as Iida screamed in frustration.

.....

Katsuki and Izuku bolted from the arena after the closing remarks had been given, forgoing changing their clothes in favor of hunting down Aizawa and All Might who had been babysitting Katsumi in the stadium seating. They found them just outside the front doors, holding Katsumi up between them as she bounced on her unsteady little legs to music someone was playing nearby. She saw them as soon as they saw her, and she screamed excitedly.

"Hi, baby, we're back," Izuku said, scooping her up against his chest and smothering her in kisses.

"How was the exam?" All Might asked, smiling at the sight.

"Fine. Shit was easy," Katsuki said, pulling off his glove to run his hand over Katsumi's hair. His hand was still sweaty, but sweat was better than the oil and blood he was still covered in. "We tied for first. Icy-hot didn't even come close."

Izuku pulled back to look at their teachers, but Katsumi had a hold of his bottom lip, so his voice was distorted when he said, "Come on, Todoroki did really well. Everyone did. No one failed, even in 3-B. We all passed with flying colors."

"Flying colors might be giving some of those idiots too much credit," Katsuki grumbled, carefully detaching Katsumi from Izuku's lip. He kissed her fingertips, and she tried to make a grab for his lip instead. "No, I don't think so, monster. I've got a cut on the inside of my lip and I don't need you sticking your finger in it."

"You two should go change," All Might suggested, but didn't move to take Katsumi back.

"Then find Recovery Girl and get something to eat. You still have the licensing exams tomorrow," Aizawa said, always pragmatic. Students were beginning to pour from the building, loud and boisterous with their victories. "We can hold onto her until your changed."

"'Kay," Izuku sighed, but neither moved. Once they got their hands back on their baby, it was always difficult to give her up again. "We'll just wait until everyone is out of the doorway. That way we don't have to force our way through them."

All Might laughed. "You're not fooling anyone, Young Midoriya."

"I know," he replied with a grin.

Katsuki, Izuku and their teachers watched the never ending stream of students. They hadn't been the only ones taking exams in the stadium, they'd just been the only ones in the open arena area.

They whispered as they passed, eyes glued to Izuku and Katsuki who were all but used to the attention by now. People usually didn't stare so hard though, and Katsuki's temper was beginning to rise with each whispered comment and pair of eyes blatantly staring at them.

"If one more mother fucker-" Katsuki started, but of course, there was someone else worse than all the other bystanders.

"Uh, Monoma, I wouldn't-"

Monoma cut Izuku off with a loud raucous laugh that startled Katsumi enough that she scowled. "Look at that cutie. So adorable for coming from the two of you. Guess you really are just a bitch in heat like I always thought. How hilarious! The top two students can't even keep it in their pants through high school! Teenage parents, what a disgrace!" He was laughing wildly as he pointed at them.

Everyone within hearing distance went stalk still as shock rippled through the crowd, and if Monoma hadn't been so close to them where Katsumi could get caught in the blast, Katsuki would have blown the whole area straight into the sky.

"Hey, man, not fucking cool," Kirishima snarled, more vicious than he ever was, latching onto the back of Monoma's neck.

Before he could pull the idiot away, Katsumi lunged out of Izuku's arms and bit down into Monoma's hand right in the meat below his thumb. "Katsumi!" Izuku cried, pulling her away as quickly as she had shot forward. A string of bloody saliva was connected to her mouth, but she just laughed. "Oh my god, where's the blood from?"

Monoma screamed, staring down at his hand as blood welled from four puncture marks. A bruise had already begun to bloom where her gums had chomped down.

"You're going to be a hero, shut up. That was totally unmanly," Kirishima growled, swinging Monoma towards the classes by the back of his neck, "Kendo! You out here! Can you come get this idiot?"

"Yeah! I'm over here!" Kendo called from the front of the students, waving her hand above her head.

"I'll take him over. Let's have a talk. Stop screaming," Aizawa grumbled, replacing Kirishima's hand and steering Monoma in her direction. To the rest of the students, he called, "Clear out! The show's over." Immediately, the crowd started to move again.

Kirishima crowded in beside Katsuki as Izuku set Katsumi down in her carrier. "Is she okay?" he asked.

Frantically, Izuku ripped off his gloves and pressed his thumbs to her lips. "Let Papa see you mouth baby. I've got to check to make sure you didn't hurt yourself." Katsumi opened her mouth, chomping down on his thumbs as he did his best to look in.

"Izuku! You're hands are dirty!" Katsuki snapped.

"I didn't think she was going to bite my thumbs!" Izuku shot back, but didn't move as he inspected her gums, "Look though, Kacchan."

"What?" Panic slid home in his chest, and he shoved up right against Izuku's shoulder to look into her mouth. Four sharp little points poked out of broken skin, two in her top gums and two in her bottom. "T-teeth. C-canines," Katsuki stuttered, unable to tear his eyes away, and then a groan slipped from his mouth, "Fuck me, this is going to make breast feeding so much worse."

Izuku laughed, pulling his thumbs out of her mouth, and her face scrunched up as she reached for his hands again. "Maybe, but wasn't it worth it to see her bite Monoma?"

Katsuki ran a hand down his face. "We'll find out in a few hours."

.....

The countdown to graduation was a flurry and blur of days after that. As Izuku had said, licensing exams were far easier than the practicals, and not a day later, they were all certified heroes.

Full boxes littered the dorm halls, and Aizawa had to break up more than one rowdy party in those few days.

The day of graduation left their dorm empty and silent as they filed out to make their way to the school.

Katsuki's arms felt uncomfortably empty. All Might had taken Katsumi to leave her with Mitsuki, Masaru and Inko somewhere in the crowd, but still, he was anxious without her. Beside him, Izuku threaded their fingers together, smiling.

Once the ceremony was done, and they'd followed the tide of students out the front gate, they stood off to the side while they waited for their parents to find them.

"It's kind of bittersweet and sad, you know," Izuku asked, staring longingly up at the gate, "We've spent three amazing years here, grown so much, and now its over. It's kind of scary."

Katsuki shrugged, looking over their classmates instead as they screamed and cried and jumped all over each other. "Maybe, but there's a whole lot better shit to look forward to. No more classes, no more training, just being the No.1 hero. Nothing can stop us now."

A grin slit Izuku's face. "Yeah, you're right." Izuku leaned in for a kiss, but sobbing bodies crashed into them both, and the moment was pushed for another time as they turned into the arms of their friends.

[lildowdow123]

MLQC Guys being jealous (slight NSFW for Vic and Lu)

Hey everyone, I'm glad that people like my last piece so I decides to make another one. Hopefully you guys like it too. There may he some spoilers. If so I'll put it in ** so you can just be a Goldman and avert your eyes. Btw, in these, you're dating the s/o in question just to clear up any confusion

Also, feel free to drop me a message to ask me to do a particular scene. If I can, I'll do it

Exel own the bois

Lets get to it

Victor slight NSFW

Normally, its us who has our green eyed monster rear its head. Contenders for our medusa stares are socialites wanting to get a piece of Loveland's most eligible batchelor (like Chik) , the new pretty interns who spends a little too long with Victor

It is a rare event when the tables are turned and it is Victor questioning himself on weather he has it in him keep you with him. But rare isn't a never

At events like the LFG charity ball or an Investors evening, any occasion where MC dresses up and gets a little fancy, the CEO's blood pressure begins to rise when he sees how much male attention you get. Not in a creepy possessive way. More a jealous way.

You're chatting with another business owner, just making polite conversation with the man. Of course you get compliments on your outfit or maybe your hair. You're god damn gorgeous

The conversation gets more and more friendly. Small lines are dropped here and there like "Wow that colour really goes well with your eyes" or "It suits your figure" until soon enough he is asking you back to his place after this

You're a little taken aback by the offer at first. "Oh I'm really sorry.." you try to start. A shadow looms over you. The charming sexy devil in his suit has arrived

An arm finds his way around your silk covered waist, pulling you to him. He won't say anything unpleasant or nasty, the boi has decorum but he will make sure this man knows you're his

"Who's this MC?" Victor asks, his cold stare not moving away from the other man. He will hold his free hand out for him to shake while he introduces himself, not giving a damn about the mans name. He wont be around you two for much longer

"Victor Li. I'm with MC" and with that, the poor other man knows you're not available

His chit chat is far less flirtatious now that LFG's bossy bitch is standing with you anchored to him

After the event, when you two are driving back, feel free to give him a small rant on how the other man was just being friendly and that he shouldn't have scared him shitless. He may not take it seriously and argue that he was flirting with you and that he will not let someone else lure away his woman

A long night of jealousy/make up sex will follow as soon as you get back to his place. He will dirty talk you sometimes if you make him jealous. Things like "do you like my cock? Only I can make you feel this way" He'll take you all night and make sure that you have forgotten all about the other man

Kiro

Tbh, I find it really hard to imagine Kiro getting really jealous. He is always so bright and cheerful that it would be hard to see his green eyed monster. So forgive me if this is a little wishy washy

You and the backstage team are preparing for an episode of your show which Kiro will guest star in. He is getting prepped to be in front of the cameras when he sees you talking to one of his crew. It's pretty normal stuff. Communication between your team and his team is key to make this run smoothly so he doesn't pay that much mind. He just watches Miss Chips pull the concentrated face you make (also, it's been pointed out to me by another Tumblr writer that MC is an acronym for Miss Chips) because it's cute to see you get passionate about your work

That is something they all really appreciate about you

His attention is turned away from you and back to his makeup artist who is nearly done and just needs him to close his eyes for some setting spray but when he opens them again, the stagehand is much closer and leaning in for a kiss.

Miss Chips is leaning back away because she is already in a relationship with Kiro but the boy just keeps closing in.

Not on his watch *SPOILER: He has to stop himself from having a full on Helios moment with the guy*

"Hey, Miss Chips. I'm ready do you need me anywhere?" You hear the chipper voice of your star and boyfriend call out as he walks up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead. Stage boy backs up a little, seeing Kiro place his metaphorical stake on you.

He won't scream or shout or threaten violence on the boy. No, his way of expressing this jealousy is much more passive aggressive way. His smile will still be bright and his voice as happy as ever but after MC explains that she was just telling the guy that she needs the lights checked or something, he adds "so please do that now" in the most delightful tone he could muster

He might as well have said fuck off to the guy

He wont wait until they have privacy, he will make out with his MC as the backstage crew busy themselves around they, pinning the rest of you to the wall *SPOILERS kind of like that Kiro Kiss date* May earn some raised eyebrows from Kiki and Willow and a huff from the make up artist as his lip balm gets all over you.

Gavin

*SPOILERS I MIGHT AS WELL JUST PUT IT HERE BECAUSE THIS ONE IS KIND OF ONE BIG SPOILER THROUGHOUT ALSO, THIS ONE WILL NEED A FEW SMALL THINGS LIKE PEOPLE FORGETTING YOU EXIST THINGS TO NOT HAPPEN. OK?*

One word is needed to explain how BirdCop will get jealous on this. That word is Shaw

The guy is the embodiment of sexual energy, probably most teenage girls fantasy. Sk8ter boi with a nonchalant outlook on rules and authority with enough big dick energy to power New York. Now, MC isn't a teen anymore but it doesn't mean that you're not immune to his flirtatious charms

He was reluctant to let you meet his brother. In fact, for a long period of time he was completely opposed to it. Then, you two ran into eachother on the bus. Ooops

Ever since, whenever you two interact, Gavin feels the need to be around in some way. Weather it be with her, tuning into the Wind FM to feel that is happening or flying around wherever they are. It could be thought of as stalkerish but it comes from a good place..I think

Irrational things would be flying around his head. I mean, it's his brother. Jesus! "He's not even that much taller than me! And younger than me! How could he even attract her?"

Shaw being Shaw is sure to make some kind of comment that is bound to set Gavin off. It probably would turn into a fight. Like, not even a civilised wrestling round, like a proper bitch fight brawl. He'd tackle his brother's ass to the ground and start punching, maybe hair pulling so he can keep punching. Shaw would be putting up one hell of a fight just to bruise Gavin. Poor MC has to try and break up this shit

Later, once the fight has stopped and MC has managed to get Gavin away, she has to ice him down and try to patch up some of the scrapes that he had gotten.

Mother duck MC comes out in spectacular fashion to scold him, telling him not to do that again. Gavin will probably explain why he felt jealous of his brother but will do so with the biggest blush ever. Poor thing is a bit insecure about you and his brother but you'll find a way to try and ease it for him

Lucien slight NSFW

The man has a cool calm demeanor and a confidence that seems unshakable. Damn he looks hot while giving his lectures at Loveland Uni

Being the hot as hell POA that you are, you turn the heads of some of the university boys there. I mean, really. What's there not to love about you. You're fucking cute

He may not show his jealousy but it is there, building like a shaken coke bottle. Watching a guy sneak small whispers to you during his lecture? Not going to go unpunished.

Has the manners not to call you two out in front of the entire class but after his lecture ends, you best believe that this man is going to make the two of you stay behind.

Once all the other students have filed out of the lecture hall, he will begin. In his low, unwavering voice he will say to both of you (but mainly the guy since he did most of the talking) "I don't appreciate being talked over in my own lecture hall. If you don't have the courtesy to let other students learn, then I urge you to leave." He says, all serious. The small smile he usually gives you will not be there. It's more than just a light scolding.

Once he dismisses the other student, who leaves a little scared of how the professor talked to him, he will give you your scolding by going to the seat behind a desk and patting his knee. He takes off his glasses and gives you one of those piercing stares that let you know that he is deadly serious

Even if you protest that he was the one who started talking to you, he will not even say a word. His eyes will never leave you as you try convince him. This man is a bad jealous (not bad bad but pretty bad at handling it)

After you finally bend over his knee, he will pull down your trousers or skirt and tug down your panties, letting them pool at your bent knees. "You know that I don't like to share you MC" he will say in his deep voice

You'd best believe that he is making you count each one and thank the professor. You can feel his fingers occasionally dip down to tease you a little before returning to your now pink ass

20 spanks and a whole round of orgasm denial later, he will send you on your way but tells you to come over to his place later where you will continue...

I hope you enjoyed that. I am sorry if Lucien was a little short. I'll try to do better next time. If you have any scenes you want in particular, feel free to leave me a message and I'll do my best to complete it

Thank you

[black-out-wonder]

Never Judge A Book: A Sanders Sides High School AU // Chapter 3

Here’s the next one! I will be the alternating point of views depending on the chapter, but I will make it very clear whose point of view it’s supposed to be! I hope you enjoy this one, I had a great time writing this one!

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, Intrulogical

Warnings: Lots of flirting, sex jokes, sex mentions, Remus being himself lol, let me know if there are any others I missed!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // You are here // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5

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

Remus snickered at Roman hung up on him, “Aw, he’s too sensitive for his own good.”

Logan’s eyes darted from the book in his hands to him, “You shouldn’t tease him so much. He takes everything you say seriously.”

In retaliation, he leaned across the table, lowering his boyfriend’s book with his finger. As a result, their faces were centimeters apart. Logan was used to this, so he kept his deadpan expression. “And you don’t?” Remus purred, grabbing his tie. “I seem to remember a particular time-”

That finally broke the stoic boy, making the blood rush to his cheeks, “Ah, nope, don’t say it, forget I said anything.”

“Remus Prince!” The librarian snapped, appearing from behind her desk. “How many times have I told you to maintain decorum when you’re in here?”

“Many more times than I care to remember,” he retorted, releasing his grip on Logan once he saw her face grow darker. “But I suppose I can remember this time.”

The librarian rolled her eyes, mumbling something along the lines of, “You’ve said that before…” and “If only this wasn’t a high school…”

Clearing his throat, Logan adjusted his powder-blue tie, “Do you have to cause chaos everywhere we go?”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Remus teased. 

With nothing to retort, he looked back down at his book, beginning where he left off. Instantly growing bored, he started picking at his black nail polish, knowing he was going to reapply tonight anyway. At a certain point, he started flicking the pieces in Logan’s direction, aiming for his book. After a few moments of this, the other boy sighed, slamming the book shut, “Alright, let’s go. You’re very clearly not enjoying yourself.”

Remus held his hand over his heart in fake hurt, “Oh, how you wound me so! Of course, I was enjoying myself! I love just sitting here and flicking nail polish at my boyfriend-”

Logan shot out of his seat, “Let’s just go.”

He squealed, following after his boyfriend with a wide grin. He knew he would be able to get them out of here. The librarian didn’t care what you did for study hall as long as you were quiet, and that included leaving as long as you signed in at the beginning. “So Roman has an infatuation with Virgil Clark you say?” Logan questioned, a thoughtful look on his face.

Remus grinned, rubbing his hands together, “Oh, he totally does. I just have to get him to admit it. He’ll probably have sex with him before he tells me anything!”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” he said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Roman may be irrational at times, but I’m sure he would not do something like that. He would probably admit it first.”

“He really won’t,” the punk sang. “He’s my twin, I know what he would do.”

Logan scoffed, “But I know human psychology and logic, so logically, he would come to you first.”

“Roman is outside the world of logic, we both know this.”

“Not to that extent.”

“How do you know, huh?”

“I wear a necktie, remember?”

Remus smirked, “Oh, why of course I do. How could I forget?”

Logan pinched his nose, “You are incorrigible at times.”

Remus shrugged, “And yet you’re still here.”

The other boy refused to reply after that, leaving Remus to his thoughts one more. People said that he needed to have more of a filter, but where is the fun in that? In fact, it was beneficial to be open to his thoughts. That was how he was able to snag Logan, he thought as he glanced over at the said boy.

To be quite honest, he didn’t expect this to actually happen. It had been six months and they were still together, much to the shock of Remus. The only people who stuck with him this long were his family because quite frankly, not everyone enjoyed his brand of humor. When he first asked out Logan, he expected it to be a screw and that was it. Yet, both of them grew attached to each other, no matter how much they may disagree on topics. And who would’ve expected this pair?

A grey-haired punk and a dark-haired, pastel, band nerd. Most people would’ve thought that his boyfriend was innocent before they got together, but that was not the case. The pastel wearing boy had a sharp tongue and an even sharper temper, and that translated into a lot of things. 

As the pair walked past a classroom, Remus noticed his brother out of the corner of his eye. He may have severe intrusive thoughts, but he was typically hyper-aware of his surroundings, which meant he could find Roman whenever he wanted to. And what he saw made him double over in laughter. Logan stared down at him, worried that he had officially lost his mind. “Do you mind sharing what has made you, um…” he grabbed a stack of vocabulary cards from his pocket. “Uh, “go fucking bonkers”? Is that right?”

He tried to calm down, he really did. But hearing his typically stoic boyfriend say “go fucking bonkers” was so dan funny to him in ways he couldn’t describe. He was sure that the people in the class could hear him at this point. “L-Look in the cl-class,” he managed to say.

With a raised eyebrow, he did as he asked, peering into the window of the door. He sighed when he saw what made Remus laugh. It was his Roman with Virgil Clark pressed against his side. He could clearly see that his boyfriend’s brother wanted to stare at the boy but refused to out of either pride or shame, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that his cheeks were pink and he kept glancing at the boy. Logan pulled away from the door, a smirk plastered onto his typically stoic expression. “My brother’s getting laid!” Remus exclaimed, clapping excitedly.

“I believe you may be correct this time.”

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

Taglist: 

@bookwyrminspiration @fandoms-winkitywonk @soul-of-a-vixen @thgjclw @jessicakennedy957 @common-placee @infinitywarkilledmysoul @virgilsinferno @out-of-context-epiphany

[melodyalanaroster]

Days: Alana’s Side

The day Nathaniel left was hard for Alana. She knew he would be safe and that the Paladins would take care of things... But she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to stay with her. She had gone to the War Room to begin watching over the Purification when JARVIS messaged her. “Lady Melody, you have a visitor.” it said. She took no time in getting to Death’s Domain to see Severina standing before her. “MELS!” Severina cheered as she hugged her. “Rini! I’m guessing Sam called you.” Alana sighed. “Yeah, but only because YOU’RE too stubborn to do it yourself. So, I’m staying with you until this is over!” Severina replied. Alana smiled. “Thank’s Sam.” she thought. 

★

The following day was a busy one. She had to meet with Officer Eric and notify him of Nathaniel’s involvement with the R.D.R. It didn’t take long for him to get the gist of what had been going on. He attempted to interrogate her, but she shot him down at every turn. “I am not one of your criminals, officer. If you value your way of life, you’d do your best to keep that in mind when speaking to me.” she stated. Of course, he apologized, but it was too late. She stood up, and looked at him with conviction. “I’m gonna make this as simple as possible. All you need to know about Nathaniel Jacott and his Cartel Case is that he is under MY protection, and the Cartel is being eliminated. ANYONE who gets in my way will suffer and die.” Her voice was solemn, and the right lens of her glasses activated, turning black with the blue pupil. As she left the Police Station, Severina waited for her in the lobby. “Come on Rini.” Alana growled. Severina raised an eyebrow. “That must have gone well.” She sighed, sarcastically as she began following her friend. Alana sighed as she walked in the direction of the Black Tower. “The sooner I get out of this fucking armor and into something I can be lazy in, the better.”

★

The following school day, Alana desperately wanted to skip class, but Severina had other plans. “Melody Alana Roster, you are not skipping class! I won’t allow it!” Severina demanded. “But Rini! I, literally, don’t have to go to any of my classes.... I can just finish out if I so choose...” Alana whined. “No! You’re so close to actively finishing! You’re GOING to class today!” Severina commanded. “FINE!” Alana huffed.

When they got to the Art Building, Severina kept gasping in awe at the beauty of the facility. “Hey Alana!” a voice called from the auditorium door. “Chani! You’re here early.” Alana remarked. “I could say the same thing about you.” Chani smiled. Alana made quick work of introducing Severina to Chani. “It’s so nice to meet Mels’ newest friend!” Severina beamed. “Alana has said nothing but good things about you, and I can see she was right.” Chani commented. “Alright guys, we’re here early because I’ve gotta tell Zaidi about Rini’s presence in his classes while she’s here. I’m sure Melody is in there with him, so we’ll have to deal with that...” Alana sighed. “I don’t know what’s up between you and Melody, but seriously... Is it that bad?” Chani inquired. Severina looked at Alana. “Just to make sure, this is that same Melody that you and Sam knew in High School, right?” Severina asked. “YUP.” Alana replied. “I know what’s up. Heck, Sam is still proud of what happened.” Severina sighed as they began walking into the auditorium.

“I’ll save our seats.” Chani said as she found a set of three seats and sat down. Severina and Alana walked to the front of the auditorium and stood near Rayan and Melody. “Just as I thought, the little parasite is glued to his side.” Alana thought. “Well, well, well... It’s not every day you appear early to class.” Melody smirked. Alana turned to Rayan. “Good morning, Zaidi. This is my best friend, Severina Mekina. During her time in town, she will be joining me in class.” Alana greeted and introduced. Rayan turned to Severina. “It’s a pleasure to meet you miss Mekina.” He smiled. “The pleasure is mine.” Severina blushed. “Rini, we both know that Melody’s reputation precedes her.” Alana snickered. Severina turned to Melody. “Yes it does. Both Mels and Sam have told me quite a bit about you. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.” Severina did her best to hide her amusement as she went to shake Melody’s hand. “Hopefully all good.” Melody clenched her teeth. “Well, that depends on your definition of good.” Severina winked.

★

It didn’t take long for a day to come where Castiel and Priya got a hold of Alana. “Can we talk?” Castiel asked as he grabbed Alana’s arm. Severina gasped and stepped back. “It’s okay, Rini. I was expecting this.” Alana announced as she looked at Severina. She turned to Castiel and Priya. “Let’s go somewhere private. It would serve no one well if we did this in the park.” She stated.

As the door to Castiel’s apartment closed behind them, Alana immediately sat down on the couch. “I know full well what this is about.” She stated. “Tell us everything.” Priya requested as she and Castiel stood before her. “Mels, are you sure you want them to know?” Severina asked as she sat down next to Alana. “Amber and Nathaniel have gone “missing”, there are rumors floating around that R.D.R members are killing drug dealers, you have come into town and refuse to leave my side, and I am not the least bit worried. Anyone with any remote form of intuition would be able to tell that something is up. I’m just surprised that they didn’t come to me sooner.” Alana acknowledged. She turned to Priya and Castiel. “Firstly, why didn’t you come to me about this the other day when I first introduced you two to Severina?” She asked. Castiel and Priya turned to each other and remained speechless. “Well then.... Now, let’s get to business.” She began. Castiel and Priya remained quiet as she explained what had transpired over the past week. “THAT IDIOT!” Castiel hissed. “So, now, you’re cleaning up his mess.” Priya stated. “You could say that.” Alana replied. “But, why?” Priya asked. “My one true goal in this world is to live happily and freely with Nathaniel. I brought shame and pain to Azrael when she got in my way... Do you think I’m above doing that to anyone else who presents themselves to be an obstacle?” Alana looked at Priya very seriously, the right lens of her glasses becoming dark. “But Alana, their blood is on your hands...” Priya began. “No, it’s not. The Red Death was waiting on my word to authorize a process that we were already planning on performing. The point of that was to get Nathaniel out of the line of fire. I did. So now the process has begun.” Alana clarified. “But, you’re not directly involved.” Castiel pondered. “The Paladins are extremely loyal to me, and most of the Cartel haven’t realized that Nathaniel’s Girlfriend happens to be the Grim Reaper.... So, a certain part of my role in this is to draw them out. As of today, at least three members of the Cartel have tried to assassinate me... However, the Paladins black bagged them before they could get to me. I will be directly involved when the Kingpin’s time to die comes.” Alana leaned back and let her lens clear as she spoke. Severina looked at Alana, shocked. “Wait, when were these assassination attempts?” She asked. “Whenever we went down those alleyways the past few days. I did that on purpose. I knew they’d come after me and that I could protect you... So, I didn’t tell you. It was a part of the strategy that Derek, the Paladins, and I came up with that day I had to go into the War Room. The Red Death expressed concern that if I had told you from the beginning, you would have given the plan away... So, I was ordered not to tell you.” Alana conceded. “Oh...” Severina looked down. Alana put her hand on Severina’s shoulder. “Look, we all know I hate keeping things from you and Viktor... But when the Red Death orders me to do something, I will do it. He’s earned my loyalty.” She sighed. “Then, why are you telling me, now?” Severina asked. “I have a strong feeling that Purification will be over soon... If not within the next week or two... So, I don’t feel bad for breaking protocol this time.” Alana replied. “What do you mean you “will be directly involved when the Kingpin’s time do die comes”?” Priya asked. Alana raised an eyebrow. “It is my job as the Judge to present the Kingpin with the knowledge of their crimes... The Paladins, Executioners and Crown Jewels to pay witness to as the Jury.... And Derek to act as the Executioner and end their life. No matter the criminal organization, we have a certain amount of decorum when it comes to ending a Kingpin. It’s like Death himself showing up to reap wizards in Discworld, rather than sending one of his minions. It’s one of the many things that has earned us respect within the realms of the underworld.”

After more explanations, Alana and Severina left Castiel’s apartment. “Do you think they’ve lost respect for you after that?” Severina asked. “They might have... But Castiel and Priya have no reason to completely shut me out after this. Castiel has known for about a year what lengths I’m willing to go to to obtain my ultimate goal. Priya understands that, while I may keep things from her, I will never lie to those I keep closest to me. She is well aware of the fact that she and Castiel fall into my inner circle. While she doesn’t like my actions, she will respect my decisions, simply because she knows what I’ve become, and understands that I have had to perform much more difficult acts.” Alana explained as they began walking. “So, what do you want to do now?” Severina asked. “I’d really like to play some Kingdom Hearts Three...” Alana sighed as they began walking back to the tower.

★ 

One day arrived that became quite peculiar. “Hey, Mels?” “Yes, Rini?” “We need to go to the Business District. Apparently my father wants to have a meeting with Viktor, his father and me.” “Am I invited to this soiree? I know how your father feels about me.” “Yes, Mels. I want you there.” Severina’s eyes looked desperate. “Alright.” Alana sighed.

“Would you like a drink, Melody?” Achille Mekina asked as he and Alana stood alone in the meeting room of one of the city’s lesser skyscrapers. Alana looked over Achille’s shoulder and noticed something odd. “No thanks. I’m not thirsty.” She replied as Achille made drinks for the other members of their party. Alana could tell which drinks were meant for Viktor and his father, took a vial out of her pocket and made quick work of pouring its contents into one of the drinks. “Crap, I don’t have enough for all of them.” She thought as the door opened and Severina, Viktor and his father entered the room. “Sorry to leave you two alone like that, Viktor and I had something to discuss before we could all meet.” Severina announced. Edgard Chevalier looked at Alana, his eyes filling with remorse. Alana gave Edgard a dark look that said “Whatever you want to say, I don’t wish to hear it.”. “It’s fine. It was simply quiet.” Alana did her best to fake a smile. Achille began handing everyone drinks. “I’m glad to see us all in the same room again. It’s been tough here with Edgard in the hospital and Viktor traveling.” He smiled. “Melody, did you get my messages?” Viktor quietly asked Alana as he stood next to her. “Yes. I’m aware of the situation. Don’t worry, it will be resolved today. I promise.” Alana quickly whispered.

“A toast! To Edgard’s restored health!” Achille smiled as everyone raised their glasses. Alana drew a flask from her jacket and raised it. Achille began watching Edgard and Viktor, sharply as they began to drink. “Oh, dear!” Alana slightly yelped as she tripped and fell into Viktor, causing his drink to spill. “Melody!” Viktor cried as he caught her. “Mels! Are you alright?” Severina asked, concerned. “Yes, I’m fine. My legs tried to give out on me. I’m still not sleeping well these days.” Alana explained as she looked at Viktor and Severina weakly. Achille looked at Alana, one of his eyebrows raised. “Perhaps you should have stayed home and rested today.” He suggested. Alana put her hand on the table for support and looked at Achille. “Don’t be daft, Viktor and Severina want me here, so I am.” She stated.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. “Achille Mekina, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Edgard and Viktor Chevalier, fraud, money laundering, and tax evasion!” The head officer accused. Following the officers came Severina’s mother. “Verity! What’s all this?!” Achille demanded. “There’s an entire file of your transgressions! Not to mention the disgraceful amount of security footage of you poisoning Viktor and Edgard!” Verity Mekina proclaimed. “This is preposterous! How could you obtain any of that?!” Achille questioned. Alana began to laugh. “I guess you shouldn’t have left your computer in such a vulnerable position.” She sneered. Achille looked at her, rage and shock flooding his face. “This is no surprise considering Viktor’s and Edgard’s ailments have only shown up in recent years! Hell, you were the one who convinced Edgard to not pay Viktor’s ransom!” Verity exclaimed. Severina looked at her father. “YOU DID WHAT?!” She yelled. “Granted, it worked out in the end... All things considered.” Alana remarked. “That’s when my father became desperate. He knew something was wrong. He knew he needed Melody’s help... But when he went to you for advice, you’re the one who influenced him to slander the Roster family!” Viktor scolded. Alana looked at Edgard, annoyed. “That still doesn’t excuse him for everything he did.” She stated. “I honestly wish you were having an affair, that wouldn’t be as embarrassing as this! But, on the bright side, I get to divorce you anyway.” Verity retorted. “You’ll be left penniless! You need me! You and Severina do!” Achille seethed. “Excuse me? You really think I’ll be penniless? I suppose that’s the greatest thing about you committing your crimes... You’ve ignored me for the most part and I’ve managed to get myself in a position where, not only will Severina and I be taken care of, but I got myself a lawyer who is only too happy to financially bitch slap you back to the stone age. Your name will be dragged through the mud, your title and fortune stripped from you, and Severina and I will be revered as the women who managed to survive you. You attempted to keep us in servitude when Cosima died and you separated us from our other friends... But that didn’t stop us! We have our careers, our friends, and now, we’ll have our freedom!” Verity’s voice tried to waver, but she did her best to keep it steady. The police officers grabbed Achille and put his hands behind his back. He did his best to fight back before his eyes fell on Alana. “It’s best if you don’t. I’ve authorized them to use maximum force and prejudice if you do.” She smirked. Achille’s eyes widened as shock flooded him even more. “I should have ended your family when I had the chance!” He yelled. “You’re going away for a long time.” The arresting officer announced as he cuffed Achille and took him away.

Edgard looked at the remaining people in the room. “I’m gonna take my leave. Now that that’s all sorted, I think it’s time I actually begin repenting for all that I’ve done. Starting with providing Melody and her family with the distance they require.” He sighed as he walked out. Verity turned to Alana. “Thank you Melody. We couldn’t have done this without you.” She smiled. “No problem. I’m just glad you didn’t request this to be a R.D.R issue...” Alana sighed. “I would never do that. Achille and Edgard may want your organization’s favor, but I side with your family on that matter.” Verity’s face became a bit serious. Alana looked down. “Azrael shattered you so that she could build you back up to fit her design. If it weren’t for the Red Death, you’d be a shell of what you once were.” Viktor stated. “The family still wants to exact their wrath upon Azrael for what she’s done... But, these days, she’s been attempting to distance herself from me as best she can.” Alana sighed. “She’s not allowed to do that... Isn’t she?” Severina inquired. “Ever since that incident where I fainted, fell from a telephone pole, and Nathaniel pulled a switchblade on her to protect me... She’s left me to answer to the Red Death. I’m still a crown jewel, but she’s finally got the hint that her meddling isn’t necessary or desired.” Alana explained. Verity looked at Alana and sighed. “Come on kids. Let’s get out of here.”

★

Days continued to pass. Viktor left the city with his father to aid Verity in ensuring that Achille got what he deserved. Severina maintained her position at Alana’s side, and Alana continued to watch the War Room. It had become mundane. Each day, she posted to social media to ensure that Nathaniel would know that she was okay, without talking to him directly. It was obvious to everyone that she wanted to be with him... That her desire for everything to be over and done with had begun to reach a critical mass. She did her best to hide it, but as the days went on, she began to check the War Room more. “She’s tired of waiting.” Severina commented. “I know, but we’re still rooting out the Cartel.” Derek sighed. “When will you be ready to end the Kingpin?” Severina asked. “From the looks of it, soon. Maybe within the next week, if we’re lucky.” Derek replied. Severina sighed. “I truly hope you are lucky. Because, I don’t know how much longer Mels can wait.”

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

This is a bit of what Alana does during her separation from Nathaniel during “Purification”.

This actually covers several things I’ve wanted to cover in separate blurbs... But, it felt best to put them all in one....

As the manga never states Viktor’s and Severina’s mothers’ names, I went ahead and named them myself... Viktor’s mother’s name being Cosima Chevalier and Severina’s mother’s name being Verity Mekina.

Credit for Nathaniel’s jacket goes to @rowenna-887

Credit for Severina’s base, top and skirt goes to FNAFfanart67 on DeviantArt

[ask-joyce-byers]

“Choose me.”

Fall of 1959 brought a lot of bad news, bad weather, and bad hair on the part of a certain seventeen-year-old Joyce, but something good was the dance that Hawkins High held at the end of the fall-winter semester, widely recognized to be the last hurrah that many of the seniors were going to have before the final months of testing to graduate, and for the boys, evading the draft. Everyone lobbied for the band to learn their favorite hits for the dance, and Joyce privately swore that if it wasn’t mostly the Everly Brothers and actual good music, she’d walk out then and there. 

The band kids fancied themselves original, cutting-edge, and the only problem with that was all their own perceptions of cutting-edge was just imitating other group’s soul-rending ballads with a few new chord progressions and substituted lyrics. Copyrights weren’t an issue to a high school in rural Indiana, but at least Joyce wished they could just cover real music. Instead of fancying themselves artists and badly hashing together something that had already been done before, only worse.

It was fact that no one paid a wit of attention to Mr. Cooper’s lecture in the last period of the day, minds instead on the complicated time-table each student had worked for themselves of how much time they had to get home, get dolled up, and return that night to astonish their classmates with their dancing prowess or really thrill their crush with how well they looked in a new suit. By the time the bell rang, the class was nearly to the door already, and Joyce alone was left behind in the tumble of bodies, gathering her books with a quiet resolve, and turning to go. In her haste, she nearly collided with the tall figure of Chrissy Carpenter, leggy and blonde, with eyelashes like Bambi and lips like Joanne Woodward, full and voluptuous.

“Hi Joyce,” Chrissy began, and Joyce fought an inner sigh. Her voice was, as ever, a shocking contrast to the tone she used when talking to boys. About an octave different and no less than a full lung’s worth of air in each word. “I was wondering if you’d finished your essay for the composition final yet?”

“Yyesss, I have,” Joyce began, slow, eyes wary. “Why?”

“I wondered if you could look over mine for me. Check for errors, and I could do the same for yours.”

“Mine’s fine, thanks,” Joyce replied, a little too quick for decorum, but firm in her understanding of where this was going. Chrissy Carpenter was no academic, and she just wanted to get some ideas of how to overhaul hers from the only girl in their class who consistently got 99%. “I’ll look yours over, but I don’t wanna show mine to anyone until after they’ve all been handed back.”

“Joyce, please,” Chrissy began, switching to the more airy tone, and Joyce wondered mildly if she were being given the same wheedling treatment that undoubtedly worked on boys, and fought a smile at that thought. “I’m gonna fail this class if I don’t get some help, and I just can’t do a whole year over. I have plans and everything -”

“You’re failing?” Too late, Joyce hushed her tone, and looked about the empty classroom. Even Mr. Cooper had left, but Chrissy’s color rose nevertheless.

“I kept forgetting to turn in assignments. That debate club is really taking all my attention.

Debate club my ass. It was common knowledge that several of the couples in debate club were only couples because parents were under the impression it was a weekly club meeting, when it was, in fact, only called to meet when there was some kind of regional competition. Jim Hopper, for one, had used that cover the entire year to move through the ranks of high school beauties with an entire free period, ending with Chrissy Carpenter, who not only had lasted the longest, but seemed the most willing to actually, well, come to debate sometimes. Whether or not Estee Lauder and Elizabeth Arden were topics relevant to the debate team would remain to be seen.

“I’m really sorry, Chrissy,” Joyce managed at last, doing her best to sound sincere. “Maybe you should have told someone earlier. I’m not sure it’s even mathematically possible to save your grade with only one assignment.”

The blank look in Chrissy’s blue Bambi eyes was enough to bring Joyce’s own eyes falling shut.

“Chrissy, what’s your grade now?”

“A thirty-two,” Chrissy whispered, and Joyce’s eyes flew open. Was it even possible to have that low of a grade? That would mean – what, coming to class alone and not turning in a single assignment? Or turning in one, maybe two and having them completely flunked?

“This final is only worth twenty percent of our final marks. Even if you got a 99, you’re not passing.”

“What if I got a one hundred?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Chrissy blathered, “what if you helped me get a one hundred?”

“Then you’d add twenty to your thirty and that’s still not passing,” Joyce replied gently, permitting herself a kindly eyeroll. “And besides, nobody gets hundreds. Only god is perfect.”

“I’m so fucked,” Chrissy breathed, and Joyce met her gaze with steady resignation.

“Yeah. Sounds like it. Maybe you could talk to Mr. Cooper, get him to give you extra assignments or something to pass. Or – you know, maybe they don’t care about your grades in Hollywood. That is where you wanna go, right?”

Chrissy gave her a scathing once-over. “No. I want to model.”

“Isn’t that in Hollywood?”

“Hollywood is movies, Joyce. Modeling is NYC.”

“Ah.” She nodded, rebuked. “My mistake. Well, maybe it won’t make a difference.”

Her fuse lit, Chrissy seemed to have little further interest in parleying. Her final offer was so desperate that it even took Joyce by surprise.

“If you save this grade for me, I’ll let you dance with Jim tonight.”

Jim Hopper. The tower of charm, the king of bullshitting, the one that all the girls alternatively swooned over and cursed out, who had good enough grades that the teachers couldn’t hate him, but bad enough behaviour that they didn’t like him either. Jim Hopper, who had looked her way exactly three times the entire school year, once when she had come into class late, her hair especially untameable, once when they’d made awkward eye contact by accident in the cafeteria, and once when she had sneezed in the middle of French class, the look accompanied by a winning smile and a whispered, “You’ve got the accent perfect.” Gail, his beau that month, had been livid. Handsome guys like Jim didn’t talk to plain girls like Joyce. It just wasn’t done.

And here was the offer to dance.

Nevermind Joyce wasn’t all that confident in the fact that she even wanted to dance with him anyway, the offer was just too tantalizing. To have Chrissy this desperate. To be offered something that a mousy, bookish girl was never offered, and in their last dance before graduation, seemed an opportunity too good to pass up.

“Give me your essay,” Joyce murmured. “I’ll look it over and mark some places to adjust. But you have to talk to Mr. Cooper, tell him you’re getting some help, that you’ll work hard in the spring. All the things he wants to hear.” The sultry look that Chrissy shot at the imaginary Mr. Cooper was enough to have Joyce grimace and amend, “Not all the things. Just – try, okay?”

“Joyce, you’re a lifesaver.” Chrissy embraced her and imprinted red lipstick on her cheek. “I’ll tell Jim that I’m too tired to dance, and that he should ask you. You’re probably the only girl he hasn’t taken out this year, and he loves an enigma.”

“Enigma,” Joyce called after Chrissy, who was already on her way out of the classroom. “It’s a good word. Put it in your essay.”

The exchange had cut exactly seven minutes off Chrissy’s already-compressed dance preparation time, but luckily, Joyce herself had very little make-ready, and merely returned home, washed her face, applied a little tasteful mascara, and, as an afterthought, some of her mother’s lipstick. Brushing her hair and tying it with a dark ribbon, Joyce slipped into her dress and wondered, glancing in the mirror, if maybe black wasn’t the thing anymore. Nevermind the fact that her mother would probably still bemoan her neckline, something Joyce found a small amount of shy pride in. The sweetheart shape emphasized her one good feature, fair skin and full bosom, and with the waist cinched with a wide belt, the tea-length skirt full and inches below a safe mid-calf, she felt that perhaps, just perhaps she would look passable in a school assemblage that would undoubtedly resemble a flock of colorful birds.

She wasn’t wrong about the colorful birds, nor about the band as they struck up a particularly bad original song, and afterwards a slightly better rendition of There Goes My Baby, but it wasn’t until Ronnie was mid-chorus into Bobby Darin’s Dream Lover that Joyce even spotted him, head and shoulders above the rest, wearing shirt and suspenders, tie and trousers, jacket having already been lost somewhere in the hustle of dancing bodies and greeting classmates. He had Chrissy on his arm, her tall, lithe form encased in a yellow wonder that hugged her figure and flounced out at the waist into a full ruffled skirt, and when she twirled, Jim saying something that made her laugh as if she had never heard anything funnier, Joyce caught a glimpse of a purple petticoat. Never did she feel more like a raven among peacocks than in that moment, Ronnie’s voice carrying over the crowd.

“Someday, I don’t know how, I hope she’ll hear my plea,” Ronnie sang. He had a good voice despite the band, and Joyce focussed on that, eyes on her feet as she did her best to avoid catching Chrissy’s eye, or worse, Jim’s. She’d arrived a little late despite not having taken long to get ready, and the dance had already been in full swing by the time she’d slipped in to stand quietly along the wall. “Someway,” Ronnie sang, “I don’t know how, she’ll bring her love to me.” Chrissy had brought her love alright, her body pressed close and undulating against him, and Joyce turned away as the gag reflex rose strong in her throat.

“Wanna dance?” Gene asked, startling Joyce from the left, and she met his gaze with a round-eyed stare.

“Thanks, no,” she managed at last, forcing a smile, arms folding protectively around herself, suddenly regretting the low neckline. Gene was nice enough, but he eyed her wolfishly and said something jovial about him singing the next set, before ambling off. Joyce pressed her eyes shut, and wondered if this had even been half of a good idea. Think of just how much homework she could be getting done if she were home right now. Final touches on her own essay, and Chrissy’s too.

But the deal. It had been too tempting, and when she scanned the crowd again for Chrissy and Jim, they were nowhere to be seen. Everyone was there. Even Bob had a date, a plain girl called Susan, who Joyce often enjoyed. She worked hard in class as well, and it was rotten that  girls who cared about their grades were stigmatized as lifeless prudes. From the looks of it, Bob was having the time of his life, and though she didn’t talk to him much, she was glad that Susan had ended with someone nice. Bob was as much a brainiac as anyone, and if there was anyone likely to make it far after high school, it was him, despite his ungainly social skills. If only he’d give up on his obsession with radios and gadgets that no one was going to care about and focus on something that could give him a real career. Joyce was one to talk, already feeling the pressures of what she was going to do when she graduated, and she had no real plans other than getting the best grades possible and then seeing what life held. She wasn’t going to move out of Hawkins, she wasn’t going to model in NYC, and with her current lack of social interaction, she had about as much future as Bob, and she indulged in a moment of mild despair over that fact before being startled once again, this time from the right, by a grinning voice.

“My date tells me she’s all worn out, and I oughtta ask you.” Jim Hopper stood above her, eyes smiling merrily, and Joyce cursed the pounding of her heart. He was a player, the whole school knew it. And suddenly she felt pity for the girls who had been left in his tumultuous wake, held captive by those snappy blue eyes. “My bet bet is it’s the punch, more than the dancing,” Jim added, lounging against the wall with a satisfied air. 

“Definitely the punch,” Joyce managed, casting a glance toward the refreshment table, overseen with the vulture-like presence of the drafted parent chaperones. “I don’t think it would be a proper dance if Gene hadn’t managed to spike something. Cooper is gonna kill him.”

“Hopefully he kills him after this set. He’s got a voice.”

“Ronnie too. If only they’d do more radio stuff and less of their own drivel.”

“Drivel?” Jim’s eyebrows knit.

“Yeah. Crap. Shit.”

He laughed outright at that. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Joyce Horowitz say shit.”

The music chose that point to lull, and Joyce dropped her voice, couples dispersing. “I’ve heard Jim Hopper say worse.”

He laughed again, and Joyce could feel the worry coiling in the pit of her stomach, the artifice wearing off, the realization of the imminent revelation boiling up inside her like a hot spring.

“Chrissy’s not really tired,” she blurted at last. “She said she -”

The music striking up cut off the confession she’d been about to make, the lively strains of the Everly Brother’s top-ten intro filling the gym, and Joyce felt her heart ride up into her throat when he turned and looked at her, all merriment and charm vanished, just the round honest eyes of a very tall boy, looking into hers.

“Dance?” The single syllable was hardly a question. And she hardly answered, just let him lead her onto the floor where couples were already assembling, his hand finding her waist, large and warm, her hand resting on his palm where she could feel it tremble.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head, eyes focussed on the flat plane of his tie, before working together excuse to look up.

“Jim, I gotta tell you someth-”

Ronnie’s voice, in perfect harmony with Gene’s, broke in over the light-hearted chords of the song. “Never felt like this until I kissed you. How did I exist until I kissed you? Never had you on my mind, now you’re there all the time. Never knew what I missed until I kissed you.”

Somehow, it seemed a travesty to tear her eyes away from his, the rest of the gym fading away, nothing but the words of the song, and the easy tug of Jim’s hand on her waist, encompassing a good portion of her back, and his fingers close around hers. She could feel his breath, not in the air on her cheeks, but in the steady rise and fall of his stomach against her chest, and she faltered, putting a chaste inch of room between them until the press of bodies forced them back together, and she let her eyes wilt shut.

“You okay?” Jim began, dropping his head, voice near her ear. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

“I’m editing Chrissy’s essay for her,” Joyce murmured, more to his chest than to his face. “She said she’d let you dance with me if I did it.”

The pause was interminable, and only served to throw Ronnie and Gene’s singing into sharper contrast. “You don’t realize what you do to me, and I didn’t realize what a kiss could be…”

“Chrissy’s drunk.” Jim’s voice came at last, a rumble in his chest, and Joyce looked up to see him looking down at her, eyes searching her face as if he’d never truly seen her before that moment, had only ever seen the bangs and the frowsy hair, the oversized sweaters and heavy skirts, books and essay assignments and anything except boys and love. “She’s drunk off her ass, saying all kinds of shit and she told me she couldn’t dance anymore and to come find you.”

“Yeah, but that’s because of the deal we made,” Joyce insisted, voice lifting. “You’d never choose me on your own.”

“You don’t think?” He looked shocked, almost hurt. “I mean, what’s wrong with you? You’re cute. Pretty even -”

“Stop,” Joyce murmured, and she felt her heart hammer to a stop when his hand left her waist to brush her hair back from her cheek, lingering there, her eyes flying to his. “What’re you -”

“Sh. Listen to the words.”

“Yours, or the song,” Joyce breathed, and he hesitated, before stooping and kissing her soundly on the lips. It wasn’t long, but it was fervent, and when they broke away, Joyce was a little breathless, swaying in his arms, all thoughts of dancing forgotten, her primary interest in keeping her legs under her at all. 

“Both, I guess,” was all Jim said, and the band lilted on the final chorus. “You got a way about you, now I can’t live without you, never knew what I missed until I kissed you…”

[adrrianraines]

hi! i just started playing choices, and i wanted to hear your opinion on what books are worth spending diamonds for and what books aren't. thank you so much :))

hi there love, welcome to the fandom!! enjoy the circus! it gets rowdy but it’s entertaining– 🤡

i just wanna tell u that my opinion may differ from others so you’re free to seek other opinions too if you deemed my answer unsatisfacory ! so lemme list to u what books are worth to waste diamonds on and which ones are not in my opinion. the ones i might have not mentioned are probably in between or in the middle.

so, for diamond spending, if you’re kinda on the economic budget level of can afford to purchase some-many, then these books are the bomb and would definitely be worth your penny.

i. : bloodbound. pretty ironic huh considering i’m a bloodbound idiot myself. lmao. but it’s worth every penny if u haven’t farmed enough diamonds! also yes you can farm in this app. the reward system is pretty generous once u know how to utilize it. tho some LIs wouldn’t have an immediate diamond option while others have one almost immediately, just weigh whether u need to purchase it or not. the diamond scenes for each LI is equally compelling and incredibly worth it. what i do tho for the most efficient way of spending those ingame currencies is that i don’t buy all outfits. u don’t actually need it. some scenes may suggest but honestly? ive tried having the outfits and not having it and it’s not that much of a difference. i keep the diamonds to spend for important scenes such as the tapestries for back stories and some diamond scenarios that might be informative/entertaining. i’ve bought all diamond options for Adrian so sue me

ii. : the royal romance/heir. same thing with bloodbound. sure, the hair options are majestic. the outfits? have u seen other books release stylish outfits? i personally have not. it’s really magnificent. although sometimes pb milks it, if you’re smart & can live with letting down ur LI for not spending a penny on their vanilla smuts and group gatherings then you’re good to go! just spend it on important pieces of scenes/info that are being paywalled by pb for god knows what reason. trust me, you might be baited but not all diamond options are actually worth it. i love trr/trh don’t get me wrong but this bitch is poor so sure as heck not gonna spend my diamonds like a mad banshee on random shenanigans.

iii. : open heart. dear god. the backbone of all those reused faces in like whatever new book that comes out with pb as of late. jesus. btw the diamond options are worth it! i like to spend diamonds for my LI and some options that are needed by the plot. you’ll know which are those once u get to start the book! i just don’t buy anything related to appearances unless it’s necessary to the plot. pb ain’t gonna bait this broke bitch because if my LI truly loves me they’ll accept me even if i wear a garbage bag

iv. : platinum. okay? where should i begin? because u actually need diamonds in this book? hello? i started this book without spending diamonds and where did that take me? a broken guitar, missed opportunities and slow rising fanbase lmao. so please do yourself a favor, save up and check out walkthroughs on how to survive being a star without spending diamonds like crazy. there are actually various options available but u can check it urself so u will be guided. i made terrible choices with my brokeass here and let’s just not talk about that

v. : it lives anthology ( it lives in the woods & it lives beneath ) anyone who knew my ass will know that i’m so much of a cheapskate that i didn’t spend a single diamond on this godtier book and i survived just fine. u can check walkthroughs but i doubt it’ll be much of a help since most of the critical choices are timed and u need to use 200% of ur brain to survive this mess. lmao. okay not 200% but u get my point. ilitw requires to many diamond options to raise nerves of ur crew but u will be fine if u just spend it on important stuff. BUT SURPRISE BITCH LMAO EVERYTHING IS IMPORTANT OTHERWISE U R DEAD OR UR FRIENDS ARE DEAD LMAO. but in ilitw u can save the maximum survivors by just making all the right choices!

don’t even get me started on ilb. it lives beneath? THE BITCH DIES BENEATH. LIKE HOW– THE AUDACITY– i lost a fucking pinky because i was too much of a coward to spend my nonexistent diamonds. like how dare thee! lmao. just... just spend ur diamonds for this for the most critical and crucial circumstances. make the correct choices and then you’re good to live. it also has options on where u don’t need to spend diamonds but still making the correct choices under pressure either by timed or by confusion contributes greatly to this story.

vi. : nightbound. YES. YES PLEASE. nightbound is 100% worth to spend on. have u seen that hair? god i love that ombre color!! also uhhh please buy some weapons for ur own good lmao. and just be wise on where those diamonds are going. i always stick by a rule whenever it comes to spending ingame currencies– don’t buy if it’s not necessary to the plot. just purchase what is important, collect information to unlock scenes at the end and choose ur choices wisely. don’t die.

vii. : the elementalists. now. this book. GDI THIS BOOK. this is freaking diamond book???? whenever u spend ur day with ur LI gosh it will ask for diamonds. ( ily beckett dear but ur gf is a brokeass bitch & i cant always spend time with u picking flowers or hanging out with merpeople /crying obscenely ) there are diamond options here that are more important than the smexy scenes with ur LI. diamond options that will allow u to learn things and get equipments that will be ultra useful for the story and plot. what i love about this book is that it’s so personalized to the point that u might feel u truly r ur mc that’s why u might be compelled to purchase things such as outfits and etc but honestly? i went to the dance with the most lameass garb but still got to enjoy it just the same. but the diamonds you spend to learn new infos and heighten ur power? those are the most worth it tbfh. also some non diamond options are actually good than the diamond ones so enjoy familiarizing the world of brokeass people while playing. that’s just me telling u that since im broke i didnt get to glimpse those diamond options sob

viii. : a courtesan of rome. YOOOOOOO this book is wild lmao! i’m incredibly torn whether to tell u to waste ur diamonds for ur LIs or be frugal and choose wisely. follow ur heart while playing this. i absolutely loved how, even if not wearing the most delightful garbs, ACOR mc still kills it as a courtesan. u know what they say, true beauty shines even in the darkest places or the smarmiest set of clothes. she can wear a guard’s armor and she still be slayin. very pretty. i’m in awe.

ix. : perfect match. more like the perfect way to go broke lmao. honestly a god tier book. spend wisely and watch out for options that will ask u to spend diamonds to contribute to the plot. some options will ask u like honestly the other books so by now you know what to do. stay for the plot. it’s really great. and while u r playing please tell eros they suck. 😌

x. : mother of the year. i beg of you to spend ur diamonds on ur child please they deserve the world.

xi. : desire and decorum. honestly speaking i haven’t done that much diamond spending except for my upcoming wedding in book 3 so yes. same applies with what i said, look out and watch for options that will require u to spend but will provide u juicy information as a result. i haven’t bought a single outfit for my mc. i just bought diamond options for my LI and some for some important info and perhaps a bit of information for investigations.

xii. : ride or die: a bad boy romance. GOD. SPEND THOSE DIAMONDS. SPEND THOSE DIAMONDS 🚨🚨 THIS IS NOT A DRILL I TELL YOU. lmao jk but heyyyy god tier book with worth it purchases ! awesome character designs whispers mona eherm i’ll probably replay to try colt’s route since i’ve honestly only been all about mona for this book but yes. worth the diamonds ! in this book i have spoiled myself and honestly every diamond purchase with the mpc is super duper ultra worth it !

xiii. : books like wishful thinking, veil of secrets, endless summer, the crown and the flame are god tier books that are incredibly worth it for ur diamonds. trust me. tcatf actually has a point system where u can gain in game points and can choose whether to use it or use diamonds for certain options. honestly godtier. endless summer has an interesting way in gaining and losing nerve points and relationship points too! veil of secrets needs ur diamonds for investigation and clue finding and wishful thinking has a very unique premise. everything is worth it.

xiv. : i’m adding the freshman series because /zig ortega/ is worth every penny please and also HSS Class Act and HSS. if you’ve played pb’s highschool story which is a separate app then you’ll enjoy these books.

some books like AME and RCD will require u to spend diamonds for options and might demand it for the plot but i got through everything there and really u can play it without doing so.

honey please don’t spend diamonds for home for the holidays and sunkissed. please. i beg of you. unless u spend diamonds for eliana then fine forgiven but ugh. just please no.

the books i haven’t mentioned like RoE is something i honestly wouldn’t mind with or without spending diamonds. the story is just the same. some are paywalled options. leo’s options are actually interesting since it will shed some light for cordonia but i havent seen pb tackle it directly to the main trr series so idk about that.

others can add some info too to help our dearest friend here so if you must, feel free to jump the ship and add 💞✨

[nonasuch]

dogfather update: real talk

Sorry this one took so long, but I am crazy busy getting the shop set up. 

As always, everything dogfather-related is tagged with the dogfather and story updates are tagged with dogfather story post. If you get antsy waiting for the next update, check out my AO3 or the zines and comics on my Gumroad. 

The talk with Draco doesn’t go as badly as it could have, in that Sirius doesn't think he’s going to go running to tell the nearest Death Eater right away. He goes very pale and set for most of it, visibly struggling to keep his expression from giving away too much. He blanches, though, when the matter of Azkaban comes up.

Well, fair enough. Sirius doesn’t like talking about it any better. There’s a reason he foists the job off on Remus, when he can. But he can’t fall to pieces, not now, even when most of him is roiling with panic and unease. Harry doesn’t need him unraveling, on top of everything else. No matter how little he likes talking about Azkaban.

“But -- how could anyone get sent there by mistake?” Draco asks. “There were trials, and things, weren’t there?”

“Not for me,” Sirius says. This part is easier, somehow: it’s not down to anything he did, or didn’t do. “Suppose they didn't think they needed to bother. Open and shut case, on the face of it, and by the time I came to my senses at all I was already in Azkaban.”

“I didn't know that part,” says Hermione, frowning. “Were there a lot of people sentenced without trial? That's horribly illegal, it contravenes all sorts of statutes--”

“As far as I know, there were only a handful, and the rest really were Death Eaters,” Sirius says. “Don't let it worry you too much.”

From the way Hermione frowns, and starts scribbling in her notebook, Sirius suspects she is going to let it worry her, a bit. Bless her tender heart, Caro would say. If you think it’s wrong, do something, Lily would say. Don’t dither.

“So you escaped,” Draco says, “because you're an Animagus, and you went and found Harry and rescued him from the Muggles?”

Sirius can’t help but laugh. “Other way round, I'm afraid,” he says. There’s no explaining it, to someone whose whole world fits neatly into only the places where Muggles aren’t.

“Mum and Dad were a bit put out at first, that he hadn’t told them the truth from the start,” Harry says, “but they came round really quickly. Mum says Padfoot’s more than paid for himself in babysitting by now.”

Draco clearly has no idea how to respond to that. He’s saved by Hermione, who reminds Harry and Ron that they’ve got class in ten minutes and chivvies them out the door. Leaving Sirius and Draco, staring at each other from either end of the empty classroom.

“You’re sure it wasn't really him, right?” Draco says.

Sirius doesn’t want to scare the boy -- or, rather, he doesn’t want to scare him so much that he fucks everything up for everyone else. “In my experience, anyone who tells you they're sure of anything, isn’t.”

That's no help at all, of course, so he amends this with “I don't think it’s him, and I’m hoping the Headmaster agrees with me. But I don't like lying, so I won't tell you I'm certain when I'm not.”

Draco shudders. “But he was so… messy. I though the Dark Lord was supposed to be, you know. Lordly.”

Sirius hesitates. He knows what he wants to say on the matter of Voldemort, which is mostly vocabulary Draco shouldn’t know yet. And he knows what it would sound like if he tried to put the way things really felt, back in wartime, into words. But he’s had ten years or so to think about what he might have said to Regulus, if he’d ever had the chance, so he’s not flying entirely blind.

“He liked for people to think so, I know that. But maybe I'm the wrong person to ask,” he says. “Every time I ever saw him he was trying to kill someone I cared about.”

“But,” Draco says. “I mean. If you hadn’t.”

“Hadn’t what?” Sirius asks. “Been a blood traitor? Cared about people who weren’t purebloods?” He doesn’t quite shout. He’s trying not to, anyway. Draco doesn’t know, he reminds himself. He’s a child, same as Harry, and he’s been kept in the dark.

“Well,” Sirius says, and thinks about it. Gets up, paces a bit, sits back down next to Draco. He searches for the lightest way he can manage to say it. God, but he wishes that Remus were here; he does a poor impression on his own. 

“I wasn't much for all the noble and most ancient business, really, and oh, didn't my parents let me know it. But I've never once regretted the side I chose. Does your mum talk about her family, much?”

Draco shakes his head.

“Let’s see,” Sirius says. “Bella’s in Azkaban, and more than earned her place. Regulus did believe in blood and honor and dulce et decorum est and the rest of that nonsense. I still don’t know how he died, or where he’s buried. Your mum stayed out of it, and Andromeda ran off with a Muggle-born. From what I hear, they're happy enough. And I’m a fugitive.”

“Couldn't you have stayed out of it, too?” Draco asks.

Sirius wants to say -- oh, all sorts of things.

Of course I fucking couldn’t, you pampered, coddled -- no.

Sure, so long as I never looked myself in the mirror again for the rest of my life.

Well, everyone else was doing it, and we hadn’t learnt about peer pressure yet in those days.

You little idiot, staying out of it was choosing a side, too.

He settles, after some thought and a few deep breaths, on, “When everyone around you is in danger, standing aside means you can’t do anything to protect the people you care about.”

Not that he did much protecting, when it counted.

He looks at Draco, steady as he can, and hopes like hell his words are sinking in. “I don’t want any of you, ever, to have to know what that feels like.”

Draco still doesn’t look like he understands, not really, but he sets his sharp little chin and nods. “All right,” he says. “I won’t tell about the thing in the forest, or -- you. I can keep a secret.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says. “Do you want me or Harry to tell you, if we ever do find out what that thing in the forest was?”

“Yes please,” says Draco. He looks surprised, for a moment, at his own unexpected politeness.

Maybe Harry’s being a good influence already. Sirius can hope.

[vadaschiquita]

Chiquita | Ch. 2

Chapter 1

“Jefe,” boomed Miguel as he walked through the door of Nina’s apartment, “we found out everything that we could about her.”

“Por fin,” Nevada exclaimed, clasping his hands as he stood, “About fucking time too. It’s been a month.”

“Yea, well it’s hard to try and find someone that’s working so hard not to be found,” Pucho added as he walked behind the sofa to sit.

“Not be found, what do you mean?” Nevada asked, pacing the area of his little sister’s apartment.

“‘Member I told you that I had a buddy down in Manhattan Vice that keeps the girls in line and makes sure they stay out of trouble?” Nevada nodded, looking at his friend through his lashes, “I pulled a favor. I had him look her up through the database.”

“Stop being so cryptic, Pucho. ¡Por Dios!” Nevada grumbled.

“She’s on the run,” he deadpanned.

“On the run,” Nevada parroted, smirking, “From the law?”

“Not exactly,” Miguel interjected, handing Nevada the file they had collected with Mariana’s information.

Nevada took the file and begun skimming through it. Inside of the file there were several police reports from MiamiPD about a missing person. Said missing person was none other than Nevada’s Chiquita. There were reports of domestic abuse, drunken disorderly, violations of restriction orders, and several other discrepancies that a Ricardo Lugo had caused against her, “Son of a bitch,” Nevada mumbled lowly, coming across several pictures of the Chiquita with a beaten, battered, and bruised face and body. No wonder she was on the run.

“That’s not all, Nevada,” Pucho spoke, breaking Nevada’s thoughts, “We know where she w—”

“Tío, tío” came the sweet voice of a young girl, running to her uncle’s legs, “I’m ready!”

“About time, princesa,” Nevada complained, “What took you so long?”

The girl giggled, “Mami doesn’t know what to ever do with my hair.”

“If your tío wasn’t so stuck on keeping it so long, maybe I knew what to do with it,” Nina complained, emerging from the hallway.

Nevada glared at her and soften his look as his gaze landed on his knees again, “Princesa, go grab your school bag. We don’t want to be late for your first day of school.” The girl nodded and detached herself from her uncle’s limbs, running back towards her room, “¡Camina!”

“Sorry, tío.”

Nevada shook his head and continued eyeing the file, “Where does she work?”

“At your Princesa’s school. She’ll be her teacher,” Pucho finished smugly, smirking as he leaned back against the sofa.

“Who are we talking about?” Nina inquired.

“We’re talking business, Nina. Adiós,” Nevada grumbled.

“Ay, Vada,” she whined, “you’re no fun.”

Nevada rolled his eyes, slapping the file close and handing it to Pucho. He signaled Miguel and his other men once he heard the familiar patter of small feet emerge from the hallway. The girl sported a big smile and looked particularly adorable with the two pigtails her mother had placed on her head. Nevada nodded to his niece and received the familiar nod back. He extended his hand to her and walked her out.

Safety was everything when it came to transporting his precious cargo. Whether it was drugs, money, or his Princesa; there could never be too much precaution. Three SUV’s were scheduled each morning and afternoon for drop-off and pick-up. They would all leave together, separate at one point of the journey, and meet together. No one knew, ever, in which chariot Nevada and his cargo were. He was smart. He had to be smart. “You can never be too careful, Nevada,” his father had said, “Even when no one is watching, someone’s always listening.” It hadn’t made any sense then, but now that he had been running the business and legacy his father had started he completely understood what he meant.

He was serious of his role of an uncle.  His little sister had gotten herself pregnant by a good-for-nothing lowlife almost six years ago and ever since, Nevada not only took care of her, but he took care of her daughter.  He would make time, every morning before his meeting to drop off Sofía at school.  Snow, rain or hail, he had to make drop off time.  NO excuses.

Once outside of Sofía's school, Nevada stepped out first, eyeing the block, taking in the kids running up the steps to enter the building, the adults glancing his way, and recognizing his presence.  He had his shades on, and he fidgeted with his father's ring, "All right, Princesa," he shot at Sofía, "Venga, I'll walk you to class."

"Ok," the girl said excitedly, sliding across the back seat.

Mariana was excited and nervous, just like every year since she'd become a teacher.  She was excited to meet her class of first graders and some had already filed in, taking scattered seats throughout the classroom.  She had set up her classroom to have a somewhat open plan.  She wanted her students to be able to interact with the other and with her as well.  First grade had really had an impact on her when she was a little girl.  She was learning how to read, so much color filled the classroom, and her teacher made even the most boring subject one filled with charisma and light.

She was wanting to hang a poster about the differences between reporting and tattling, so she made quick work of her taking her shoes off, and climbing up the chair, being mindful of her skirt.  She pressed the poster to the wall and eyed it with a cocked head, "It's a little crooked," a voice she instantly recognized barked from behind her.

Great, just when I needed more... "Think you could do a better job," she said, bending her knee to land her foot on the ground and easing her shoes in, "Mister..."

Nevada clicked his tongue, "Chiquita, you already know my name," he mentioned with a smirk.

Mariana crossed her arms above her chest, smirking at the man's boldness.  Chiquita?  Who does he think he is? "We are not in some hot club, Nevada," she said, enunciating his name sharply, "This is where I work, and we will keep a sense of decorum.  I'll ask again, Mister?"

Nevada narrowed his stare behind his shades, removing them with his free hand.  He eyed her ensemble: black pencil skirt, heeled shoes, and striped blouse.  If she were my teacher... "Ramirez," he responded.

Mariana immediately caught his accent, pinpointing it to the one's she used to hear in her nightmares and she winced, taking a step back to even her breathing, "Who do we have here?"

Sofía smiled brightly, revealing her missing her teeth, "Sofía, are you my teacher?"

"That I am, sweet one," Mariana squatted in front of the girl and extended her hand, "I'm Ms. Santos.  See those cupboards over there?" she pointed behind her, where the rest of the kid's belongings were, "Put your backpack and lunchbox there, and take a seat wherever you want.  Class starts in ten minutes.”

Sofía nodded enthusiastically and released her uncle's hand, but before she could part, Nevada spoke, "Hey, hey, hey," the girl stopped, looking up at him, "Y mi beso, ¿dónde está?"

Sofía smiled and kissed her uncle on his cheek, walking towards the cupboard to place her belongings.  Mariana and Nevada watched the girl move about the classroom, deciding to take a seat towards the front near Mariana's desk.  Nevada went to move and Mariana's hand flew to his arm, causing Nevada to tighten, "Mr. Ramirez," she begun with a smirk, "I don't allow parents to cross this threshold," she said, motioning with her hands, "this is as far as you'll go."

Nevada scoffed, shaking his head, "Make an exception for me, Chiquita."

Mariana smiled, uncrossing her arms, and walking towards the front of the room, "Sofía, wave goodbye to your papi."

Sofía did as she was told and when Mariana turned, Nevada still stood rooted to his spot just like she had remember him by that night at the club.  His green eyes were intimidatingly powerful, but she had seen more power come through a wronged first-grader, and she smiled, shaking her head.

Nevada couldn't explain what was happening to him, but she was bending his will with ease.  Of course she didn't know who she was, why would she?  She hadn't grown up to know that whatever the Ramirez asked you to do, you did.  Not because you were scared, or because you owed something to them, but because you knew that if you didn't in the end it would come bite you in the ass.  She didn't know that more than half of the parents of the student population worked for him in some way or another.  Nevada was the King of The Heights and what Nevada wanted, he would get and have.  Cost what it may, fought how it could.  And, he wanted this Chiquita.  She was to be hers no matter what he had to do or what he had to say.

He parted his lips momentarily, placing his shades back on and gave a nod, turning on his heel to exit the classroom.  Mariana's eyebrow rose when she saw two men following in tow as Nevada's body disappeared down the hall.  Who was he?  What type of connections did he have?  Why did he sound so... hopeful(?) when he asked her to make an exception, like he owned the damned place?  She needed to get to the bottom of this, and pronto.  She was not allowing herself to fall for a man, or remotely give him a chance of something, if she didn't know who he was beforehand.  She learned that lesson already.

The day transgressed accordingly, and by the time lunchtime came by she was receiving stares and hearing whispers down the hall where she walked.  Granted, that wasn't exactly something she wasn't used to.  She was new after all, but today in particular, seemed like everyone had something to say and not particularly to her.  She shook her head and sauntered towards her classroom, she would ask Jess, Jess knew what she should do or at least knew what the hell was going on with the rest of the faculty.

Mariana knocked powerfully on her counterpart's door, eyeing the nature's themed classroom when she spoke, "Got a minute for little ol' me?"

Jess looked up from her lunch and her book and smiled, gesturing Mariana for the chair next to her desk, "It's a good thing you came to me first," Jess begun.

Mariana furrowed her brow, "What do you mean 'first'?"

Jess sighed, dropping her fork, "Mari, what's this I hear that Trujillo's niece is in your classroom?  Do you even know what that means?"

Mariana crossed her legs and ran her fingers through her hair, "First of all, who the hell is Trujillo?  None of my students carry that last name.”

Jess deflated in her chair, eying Mariana with curiosity, "I should've known that it was him.  I should've protected you."

Mariana scoffed in amusement.  What was Jess talking about?  "Jess, baby, you're not making any sense.  Should've known that who was him?  Protect me from what?"

"From Nevada."

Mariana leaned back harshly, as if Jess had just finished punching her in the gut, knocking all of the air in her body out.  Why did she need protection from Nevada?  The man that had walked his daughter... well, niece into her classroom and asked to stay for just a little bit longer.  The man that had gone through damn near every measure to find out her name that night at the club.  Why would she need protection from him?  Who was he?

"W—Who is he, Jess?  What are you talking about?"

Jess sighed once more, reaching over to grab Mariana's hand, "Nevada Ramirez is a druglord, Mari.  His father's father started the legacy.  The Ramirez men have been running Washington Heights since my grandfather was a teenager.  My mother did everything she could to protect my brothers and I from their clutches, but then again, you don't know what they look like until they're staring right at your soul," she shuddered, "Mari, a lot of people in this neighborhood work for Trujillo.  Pushing drugs, working corners, security... you name it.  People damn near worship him because he provides you with protection if you do what he wants and says, and if you don't well, let's just say your life would be much easier in another borough of New York."

"I—I—I don't understand, Jess."

Jess closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, "You don't do anything without Trujillo knowing, Mari."

"That's ridiculous," she said with a chuckle, "There's no way he was eyes on everyone in this damn neighborhood twenty-four/seven."

"You really believe that, Mari?" Jess asked, cocking her head, "Stay.  Away.  From Ramirez, please."

"Jess, how am I supposed to do that when his niece is my student?  What am I—wait, you asked me if I knew what it meant to have Sofía in my classroom.  What did you mean by that?"

"He'll probably ask for favors, Mariana.  It's his niece.  I'm surprised there wasn't a blacked out SUV parked outside at all times."

"I know how to hold my own, Jess.  And, I don't care who he is, I make the rules in my classroom.  I'm not going to play favorites."

"Tell that to Principal Reyes," Jess mumbled, releasing Mariana's hand.  Mariana furrowed her brow and parted her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the continuance of Jess' voice, "Just, promise me you'll stay away from him?  I know you're attracted to him, Mari.  You can't hide that from me.  He's not good for you.  Please, promise me."

Mariana stared at her friend.  The one person that knew her story from beginning to start and the concern etched in between her brows.  All the tension that had collected there and the wrinkle it was forming at all the worry for her.  Mariana needed to do this, not only for herself, but for Jess too.  She deserved that.  So, she acquiesced, "Ok, I promise."