#and ivy drinks from it really weirdly

[ivyandiggy]

days 15 and 16! i missed posting yesterday whoops but nothing much has happened lol

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Bestie I reread you pebble alpha cowboy au thing last night and it’s plaguing my every being pls I need more if you can find it in your heart this holiday season, won’t you consider donating to wrath’s that need your help?

Oooo you just summoned my undying cowboy AU brainrot. And yes, I do want to write more about it, so, there you go, my humble offering to you. Cowboy smut coming your way, hehehehehehehe. (this got way longer than i intended, sorry for the delay)

So, alright, maybe Pebble's been staying a bit longer in town than he usually would. But the people are nice in here, really. There's Ivy, who's taken to slipping Pebble free drinks when Omega pretends not to be looking ; the big man himself, despite his intimidating stature, is actually quite sweet, gentle in a way you wouldn't expect at first glance, with a warmth to him that inevitably has people eager to come back to the saloon.

Pebble also met a ranch owner with a dazzling smile named Delta for whom he's been working for a little while now, helping with everything he can from repairing fences to taming feisty horses, glad to be needed and earn his keep. The room he's renting is pretty nice, for how little Zephyr, the inn keeper, charges him for it, definitely far from the worst place he's stayed at. And there's that cowgirl who's freaking terrifying but often quietly joins Pebble for a smoke in some back alley- somehow, she always finds him, no matter where Pebble goes. He only learns her name, Mist, after nearly a week of silently sharing joints. He's fairly sure she could break him in half. He's never met a cooler person in his entire life.

So, yeah, Pebble stays. And it has nothing to do whatsoever with the asshole of a sheriff who's apparently developped the uncanny ability to make Pebble cum faster every time they end up cramed into some dark nook with their hands down each other's pants, no sir.

Because, yes, it happens again, and again, and again. They'll have a drink or two after a long day, find an excuse to pick a fight, which will quickly turn sexual, because apparently nothing gets either of them harder than homoerotic loathing.

Sometimes, Pebble wonders how damaged he must be to get off on the threat of Alpha's teeth against his jugular.

Today, though, is different. The sky is still very much high in the sky, its rays beating down on Pebble's bare back as he splashes water on his face, taking a much-needed break from trying to get a stubborn bull to still long enough for him to check on the healing laceration wound on its flank. A prickling sensation at the back of his neck is what gets Pebble to glance up, reajusting his crooked hat, only to meet familiar hungry eyes staring right back.

It's a shock, somehow, to see Alpha in daylight, fully exposed in a way the night and its silver moon never let him be, a part of him always shrouded in shadows. Not now, though. Now, the sheriff is standing, hip cocked to rest against the fence, arms crossed in front of his chest, head tilted to the side, and Pebble can see so much details at once it almost makes him dizzy. The scar on his arm looks thicker, more gnarly, and for the first time, Pebble wonders how he got it. With the way Alpha's shirt is open, so widely he might as well have taken it off, Pebble is treated to the sight of damp skin and a smattering of hair that has him nearly drooling.

And Alpha's face...it looks as though he paused as he was shaking his hair free from his hat, like maybe he didn't see Pebble until it was too late, until he'd let his walls down enough to take an accessory usually worn like a shield off without a second thought ; now he's frozen, features weirdly open, eyebrows unfurrowed, the crease between them smoothed out, lips slightly parted, his facial scars pale against sunkissed skin.

It hits Pebble like a sack of bricks then, that Alpha isn't just hot. He's beautiful. Shit.

Thankfully, the sheriff himself looks like his brain shut down for a minute, giving Pebble time to straighten and clear his throat awkwardly.

"Fuck you're doin' here ?"

Alpha arches an eyebrow, but it feels less provocative than usual, more genuinely taken aback.

"Wanted to check on Delta."

Sure, yeah, sounds perfectly logical. The man in question took a nasty hoove to the shoulder trying to calm down a panicked horse, makes sense that Alpha, as the sheriff, would be preoccupied. Still, Pebble's never seen him at the ranch. He knew that Alpha came here from time to time - he and Delta have lived in the same city for ages, of course he does- but Pebble never crossed path with him here, in this place that he associate with honest work, tiring but gratifying, something almost soothing in the way it takes up all his focus and drives away all thoughts from his head.

Alpha looks out of place here, even though he's probably more comfortable and used to the place than Pebble is. Like his brain cannot comprehend the man he labeled as the bane of his existance and the very real menace for his stamina standing here, edges softened by the surprise, looking fine and relaxed under the blinding afternoon sun.

To Pebble, Alpha is white hot rage pulsing in his veins, adrenaline shooting through his body, bloodied teeth bared in a dangerous smile, moonlight sparsely lighting an alley, quick breathes and bitten back noises. To see him in such a drastically different scenery has Pebble reeling.

"...is that a bite mark ?"

Pebble blinks, yanked out of his thoughts by Alpha's voice. He doesn't know how to interpret that tone, but he doesn't have to follow the sheriff's gaze to know what he's talking about.

"Coyote. Nearly ripped a good chunk out of me."

While Pebble isn't exactly insecure about the huge jaw imprint on his right side, he is aware how off putting it can be. Deep, irregular lacerations, from where the beast sank its teeth while shaking its head like it was trying to pull Pebble appart - and it probably was.

Alpha wistles lowly, Pebble distantly noting that this is the first peaceful conversation they have.

"Always hell to make 'em let go."

With a shrug, Pebble absent-mindedly runs his thumb on one of the rough scars tearing through his ribs.

"Had to pry its jaw open with my own hands. Twisted its neck real quick - guess adrenaline does make you do insane things."

Something changes in Alpha stance then. He straightens, taking a deep breath, eyes roaming on Pebble with that same intensity that never fails to make him look away.

"That's so fucking hot," the sheriff grunts, not even giving Pebble time to react to the statement before he descends onto him, gripping his wrist with bruising strenght, "I need to fuck you, can I fuck you ?"

And, well. They haven't actually fucked fucked yet. Handjobs is as far as they got but somehow, now that the notion's on the table, Pebble is craving Alpha on top of him. Just like that. He feels a little light-headed, so of course he blurts the first thing that comes to his mind.

"I don't know, can you ?"

Alpha rolls his eyes hard enough it looks painful.

"Shut your damn mouth."

They end up sneaking into Delta's house, Pebble deciding he'd rather not know where Alpha learnt how to pick locks so efficiently. He'd be more reluctant if his dick wasn't currently doing all the thinking, besides Delta won't be back in a while, so really, what he doesn't know can't hurt him, right ? Pebble vows to work extra hard once he doesn't feel half blind with lust. At least Alpha has the decency to lead him toward the guest room, not Delta's, because to that, Pebble would've drawn the line. Probably. He isn't sure how much he can trust his morals in his current state.

The bed creaks loudly when Pebble's back hits the mattress, Alpha landing above him the second he's gotten rid of his shirt. It's different, there's so much more skin to touch, Pebble is obsessed, gropping greedily, mapping warm flesh, scars and patches of hair with his palms. Alpha is doing much the same, except it's his mouth travelling all over Pebble's body hungrily, tongue darting out insistently, tasting him like a man starved. Teeth nipping here and there, making Pebble flinch instinctively just to arch up into it once his stupid, lust-fried brain registers how good it feels.

Things get even more frantic once Alpha manages to get rid of Pebble's pants, belt and all. He doesn't remember kicking his boots off, but he must've, because they're nowhere to be seen. Not that Pebble manages to focus on that for long with the frenzied way Alpha grabs at every available parts of him. Like he can't help it. It's very flattering, as well as unbelievably hot. Then Alpha nuzzles the divot created by his hipbone, trailing lower until he can tear off Pebble's underwear with his teeth, want overrules any rational thoughts he might have had. The sight of the Sheriff, face pressed against the burning skin of his lower stomach, looking up with a devilish grin, makes Pebble's cock kick so hard his eyes roll back a little.

By the time Alpha is shucking the rest of his own clothes, Pebble needs him inside of him yesterday. Even more so when the sheriff unceremoniously shoves his fingers inside Pebble's mouth. He has half a mind to bite them, just to be a pain, but really, he doesn't have time for this today. So he coats Alpha's fingers in saliva, while the man does a number on his neck, no doubts leaving a ring of purple bruises all around his throat.

Prep is a quick thing though Alpha doesn't rush, stretching Pebble with ruthless efficiency, until the sheriff has him writhing and biting his tongue not to beg. Thankfully, Alpha's patience seems to be running thin, because soon enough, the head of his cock presses against Pebble's hole, eyes flying up to ensure he has the go-ahead. Pebble wraps his legs around Alpha's hips as an answer, already flushed and sweaty. With a fleeting smirk, Alpha finally, finally pushes in.

And it rocks Pebble's fucking world because god fucking dammit, when's the last time he's been with someone he wanted so much ? Not just some casual attraction, no, this fully encompassing desire that burns bright in his veins ? He can't remember. In one smooth, slow thrust, Alpha bottoms out, panting heavily in the hollow of Pebble's throat when he does so. There's a moment of stillness where they both try to adjust, where Pebble has the time to relish in how full he feels, then Alpha's rocking his hips shallowly, testing the waters.

It quickly becomes not enough, prompting Pebble to swallow several times, until he can taunt.

"That all you've got ? C'mon, fuck me like you mean it, sheriff."

Judging by the throaty groan that gets him, Pebble struck a nerve. Which is only confirmed when Alpha picks up the pace, pulling out almost all the way just to slam back in again with enough strenght to make the wooden headboard thump against the wall. It's not long before they're both drenched, skins sticky where they rub together, Alpha's grip bruising on Pebble's waist, each thrust wrangling desperate, half stiffled noises from them. A minute shift of the sheriff's stance, and Pebble has to bite his hand not to wail.

"That's the spot, uh ? Yeah, that's it, feels- mmh, good, doesn't it ?"

Alpha's voice is rough, strained, huffs and groans cutting his sentence, which is far too attractive for Pebble to handle. He doesn't answer, can't, really, especially with how obvious it is what he would say if he could. He can feel his orgasm creeping up on him, noises les and less controlled, body tensing up, when Alpha blindly reaches for his hand and guides it to his throat.

For half a second, Pebble just stays like this, blinking at the sight of his hand loosely wrapped around the sheriff's neck, until it all catches up to him and he squeezes.

Alpha makes the loveliest choked sound, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he leans even harder into the pressure of Pebble's hand, even as his face reddens and his eyes start watering.

Then the sheriff grabs Pebble's neglected cock, thumbing messily at the head, and Pebble's done for, nearly arching off the bed, vision flashing white as he blows his load with a silent shout. Very, very, distantly, he registers that Alpha's spilling mere seconds after him, loud groan echoing in the room.

Pebble would be embarrassed about the time it takes for him to come back to his senses, if Alpha wasn't in much the same state, panting by his side on the now soiled sheets. There's a few beats of blissful silence, before Pebble let out a disblieving huff.

"Holy fucking shit."

Alpha pushes himself up into a seating position, smirking in that infuriatingly smug way of his, looking far too pleased with himself. Naturally, Pebble flips him off. Naturaly, Alpha flops back down to bite at his hip bone. Hard. Bastard will probably leave a mark. But, well, Pebble barely has the energy to yelp and swat him away, so.

Thankfully, Alpha makes it his mission to find them washclothes and clean both of them with the same efficiency as usual, before changing the sheets, packing the dirty ones in order to take care of them himself. Pebble, now dressed again and relocated to a plush armchair in a corner of the room, watches Alpha mill about like he owns the place. Mind pleasantly sluggish, Pebble wonders how much time he spent at Delta's place, maybe after days helping at the ranch. Enough, at least, for him to look completely at ease there, or maybe it's just an Alpha thing, strutting around with unwavering confidence no matter the situation.

Pebble's musing is interrupted by the sheriff snapping his fingers in front of his face, having clearly made several attempts at catching his attention.

"C'mon, let's go."

Letting himself be pulled to his feet, Pebble glances around, the reality of their situation dawning on him as he limps after Alpha, cursing the flight of stairs they have to take down to get back outside.

"Delta's going to murder us."

With a dismissive shrug, Alpha waves his worries off.

"Nah. Long as he gets his sheets back pristine, it'll be fine."

"We fucked in his guest bedroom while he was away and I was supposed to be working," Pebble points out. They're at the foot of the stairs now, Alpha pausing to grin back at him.

"What, you think he a saint ? I assure you, he's done nastier stuff in riskier places."

Well, fair enough, and it's not like Pebble can take back what just happened. Not that he wants to, either. Sure, he's aching all over, and working like that is going to be a bitch, but man was it worth it.

Once out on the porch, they're both distracted enough, lighting a well-deserved post-coital smoke, that they nearly jump out of their own skin when someone clears their throat from behind them.

Wearing a grin nearly too big for his face, Delta reclines further into his rocking chair.

"Had fun ?"

The long, incriminating silence that stretches between them finally gets broken by the sudden, uncontrolable fit of laughter that shakes the three of them to the point of tears.

Pebble gets a glimpse at the hand-shaped bruise around Alpha's throat, stomach swooping.

Maybe he'll stick around a little longer.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XVIII

II's POV

ao3

masterpost

II carried his helmet into the small coffee shop. He had perused Vessel’s instagram before asking if they could meet at this one. It looked to be Vessel’s favorite, based on his “coffee” highlights. The coffee smell had invaded his nostrils the second he had parked and removed his helmet. He was sort of hoping that Vessel had seen him drive up and park. It would be an easy conversation starter. Vessel was sitting in a big chair right by the door, staring at II. Weirdly, he was holding a tissue to his face. 

“You drive a motorcycle,” Vessel informed II. II nodded. 

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned back. Vessel pulled the tissue away from his face, and II caught sight of blood on the tissue. “Holy hell, are you alright?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I get nosebleeds a lot,” he shrugged. “I haven’t ordered yet. I was waiting for you,” Vessel changed the subject from the bloody tissue. 

“How do you take it, again?” II thought he remembered seven sugars, but also wondered if that was completely absurd. 

“Hot, black, and just… usually I just grab a bunch of sugar packets and do it up however suits my fancy on a particular day,” 

“Noted. What on earth should I get?” 

“Um… oh! Try a cappuccino, but if you’re lactose intolerant, I recommend oat milk as a sub,” II walked up to the bar, and ordered both. 

“They’ll just be at the bar,” the barista smiled and nodded toward the end of the counter. II glanced at her nametag. 

“Thank you, Darya. I like your eyeliner, by the way,” II flashed what he thought was his most winning smile and walked back toward Vessel. 

“That’s my favorite barista,” Vessel smiled at II, causing his heart to skip a beat. II cocked his head, pretending he didn’t know that Vessel came here a lot. 

“You’ve been here?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I live basically around the corner. I actually walked here,” wonder if he’ll let me drive him back to his place. 

“What a coincidence,” 

“Ves, your coffee!” the barista hollered, and II shot up. 

“Stay here, I’ll get it for you,” he was worried about Vessel and his nosebleed. He grabbed the big cup. The tendrils of steam warmed his face as he carefully carried it back to Vessel. “Oh, and the sugar,” he had it in one hand, but wasn’t sure how many it was. It felt like too many, which II kind of thought it may be correct if it was just on this side of too much. Vessel’s smile was still there, gorgeous as ever. II went and picked his own coffee up off the bar. He really had no experience with coffee, and just hoped it wasn’t awful. It was rather milky looking, with a layer of foam. 

“I hope you like it,” Vessel was stirring his sugar into the coffee. 

“Do you have a favorite book?” Vessel lit up, and he immediately dove into the topic. As they spoke, it felt as though II had known Vessel forever, and as though he could perhaps have these conversations, and even drink this kind of bitter coffee thing, forever. It felt good, natural. It felt like the friendship he’d struck up with Ivy all those years ago, but better. More. Sweeter. He couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could Vessel. 

“We have to do this again,” II couldn’t help but say. Vessel was nodding immediately. “This has been really, really fun,” II dropped his voice down a touch, hoping that Vessel would catch his rapidly growing interest in going on several other kinds of dates. But if he didn’t catch it, it wasn’t noticeable or creepy. Vessel’s tongue flicked out and wet his lower lip. Jesus fuck, he’s so pretty. 

“It’s still raining. You shouldn’t drive all the way out to wherever you live with just your bike. I live just around the corner. You can just wait it out there. Drive me home?”

[glitter-jackal]

Random gangreen gang head canons

Ace:

He has a gambling addiction whenever he and the others play poker he sometimes goes overboard when it comes to betting he would sometimes bet his sunglasses by accident until someone mentions what he did.

He tries not to let the gang know about his aquaphobia he doesn't want them to think he's weak or wants them to make fun of him.

He sometimes doesn't act like it but he cares a lot about his gang he would sometimes say there his brothers the others think he does it to impress and or get a girlfriend but that's not true, he just cares that much that he sees them as his brothers.

After he met snake's sister ivy he started out as her friend but as time went on he started to have a crush on her and wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend but snake said something cryptic/scary about what would happen if he dated and or broke ivy's heart.

He is hoping to maybe form a secret relationship with ivy.

When he loses a video game he tends to rang quit.

He sometimes speaks Italian when he gets angry/annoyed

Snake:

He secretly plays in gaming tournaments and gets some money from it. He doesn't let the others know so he tells them that he stole it or won a bet or he got it from going to an underground poker game.

His gamer name is venomousshadowcobra.

He is ivy's twin brother.

He hates snake/reptile skin outfit and bags.

Some days when he gets really hungry and he hasn't eaten anything he sometimes he eats rats he finds at the dump and he sometimes weirdly enjoys it.

He doesn't tell the gang that he has some contact with his parents and ivy because even though he tries to act edgy, he actually has a heart of gold when it comes to the people he cares about.

He only allows certain people call him by his real name like ivy or his parents and in some serious situations the gang will call him by his real name.

The d in his middle name stands for dominic.

When he thinks of something that's really upsetting he softly cries himself to sleep.

He is afraid of mongoose and large hawks.

He keeps a heat lamp for himself.

He secretly has a tail.

He has an ability where he can understand reptiles.

He goes in disguise when playing in the gaming tournaments so no one receives him and he always refuses to do interviews.

some people call his gaming persona a they but doesn’t care.

He is pansexual he sometimes says that he just doesn't matter what gender a person is as long as they love him and are good to him.

He's the older twin by two minutes.

He and ivy are part Nigerian on there mom's side of the family.

Arturo:

The gang takes turns to be his caretaker and let's just say that with how chaotic arturo can be they would say there's a reason they don't let him go off on his own unsupervised.

When he gets mad he cusses in spanish.

He sometimes translates what he or someone said in Spanish.

He never met his mother and doesn't know what happened to her.

Everyone thinks he looks up to ace but he actually looks up to snake but doesn't let people know.

He likes women that are taller than him.

When ever him and the rest of the gang are running from cop or the powerpuff girls and if he is running to slow they will pick him up like a child or give him a piggyback ride.

His middle name is Alejandro.

The gang sometimes puts him in a child/baby leash if he gets the idea to run off without them.

He's not allowed to have energy drinks.

Billy calls him, his best friend.

He sometimes uses blackmail against the gang just for random reasons *they could never be more prouder of him*.

He covers his eye because he knows billy sometimes gets insecure about his eye so he covers it so he doesn't feel alone or sad but he tells the others that it's just a hairstyle he thought was cool.

He's 13/14.

Ivy:

She's a bit of a tomboy.

Due to the green skin mutantashion, her parents thought it was best if she went to Japan with her dad on his business trip.

She's fluent in Japanese.

Her is dyed and her natural hair color is black.

She is a late bloomer.

When her and snake where younger they use to dress and pretend to be each other to trick there parents.

She has less reptile fetchers unlike snake.

She doesn't have a tail.

Snake told her first that he was pansexual.

When she first saw/was introduced to ace she crushed on him hard but she was too shy to make a first impression.

She plays guitar.

She has an acoustic guitar.

She tries to be careful about her and Ace secret relationship between them because she doesn't want to lose Snake's trust.

Her middle name is Harper.

Listens to kpop/jpop.

Gubber:

he sometimes play his violin anywhere to get some money.

He secretly goes to a night school.

He comes up with escape plans when the rest of the gang ends up in jail/juvie.

It took the gang awhile to understand what he's saying.

He's british.

Billy:

His middle name is Weston.

He has ADD.

The gang knew about his ADD and are extremely patient as they can get with him.

When ever there bullying little kids billy is the only who would just be playing with them until ace or the others tell him not to.

[finn0]

chipotle order?

OZ version is GYG or Zambrero in which case the beef burrito from GYG is somehow the shit, but zambie's used to have like an adobo chicken that was curried almost which was astonishingly delicious but now they don't do it, but I would suggest if you're making a burrito please put some curry in your pulled chicken or pork because it weirdly works so well with all the other regular mexican flavours

thoughts on veganism?

far too much work and you'll find yourself talking about it all the time. if you have to ask whether sour patch kids have gelatine in them and whether you're killing the planet by eating fists full of sugar shaped like pink watermelon babies, it's negating not having a bloody chicken wing once a decade

a specific color that gives you the ick?

really pale, almost washed out white people skin. like the peaky skin of someone who's about to be sick

mythical creature you think/believe is real?

I've encountered enough river eels to imagine that something fucked up and huge lives in Loch Ness. Or the Ogopogo in Canada. Or the Mongolian death worm. A giant worm in the sand dunes of the Gobi desert? Probably!

favorite form of potato?

Creamy dauphinoise with a tiny bit of chili in it. Or a really crisp latke.

do you use a watch?

no, irrelevant creation. also calling it a timepiece is so ridiculous.

what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?

OCTOPUS

do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

anything where i'm not sweaty and my balls can meet their best friends, my knees

do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?

Oh yes, cocoa butter vaseline on my face all day, hyaluronic acid after a shower around my eyes, same thing but in cream form as a night cream

on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?

ginger ale, because air travel is the least likely place I will ever drink alcohol. and orange juice swells me up like poison ivy

anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?

a few trinkets, but I've never thrown a book away in my life

brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?

Dove cucumber soap

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

finding a former manager and breaking her limbs before throwing her down a well

do you think you’re dehydrated?

constantly

rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

best to worst: freezing, drowning, burning

thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

underrated and preferred

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

vaping honestly.

your boba/tea order?

total waste of money. a teabag is 1 cent at home.

the veggie you dislike the most?

I used to violently hate beetroot until I learned how to roast them properly and a friend made some amazing borscht. So now? idk, even kale chips are good. love brussel sprouts. love parsnips. love asparagus. idk. I guess I've never had a turnip every before.

favorite disney princess movie?

I could not give less of a shit about disney

a number that weirds you out?

?

do you have an emotional support water bottle?

I have lost every water bottle I've ever owned within one week

do you wear jewelry?

I have 3 key rings that I wear on my pinky because if they fall off they're easily replacable and I also lost my engagement ring the very next day after the fact

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

british because it's from there and I never have to say aluminum

would you say you have good taste in music?

oh. no.

how’s your spice tolerance?

incredible. i've eaten cayenne peppers raw as a snack

what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?

the least amount of short and shirts I can, I am out of control overheated at all times

last meal on earth?

honestly a crispy pork banh mi and a ripe mango that I eat over a sink

preferred pasta noodle?

rigatoni, with pork sausage, fennel, chili and cream. Ina Garten's recipe is the absolute bomb.

[spinchs-field]

tell us about your mechs headcanons

woah thats crazy i was just thinking about them

it’s all gonna be under the cut. im just listing shit off

i know in canon, Aurora is mostly engine space with only a few common areas, but i like to think that she’s a massive ship that was built not just for war but also to live in, but not comfortably. the crew kinda made the place more enjoyable to spend eternity in. there’s a food storage area that the crew turned into an actual working kitchen and bar. there’s a huge common area that they turned into a living room (used to have a section of it walled off to act as a guest room for new Mechs, got rid of it after Carmilla left). there’s obviously a med bay, but Marius and Raphaella turned half of it into a living space/office. Raphaella’s lab used to be a storage room. Nastya’s “room” is the cockpit, so the place is a little messy, but pretty barren save for the tools scattered everywhere and trash she keeps forgetting to throw out. the crew sometimes get into arguments about how shitty all their decorating skills are despite the fact that Aurora genuinely loves all of it. it’s like jewellery or tattoos to her (:

Nastya and Jonny are biological siblings; twins, more specifically. they were separated at a very young age due to Jonny being kidnapped by Billy Vangelis. it was originally a hostage situation, but Billy got attached to the kid and decided to just raise him, telling the Tsar that Jonny was dead. Billy never told Jonny about his past, because he didnt want to make things more complicated than they already were. wasn’t till Ivy noticed how weirdly similar they were that they found out. Raphaella ran DNA tests on them (against their wills of course) and, lo and behold, Jonny finds out he’s been a prince his whole life. took him a while to adjust, but Nastya was overjoyed. someone in her family was alive, and that was enough

Brian is like 6′8″ and Ashes is 6′2″. why? it’s funny.

anatomically, Brian and the Toy Soldier are almost identical. Carmilla actually used TS as a blueprint for Brian’s body when she was rebuilding him.

Tim sleeps with really thin blankets and hates heavy clothing because it reminds him too much of the lead sheets from the war. also gets really nervous when he sees smoke without a source; reminds him of the gas attacks.

all the Mechs have scars from when Carmilla found them, except for Brian and TS, of course. they’re the only ones that don’t vanish with the healing process. Ashes has burn scars on their legs and chest. Nastya still has her gunshot wound. Jonny has a surgery scar from when he got mech’d. Ivy has a lot of scars, but the most prominent ones are the burn scars on her hands and arms. Marius has a scar on where his mechanical arm connects to his shoulder; the skin looks shredded and only slightly taken care of. Tim has burn scars around his eyes, of course. Raphaella’s scars can’t be seen very well, but if you look close enough, you can see where her skin tore away around where her spine is.

Nastya is cold like. all the time. Ashes, however, is very hot all the time. Nastya clings to Ashes like a damn leech when she’s especially cold. it’s actually how they became such good friends. Nastya just hung around Ashes long enough for them to want to talk to her

Jonny drinks very dangerous substances for fun. these include but are not limited to radium, gasoline, liquid novichok agents, pesticides, and enough alcohol to kill a man (this happens once every few months)

Marius may not be a doctor or a baron but damn if he can’t make a good cocktail. similarly, Brian is a very good cook (:

okay im done im sorry my brain has rotted from the inside out

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

Same anon as before (at this point I'm not H2O only anymore right?):

Everything about Fae Jazz is great. If you're taking suggestions for other names, I was thinking more along the lines of clever reference (because like... "bearbert" is a pun and I know you were going for something along those lines but Higgs isn't exactly a pun? And yes she's prone to naming things badly but this is someone she's actually trying to do someone nice to, not someone considered an enemy like Crate Creep lol). May I suggest Elsie, Frances, Doyle, or a combination of all 3? (In case you missed the reference, the Cottingley Fairies were very famous in photography history! I learned about it in college because I'm a nerd :3 still one of my favorite random things I've learned about. I get the feeling Jazz might know about it because the Fentons could have done research into other mythological creatures while on the hunt for ghosts or to prove they were ghosts not mythological creatures? I feel like it could have been one of those things baby Jazz would've been interested in--even weirdly mature smart little girls like horses and fairies and stuff y'know?)

Oh speaking about college, if this is later in the main trio's adventures (ie. Danny is king and etc. and everything else seems to have already happened) since I've been imagining most of this stuff pretty much post series/Danny and co are in Junior year, that means Jazz is in college by now and it's more reason for her to have gotten sucked into her own adventures and picking up her own supernatural responsibilities outside of the main group. (I mean, where else is she gonna meet fairies? Kinda doubt they'd hang around Amity Park!) Like how Tucker and Sam have their own supernatural responsibilities that Danny tends not to get involved in unless they really need it (whether they get in over their heads or they ask for it), Jazz's own supernaturalness gets separated from the ghostliness of "normal life" in Amity park that way, and like the others Danny only really helps out if needed and requested (because... let's face it, he's clever but not that clever, he'd probably get his name stolen if it weren't for Jazz's interference...)

Also dang please imagine Jazz starting to apply Fae rules to just about everything she does to not only get used to it but also because they apply to her now too? Like not entering a house without being invited, etc. (On the Darker side of things, maybe she technically owns her friends' names so that other fae can't steal them? I don't know much fae lore though so idk how that'd work, I just think it'd be an interesting thing for Jazz to have/know/do.)

love it, higgs is now doyle. and while i feel the fenton parents were always obsessed with ghosts specifically and would actually ironically write off other paranormal creatures on principal. because science. ectoplasm and ghosts are provable with shoddy science. and they're in a different dimension, that's why no one sees or believes in them. but monsters? living in the same world as us? just in hidden societies? now lets not be silly.

jazz on the other hand, rebelling as a kid, and firmly parking her camp in fairies and not ghosts. stubbornly maintaining that they're real. having little wire and fabric fairy wings that she would wear all the time. having books and figurines that she still loves but keeps in storage since she became a 'grown up'. love it. doyle sees a picture of jazz wearing fake wings and is so offended.

as for this being an exclusively collage adventure i am down for it. i can imagine her ivy league school, which we can fudge the details on since it's a fantasy world, is like a collage town surrounded for miles by dense forests and there's all sorts of stories about people going missing in those woods or seeing weird thing. jazz mainly blames drinking and considers herself too mature for that. but then of course while walking home from the library someone calls for help from the forest and she goes, getting led deeper and deeper into the trees until she gets a clue into what happening and maybe almost shoots the mysterious person who appears to help her with an ecto-weapon. they of course are doyle and jazz is both weird and clever enough to talk circles around them. she of course immediately recognize that mysterious people appearing deep in the forest when you're lost should not be blindly trusted. between being a psychologist, having experience with ghosts, and being polite enough not to be rude, jazz is unlike anyone doyle has ever met before.

i'm also imagining jazz bringing doyle home when she visits home and everything clicking into place for them when they see the family this girl came from and the terrifying amount of ghost activity going on. are fairies and ghosts rivals? there's potential for that. do they at very least normally stay out of each others affairs? for sure. i just like the idea of doyle having a 'oh no. oh shit. oh shit. i need to get of here' moment when they realize that they're in over their head and had completely misread and underestimated jazz as a human. she is so much more chaotic than they ever knew just looking at her and her school life. and that's not to mention the creature her brother is. because he's not even technically ghost. like i can't imagine other magical creatures reactions to danny being a halfa. if we're going with mythology being half dead and alive is considered dark as hell so he's probably scary to other creatures and developing a reputation when he helps his friend.

jazz takes to be a fairy way too well in all honesty. she was weirdly mentally prepared for this day. not intentionally of course but between having her fairy phase and frequent exposure to weird and crazy things... lets say her morals were already a bit skewed and she was prepared for fae rules. applying them in general life is a vibe though. most of them she already considered just polite or her things she could pass as being weird. but it's becoming a thing. i actually see her accidentally being really good at stealing names. like she's not doing it intentionally but she keeps getting more powerful the more names she has. doyle is both frustrated and impressed. i don't see jazz taking her friends names if she can help it, in part because she already knows them and doesn't need reintroduction, but also because having someone's name is mostly about having power over people. like names are powerful. the whole point of giving your name away being considered is dangerous, is that the fairy will use your name to control you. so jazz definitely isn't taking names intentionally. and even when she does take a name doesn't use it.

some other fairy lore things to play with. jazz having an allergy to iron and by extension steel. jazz being much more protective of nature. sam low key being annoyed that jazz got better with plants than her, but also 100% ready to use that to her own ends. jazz being able to travel to the faery world through fairy ring portals. jazz getting sharp teeth. jazz developing a thing for counting. the fairy world being split into courts and having a whole lore and internal logic that is human logic. wordplay and music suddenly becoming really important in jazz's life. - Hestia

[were-all-just-stories]

Drunk Wonderland Squad on a Night Out Headcanons

idk this is weirdly specific but they won't leave me alone till I've written them out

(just gonna put this here- mentions of underage drinking, if you don't like that. x)

Peter — everyone thinks he's the guy you'd want to stick with (on account of him being such a mom friend in general day-to-day life) but he literally cannot hold his alcohol and after one/two drinks, you've literally lost him the entire night. He'll dance with everyone, ending & staying with Jason and will whisper musical theatre references back & forth with Ivy the entire evening. Gets incredibly giggly and is lowkey an amazing dancer, even when drunk. He loves a vodka and coke and can usually be found drinking one - Ivy introduced him to this. He's the first one to pass out (usually on the way home) but almost never gets hangovers which makes the entire squad super confused & jealous. Jason basically follows him round the entire night bc he's lowkey kind of worried and has to make sure he's alright. He gets extremely clingy (especially to Jason but also to everyone) and goes around offering everyone a hug (while Jason's following, acting all exasperated bc he wants to dance with him but lowkey loving it.)

Tanya — the person you'd actually want to stick with on a night out. Life of the party and will always make sure you're having a good time. She keeps everyone well stocked with alcohol and makes everyone join in dancing - even Matt. Can hold her alcohol much better than Peter but gets awful hangovers the following day. Really, really loves peach vodka - Peter is the only other person who'll drink it with her. She gets very loud when drunk and will start belting out off-key ABBA songs, Lucas will join in bc that's my girlfriend. She and Lucas have a tradition ever since they started dating of dancing together whenever an ABBA song comes on, anywhere, Lucas has almost broken a leg in an attempt to find Tanya when he's heard the music start.

Matt — lowkey kind of a buzzkill. Turns into your literal mother in Peter's absence (but, like, your strict, paranoid mother not the caring mom-friend) and is constantly checking the time/the people around him/where his friends are. Gets super paranoid that he'll lose his wallet or keys or phone and is constantly checking. Lucas always steals the keys to freak him out. He (Matt) spends the entire evening keeping a tally on who is where and is def the one you want to be with at the end of the night because he will get you home safe. Acts almost like a teacher counting the children: does head counts and is all "meet at the van at half twelve. If you're late, we'll leave without you." Of course, Lucas is always purposely half an hour late or something and bc Matt's not actually going to leave him behind, the rest of them just collectively watch Matt lose his mind as Lucas saunters over at one o clock. Doesn't drink too much at parties/raves so is the designated driver and prefers getting drunk in the comfort of St. Cecelia's where he doesn't have to worry.

Nadia — lowkey scarily good at holding her alcohol. It's really hard to realise she's drunk and she'll often sit calmly to the side, watching the carnage her friends unleash. Gets super intense when actually drunk - tho bc she's quite intense anyway, it can be hard to notice. Will often tag-team with Lucas to steal something of Matt's. She and Lucas have an escalating bet to steal something bigger/more noticeable each time. Once, she accidentally punctured the church van's tire while trying to steal it and they had to hike back instead. Only she and Lucas know what really happened. She and Ivy get really competitive whilst playing drinking games and often have to be stopped, otherwise they'll carry on drinking bc no way are they loosing to the other. At the end of the night, she is usually found sitting at the side bitching to Peter, who is half asleep and nodding along like he'll remember it in the morning.

Jason — similarly to his sister, he can hold his alcohol pretty well, contrary to popular opinion, which is that he's a complete lightweight because the first time he ever got drunk was on two beers and he threw up on Tanya's shoes. But he's evolved since then. Likes going to parties/clubs with dark lights so he can dance with Peter - he lowkey likes drunk Peter who can't stop hanging off him. He likes to play drinking games with Tanya, though Lucas has been banned from joining in ever since he attempted to shave his own eyebrows off when he lost. Lucas and Jason often end up daring each other to do increasingly ridiculous things, tho Jason is better at cutting things off when it gets too intense. Jason's love language is definitely touch and this is even more apparent when he's drunk. Like him and Peter literally cannot stop holding hands - luckily for him, it's dark so nobody can really see and, if they do, it's just played off as a buddy system to stop the other getting lost. Watching Peter sleep in the van on the way home makes him super sleepy so it's all he can do to help Peter inside and into bed before he's asleep too. Often gets really bad hangovers so Peter will bring him breakfast and they'll eat together in bed, maybe make some excuse for missing church so they can stay there longer.

Ivy — signature drink is a vodka & cranberry and it's always the first drink she gets. Usually ends up in the bathroom vomiting at some point bc she loves to mix alcohol with different outcomes - with varying results. She invented her own cocktail when extremely drunk one night which consists of vodka, lemonade, tomato juice, and raspberries. It is absolutely disgusting and nobody else but Lucas (who got such a bad hangover when he tried it, he thought he saw God) will go anywhere near it but she will attempt to convince everyone every time. Giggles a lot when drunk and often gets super emotional. Once cried because Peter spilled his drink on the floor. She gets really loud and is def the one person you'd find on top of a table dancing - Peter would be cheering her on from the floor. The best at placating Matt (even before he started liking her) and persuading him to stay an extra hour or so at the party so the rest of the squad always send her in to convince him. Often wears heels when they go out and is scarily good at keeping her balance in them even while drunk.

Lucas — off the rails. You go out on a night with him and you could wake up with no shoes in Quebec in someone's swimming pool with no memory of what happened. He will literally try any drink you offer him and is always up for dares - to the point where Matt has to intervene bc he's straight up about to jump in the lake with a plastic bag on his head. Extremely fun and you'll def have a good time with him but, if not restrained, the good time could end with a visit to the police station. Has no impulse/self control when drunk and loves to wind Matt up by stealing keys/something that'll freak him out. Will always show up late to their prearranged meeting time to go home and will pretend he's serious about wanting to drive them home to wind Matt up even more. Gets awful hangovers and, if they have class/church the next day, can usually be found either in bed or sitting in class/church with sunglasses and a hoodie pulled right over his head. Last one to fall asleep, he could probably keep going all night.

General —

* The squad usually have one night out a week/two weeks depending on what's going on/where it is

* They can't use church van often as it'll get noticeable so seven times out of ten they'll go somewhere in walking distance or else Lucas will somehow know these lowkey kinda sketch ppl who'll give them a lift (Matt will be freaking out the entire time)

* they'll usually spend Friday nights out somewhere and then Saturday in the common room/someone's dorm/the grounds if it's warm enough

* Peter and Jason attend about 85% of these nights and will plead homework or illness at least once a month so they can spend the night together instead

* Nadia attends about 60% of these and is less likely to go when Peter and Jason don't go but Lucas always tries to persuade her so they can annoy Matt & play drinking games

* Ivy, Lucas, and Tanya literally always go, Matt tags along most times with them bc 'someone's got to make sure they get home'

* Once or twice, Matt has stayed behind and gone to pick Lucas, Tanya, and Ivy up at one instead

* Nadia and Matt sometimes hang out when the others go - they watch scary movies together in the common room - Nadia keeps picking increasingly scarier/gorier ones to see how long it'll take Matt to ask to turn it off but he hasn't cracked yet

Super long post so apologies for that lol, again, feel free to add on/let me know what you think!

[bibliocratic]

drunken nights

jonmartin, scottish safehouse, drinking wine and card games

fluff. just fluff. 

His lips and teeth stained purplish, Jon finishes his drink with an extravagant flourish and beckons impatiently for the corkscrew. 

Martin's put it down somewhere, so by the time he's uncovered it from down the side of the sofa, Jon's sourced a new bottle, digging into the soft flesh of the cork with the metal implement Martin's passed over.

Their second evening in the safe house has wound down grim and blustery, the creak of the cottage like a laden floorboard, and Martin is discovering Jon drinks exactly like a uni student.  

“We should play a game,” Jon proposes grandly and decisively, holding up a finger like he wants to illustrate a  particularly salient point in a lecture.

“Like what?” Martin says, content to let the words form and fall out of his mouth lazily, half-moulded like a cushion against the back of the sofa. Like some indolent Caesar, he holds his mug out, shaking it at Jon until he gets the message. Jon gives himself a triumphant and satisfied nod when he manages to top up both of their mugs – there was no glasses in the cupboards that they've yet found, and Jon seems content to fill the mismatched mugs up like he's pouring tea – without spillage.

“Let's do questions,” Jon says, passing back Martin's topped-up drink. He's gone blotchy around his throat, but he fixes on Martin with wine-bright eyes, bearing one of those smiles on his face that Martin never knew could come so easily.

“Don't you have.... y-your omniscient mind powers f'that?” Martin says, squinting as Jon, who had just sat down and sunk against him, in a resolute gear-change becomes a spiky thing with a mission, all elbows as he pushes himself back up to a wavering stand before lurching in the direction of the kitchen cabinets.

“I'm serious!” Jon replies, making a god-awful clattering racket as he pushes aside cutlery and tin opener and spatulas from their home in the top drawer that apparently holds everything, either kitchen-related or not. 

Finally, with a little 'ah!', he brandishes like a dog-eared grail a grimy looking box of playing cards. “Daisy left these.”

“Makes a nice change from gaffer tape an' weirdly stained rope,” Martin burbles back, using the divinely-granted opportunity he's been bestowed to give Jon a shameless and fondly admiring once-over before Jon swivels around on the balls of his feet and Martin schools his expression mild and dopey. “Anyway, you want t' do questions, why don't we jus' play Never Have I Ever or summin'?”

Jon makes a face that is either currently remembering some beer-soaked student days or trying very hard to forget.

“My game's better,” he says, bee-lining back to his position squashed against Martin's stomach. He throws himself down heavily, and Martin gives a grunting, over-dramatic ooof as his favourite hedgehog-human elbows him while he reconfigures his seating. “'s fun.”

“You know the meaning of the word then?”

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before  he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don't want to.”

Martin takes the cards off him, not wanting to watch Jon martyr himself for hours trying to open something for the second time in as many days. (The raspberry jam was still unopened and apparently fused shut for later civilisations to one day come across. Martin had caught Jon trying to pop the seal with a knife and there had been words).

Jon sways and folds his limbs cross legged, body leaning towards Martin as he unpacks the cards into his palm.

“What questions then?”

Jon huffs.

“I'm not going to tell you, that's not the game.”

“What if you cheat though?”

“I won't!”

“'s what a cheater would say.”

“Martin...!”

“Tell y' what,” Martin grins, “Rules! You like those. Right – er – kay, if you use your ominous eye powers – ”

“I'm not going t – ”

“If. Then, then there's a penalty. 's fair, right?”

Jon grumbles another petulant 'not gonna' into his wine mug, the protestation echoing.

“I think...” Martin says slowly, blinking heavily, taking a big swig and sloshing it around his mouth. “...you should hafta take a drink.”

“I'm drinking anyway,” Jon replies impishly, with one of his own-brand smug expressions, and Martin shushes him with a shoulder-shove and a grinning 'another drink then!'

Jon takes the cards out of Martin's hands, almost folds the lines in his forehead in concentration as he tries to shuffle them, and then promptly fans them all over the sofa.

“A-and!” Martin says with a pleased smirk. “A-and I get another question!”

Jon makes the kind of sigh that implies he is possessed of saintly, near beatific patience for agreeing to such unreasonableness.

Martin leans forward and sloppily kisses Jon's hairline, and this seems to appease him. He tries to sit straighter up, fails and gives up up as a bad idea anyway.

The game is decided. It's simple and easy for their lubricated minds to parse – if a black card is turned over, Jon asks Martin a question. If a red, Martin asks Jon. Number cards are easier, more playful questions. Higher number cards and picture cards are more serious or personal questions. Any card can be refused at any time. Jon repeats this with an anxious frown until Martin nudges him with an elbow, sensing a spiral starting if he doesn't intervene, and demands the game be begun.

The rules go out of the window just as simply. Often they'll get tangled in the bramble-patch of some question, mouth full of reminiscences, clarifying or expanding questions batted back and forth like a casual and amenable round of some racquet sport. But, equally likely, debate will spring up over the numerical value of the question and that will cheerfully eat up the time as they spiritedly disagree on what sorts of information is worth what number.

“That's an eight at least, y' - you can't ask that until you've got at least an eight.”

“But I've not got an eight, I’ve a six.”

“Then tough, you better wait.”

“But you could tell me nooooww.”

Jon draws a nine of spades, and spends an over-long amount of time pondering the question.

“C'mon, hurry up.” Martin nudges him with a socked toe, and takes another gulp of his rapidly depleting wine.

“I'm thinking,” Jon pouts.

Martin stretches out, yawning, and then awkwardly manoeuvres himself so he's on his back, half lying on Jon's crossed legs, the rest of him stuck out over the arm of the sofa to dangle.

“You look silly upside down,” he says, following the line of Jon's jaw, his vision getting a little less concrete now but perfectly happy to float in his tipsy haze for a while.

Jon trails a hand through Martin's hair rhythmically while he ponders.

“I've got – yeh, yeh, I've got one,” he says finally. “Ok, here you go, right – when was your last relationship?”

“I had a three-week fling about five years ago with a guy called Manoj,” Martin replies, loose-lipped, riding the easy slide of the words slicking out of his mouth. “He's some high-flying investment banker now. Not good boyfriend material, you know, but we kept in touch, text sometimes if we wanted to hook up.”

The static in Martin's head fades enough for him to frown and shake himself free of the urge that just swept him along.

“Shit,” Jon swear.  Martin doesn't like the blank expression of horror that's begun to creep like ivy rash, pushing aside his reddening inebriation.  “Shit – Martin – I...”

“You're a cheat!” Martin declares quickly, efficiently sweeping all concerns about Jon's mild lapse from his mind in favour of smugly finger-pointing. “Cheat! That's – More wine! That's t'rules.”

“I – er.”

Martin's stumbling fingers reach down to the side of the sofa, and he sits up enough to fill Jon's mug again. It overflows a bit and drips on Jon's jeans and neither of them notice.

“You promised no mind powers,” he sing-songs, pushing the mug back at Jon.

Jon's expression seeps from heightened and horrified to a cautious mild embarrassment, and Martin feels a warm wash of a job accomplished.

“'was an accident,” he says as he sinks his face into the mug.

“Penalties are penalties.” Martin grins.

“You really have hook-ups with an investment banker?”

“Had. Past tense. Don't judge me.”

“I'm not – you can do what you like with your own body. Jus' they tend to be a bit...” Jon makes a most definitely judgy face.

“Stuck up?”

“I was going to try arrogant.”

“Maybe that's my type,” Martin says with a goofy wink, and Jon rolls his eyes. “And that was a sip, Jonathan, that's not a penalty.”

Jon drinks a little more. Martin bestows a graceless kiss against his cheek as a reward for his pains.

“And now my question,” Martin says.

Jon has the habit of drawing his eyebrows intensely together as he waits for each question, as though readying to give the enquiry the entirety of his attention.

“Alright. Go on.”

“Which one of my poems is your favourite?”

“I'm not answering that.”

“Why not?”

“Martin...”

“Fine. Another one. Non-morose answers only.” Martin bops Jon's nose. He's struggled through the reticence of his unruly limbs to sit up properly, and enjoys the fruits of his labours in that he can now more easily look at Jon while he's talking. “What do you wish you were better at?”

“Well, under such strict and unnecessary restrictions,” Jon says, who has taken advantage of Martin's more upright position to lean against him like a capsizing boat,  his mug hugged against his breastbone. “Dunno. I've always quite liked the idea of – of getting into astronomy. There's all of the visually observable stuff, and it's fascinating, like it's – 't's really cool, the sorts of things you can see, even with reasonably cheap equipment, but then – then they've got this – this thing called radio astronomy, an' it's where you detect things like pulsars and stuff using radio waves, and it's really amazing, you know and – why're you smiling at me like that?”

“I'm dating such a nerd,” Martin laughs and fails to disguise how charmed he is, how wide his wine-stained lips are pulled. “That's adorable.”

“What about you then?” Jon says. He's going for affronted, but his hair is sprouting up fly-away, there's a strip of darkening skin over his nose and cheeks, and he has honest-to-god dimples that even his scruffy patch of beard doesn't mask when he smiles with his whole mouth. His happiness is a thoughtless, reckless thing and Martin thinks it's stunning. If he can figure out how to word it, he's definitely going to tell Jon, just blurt it out because Jon deserves to know, should be told how much his happiness means to Martin.

Jon swivels his body to drape his legs over Martin's knees, fidgets like a cat before he finally stills.

“Maybe baking?” Martin muses. He strokes the knobbly bone on the side of Jon's ankle, the skin fading smooth from the dark hair down his legs, and Jon twitches like he's ticklish. “I've never really...”

“Martin!” Jon says suddenly. Sitting up so fast in fact that he sloshes a blood-coloured stain onto his shirt.

“What?” Martin says, a buzz of threatened sobriety at whatever has broken their languid, lazy peace.  Jon's putting his mug down and leaning forward.

“Martin,” he stresses again, and his face has filled up with a torch-bright light, dimples deepening. “There's flour in the kitchen. Martin, th-there's – I think there's... Eggs! We've eggs, 'n you got milk – let's make – let's make a cake!”

Martin blinks.

“What now?”

“Yeah, sure, now.”

Martin snorts.

“That oven's seen the Blitz, Jon! We'll need tetanus shots before we go near the thing.”

“N', n' it'll be fine, Daisy used it to make bread to disguise the smell of bleach.”

“God, that's not the ringing endorsement you think it is.”

“Hush, c'mon, let's go look,” Jon tries to stumble up and nearly drop-kicks his innocently placed mug. Martin breaks into a tipsy peal of laughter, squawks when Jon nearly collapses back onto him, almost headbutting him before he squashes his face with a petulant, slightly-off-the-mark kiss.

“Fine,” Martin half-slurs as Jon squirms, trying to separate them and drag Martin up from where he was entirety committed to being dug in for the evening. “F'ne, we'll look, kay, you pr'lly can't get rabies anyway with your mind powers.”

Jon staggers and nearly slips. Martin, feeling that it'll be better for all concerned if Jon is not allowed to do much walking for the moment, instead feels that now is a perfect moment to demonstrate every expression of chivalry he's always rather sappily wanted to shower a loved one with.

This firmly in mind, the idea growing better by the moment, Martin valiantly attempts to lift Jon in a wonky bridal carry.

Jon near shrieks with something that is both primal and delighted, but also rationally terrified: “Martin, your back!” Your back!”

“'s fine,” Martin grunts.

“You're going to do your back in!”

“If you keep squirming around, lemme get a good grip.”

“You're g-g-goin' to drop me, M-Martin!”

Tears are rolling down Jon's cheeks, his chest heaving in short-breathed gasping laughter that makes their small cramped living room seem bigger than it is.  Martin does nearly drop him, but the sofa is still there for Martin to plant the hiccuping, giggling object of his devotions down upon safely. It takes a few minutes, but he convinces the leggy, laugh-shook drunkard he calls his own to clamber onto his back like a leggy koala, and this is more successful as Martin swayingly carries him into the kitchen.

(Their cakes are flat, lacking in sugar and near carbonated by the time they remember to take them out of the oven. Martin wakes up with Jon's hair in his mouth and a thundering pity-party of  a headache made worse by Jon's snoring and he cannot for the life of him stop smiling).

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter One

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by @just-the-hiddles​. This will be a mini series. I’m super nervous about this one, so feedback’s most welcome!

Tags : @buckybarnesplumwhore​ 

Taglists open! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future chapters.

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Check out the Prologue here 

Word count: 1295

Warnings: Foul language. Blood (Vampires! Kind of a package deal). Smut in future chapters. 18+ content!

...

Chapter 1 

A cold mid-morning breeze welcomed you as you stepped out of the car that dropped you off at Dewsbury town square.

I like the weather already, you thought with a smile.

You had a backpack and a small duffel bag with your essentials, the rest of your luggage would be reaching the new house in the evening. Which meant you could walk around town, get some food, and maybe talk to a few locals.

Welcome to Dewsbury (Y/N). Hope you had a safe journey. – James Barnes.

That is weirdly prompt, you thought as you read the text message on your phone. you thought nothing much of it as you texted back a polite reply and made your way further into the town, looking around for a place to eat and hang out for a few hours.

You reached a place called Ivy Grill and decided to walk in for some lunch. The interiors looked too dark for this time of the day. Polished wooden tables with plush chairs covered in a dark blue velvet fabric, the place was almost empty, you observed. The table in front of the bar looked relatively well lit so you opted to sit there.

Since no one was around you put your bags on the chair beside you and slumped back looking around for someone to bring you a menu.

You texted Sam in the meantime, informing him about your whereabouts.

A short plump woman appeared from your right, poured you a glass of water and asked, “What can I get you dear?”

“Umm what do you recommend? Any dish of the day?”

“Clam chowder sound good? We’re known for it.” she asked with a smile.

“Great I’ll have that. Is it always this windy here?” you asked, looking out the far window at the back where you could see hemlock trees swaying in the breeze.

“Today of all days it is, it looks like it’s only gonna get colder. You know what let me bring you some mulled wine, it’ll keep you warm.” the woman said turning around and walking back to what you assumed was the kitchen.

Before you could say it was too early to be drinking, she was gone. You figured you could needed some warmth in your body since your clothes wouldn’t provide for much. You wore a light cardigan over a thin white T shirt and your favorite pair of faded blue denims.

The middle-aged woman, Jenny you’d learnt, returned with your order and placed it in front of you. It smelled delicious. You couldn’t wait to dig in.

Now that you were fed and wined, you felt better. You could hang out here, but you figured you would ask Jenny for a local library to go visit.

…

The library, you’d found out, was situated right at the beginning of The Old Chapel Street, your house was located at the end of the same street. How convenient.

The rusty old bell rang as you pushed through the door and stepped into the library. The smell of old and new books filled your nostrils as soon as you did. Your favorite scent.

As you made your way to the front desk, you noticed a man, the librarian, sitting in his armchair almost asleep with his head on the table.

You cleared your throat to announce your arrival, which made the man sit up instantly. He looked up at you through his crooked glasses and smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, apologies. What can I help you with, my dear?”

“I was wondering if I could look around in here. Perhaps read up a little about the town history?”

“Most certainly. You’ll find Dewsbury history books in aisle three. You can keep your bags over there on the table while you look for them. They’ll be safe don’t worry, we have cameras installed.” The man gestured towards the leather armchairs and tables near the corner of the library.

“Thank you sir.”

“Please call me Frank. And if you need any help at all do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you Frank, I will.” You said, giving him a smile.

Balding slightly, a paunch, in his mid-sixties you presumed. He seemed nice.

You walked over to the aisle, picked out Dewsbury: A Brief History and went to settle down in the chair beside the large windows.

You must’ve been reading for an hour or two, engrossed in the book, when the door swung open. You heard footsteps walking across the floor and a velvety smooth baritone fell on your ears.

“I smell something new in here Frank.”

The voice made you look up towards Frank’s desk. Your eyes fell upon a tall man dressed in all black, with raven black hair reaching his shoulders, his back towards you.

“Good to see you too Loki. Did you bring my books back? You were supposed to return them two days ago.”

“I have them right here. You didn’t answer my question Frank, is there someone-” the man named Loki stopped mid-sentence as he turned around and saw you.

You felt the hairs of your neck stand up as you locked eyes. His eyes were piercing blue with hints of green? A sharp jawline that could probably cut glass, and a smile that made you very uncomfortable. Wow those eyes though.

“That’s (Y/N). She’s new to town. Let’s not scare her away on her very first day.” Frank interrupted your staring match. You smiled warily and nodded a bit before returning your attention to the book.

They continued talking for a while and you went back to reading, very aware of the occasional glances you were getting from Loki from the corner of your eye.

Your phone buzzed suddenly startling you, it was the shipping guy. You checked your watch, it was five thirty already. Had it really been that long? Well time flew when you got into reading as always.

The guy informed you that they’d reach your house in ten minutes. You figured you’d take your leave and started walking towards the front with your bags and the book. Loki was still leaning on the desk in conversation with Frank.

“Well I better take off, the shipping guys are here. Thank you for the book Frank. I’ll come back for it.” you gave him a genuine smile and placed the book on the table.

“Loki Laufeyson. Pleasure to meet you (Y/N).” Loki extended his hand towards you. You took it and it felt very cold. Loki noticed your surprise and smiled wider.

“Hello Loki.” you replied shakily as you looked into those eyes again.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” With that you walked out of the library glancing back one last time at Loki who was looking at you this whole time.

Sure, not creepy at all, you thought.

You walked down the street towards your house, the air was definitely colder now. You made a mental note of buying some warm scarves later.

As your new house came into view, you couldn’t help feel the excitement again. It looked better than the pictures for sure. You waited outside for the truck to arrive and noticed that the house overlooked the forest. It wasn’t too dense, but it wasn’t very pleasant either. You were sure there were wolves in that forest, among other things.

The truck arrived shortly and unloaded all your luggage on the front porch.

Phew! This is gonna take a while. You better get to it before it starts getting dark.

Just as you were about to pick up the first box your phone buzzed again. You fished it out of your pocket and opened the text message.

Looks like a lot of luggage. You’ll be exhausted after all that moving. Why don’t I come over with a welcome drink. It’s about time we met (Y/N) – James B.

…

Find Chapter 2 here

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 13

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Astrid could hear the soft gurgling of the stream long before she saw it. Hiccup led her around several groups of trees, through dense thicket, over narrow footpaths so hidden, she wondered if he’d formed them himself or if he’d been here so often, he knew every single step by heart. Probably both.

Ducking underneath the low-hanging leaves of a beech and evading the thorned twigs of a blackberry bush, they arrived on a small meadow, blooming and buzzing in the warm sunlight. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet smell of late spring.

The stream was about ten feet wide, shallow water so clear she could count the pebbles at the bottom glistening in the light. She admired the way the current smoothly ran over and past the stones sticking out of the water, some big and round, some flat, serving as slippery step stones.

All around, leaves were rustling in the faint breeze, coming together with the humming and buzzing activity in the grass and the calming melody of the water in a soothing symphony.

The grass tickled her ankles as she slowly made her way to the bank of the stream, looking around and taking it all in. “This place is amazing.”

“It’s my favorite place in the forest.” Hiccup followed her and sat down on a small rock near the water. “Apart from the small cove my father used to take me to for fishing. It’s a bit further downstream, but last week I found a little fox family there and I don’t want to disturb them.”

She gently nudged him with her foot. “Scooch over.” When he moved to the side to make room on his rock, she settled down next to him. The surface of the rock was rather flat and not very big, just enough for two lean people to share without one butt cheek hanging over the side. It also meant that her entire side was pressed against his. He was warm and soft and comfortable. And maybe she leaned into him a bit, but only because she didn’t want to slide off the rock.

They sat in silence for a while. Astrid leaned back on her hands as far as she could on this surface and took in the scenery. Lining the meadow and the creek, knobby trees covered in ivy stood among straight trunks with white-gray pattern; overgrowing shrubbery, weeds and wildflowers nestled the ground close to their roots.

And there was green. Wherever she looked, everything was green, in different shades and shapes and sizes. When she breathed in through the nose, she could practically smell the luscious colors, along with the May bells and mayweed and the scent of fresh water in spring.

A gentle breeze brushed through her hair, harmonizing with the rustling of the leaves and the mellow mumbling and babbling of the water. Chirping and tweeting sounded from the trees, accompanied by the squeaking and cheeping of the baby birds hidden in the branches. A small, thin tree had grown low across the stream, its twigs hanging into the water, and she imagined the smaller animals using it as a bridge so they didn’t get wet feet or got carried away by the current.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tuft of red and white swiftly disappearing up the trunk of a tree. A vole scurried through the leaves on the other side of the stream. Occasionally, a sudden ripple on the water revealed a glimpse of the activity below the surface. She knew that the longer she waited, the more the life of the forest would reveal itself to her. There was no traffic, no people, just her and Hiccup and their promised nature quality time.

Also belonging to the scenery was one dashing young man with the kind of chiseled jaw covered in stubble that could kill a man – or woman. He was focused on something unspecific in the water. In the sunlight, his hair looked like it would catch on fire any moment. Even his eyelashes were glowing. Was it possible to be hot in a dorky way? Apparently. She took a deep breath and followed his gaze to the mesmerizing dance of light and tiny waves on the surface of the water.

After a few minutes of silence, she started plucking at a long blade of grass until she held half of it in her hand. Staring at the stream, she absentmindedly ripped the blade in tiny pieces. “I’m afraid Eret’s cheating on me.” She opened her palms and the grass landed on her shoes without a sound while she waited. She didn’t even know what she was waiting for, or why she’d admitted to that in the first place. She suspected the peacefulness of this place had gained her trust.

Hiccup regarded her thoughtfully. “Why do you think that?”

She crossed her arms with a sigh. “He keeps talking about this coworker of his. How much fun they have at work. How they always get stuck after their shift ends because of their infinite amount of conversation topics. It’s always ‘my coworker’ this and ‘my coworker’ that. And then last March, on their department’s spring party, I met Dana. She kept going on and on and on about how funny he is, how capable and handsome.” She tugged at a whole clump of grass, in desperate need to rip something apart. “She was practically throwing herself at him.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup made. “Have you talked to him about that?”

She huffed. “Oh, I have. I confronted him two weeks ago. He didn’t take the accusation that well.”

“You… blatantly accused him of cheating? I don’t think anyone would take that well.”

“How else was I supposed to talk to him about it? Ask him nicely if he has a mistress?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Yes. No? I don’t know. I guess there’s a more delicate way to approach that subject.”

“I’m a straight-forward person, I don’t like to beat around the bush. So when he started his next sentence with my coworker and I, I just snapped. I was so sick of it.”

“What happened?”

“It escalated. We yelled. Then while he packed for his work trip, I packed to go live with my parents for a while. Said I needed some distance. He said I didn’t even need to leave the house for that, because I was already acting distant. I said that the same would go for him. And the yelling started again and then we left and… Well.” She vaguely gestured around. “Here I am.”

“Sounds like a real mess.”

“It is.” She bit her lip. “What do you think I should do?”

He looked at her in earnest, sincerity deep in his eyes. “I think you should talk to him about how you feel. And maybe this time, leave out the blunt accusations.”

She groaned and threw her head back. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings.”

“At some point, you will have to. Take it from a guy who as a teenager ran away from every single confrontation because he was too afraid of failure and an outcome more negative than the actual situation.”

The boulder was back in her stomach. She wondered what would happen if she went into the water now. Why had she brought up the topic again? Because she’d felt comfortable enough to do so? And weirdly, despite her old friend the boulder, she wanted to get another thing off her chest. Desperately.

“I took a pregnancy test last night.” She felt his eyes bore into the side of her head.

“Are you…?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Oh.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. “Is that… I mean, did- did you… Are you- are you okay?”

Ripping out more grass, she scrunched up her face. “Yeah. I’m relieved, I guess. I mean, I always knew I wanted to have kids at some point, but…”

“But now’s not a good time,” he finished the sentence for her and she nodded. If she had been pregnant, then the whole situation would have been more complicated. She probably would have rushed back into a relationship that still needed more sorting out, ignoring any problems for the sake of the child. But that would have just made all parties involved more miserable.

She smiled at Hiccup. “Thanks. You’re good to talk to.” That was probably an understatement. It was somehow so easy to tell him about things she hadn’t even yet mentioned in passing around anyone else. They’d just started to really get to know each other, and she already trusted him completely. Her mother would call her naïve. But Astrid knew better, and so did he, judging by the meaningful look he gave her.

“Anytime.”

Before she could change her mind, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel him freeze for a moment, but then he relaxed and slowly leaned his own head against hers. The boulder inside her dissolved.

A woodpecker joined them somewhere on their left, a cuckoo called faintly in the distance. She closed her eyes. The sun warming her face and the songs of nature were like a lullaby, luring her in for a nap. She’d almost drifted off when a gentle nudge brought her back. Looking up at Hiccup, she opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head and pointed ahead.

There, on the other side of the stream, a deer poked its head out of the underbrush. It stood still for a moment, its nose quivering, before it slowly stalked towards the water. With one last check of its surroundings, it lowered its head and started drinking. Astrid didn’t dare to move a muscle or make the slightest sound.

However, a low gasp escaped her when a second deer came onto the meadow, then a third. One of them set its gaze onto the two humans on the other side, regarding them, and after a good twenty seconds of staring decided they were no threat. It was an incredible feeling. Her hand slowly reached for her phone, but before she could take it out of her pocket, Hiccup closed his hand over hers and shook his head. "Shh," he made, so quietly she almost didn't hear it. Her heart was pounding.

When the breeze suddenly picked up and carried their scent over, the deer tensed, holding their noses up in the air immediately. From one second to the other, all three of them leapt up and bolted, the snapping of twigs in the underbrush growing fainter by the second. The woodpecker, bumblebees and gurgling of the water slowly came back into focus. She and Hiccup looked at each other with a spark in their eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered and he raised his eyebrows in question. “For taking me here.”

“Ah, you’re welc–” His voice died when she suddenly leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. With wide, green eyes he stared at her, and she assumed her expression mirrored his. Her lips tingled, warm and exciting. The sensation wandered down her arm into her hand and she managed to break away from his gaze to look down. He followed her eyes and when he realized his hand was still holding hers, he gulped and slowly pulled away, the nerves under her skin longing to chase his touch.

“We… We should probably get going,” she feebly suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice an octave higher than normal. “That’s exactly what I was gonna… Get going.” Looking anywhere but at her, he scrambled up from the rock and orientated himself. “There- let’s… Uh, let’s go there.”

For some reason, her knees needed a moment before they let her walk after him. Whatever that had just been, she should just forget about it. She followed Hiccup through the trees, no paths directing the way. All she could do was trust him that he knew where he was going, and she did. He led her up a small hill, leaves and twigs crunching under their steps.

“Hey, your shoe is untied,” she noted. He stopped to look down and a soft oh escaped him. It was cute.

While she readjusted her socks that were slowly slipping from her heel, he bent over to relace his shoes, giving her a good look at his backside. From her point of view – which was completely neutral, of course – he had a nice butt. When he stood again, she jogged past him and gave it a light slap.

“Astrid!” he exclaimed in surprise.

She just smirked at him. “Come on, slowpoke!” Then she sprinted down the other side of the hill.

“Oh, you!” she heard him call before he took after her, chasing her through the woods. She made it down the hill, past a group of birches and around a thick beech when he came around the other side of it, throwing his arms around her and lifting her up. “Gotcha!” He immediately let go of her after, walking further down the invisible path only he could see.

She had to catch her breath for a second before she fell back in step beside him. From the sprint. “Just so you know, I let you win.”

“No, no you didn’t!” he countered in a chipper tone.

“Because I was tired of playing catch.”

“Nope, you weren’t.” She stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh. “You’re so mature, Ms. Hofferson.”

“That’s because I’m older than you.”

“By two months! Hey, watch your step, there’s a lot of vines here.” Naturally, he promptly stumbled over one, catching himself on a tree.

“Watch your step, there’s lots of vines here.”

He shook his head. “Well, aren’t you a little smartass.”

“Takes one to know one,” she shrugged.

“Eh, can’t argue with that.”

She brushed her fist along his arm again and caught his grin.

All too soon, she began to make out traffic and chatter in the distance again. It felt like leaving a different, peaceful universe, where the rest of the world and its problems didn’t exist. It was kind of disappointing. And if that wasn’t enough, on their way back to the cars, her phone started ringing with a very familiar name filling the screen. She sighed. She didn’t want to deal with that right now, but knew that ignoring his call wouldn’t make anything any better.

She threw Hiccup an apologetic look and held her phone against her ear. “Hi.”

“Hey.” There was an awkward beat of silence. “I’m on my way home and uh… I just wanted to know if you’re there.”

“No.”

“Are you… still in Berk? At your parents’ place?”

“Yes.”

“Do… Do you know when you’ll be coming back?”

“No.”

When her answers didn’t become more elaborate, Eret cleared his throat, and after years of being with him, she could tell he was about to say something he’d rather not say at all. “You, um. You were right, by the way. About Dana.” Bright red warning bells rang in her mind at that name. “She kissed me last night.” He cleared his throat and gulped audibly.

She stepped past the last line of trees and onto the gravel of the parking lot, and leaving the woods had never felt this sobering. “I fucking knew it,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

“Astrid–”

“I knew it!”

“Hey, hold on, please let me finish!”

She walked a small distance away from Hiccup and any other people in the near vicinity. No need for them to overhear her personal drama. “Fine, I’m listening!”

“Like I said, you were right, she wanted–”

“Did you kiss her back?”

“No–”

“So there’s nothing going on between you and your coworker?”

He didn’t immediately answer and his hesitation stung. “Will you just let me explain?!”

“You didn’t answer my question!” She was yelling and she knew it. People were turning their heads so she glowered at them.

“And you didn’t let me speak in the first place! You know what, my mother’s right, sometimes you really do act like my personal dictator.”

Astrid’s jaw dropped to the floor. “WELL, FUCK YOU TOO!” she screamed and it took everything in her to not fling her phone across the parking lot. Instead, she hung up and forcefully kicked at a large pebble on the ground. It whirled up dust and gravel and hit a stranger’s car. She couldn’t care less. Everything inside her was fuming. How dare he? How dare they?!

With a frustrated growl, she turned around and walked back to Hiccup. He had given her some space and was leaning against his car.

“Everything alright?” he asked carefully at her aggressive body language.

“I was right! Eret just told me! He and his stupid fucking coworker!”

“So… He admitted to cheating on you?”

“Well, no, not in those words, but…”

“So he didn’t?”

“He was telling me the story of how he and Dana had fun last night, but I just...”

“You avoided the topic.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then huffed. “I didn’t need to hear any details.”

“Hm,” he made, thoughts scurrying across his face. “Are you sure there isn’t more to the story than you think? Maybe you should talk–”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she interrupted him, the words breaking out of her on their own.

He held up his hands in defense. “Geez, sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

Something churned inside her stomach, between all the raging knives, something akin to guilt. Seeing his expression, her shoulders untensed a little. “No, sorry for yelling at you. I’m just so– ugh!” Her fist punched the next best thing, which was the metal pole of a parking sign. A flash of pain shot through her knuckles and she shook her hand out with a hiss.

“Hey, can I say something?” Hiccup asked, caution coating his voice with his eyes set on her aching hand.

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t include the word overreaction.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed in contemplation. “I might be going out on a limb here, but… Do you think that, maybe, you want it to be true?”

“Why on Earth would I want that?!”

“Because… Because you’re not happy in your relationship and- and this way, you can put the blame on someone other than yourself.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” The blazing wall of fire burned every shred of guilt and sympathy she felt.

He held up his hands again. “I’m just saying, you accused him of cheating, kept yelling at him – I’m assuming offensively – and now you yelled at him again instead of hearing him out. Is that what happened or am I totally off-base here?”

“Are you taking his side?!”

“No! If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be involved in this at all!”

“Then why are we still having this conversation?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as he sighed.

“Because I care about you. And I hate seeing you digging yourself deeper into this mess, so I’m trying to help you realize what to do.”

“Really? Then what is it I should do?”

“Let him give you his side of the story. Without any yelling.”

She leaned against the pole, suddenly very tired. “I…”

“You know,” he said when she didn’t continue, avoiding his searching eyes, “for someone claiming to be so straightforward, you sure like to run from truthful conversations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, voice rising again.

He looked at her for a moment, then shook is head. “Never mind.”

“No, if you have something to say, then say it!”

After a short contemplating glance, he stood up straight. “Fine. You say you don’t like to beat around the bush, but how come we’re not talking about what happened on your wedding day? Or at Dagur’s party? Are we just going to ignore all that until we die?”

“What- I don’t- We-” she stuttered, her stomach dropping further than the ground beneath her feet. At once, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and confused at the same time. Her mind decided on the next best defense mechanism. “What is there to talk about?” She could see the small change in his eyes, a gray curtain falling, tired, disappointed, sad.

“You’ll keep denying it, won’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question and that somehow hit even harder.

“What is there to deny?”

Suddenly, he took a large step towards her, until he was so close, their noses were almost touching. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his deodorant, make out every tiny hair on his face and the miniscule change of skin tissue at the edges of the long, white scar on his chin. Her breath hitched, heart pounding rapidly, her entire being longing to close the remaining gap between their bodies. Her knees weakened. It was hard to not get mesmerized by his eyes, a deep, green galaxy right before her. She tore her eyes away from them, only to latch onto his lips. She couldn’t breathe.

Like detaching himself from a magnet, he slowly stepped back and the air found its way back into her lungs. She could hear her heartbeat in every cell of her body, had trouble making sense of her surroundings, like waking up in a dark room with only a sliver of light coming from an unknown direction. By the time her feet touched solid ground again, mere seconds could have passed, or entire lifetimes.

“You’re right,” he said, strained voice cutting right through her chest, “there’s nothing to talk about. You dropped your phone, by the way.” With that, he got into his car, reversed out of the parking spot, and drove away. Even after he was long gone and the sound of his engine had faded in the distance, Astrid was still rooted to the spot, staring in the direction he had disappeared.

It took her a while to reassemble herself, clear the fog in her mind, will her heartbeat to finally slow down. On autopilot, she picked her phone up from the ground, wiped the gravel off the screen, saw the new variation of tiny scratches on the back but didn’t truly see anything. Her mind was still drowning in the sudden proximity to Hiccup Haddock, which shouldn’t have shaken her as much as it had, considering she’d sat close to him merely an hour ago.

Only when she was back in her own car, weaving her way through Berk’s rush hour traffic, her fingers stopped twitching at the memory of being almost skin to skin with him. As the fog was clearing, her confusion began settling, the puzzle pieces setting themselves back together, and a fist of steel closed around her still thumping heart.

It remained like that for the rest of the day. She managed to smile, make small talk, be present enough to get through the conversations with her parents, avoiding too much eye contact, especially with her mother. She probably noticed her mental absence but knew it would be futile to try and get anything out of her.

Astrid went to bed at ten; she tossed, turned, buried her face in her pillow until long past midnight. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, lying in the dark in her old bedroom, there was no place to hide from her mind. It insisted on replaying the whole day over and over, gnawing and nibbling away at her from the inside. When she closed her eyes, she saw green irises, a storm of freckles dancing across her retina, lips so close her fingers twitched to touch them, her own lips puckering. And even though it’s been several hours, she could still feel his hand on hers, warm and gentle and setting a blazing fire to her core.

He kept haunting her, occupying her every thought, every beat of her heart. Her ribs were aching from the steel inside her chest, pressing cold and heavy against her heart and lungs ever since her fight with Hiccup. She felt terrible. All he’d done was be honest, something she had not been with herself for a very long time, and she’d lashed out at him just like she had at Eret and her mother.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and squinted at the bright screen. Opening the right messenger app, she drafted an apology message, deleted it several times, all the time hoping he wasn’t looking at his side of the chat right now and saw her typing. Because in the end, she’d gone through at least ten versions of the same text and didn’t send any of them. None of them sounded right, didn’t fully convey the sincerity of her feelings. Instead, she got lost in her thoughts again, staring at the ceiling, phone forgotten beside her with the screen gone dark from long inactivity.

Gazing down at her was a pair of eyes. Lighter towards the middle, a dark green ring at the edges, and depending on how the light hit them, either forest green or a brilliant shade of emerald. It was so fascinating to watch him, to survey the everchanging expressions on his face, his emotions an open book most of the time. The way his eyebrows dipped, the corners of his mouth twitched or the crinkles around his eyes deepened, eyes always the most telling. How his features changed with every new thought, every new idea, and the way his shoulders and hands could carry half the conversation for him.

The sound of his laugh, sometimes dorky, sometimes sassy, sometimes charming, and always so uniquely Hiccup. That lopsided smile of his that could turn into a smirk when he thought of something witty to say. How he listened to her, even when all she was spouting was a bunch of mundane bullshit. How he showed interest in everything she said and did. His kind nature, his honesty, his spirit. The way he could turn her insides to mush and her soul to dangle freely a few thousand feet in the air by just a look or a simple touch. How he inspired her to be herself.

Never before had she been this intrigued by someone, never had she wanted to discover every little thing there was to know about another person. Wanted him to know her better than she did herself. Wanted to know him better than anyone else. Wanted him with her here, next to her, right now. Wanted to feel his warmth, his touch, his breath ghosting over her lips, over her skin, before tracing every line, every patch of skin on her body with his tongue. A deep, longing sigh escaped her as she imagined all the things she wanted him to do to her, everything she wanted to do with him. Craved him more than she ever had anyone else.

But above all, she couldn’t keep running from the truth any longer, especially since it was blaring in her face like a trumpet. As soon as she opened that gate, the steel in her chest melted, glowing and smoldering as it encased her heart. A giddy thrill coursed through her, as well as fatigue, as she finally gave in, let the wall crumble brick by brick. By the time the first choked sob rocked her body, the tears were already flooding down her face, hot and salty, paired with incredulous laughter.

Fuck. This was it, wasn’t it? She was undeniably and irrevocably screwed.

[mrsgreenworld]

Of Suburban Neighbours and Slow Cookers

@olicitytropes here is my submission for Olicity Clue:

Felicity heard him before she saw him. His cheery, happy voice greeting their neighbours carried through the open windows. A warm coffee mug in hand, Felicity moved to sneak a peek at who he was talking to.

Surprisingly, Oliver fit really well into the suburban life of Ivy Town. It was a regular small town, much like so many others, scattered across the states. It looked idyllic with its neat houses, picket fences, impeccably mowed lawns and overly smiley as well as nosy neighbours. But in the midst of all this Oliver seemed weirdly content. He looked utterly at peace while mowing their own lawn, was truly happy to idly chat with the locals and particularly enjoyed exchanging recipes with Lauren Hoffman. Oh, the Hoffmans... Now, standing at one of the open windows overlooking their front lawn, Felicity saw that this was who Oliver was talking to. Their neighbours right across the road. The Hoffmans were a typical married couple living in a small town. A husband who sold real estate and a stay-at-home wife. A real housewife who kept her house in order and could cook a five-course meal with her eyes closed. It turned out that cooking was something Lauren Hoffman and Oliver both liked immensely and discussed all the time, much to Felicity's frustration. Cooking was not one of her strengths and was nowhere near her realm of interests. Boiling eggs could turn into a disaster so Felicity left all kitchen things to Oliver. And Felicity genuinely loved seeing Oliver so invested into something normal and domestic. But his and Lauren Hoffman's chatter sometimes made Felicity's eyes cross and gave her a headache. Not to mention a few extra kilos. Since, while not being able to join them in their cooking experiments, Felicity had been made an honorary taster of everything both of these culinary nerds prepared.

Finishing the last of her morning drink Felicity left her empty mug on a coffee table in the living room and moved to the front door. Stepping over the threshold Felicity softly closed the door without locking it and moved across the street to their neighbours' house. The married couple along with Oliver were standing at the white picket fence that the Hoffmans had around their house (yeah, they were that cliché, Felicity always thought with a bit of a mental eye-roll). The company of three was talking enthusiastically. Or more like it was Lauren Hoffman talking, with her husband just looking at her adoringly and occasionally nodding along, while Oliver was politely smiling and listening. However, Felicity knew that he was listening carefully and with interest. Because from what Felicity now heard of the conversation, the topic of discussion was as per usual cooking.

“...I am telling you, Oliver, you should buy it too. It's a life saver! You can cook anything in there! And it saves so much of your time!” Lauren was practically screeching at this point.

Both of the Hoffmans who were facing Felicity noticed her and Lauren stopped talking to wave at her:

“Oh, Felicity, dear! Good morning! How are you? We just caught Oliver on the way from his jog! He stopped by to say hi”

“Morning. Yeah, I see that” Felicity said with a smile while sliding up to Oliver.

His arm immediately found its way around her shoulders while hers wrapped around his waist. Safely nestled at Oliver's side, Felicity finally turned her face up to look at his face. Oliver was already gazing down at her with the look of pure love, adoration and devotion. Every time she saw him looking at her like that it took her breath away. She had no idea it was possible. To look at someone this way. To deliver so much with just your eyes.

Felicity was vaguely aware that Lauren Hoffman started talking again.

“... so what do you think? Brunch this week?”

“Yes, I think it's a great idea. Why don't you come over this time?” Oliver said, without looking away from Felicity's face but obviously still following the conversation.

“Oh, that would be wonderful! Right, honey?” Lauren turned to her husband excitedly.

“If it's not too much trouble”

“Of course not. Friday this week?” Oliver said.

“Perfect! Then see you on Friday, lovebirds!” Lauren cooed.

“Yeah, see you on Friday” Felicity said with a smile while Oliver nodded along.

Once they said their goodbyes and moved to their house Oliver pulled Felicity closer to his side and said sheepishly:

“So, Lauren was telling me about that slow cooker again...”

“Oh, god...” Felicity groaned.

“I know, I know... But it seems like a really nice thing so I thought maybe I could...”

“Yes, you can use my laptop to shop for a slow cooker” Felicity finished for him with an amused smile.

Oliver beamed at her in return, his dimples showing.

“You really do love me”

“You have no idea how much” was Felicity's response before she pulled him inside of their home.        

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 8

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (the kind that anon politely asked me not to write but I did it anyway -- this is your warning, sweet friend), alarming tenderness... and what comes after

WC: 6.9k

----------

S.M.: Can I ask you for something?

Penny wakes up to see a text sent at 2:30am on the morning of her day date with Shawn. He requested the day date specifically -- he’s been in Europe for a week for a festival in Helsinki and his body clock is so fucked up he feels sick when he tries to figure out what day it is.

He has the day to himself before he has a Bex outing planned for that evening -- drinks at The Nice Guy, some kissing and maybe a little minor groping outside the cars as they leave conspicuously together. He wants to spend those hours before, his hours, with Penny.

Orthodontist: You may.

S.M.: Can we be cozy? I want to see you but I’m fucking wiped out. Cozy sweats day?

Penny frowns at the frantic tugging in her gut, the one Silver trained to save her from something all escorts go through at one point or another, the one that should make her wary of the potential intimacy of something like this. Penny clears her throat and lets her thumbs fly.

Orthodontist: Of course. See you soon.

She’s paid to give the client what they want. If they want the girlfriend experience, that’s what she’ll do. It’s not unique to Shawn, anyway. Plenty of clients have asked for lower key dates once they get comfortable with her. She understands that, the need for that kind of comfort. She used to need that, too.

But the tugging reminds her of the other circumstance. Shawn requested a house call. Again, not unique to him at all. But she has this funny feeling that if Silver took a look at her schedule and saw the date herself, she’d make that carefully concerned-but-not-too-concerned-because-you’re-a-grown-up-and-my-business-partner face. She loves Silver endlessly, but that face makes her feel small.

Penny shakes her head, but just minutely in case he’s watching her walk up through the window. She focuses on the date, on being prepared for whatever he may need from her when she walks through that door.

Client’s needs. Client’s needs.

Penny lets it take over like a mantra as she parks her normal car, the leased white 2021 Passat, beside his Tesla in his driveway like she’s done it a million times. She walks up the steps and rings the doorbell, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her Ivy Park hoodie, trying to look anywhere but right at his front door.

When it swings open, she feels like her heart has spilled out onto her shoes. He’s in a pair of green and blue plaid pajama pants that are inexplicably a little long and pooling around his ankles, despite his impressive height, and a big, loose t-shirt. His hair is wet. He smells like warm soap. His smile is soft and flat. He stands aside to let her in.

“Hi, Penny.”

She hides the full body shiver by doing a quick turn like she’s interested in looking around his foyer. She plasters on a smile.

She’s in his house.

“Hi, Shawn.”

He reaches a hand for her. She knows it’ll be soft and hot from his shower. She braces herself to take it. He tugs her forward, the corner of his mouth lifting as he pulls her in for a kiss. She nearly trips into him, her Ugg moccasins bumping into his bare toes as his nose nudges hers and it’s so startlingly intimate that she purrs into his mouth like he’s not paying for her time.

He curls his hands around her hips and starts to lead her into the house. She follows, taking tiny steps between his feet as he continues kissing her -- quick, open-mouthed kisses.

“Can I just keep kissing you for a while?” he asks, his teeth clanging against hers as he smiles, his eyes shut. She gives him a breathy hum and a nod in response. He guides them through his house blind, ignorant of her curious eyes scanning the area as they go. Her hand rises from his shoulder to cup the back of his head just before it smacks into his closed bedroom door.

He grunts, reaching for the handle to let them in. It’s dark inside -- he’s got those good blackout curtains, the heavy ones that turn any room into a cave. It’s pleasantly cool with a haphazardly made up squishy gray duvet on the bed, nondescript but cozy. Shawn reaches for a lamp on the dresser and it casts the room in a warm orange glaze of light. He sighs contentedly on the way back to her lips. She feels it in her bones as she wraps around him.

She steps out of her moccasins to rise higher on her toes to meet him. His hands wander, curiously, not hungrily, over the worn cotton surface of her hoodie. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her in, tucking her around him to straddle him. Penny goes willingly, settling low enough on his thighs that she’s not plastered up against him, but perched comfortably in his lap.

Penny gives Shawn a breather by tucking kisses down his jaw and into his neck. The marks she left last time have all faded back into lightly bronzed summer skin. She kisses and sucks gently, not enough to bruise. Shawn’s fingers twist into the ends of her hair, pulling more teasingly than desperately.

Over his shoulder she spies several ripped up citrus peels on his night stand -- tangerines, she thinks. They have extra bits of pith picked off and spread on top. They explain the bright fruity taste of his mouth. 

Penny closes her eyes again and feels him shiver as her teeth graze his jugular. She thinks she could’ve lived without knowing he peels the extra bits of pith off his citrus.

Penny separates from his wet skin with a deep inhale, pressing her hands into his chest to push him back. He goes with a soft smile. Her good boy knows better than to grab at her to drag her with him.

She folds herself over him, gazing between his lips and his flooded brown eyes when he stops her, grunting a little as he raises his chin.

“Where did all these come from?”

He’s staring up at her in wonder, just below her eyes. Her brow furrows. She leans onto one hand to lift her fingers up to graze her nose.

“My freckles?

He beams so wide and lazy it makes her smile too without knowing what they’re grinning about.

“Yeah. You’ve been hiding these under makeup?”

She shrugs.

He lets his eyes trail over the course of them -- a heavy sprinkle over her nose and cheekbones, growing sparse and light down her cheeks.

Shawn closes his eyes and sighs. “Didn’t think you could get prettier.”

Penny dips her head to kiss the spot between his collarbones, tugging at the collar of his shirt to reach it.

“How was Finland?” she finally stammers, needing to put something between them and… this.

“Weirdly hot. And the food was really good.”

She doesn’t bother to point out that she’s been there with the Aston Martin guy. Instead, she nods and watches his blinks get slower and slower. 

She wets her lips. “It must’ve been nice to have a break.”

His eyes refocus on her. He stares questioningly.

“From the American press, I mean. I’ve seen a lot of you and Bex lately. Which I guess means that’s going the way it was planned.”

She doesn’t sound bitter or flippant, just matter-of-fact. Shawn ignores the tiny voice that wishes he could accuse her of jealousy. He knows he wouldn’t like her response if he did.

“Yeah,” he hums, “Her album sales have gone up. Mine are projected to be… pretty good.”

He’s being modest. His album is one of the single most anticipated releases of the fall. But thinking about that makes him want to throw up so he chooses to suck on her bottom lip again, re-memorize the little dip in the middle where he likes to flick his tongue.

“It’s ok, you know,” she breathes after he pulls back, “That you don’t want to talk about it with me. I understand it’s… maybe confusing.”

Shawn shakes his head. “It’s not that. Honestly, I’m better talking about it with you than anyone else. I know you’d never judge me.”

She smiles, a little warm, a little sad. “It’s true. The prostitute can’t be throwing stones at any glass… anything.”

Shawn actually chuckles. It’s odd how quickly it happened, but he’s long since gotten used to the notion that she’s a paid sex worker. He probably got over it somewhere around the third orgasm. He knows what Niall meant now about it being like a form of therapy. The stigma doesn’t bother him like it once did.

He lowers his gaze to the strings on her hoodie. “I guess I just like mostly pretending it’s not happening. It’s not… it’s not like I’m miserable around her. She’s a nice girl, she’s fun. But I built a whole relationship with my fans on always being honest. I told them everything, I promised I always would. I gave them everything. Because they’ve given me everything.”

Penny nods. “You made those promises as a teenager. Your life hasn’t been simple in a long time, but it sure as hell was simpler then. You’re a grown man now. No real adult’s life is so easily lived in the spotlight. I know you know that, you’ve lived through some of that already. The rest of the world has to figure out how to deal with you now, how to approach you differently. I don’t think they’ll need much more time. The Bex thing, as much as I know it makes you squirm, it’s working.”

Shawn closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle in his chest as tears threaten. He’s so fucking tired.

“It’s working,” he agrees in a croak.

Penny knows enough to move on now. She slides up his body so their heads are level. She teases his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

“Your bed is comfy,” she coos, rocking from side to side with a grin.

Shawn seems grateful for the distraction. “You like it?”

“I do. Your place is nice. It’s big but cozy, like you.”

Shawn smiles, releases a little chuckle through his nose. “It’s nice like this… with you. In sweats and t-shirts, just… y’know. It’s easy.”

Penny’s smile grows a little dangerous in that way he loves. “Who said I was gonna make it easy, baby?”

Shawn groans. “You never do. It’s what I like about you.”

Penny purrs, ducking her face back into his neck, on the other side this time as he cradles her. Her fingers sneak up under his shirt, teasing the soft hair on his stomach that trails into his pajama pants. He releases a breath into her hair as his muscles contract.

“What can I do for you, baby? What would you like?”

She usually chooses for them. He usually wants her to. But she must have sensed that he was holding back, wanting to ask. He sighs.

“In the shower I was thinking about… after the cock ring. What we did after.”

Penny’s eyebrows raise. Her heart picks up pace against her ribs. She stays cool and purses her lips.

“What was it we did after, Shawn?”

Shawn’s cheeks start to flush. He rolls his eyes. “You want me to tell you I want you to fuck me in the ass?”

Penny’s eyes go bright with delighted shock. She laughs, “That’s exactly what I want.”

Shawn, never one to deny Penny what she wants, manages to get his mouth around the words, his eyes sliding shut. “I want it, Pen. I want to take your cock like a good boy.”

Penny growls before he even gets the words out. She drops her weight against him, rocking her hips automatically in a way that gets him groaning into her plundering mouth. Before they can get too lost in their almost teenage humping, warmth trapped under layers of clothes, Penny straightens up on her arms, perched over him.

“Did you get ready for it in the shower?”

He nods and glances around his room like he’s just realized something.

“Where’s your suitcase?”

She grins. “I traveled light today. I brought a purse.”

He eyes her. “You… have a strap on in your Prada bag?”

Penny tilts her head. “I’m always prepared.”

She sits up in his lap and stretches her arms up, shedding the bulky hoodie, bare underneath. Shawn whines so loud his torso clenches. 

He pants, “Can I touch your nipples?”

Penny nods, continuing her hips’ assault against his. She rolls against him, feeling him go fully hard under the thin flannel fabric of his pants, angling herself so his cock slips against her swollen cunt through her leggings. Shawn’s hands go straight to her breasts, cupping their fullness and positioning his thumbs right over her hard buds, the ones he treated so well he made her come without touching her perfect pussy. He smirks at the memory.

“Thinking about it, baby? About how hard you had me coming just with your pretty mouth on my tits?”

Shawn’s head falls back as he mewls. He loves it when she gets mouthy like this. She’s excited, he can feel it. He thinks maybe she likes pegging him as much as he likes being pegged by her.

Shawn scrapes the tips of his fingernails against her nipples like she likes and it’s like striking a match. Her back stiffens, she groans, loud and deep. He watches them go diamond hard between his fingers, squeezing a little just to get a last dirty thrust of her hips against his before she really goes to work on him. She knows his game and gives him a crooked grin. 

“Are you gonna be a good boy or a brat?”

Shawn’s pearly teeth sink into his swollen, wet lip. He nods. “I’ll be so good, Pen. Gonna be your good boy. The best.”

Her lips twitch. She blinks quickly, startled with the words that almost come slipping out of her mouth.

You’re already the best I’ve ever had.

Penny lays her hands over his much larger ones on her chest and peels them away, dropping them beside his cherubic curls. She moves her hands down to rest against the firm stillness of his chest, his steady heartbeat singing for her. His fingers twitch but he remains quiet beneath her, watching her, wondering about her.

Her fingers stretch and relax, scrunching at the fabric of his t-shirt. He lifts his hips invitingly, just grazing her, offering himself to her. Like in case she forgot how much he wants her and needs her, he’s there to remind her.

Penny lowers herself against him slowly and flips them, his arm tucked beneath her, his knees bracketing her legs to hold his weight. She reaches down and lifts the hem of his shirt, wriggling him out of it. She’s hit with a wall of him, warm naked chest and the perfectly Shawn scent that comes with it. It’s the purest version -- devoid of cologne or weed or the incense Cez sometimes burns. It’s his soap, his breath, his shampoo, his skin. She gasps greedy lungfuls, sinking her hands into the easily defined ridges of his back as she grapples with a way to steady herself.

She closes her eyes away from his prying ones and pushes her hands down his hips to shove at the fabric of his pajama pants. With a few heavy grunts, he manages to slip out of those, too, his old plaid boxers going with them. He fights to keep himself from grinding down against her. He can smell how wet she is for him already through her leggings. He slams his eyes shut and struggles to breathe.

He opens them again when he hears her shuffling around beneath him. In a squirm of fabric and freckled skin, she sheds her leggings and whatever panties she had on beneath. For once, he finds he doesn’t care what they look like. He just aches at the sight of her bare and wet, her limbs threading around him like sun-darkened vines.

“How are you always so tan?” he breathes, his mouth tugging up at the corner. Penny grins lazily, her eyes heavy.

“I sunbathe naked on my patio while I listen to audiobooks.”

Shawn is seized by the image, at once so, so painfully sexy and somehow also domestic and warm, like if he spent a few seconds longer with it he could imagine being back there with her, sharing a bottle of wine, playing his guitar for her.

But he definitely doesn’t let himself get that far.

Instead, he buries his face in her neck and inhales. “Fucking gorgeous.”

Penny brings a hand firmly down his spine from his neck to his lower back, squeezing for his attention. “Hold on a second.”

Shawn eases back, blinking curiously. Penny slides out from beneath him. On little brown tiptoes, she hops to the window and peeks out curiously. Once she’s had a look, she glances back over her shoulder at him. His brow lifts.

Penny lifts back the curtains, flooding the room in midday Californian sun. Shawn winces and blinks, turning his cheek. She tucks the curtains back, revealing his view, the rolling, blank green of the Hollywood Hills. Shawn’s lips part like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Penny turns to face him.

“I want to see you in the sunlight.”

Shawn trembles with a shiver as she approaches the bed slowly, perching on the end, cupping his cheek so her thumb runs along the lower edge of his cheekbone. 

He can see every freckle. He can see every little smile line. He can see a little ridge-like scar on her temple that he doesn’t know the story of. He can see the way her skin glows like she’s absorbing the sunlight she craved for him. He can see everything.

And so can she. The only natural light she’s seen him in has been cloudy, dusky, early morning light that lovers sleep through, or shrouded by curtains that forgive the sharp edges of shadows and direct sun. She left no room for it here. She can’t believe she never noticed how pink he is, all over. She’s seen it in his cheeks and chest, and on occasion in the skin she’s abused to the point of sweet red welts, but never like this where she gets to see the true permanent almost-blush that sits ready under the surface at all times. It’s breathtaking.

They both know they’re spending too much time openly studying each other, but the opportunity is too tempting to ignore. It’s Penny that breaks first, dropping kisses into his shoulder as she crawls over him, pressing him back into the mattress with a deep sigh.

Through the soft graze of his chest hair, she flicks at his hard little nipples with her tongue, enjoying the way he arches into her with a little huff of air. She keeps on, nose brushing all the petal pink skin she finds on her way down, punctuating with wet presses of her lips until she reaches the dark swirls of pubic hair that trail from his navel downward. His chest shudders hard as her breath displaces the hair and her hands find the soft insides of his thighs to push them apart for her to settle between. His cock twitches with interest, just gone fully hard against his stomach. She brushes her lips along the shaft, lips parted in a curious smile. Her hand reaches back to the bench off the foot of the bed. Shawn’s eyes snap shut at the sound of the bottle of lube opening and shutting. 

Penny’s lips are followed by just the tip of her tongue. Her tracing is gentle, intimate like the touch of a finger along the throbbing vein, then to the sensitive head of his cock. Her fingers warm the lube between them with audible wet strokes that make Shawn’s brows pull together in anticipation.

Her lips join her tongue again at the base of his cock. Her fingertips press gently against his perineum. His inhale sizzles through his nose loudly. She rubs little circles, firming up in pressure as her mouth moves in a wet pattern up to the head of his cock. It slips between her lips. Shawn’s fingers sink into the squish of his duvet.

“Fuck,” he breathes in disbelief, lifting his knees to plant his feet before she can ask him to. 

She works her tongue in swirls around the head of his cock as her fingers draw the same motion around his hole. Just as she slurps at his tip, she sinks a finger in to the first knuckle.

Shawn sighs comfortably, less tense now than he was when they first began exploring this together. She slips it in and out a few times before burying it further. His head tips back and draws out a moan that’s as honest and selfless as she’s ever heard him. It urges her on.

As Penny curls her finger, stroking upward, Shawn loses himself further. He turns his cheek against the pillow, nuzzling as he presses his ass into the bed. His dark eyes fixate on her, on the way she watches him when she slides a second lubed finger inside him, moving so preciously slowly, treating him with so much care it sucks the breath out of his lungs into more breathy moans. She alternates attending to the head of his cock with her wet mouth and pressing kisses to his shaft, keeping the main focus on the talent of her perfect little fingers. She scissors them apart slightly, stretching him to get ready for the toy, grinning at the way his toes curl.

“Penny, baby, feels so good,” he grunts, shaking his head in disbelief. She hums her agreement. She has her own fondness for this, feeling the tight, welcoming warmth with him, feeling the trust grow ever stronger as he puts more of himself in her care with each breath.

Penny licks a drop of precome from his tip and watches her free hand spread to trail up his chest and rest over his heart. It’s thrumming hard, not too hard, not enough to make her back off for fear of ending it early. She wants to take this time nice and slow for him now that he knows how much he likes it and asked her for it. She focuses the press of her thumb into his perineum while her fingers flex and curl.

“Fucking… yeah, Penny, Jesus,” he pants slightly, fisting the sheets on either side of him. She can feel and see the sheen of sweet sweat on his chest and abdomen. He’s almost ready.

“Baby,” she breathes, her voice hoarse from disuse and the weight of her own arousal, “You want my cock?”

He’s not so bashful this time as the first time she asked. He nods first, closing his eyes to find his voice.

“Baby, Penny, please. Fuck me.”

Her toes curl in anticipation. She rolls her hips needily into the bed. Shawn watches with a growling moan. His body protests the careful removal of her fingers and she knows he wants his hands on his aching cock but one look from her reminds him she hasn’t given him permission. Instead he squirms against the bed watching her lift the strap on harness out of the pouch and step into it. Her wetness makes a sound as she separates her legs. She bites her lip at his eager gasp.

“Nice and wet, Pen? Gon-gonna come when you fuck me?”

She tightens the harness around her hips and thighs and considers him through heavy lidded eyes. She flips her feathery dark hair out of her face and cups her fist around the base of the dark green silicone toy.

“Would you like that? Wanna feel me come with you?” Her breath breaks off at the end. Shawn lifts his head and nods again, more fervently.

“Baby, I always want to feel you come. I need to make you come. Please.”

Penny feels his urgency and steps to the end of the bed, reaching for the bottle again. She slicks the toy down with a generous handful of lube. Shawn pokes the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he watches, knees still bent, legs still spread. 

As she lifts a knee onto the end of the mattress, Shawn comes up on his elbows and readies to turn over. She reaches out and grabs his leg to stop him. The first time she took him like this, he was on his knees with her behind him. He’s surprised when she has him lift his hips to settle a pillow beneath them and angle him up toward her. She pulls his thick thighs over hers and nudges him with the head of the slick toy. He exhales slowly, nodding.

Penny goes perfectly slow for him, watching the flutter of his lashes as he adjusts to the fit of it inside him. She sinks gently until she’s buried, her hips snug against his thighs. Shawn focuses on his breathing and the way the ends of her hair tickle his chest as she leans forward.

Penny eases her hips through a circular motion that has the toy grinding into him a little harder. His eyes fall shut. He whines, high and sweet.

“Yeah, baby?” she coos.

“So good,” Shawn sighs, opening his eyes again when he feels her thumbs rubbing similar circles into the insides of his thighs. He’s noticed she has a thing for matching patterns in the way she touches him to heighten sensation. He offers her a lazy, fucked-out grin as she continues the slow sway of her hips.

“Have you ever tried this?” he whispers, nodding at her.

Penny bites at her lower lip like she’s not sure. The coyness is a reflex. She shakes it off.

“Yeah. I like it, too. With the right partner.”

Shawn smiles. His thighs tremble. Her hips have picked up their easy pace. She grips him a little harder as she rocks into a pulsing motion that has her sliding in and out a bit more obviously.

Shawn groans. “Holy… shit.”

He’s wordier when she’s inside him than he usually is. She likes that, makes it feel like he’s even more free than usual, like his thoughts come out through his mouth rather than the alternative of getting stuck to rattle in his brain.

Penny eases forward onto one hand by his head. Her breasts hang, her nipples grazing his chest as she strokes in and out more purposefully. Shawn’s eyes fall shut and his head lolls back. His mouth drops open in a low cry of pleasure.

“Shit… f-fuck,” he sobs, feeling the welcome heat of this with her singe him all over. He grips the sheets harder.

“Can touch me if you want,” she pants, her breath broken up by the strain of her thrusts and the way they bump right up against her swollen clit in the way she likes.

Shawn’s fingers are flushing red as the blood seeps back in. He lifts one to cup her shoulder blade and the other around the back of her head. The motion focuses her eyes down on his, up from where she’s pressing into him.

His eyes are heavily glazed and his lips are parted and wet. Before she thinks about it too hard, she dips down to lavish them with kisses. The change of angle has Shawn nearly purring into her mouth, his legs spreading wider to welcome her closer.

“Baby, oh my god,” he hisses, his curls shivering against his forehead as she mouths at the edge of his jaw.

“Like it like this?” she croaks, fucking in and out of him a little faster, “No one’s ever made you feel this fucking good.”

It’s not edged with the cocky lilt her words take on when she’s giving it to him good in bed. There’s a note of desperation. The need to praise and validate her roars up in Shawn’s chest so strong he gasps a breath to speak.

“No one,” he agrees in a rough sigh, “Fucking-- oh. No--nobody, baby, you’re the only one. Penny, you’re the only one.”

With a satisfied moan, Penny reaches between them and wraps her fingers around the head of his cock. Her hips swing harder, wringing a pretty gasping cry from him with each one. She pulses her fingers around him in time, ready to feel him come apart at the seams.

Shawn feels her lips brushing his. He blinks lazily, almost too far gone to speak, but the look in her eyes makes him whisper, “Come with me. Please.”

Penny’s responding breathy whimper sends him right over the edge. He stifles a scream as his entire body goes beautifully tight and he releases between their stomachs and into her small, wet fist. She breathes through it, right up against his lips like they should be kissing but breathing each other in is enough. Suddenly, with an erratic flick of her hips that has Shawn holding her a little tighter, Penny whines his name and it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever heard. She rows up against him again and again, riding through the orgasm he’d give her a thousand more times if she asked until she’s spent and collapsed against his chest, the toy still inside him.

Shawn lifts his heavy arms around her, smiling like a dope into her hair. He smoothes her hair down her back. It falls so far it brushes her cute round ass, so he massages that, too.

Penny peels up enough to look at him. She smiles and bumps her nose up against his lips.

“Wow,” she chuckles.

“Uh huh,” he grunts back, the same amusement in his voice. He cradles her between his legs, propping his chin up on the top of her head.

Penny starts easing her hips back to Shawn’s little noises of protest. She sheds the harness and grabs a wet washcloth to clean them both off. She tosses it in the hamper and crawls up beside him, still bathed in warm morning light, his arm open to the side to welcome her. She’s just settled up against him when she hears something.

“Hey now, hey nooooow! This is what dreeeeeeams are made of!”

Penny’s head shoots up. She always, always turns her personal phone ringer off when she’s on dates. She somehow forgot. Her head jerks as she looks to Shawn, who’s still wearing a look of dreamy calm.

“Nice ringtone.”

“Sorry, fuck-- I usually turn it off. It’s… that’s my brother’s ringtone.”

Shawn tilts his head curiously. “Answer it if you want. Does he know about me?”

The question is so shocking Penny forgets to think before she answers with a short nod.

“I mean… yeah. It’s-- I tell him everything. I mean not, everything everything. Obviously. But… he would die before telling anyone. I promise.”

Shawn’s face shifts at the look on Penny’s. He’s never seen her look so wide-eyed and sheepish. He strokes a hand comfortingly up her arm.

“Hey, it’s fine. I get it. Answer it, I really don’t mind.”

Penny hesitates a moment longer, then launches off Shawn’s chest to get to her purse. With impressive flexibility, she reaches off the end of the bed and hits the answer button before the ringer ends.

“Hey,” she pants.

“You know what absolutely blows?” Peter barks. He’s so loud Penny is sure Shawn can hear every word but he looks out the window politely.

“What?”

“Data structures and functional programming!” Peter wails. A clunk in the background sounds like a textbook falling shut.

“Don’t tell me you got a B+ on a test again,” Penny jabs, eyeing Shawn with a mischievous smile. His nose twitches over a shy grin now that he realizes he’s allowed to listen.

“No, god no, don’t joke about that,” Peter hisses, “Hot TA finally, FINALLY asked me out.”

Penny’s eyes pop. “What? That’s great! He’s so cute!”

“So, so cute,” Peter agrees in a strained voice, “But my data structures professor moved our test up because he got asked to speak at some conference in Bern. The summer semester break is about to start and hot TA is starting an internship in Hong Kong until September!”

Shawn’s eyebrows raise curiously. Penny bites her lip over a smile, her cheeks catching pink at this odd collision of her personal and professional lives.

“Peter, fuck the test. You have an A. Even if you fail it, you won’t fail the class.”

Shawn chuckles, sitting upright to listen closer.

“But--” Peter begins.

“No,” Penny interrupts sternly, “Don’t do the thing. Don’t use me as a way to argue with yourself. You’re in college, Pete. There’s plenty of time to take over the world with your impressive brain later. Go get laid, for the love of god.”

Shawn laughs, loud and delighted. Penny giggles.

There’s a pause. Peter says, “Who is that? Silver?”

Penny wets her lips and lowers her gaze to Shawn’s legs. “No.”

Another pause. “Oh my god, are you on a date?”

Penny chews the inside of her lip. Her silence is enough confirmation.

“Oh my god,” Peter cries, scandalized. There’s another crash -- this time it sounds like a computer chair smacking into a wooden desk, “You answered your personal cell on a date?”

Shawn looks even more intrigued. He leans further forward and bites his lip. Penny reaches out and plucks at a curl on his forehead.

“Shawn doesn’t mind.”

Peter’s overdramatics reach new heights with his squealing cry in reaction. Shawn laughs again, going pink from the chest. Penny crawls into his lap, feeling mysteriously smug -- perhaps at the disproving of her longtime theory that if ever her two worlds should meet, chaos would immediately follow. Shawn gathers her up on his lap and brushes his nose against her collarbone, sweeping his lips against her neck.

“Are you seriously post-coital with Shawn Peter Raul Mendes and taking a phone call from meeee?” His voice has gone all squeaky so the final drawn out vowel makes her cringe.

“Why do you know his full name?” she laughs. Shawn snorts a chuckle and it vibrates her throat. She hums comfortably.

“My god, my god, get off the phone. Bitch, I will hang up on you. Go get that mans. Get that good Canadian rock star dick, what the fuck.”

Shawn laughs harder and he’s close enough to the phone that Peter cries out at the sound.

“Shawn, for the love of all that’s unholy, do something to get her off the phone.”

Shawn lifts his head and considers the challenge. Penny is breathless, watching him lie back, taking her with him. He lifts her, scooting her up his chest until she’s perched over his head, her knees bracketing the pillow, phone still pressed to her ear.

“Hey, you’re still coming for that CalTech thing, right? I see you in a few weeks?” she breathes, gazing warmly down at Shawn as he tongues at the inside of her wet inner thigh. She sinks a hand into his curls to steer him. He goes willingly.

“Yeah, yeah in like a month,” Peter answers distractedly, “I put the flight on your Amex.”

Penny’s eyes fall shut when Shawn swipes his tongue up through her folds, flicking at her clit.

“Good boy,” Penny hums with a nod.

“Are you talking to him or me?!” Peter shrieks.

Penny grunts, glancing down at Shawn who locks his arms around her thighs and bears down. With a shaky inhale, she sighs.

“I don’t know anymore. Bye, Pete.”

She holds the phone away from her ear to hang up. She can hear more screaming as she hits the end call button.

+

Oh my GAWD! Shawn Mendes and Bex Get Hot and Heavy in Miami BETCH! -- Perez Hilton

Shawn Mendes and Bex Spotted Getting Steamy on Miami Beach -- People Magazine

Hottest Couple of the Summer! Shawn Mendes and Bex Making Waves In Miami! -- JustJared

+

Penny lifts her chin and controls her stride as she steps into the chilly hotel room at The Beverly Hills Hotel. With a nod back at Gus, the door shuts behind her.

He’s tall. Extraordinarily tall. He’s probably at least 6’5”. He’s a Nordic god with crisp blue eyes and a swath of blonde hair that falls shaggy but controlled around his shoulders. His body is lean and smooth, well trained but hard and a little unwelcoming somehow. Penny’s lips curl into a smile.

“Miss Penny,” he breathes in lightly accented English, “You’re a vision.”

Penny’s upper lip puckers. She tucks some falling curls behind her ear and steps closer, dwarfed but unintimidated by her new client.

“Mr. Larsen. You’re every bit as handsome as you appear in Forbes.”

He’s flattered by her easy softball of a compliment. She can tell by the way he preens for it that he believes her words. She looks down at the glass of gin in his fist. She looks back up at him and smiles again, walking around him to prepare her own.

“I was very eager to receive your recommendation from a colleague,” he says, easing around the chaise to stand behind her. He’s not hovering, exactly, or at least not close enough to make her uncomfortable. She’s aware of the shimmery body oil she rubbed on the bare skin of her back, accented by her low cut cocktail dress.

Aston Martin guy referred him, Silver told her. She knows the type. Elegant and refined. Not terribly interested in small talk before clothes come off. Gets called ‘daddy’ by the girls he brings home from bars and events but needs a strong woman to hold him down and ride him hard to feel balanced.

It’s easy. No challenge. No problem to solve. Penny sighs. It escapes his notice.

She turns while dropping a wedge of lime into her sweating glass. Her eyes rake him from head to toe. He takes it as an invitation to step closer.

“Good word of mouth is crucial to my business model,” she agrees coolly, taking a sip. It’s not as strong as she’d like.

His smile is vaguely unpleasant. He’s the kind of guy she’d tell the La Splendeur girls to avoid when out in the wild. He steps closer.

“I’ve heard very good words about your mouth.”

Penny’s low exhale takes the place of the eyeroll she’d give if she weren’t being paid so handsomely. She can’t blame his native tongue for the too-smooth, cheesy pun. This guy was probably Oxford or Cambridge educated. He speaks better English than she does. He’s just fucking boring.

Penny drops a finger into her drink, curling it slightly, watching his eyes follow the motion. Too easy.

She brings it to her lips and sips the gin off her finger. She doesn’t even like gin. He licks his chops like she’s a meal.

She puts her glass down.

“Get on your knees, Mr. Larsen.”

+

Whiplash.

It’s the only word for the feeling he’s had for days on agonizing days.

Penny crawled out of his bed and left her scent behind in his sheets after a few more traded orgasms and more shared kisses than usual. In a sexed out daze, Shawn heads into the lion’s den. He’s never seen so many paps outside The Nice Guy. The cold snapping of their shutters knocks him back into reality. The high he rides after a few hours with Penny is cut criminally short.

He cradles Bex close under his arm. He wets his lips and leans in when she whispers in his ear. He smiles, makes it melt like butter, and brushes his lips over hers. It’s stomach-turningly tender.

There’s more obvious canoodling outside the bar. Even with his eyes shut and her sucking on his lower lip in an objectively satisfying way, the flashes have him on edge.

He returns home to a bed that smells like something that feels imagined. It’s somehow even less real to him than the carefully orchestrated farce he’s been living.

Because it can’t be real. There’s no trace of her besides the sunny breath of perfume in his pillows that makes him choke up inexplicably when he buries his face in it before sleep mercifully knocks him out.

He can’t see her. He has trouble picturing her pretty face despite all the time he’s spent staring at it. He claws at it -- freckles. Tiny forehead scar. Slender ankles. Weirdly pointy but still cute knees. The laugh. He can’t remember the real laugh, the one that fizzes like expensive champagne, the kind he only drinks with her. He can’t hear it.

Even if he could manage to cling to all these pretty things, it can’t be real. What’s in the headlines is real. The album sales, the festival numbers, the hashtag stats -- those are real. As fake as it all is, it’s real. It’s more real than the nothing he has with a woman he pays to sit on his face.

His career is real. His album is real. His family, his life is real.

The rest of it is distraction.

-----------

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[70swonderpoisonstark]

Poison ( V )

Villain’s are people too, are they not? (Y/N) is taking the “home grown” terror title a little too seriously. You’re really really bad, until you meet a certain super soldier who makes you consider a career change. It’s a lengthy process, but you’re willing if it’s for the right reasons. Maybe you’re not so bad after all?

//basically poison ivy and a little bit of bane but with marvel characters?? I’d be original but I love her and them so much so sorry. also some changes, idk I’m making them my own but completely based of the DC characters SNS. Nickname Ivy, real name, yours duh!//

***this is my first attempt at fanfic so any feedback is welcome! I love all these characters dearly so, here goes nothing! Hope you enjoy***

A/N: Violence, language, crime. Friendly banter, lowest level of smut possible {I’ll update these as the chapters come out}

recap: you were drunk and heading to bed, your reputation with the Avengers seems to be doing better.———————————————————————————————————

Bucky was up before everybody else, nightmares tend to have that effect on a person, so he wandered the compound like he always did. He knew every corner, every step and every curve of the technologically advanced palace. Venturing out and admiring how far society had come in terms of architecture and technology, gazing at the large rustic clock that hung over the marble fireplace beneath it, wondering just how many parts made up such a huge clock. Were there as many parts in the clock as there were in his arm? He'd probably never know, but it was still enticing to think about. Bucky's favorite place though, was the glass walkway that connected the garage to the main part of the compound. He was thrilled by the idea of making a secured walkway out of something so easily broken as glass. The amount of light that always seemed to shine through always brought him a sense of serenity. The ability to be free, yet also confined to a safe and armoured area was just what his never resting mind needed. He looked through the windows, staring into the rising sun as it filled the rest of the earth with golden rays of warmth.

Once the sun has officially taken its place in the sky, he made his way back to the kitchen. The weirdly shaped plastic pod popped into the modern coffee pot as he waited for his mug to be filled with black coffee.

"You know, Sam's gonna kill ya for drinking out of his mug again." A sleepy Steve walked smoothly into the kitchen. His white shirt loose for the first time in history, shifting with his hips as he walked to a seat near the island.

"If he ever wakes up we'll talk about it." Bucky retorted as he tipped the glass to his lips. He looked at the clock about the oven, it was barely seven AM, and after a night of heavy drinking, Bucky was lucky to see anybody, especially Sam, before noon. The abnormal twists and contortions of Steve's body on the bar stool produced a very concerning vibe for Bucky. He could tell there was news to share, but a nagging voice in the back of his head lead him to believe it wasn't good news, at least for himself.

"Speaking of people who won't be up for a while," Steve began. "I might have spent a period of time with the newest team member." Steve wiggled his eyebrow suggestively, looking very pleased with himself. Bucky's hands clenched, subtly cracking the handle of Sam's mug. His body reacting before his mind could, metal parts whirred and tightened at the sound of Steve's words.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, trying to mask the anger in his voice with intrigue. He spoke calmly, trying his hardest to be friendly and supportive. It had been a while since Steve was this jazzed about a girl, but it felt wrong. Bucky wasn't interested, but imagining Steve with her wasn't something he wanted to think about, ever.

"Well, after everybody went to bed there was a loud noise from her room. I checked on her and she was just laying on the floor." Bucky heard the noise too. How stupid could he be? HE should have gone and checked on her, and all of this could have been avoided.

"I picked her up, slowly though because of her tendency to jump to her defenses. She laughed a lot, but I got her sitting up and she slurred a thanks to me. You know, I never noticed how normal she was until right then, the whole teams been trying to kill her before she kills them and there she was, drunk and sleepy just like everybody else." Bucky's ear were red hot, listening to Steve describe Ivy as if he just realized she was a human being, it made him nauseous. He knew Steve was coming from a good place but, how do you listen to your best friend gush over a murderer?

"Then she kissed me. It was shocking, but welcome. Buck, she's amazing. I don't think she'll remember because the kiss was short, but she did say lucky her, well, I think at least, she definitely said something that sounded like lucky. Isn't that great Buck?" NO. No. Nope. NO. DAMMIT BUCKY NO. How was he supposed to react to that? Shake his hand and congratulate him. She was evil, and, well, quite frankly a flirt and just not right for Steve.

"I don't know Steve, I think the two of you would cause a lot of trouble." Steve's giddy mood hitched suddenly and hard. Trouble? He's America's golden boy, what trouble could he possibly cause? Steve mind flashed back before the war, before the serum, to how all of Bucky and his night's used to go, resentment creeping into his mind.

"And why is that?" Steve crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his right leg, face twisted tightly as he awaited Bucky's response.

"You guys are both lawless, breaking rules you think are unjust. The two of you would be great, uh, but you need a nice girl Steve, and she's a little.." He didn't know how to end that sentence; seeing the look in Steve's eye, the anger, caused his brain to malfunction.

"She's a little what, Buck? More your type?" That hit Bucky a little harder than it was probably supposed to. Your type? As if murderous, lawless, rebels were his type all of a sudden.

"Wha- No, Steve that's not what I'm saying, she's just-" Steve's emotions took over the conversation as all rational thought had been thrown out the window. He fought with Bucky. As his best friend he should be happy for him, not lecturing him about finding a good girl. Old Bucky would have celebrated that a girl even talked to him, but no, new Bucky couldn't accept the fact that he was fair game now.

"No. Stop talking. You just can't handle that a woman might actually be interested in me instead of you, huh? It's just like old times, if she doesn't want you then something's wrong with her?" Steve's anger bubbled over to fury. Bucky had always had all the female attention, and now that Steve wasn't doing so bad himself Bucky was just going to gut him? That's not the Bucky he remembered.

"Steve, no. I'm not interested I just mean-" Flustered, Bucky tried to explain, he really did just want what's best for Steve.

"You know what, I'm done with this conversation. I wanted to talk to my best friend about a girl. Which is to much to ask for nowadays." He stormed out of the room, pissed off that Bucky wasn't happy for him. Sure, he might not know if he actually likes Ivy, or if it's just the allure of the potential threat that she is, but still, he kissed a girl, a girl kissed him. Bucky should've been happy for Steve, they're best friends, he couldn't have kept his bad opinions to himself this one time? Steve pouted all the way back to his room, so caught up in his emotional turmoil that he completely missed you walking out of your room and towards the kitchen.

You meant to smile at Steve, but he seemed down, and was hardly paying attention to his surroundings, so you avoided any contact. You were severely hungover, but all your time as an RN had really taken a toll on your body, so sleeping in was never an option. You solemnly walked your way towards the coffee pot, noticing Bucky at the last minute. He too seemed off, trouble in paradise probably. You left it alone, he normally avoided you anyways so you weren't going to go out of your way to say anything to the metal-armed hunk. You pulled your coffee cup away from the machine, adding just enough creamer and sugar to make it taste good, but not enough so that it wouldn't actually taste like coffee. The silence that filled the room was comfortable, then again you were used to most people being quiet around you, especially Bucky. As you traced the ring of your mug with your fingertip, something, a small tug in your brain was trying to remind you of something urgent. Looking up at Bucky for a split second, you heard the alarm inside your head, but couldn't figure out why you're inner fight or flight mode was being activated. Something happened, something including Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.. Nothing. Nothing came to mind as you racked your brain trying to remember this thing that's sounding alarm bells inside your head. You knew you'd been drunk, very drunk, but you'd remember sleeping with somebody. You definitely hadn't fought him, mostly because he was still alive(All the physical fighting's just for show, if you were attacked one touch and they'd be in a body bag). You hadn't walked in on anybody. What on earth did you do that was so terrible your cheeks were burning bright red? You contemplated every reason for you to possibly be embarrassed by and nothing. It wasn't until you saw him wipe excess coffee away from his sweet lips that you remembered everything.

You had tripped walking to the bathroom, you didn't have to pee or anything you just wanted to take your makeup off and brush your teeth. You were exhausted, and after falling so many times that night you just gave up, laying still to gain the courage to try to walk again when he came in. Broad, strong shoulders, and large biceps picking you up from the floor and setting you on your bed. A muffled, "Are you okay?" was heard through your drunk and sleepy haze. You knew who it was, who else would hear a small bump in the night and check it out?  The room was dark so you couldn't make out his features, but you knew, drunk you was sure of who it was. He asked a few more questions and helped you sit up straight, the two of you were already close, thighs touching as the two of you sat on your bed. You'd been crushing on him for so long, even before you became an Avenger-In-Training. He was everything you thought a man should be, a little broken, but with a huge heart and a dedication to do what was right, not what was legal. You couldn't help yourself, you just had to do it. You leaned in and kissed him right on the lips, hoping to God he would reciprocate the gesture, and to your surprise he did. He cupped his hand around your face, his rough calluses caressing your smooth cheek. "Bucky." You sighed, he was so incredible, you'd kept up with him since before the Avengers knew about him and had been fascinated ever since. He was strong, mentally and physically, but understands his trauma and how it affects his day to day life, and works through it. You'd never been so in love with a person you'd never met before, so when you finally did meet him, it was hard to stay a cold hearted bitch. He was so wonderful, you didn't want the kiss to stop, but refused to be the drunken lay of the Avengers compound and pulled away. A soft, "Goodnight." Was all that escaped your lips as he left your room.

Looking at him in the present light, sober, and completely off guard kicked you in the stomach. You tried to hide the embarrassment, attempting to keep the squirming to a minimum. You could feel him staring at you, he definitely remembered. Oh god how could you have been so irresponsible? Kissing a coworker after a couple bottles of alcohol? How stereotypical. You had to say something right? It's not like you could just sweep it under the rug? This was kind of a big deal.

"Hey, uh. Bucky." You started, could this be any more awkward? You were about to find out. "About last night, I-uh, I wanted to apologize for being so forward. I was really really drunk and I just kinda went for it without any notice on your behalf and if I made things between us worse then I'm really sorry and uh, we can forget about it all you want." Smooth Ivy, real smooth.

Bucky stood and stared at you for a while, trying to figure out what exactly you were talking about. He hadn't talked to you at all that night, he kept his distance and watched you from far away, and you definitely hadn't come and said anything to him after all that drinking. Bucky thought about what you could mean, knowing he wasn't drunk and had no clue as to what you were referencing, he figured he'd ask.

"I would love to accept your apology," Good, good okay so now you can just forget it right? "But I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"You, you don't?" You were taken aback, was he drunk too? Maybe he didn't remember either? God were you going to have to say it out loud? How much more horrifying could this get?

"We, well I guess I, no we, well after I fell last night you came and helped me up from the floor, made sure I was good or whatever and then I... well.. you remember right?" Every muscle, blood vessel, and neuron in Bucky's body froze in their tracks. Was she about to say-

"Well I kissed you, and I was super drunk and I just wanted to apologize because you've made it clear you want nothing to do with me but yeah. I'm sorry we made out, uh, I was very drunk, and it won't happen again." You looked at a now stoic Bucky, was he angry? Oh god, you've really done it now.

"Uh, so yeah we don't ever have to speak about our kiss ever again, and I'm gonna go hide in shame, so thanks? I don't know, yeah, uh, bye, thanks." You grabbed your mug and headed straight for your room. What happened to cool and calm Ivy? What happened to kill a bitch Ivy? What the fuck IVY?! YOU DUMB BITCH IVY HOW WAS THAT SO AWKWARD FUCK. You grasped your coffee with both hands, silenting scream at yourself. You tried to stay positive, thinking, well. It can't get any worse than that. (Oh how wrong you were.)

Bucky stood frozen in the exact spot where you'd left him. Trying his hardest to process all the information that was just thrown at him. YOU thought it was HIM who kissed you last night? YOU thought YOU kissed HIM. YOU had, drunkenly, wanted to kiss HIM? But it was Steve, you kissed Steve? But you thought it was him? And now Steve was mad because he wasn't happy for him, but Ivy didn't think it was Steve at all, she thought it was HIM. SHE WHISPERED BUCKY! NOT LUCKY HER. Good god what was going on. How the fuck was he supposed to figure this one out on his own.

"Looks like you've got yourself a bit of a problem, huh?" Why? Why did God forsake him like this?

"Please tell me you didn't hear any of that." Bucky silently prayed that Sam hadn't heard a word, knowing that Steve had already shared the news with Sam, so Sam knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Oh, no. I heard all of it. You thought Steve was mad before, he's gonna kill you now." It was everything in Bucky not to slap the stupid smug grin off of Sam's face.  

"Don't. Say. A. Word. Deal?"

"Deal? I'm not getting anything out of that agreement, Bucko." Sam wasn't going to tell sweet old Steve any of it regardless, but he never missed a chance to piss Bucky off.

"I'll replace your mug?" Bucky wasn't the best at bargaining, he usually just punched the person, got what he needed, and went on his way.

"You were already going to do that." He was right, Bucky had accidentally broken a few of Sam's mugs and replaced them all, sometimes without him noticing.

"I'll leave you and Steve alone for 'bro-time' or whatever you call it?" Negotiations were easier when you could kill the person afterwards. Now he actually had to do what he said.

"Again, you already kinda do that." True, Bucky was never much of a 'large group' kind of guy, and sometimes more than Steve counted as a large group.

"Fine. $50?"

"My man, we are in business." A large slap landed on the back of Bucky's back as Sam chuckled at his big business deal. He was screwed. Steve was somehow already in love with you, and the moment that made Steve think you liked him too, you thought it was Bucky. The whole situation was giving Bucky a headache. There wasn't any way for him to casually bring it up to you or Steve, he'd just have to sit there and wait for the brutal reality to fall on them.

You were a wreck, he had just sat there the entire time and said nothing. You'd always thought he was different, sweet, just a little damaged by society just like you. The talks the two of you have had ((when he was slightly drugged but still)) were so deep and meaningful, and it's like he doesn't remember any of it now. Was it because you were within reach? Was he just falling back on old ways and your conversations didn't meant anything? Was he disgusted by you? With the devil and Angels on your shoulders yelling distracting you, you ran smack dab into the center of Steve very hard chest, collapsing at the impact.  

"Oh shoot, sorry Ivy I- I, uh, wasn't paying attention."  He was jumpier than normal, you noted subconsciously.

"No, no you're fine Steve I, wasn't paying attention either.  A lot going on, yanno?"

"Yeah, yeah I do." Steve had such a fondness in his heart for you. How sweet you ended up being once he you got past all that ice. He felt compelled to do something, he had to, right? After a night like that he had to do something to solidify the actions? Your smile was enough for him to gather the courage. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss. You were shocked at first, not wanting to react or kiss back, but the care radiating from his lips, and the general amazing feeling it gave you changed your mind. Not long after his surprising gesture, you had your arms wrapped around his neck , deepening the kiss as your tongues tangled in each others mouths. You felt hot, and wanted more, much more. You pulled down softly on his neck, his hands finding their way to your hips as he gently pushed you against the wall. His hand rests on your thigh, raising it to his own as the two of you exchanged silent, sloppy words. You broke the kiss, only to rest your lips along his neck, kissing softly as you felt his body tense, you were both hot, body's craving more as the loneliness hit you harder. You knew it was wrong, but for a moment his hands were cold enough to be mistaken for Bucky's. It felt so right, and then he grabbed you by your chin, twisting your head and returning the loving neck kisses. You couldn't deny how starved you were of attention, how much you needed somebody to touch and love you, how Steve was an opportunity to have a loving embrace. Your hands trailed their way from his chiseled chest to his cold belt buckle, lust devouring any rational thought that popped into your head. You were ready to give Captain America everything you were, and he was ready to receive it. Steve went to open the door to whatever room the two of you were in front of, when the whirring of metal made the two of you jump apart and run away very quickly. You walked into your room, cursing yourself for falling so easily into Steve. It was great, wonderful actually his lips on yours, his lips on your skin, but you wanted Bucky, you had to have Bucky, and now it just became even more complicated because you decided to think with what's between your legs instead of your head. Maybe he didn't think anything of it, he had been known to be very iffy with women so maybe you just weren't for him and he'd let you know next time he saw you. You weren't really his type anyways, he was a good guy, loved a blonde bombshell who volunteered and read to children and blah blah blah. He wasn't into you, you were a bad guy, past tense, but still he would never,  right?

Steve felt like he could fly, the embrace the two of you just shared solidified the fact that he wanted you, and vice versa. He was going to continue his plan to somehow get you to commit to him. He knew your history with men was deadly, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. You were stunning and beautiful, and funny. You lit his skin on fire, just a touch and he was ready tear whatever clothes you were wearing off immediately. He wanted you, mind, body and soul, and he wanted you bad.

Bucky had wanted to talk to you, to tell you that it wasn't him but he wished it had been. He wanted to say that he would love to talk to you more, he wanted to tell you how he felt weirdly connected to you. And then he walked upon you and Steve basically fucking in the hallway.

His heart dropped. Seeing you with him, he knew it happened the night before, but you had thought it was him. You definitely knew it was Steve this time. Did he drive you to this? Or did you only want Bucky to get to Steve? Had you apologized because you and Steve were already dating? Who came onto who? Bucky didn't know what to think, but seeing Steve's hands rummage so sloppily over your full hips and waist ignited a fury inside him he hadn't felt in a long time. Was this jealousy? He couldn't remember what it felt like to be jealous but this was definitely what he thought it felt like. He was pissed, not only at Steve but also himself for not saying anything when you came to him. He could've said so many things that would have prevented that explicit scene in the hallway, but instead he remained speechless, silenced like always. It wouldn't happen again, he couldn't, WOULD NOT, let Steve have you. He could have any girl he wanted, you were his. And after 70 years of being deprived of needs, he would have you to himself. Someway, somehow, he knew he would, even if he had to dip back into his HYDRA roots he would find a way for you to love him, you were a villain after all.

———————————————————————————————————

// sorry for the wait, a girls been kept busy. Hope the chapter turned out well, and thank the lord for the wonderful @lunathepettuna for being the cure to writer's block! Check out her amazing writing if you get a chance! If anybody has anything they’d like to see lemme know! Thanks again! P.S. if you guys want to throw random vocab words at me I’ll try and find a way to incorporate them and tag you! Thanks for reading! May Odin bless you! //

[ivydcmir-blog]

☁☼☁( ****. simay barlas. cis female. 21 ). welcome back to your summer paradise, IVY DEMIR we were wondering when you’d finally show up! the town’s really missed how MESMERIZING you are, even if you can be a bit AMORAL at times. we hear back home they call you the CHERRY PIT, makes sense considering you remind everyone of IMPORTED CIGARETTES, OLD LOVE SONGS COMING FROM A RECORD PLAYER, PERFUME AT THE BASE OF A THROAT, & FAST CARS AT MIDNIGHT.  ☁☼☁    

oh she’s extra late to the party ! im she .... my name’s xan im 22 and from the est timezone i go by she / her pronouns and ur watching disney channel <3 i am....so excited to bring ivy to life ... shes been my sleep paralysis demon for weeks its time for me to set her free baby ! lets go !

first things first ivy is inspired by characters like effy from skins, georgina & serena from gossip girl, and just a TINY bit of villanelle from killing eve ( not the....assassin part.... ) 

her daddy’s side of the family are oil tycoons and her mom’s side ? well ivy has no idea what they do or who they were

basically a little after ivy turned a year old her mother just . poofed...vanished into thin air and didn’t leave a trace behind. growing up ivy would hear a lot of rumors from the staff abt what kind of person her mom was or where she went but the one person who could tell her the truth ( her dad ) just refused to talk abt it. he got super angry anytime she used to try so ivy stopped asking !

she was born in tokyo actually ( on her parents anniversary trip, which was another mystery ) but was raised in manhattan ! she is absolutely in love with nyc and definitely considers it her home

so shes filthy rich and i mean like ... disgusting billionaire rich to the point that it’s just not right and you know, that definitely shaped her upbringing. even as a little girl ivy found it very clear the amount of power she has just by being born into the right family 

she was....kind of a strange child ! she was abnormally sharp for her age and intuitive and without that maternal figure in her life, ivy grew very attached to her father. he’d even take her along to business meetings because she was well behaved

as she grew up it started to become apparent ivy liked to play games. the more she observed the people around her ( the staff, her dad, his business partners, the kids at school, etc. ) the better she got at finding out what made people tick. sometimes her games were harmless ( like flirting with the boys she knew her friends were crushing on ) and sometimes they were more intense ( like setting up empty pill bottles around her and pretending she’d overdosed to freak out the maids ) ask ivy why she did any of it and she’d simply tell you she was bored

high school ivy was very much reckless like this. she found the upper east side teen drama so dreary she’d often act out just for a change of pace. i’d like to think she broke the record for most detentions at whatever private school she went to. she was definitely someone just about everyone knew just because of all the rumors she stirred up doing crazy things 

despite all the misdemeanors she got into yale ! her dad is basically on of the biggest donors to the university. there’s probably a building somewhere on campus with her last name on it, but ivy really couldnt care less. she didnt exactly want to go to college and she definitely didnt want to leave nyc, but shes got this weird complex with her dad and really cannot tell the man no ! so she majors in classics just bc she thought it’d be neat to have to learn latin 

of course ... she starts to get bored. she’s already barely attending classes and on academic probation so when it leaks to the dean she’s sleeping with a professor ? ivy was sure it’d be expulsion.....but then it wasn’t ! turned out her dad had made a special deal with yale and after a nice monetary exchange it was like ivy never did anything....

after her dad announced he was going to turkey for his brother’s funeral last august she decided to "take a gap year” from yale but really she’s got no plan to ever go back ! instead she disappeared much like her mother did for a whole year without a trace. she told absolutely no one where she was going or what she was doing.....and she’s come back to the hamptons for the summer with no warning ! 

PERSONALITY & TIDBITS

so ivy is....all over the place ! most of the way she behaves is because she finds it a bit too easy to grow bored. still very much into playing games with people bc she gets a kick out of it ! it takes a lot for ivy to take anything seriously so she’s not exactly the best person to come to if you need advice or comfort. if you’re looking for excitement? trouble? an out of body experience ? then she is 100% your girl 

for someone so chaotic she is weirdly nostalgic and sentimental about things. she’s obsessed with greek heroes and foreign poets and superstitions and it’s not uncommon to find her getting existential with you with a cigarette dangling from her fingertips and a foggy look in her eyes. she’ll say something that seems entirely deep and profound one minute, and the next she’s blowing smoke in your face asking if you want to do a line in the bathroom with a wicked smile on her painted lips

a huge flirt ! she will and she does hit on absolutely everyone. definitely not the traditionally romantic type but she does go through phases where she tends to hyper fixate on others for specific periods of time. until she gets bored. it’s a vicious cycle

full of unhealthy habits that include drinking, smoking, doing drugs, fucking around, but the worst is how little she sleeps. she’s been prone to nightmares ever since she was a kid but she’s never acknowledged it as a problem despite it obviously being one

once she flew to paris with nothing but a cheap pink wig. wore it the whole time she was there and called herself yvette. 

picked up her father’s obsession with luxury cars. not only does she collect them, she races them, too. most infamous stint was showing up to a race in an evening gown and winning. 

speaks about five languages fluently. often likes to fuck with snobby rich people at high society events by pretending she can’t speak or understand english, only to turn around and speak to someone else in perfect english

it’s rumored she once snuck onto the yacht of a ceo to a fortune 500 company, only for him to find her in nothing but a bath towel eating chocolates while flipping through his playboy magazines, and that he was so taken with her instead of pressing charges he decided to name the boat after ivy.  

rumors are rumors, but you really never know with ivy....

thats it !!! if you’re reading this you made it !! please come plot with me i know im late but i have a lot of heart memes saved up and i cant use those by myself </3 we can message through im’s but im 100% easier to get in contact with over discord @  EL i love u 💖✨🌙#8172

[lovedinapastlife]

3x12 “Bizarrodale” - Riverdale Reaction

Not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping from the title that this episode would have things like terrifying Jughead with a giant carving knife from outtakes of the fever-dream sequence of season one. Or floating babies. What we got was a generally cohesive plot with the minor characters. So like...I’ll take it? 

Let’s see some “inspired lunacy,” Riverdale!

“I’ll check my calendar, Sierra” — OOOOOH BURN. They didn’t even tell you the day, Marcus.

Hermione has no investment in procreations now that she’s not getting laid. DO IT YOURSELF is her new go-to response.

Who is this smug bug for finding Kevin and Moose in some random room making out? You want a gold star? A pat on the butt?

Oooof, Josie! Using ‘em and losin’ ‘em while wearing cute clothes! Sweet Pea wants something steady now that he can’t play G&G with his boyfriends on the regular.

Twice-widowed?! Did I miss something??? Maybe there’s a deleted scene of Penelope marrying Tall Boy. Or Malachai (who could be dead for all he’s been in this season). Or Claudius? That seems extra shady.

Is Tom just unemployed and Sierra’s sex bunny now? Because that’s weirdly adorable. Also if people could get more beds in this town so I’m not horrified wondering if it’s the same place Bughead has canoodled that would be great.

So…the main reason Kevin doesn’t want to break up with Moose is because…he doesn’t wanna cruise in the forest? Too much effort to get laid? This episode is not doing their relationship any favors for me, even if they’re both attractive young men. It’s like Kevin has to convince himself he even likes Moose outside of his enormous appendage.

Anyone else get chills when Cheryl reached out to touch Kevin’s hand? I was fairly certain she was going to set him on fire. Maybe that’s just me worrying about Cheryl in general. Let the former fat kid stress-eat!

Did they run out of costumes? Why is that one kid in full ROTC uniform and nobody else is? XD I get it. The metaphorical “divide” between Moose’s dad and their relationship but wow. That hat stands out in a classroom.

Cheryl getting excited for their first fight and then quickly crumbling into pleading is so…sad? I feel like Toni could probably manipulate her really horribly. Or for the better. Um. We’ll see. I’m not holding my breath.

Josie can’t drive? She ran her own band, her mom was mayor, dad’s a jazz star, but no car? No driver’s license? Shoulda taken advantage when she was dating Reggie to get a great deal on a ride! I know the pictured scene is later, but Archie is just so excited to be someone’s date and play music again that I wanted it up here.

Also it’s been 15 minutes without Bughead and I am physically in pain.

Oh good. Veronica finds robbing banks impractical, but she’s all about encouraging “inspired lunacy.” I think that’s how the show would describe itself.

The bad parents club is at it again.

“50 Shades of Blackmail” - the Choni spinoff

“I can’t believe I was shot…” — Reggie, unaware of what happened to Veronica’s “exes.” Honestly, seems like he got let off easy.

Archie - mauled by a bear, branded, buried alive

Nick St. Claire - “Car accident,” multiple ass-kickings

Now THAT’S what I call “dirty money!”

Okay I liked the throwback to the beginning of this season when Kevin surprised Moose with locker kisses

I don’t know how to feel about Choni cheating their way into a broken system. I like their outfits? I don’t care?

Ohhhhh Gladys. “More teenagers.” You and me, both. If only drug dealings could be kept between adults. I’m so annoyed with these people! Stop being involved in shade! Clearly you’re boss bitches and can manage an actual legit business instead of “borrowing” fancy cars and laundering dirty money with a bunch of rowdy teens and gang members. SET AN EXAMPLE, LADIES

Ha. Throwback to the Midnight Club entering through the window is kinda hilarious. What is with this poison-drinking nonsense? Again?!

OH MY GOD they’re setting it up for “jealous” Mason man to be the Gargoyle King. Yep. He is. Okay then.

30 minutes in, I get my shot. I’m crying. The hair. The beauty. I can’t handle it. DON’T STOP. My Bughead heart needs this! They are so lovely! Someone light their face and silence all the phones, k thanks.

Why does Kevin presume Betty would infringe on bunker boinking? She’s probably the one who came up with the damn schedule!

They look so damn satisfied. Can no one have peaceful pillow talk in this town?

What is with all this “gay=weakness” nonsense? Love is love. Sit down, ignorant, self-hating villains.

I squealed when I heard Jughead’s voice and saw him come in. Oh man. And now my heart is broken. Because the Jones girls are faking it. And Jughead’s gonna get his heart broken. NOOOOOO! I knew it the second JB hugged FP.

Good call Sierra and Kevin just keeping a giant cake for themselves with that bizarro topper. Was he sunk into the cake? On his knees? What are you two up to?

Goodbye, Moose! Bon voyage! Kevin seemed proud of him being out but sad he loses another boyfriend to crime in Riverdale.

It’s like this episode wants to highlight all the minors having reasons to cry. Ironically, Reggie was SHOT and was the least teary.

Oh, really?! A new gang/FAMILY? Of strangers?! In leather?! We need more aesthetic options in this damn town. The Pretty Poisons. My guess is if they can get the rights, Cheryl and Toni are gonna dress up as Harley and Ivy. Because they already dressed up like Catwoman.

I’m sorry, Archie and Josie, I can’t hear your duet over the sound of my heart breaking.

I don’t know, was anyone excited about Archie OR Josie dating someone new? Y’all need some time to work on yourselves. Revisit this after some therapy. Time is good. Look what it did for Tom and Sierra. I can’t imagine Julliard is much for aspiring pop stars anyway, but what do I know? She’s about to go to her own spinoff so I’m not emotionally invested.

I don’t know when I’ll get to see my darlings get the short end of the stick again. Oh well. Time for fanfiction, I suppose. Every time I think we’re thinning the ensemble they just swoop in with more. Fingers crossed our favs get to finish spectacularly next time ;)