#back before i wrecked that pink hoodie urg

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙖’𝙨 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙆𝙕:

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 — 𝙨𝙚𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 562

𝙖/𝙣: @hearted-anon WOOOPP

𝙩/𝙬: rough tickles

𝒍𝒆𝒆: changbin

𝙡𝙚𝙧: reader

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s 🐇

sometimes bunny either needs to be treated softly or rough 

depends on where you’re tickling, really

soft on the belly, please 

BUT WRECK HIM TO PIECES EVERYWHERE ELSE 

don’t be stingy

his nose scrunch 🥺🥺🥺

his cackles are contagious, watch out! 

sweetest boy 

deserves to be wrecked every day all day 

“Binnie? Have you seen my—” You were cut off by the absence of your favorite boy. Where was he?

You searched around the dorm, even asking a few of the members if they had seen him. 

Opening the door to the studio, you managed to find him slumped over a computer, softly snoring away as his hand moved the mouse subconsciously. 

You immediately ran to grab a blanket and pillow; the position he was in did not seem comfortable. 

After pulling his phone gently out of his hand, you noticed a page opened on it. 

Oh, he had done a live. You frown as you scrolled through the comments. Why were they all so mean? 

Only then did Changbin stir a little, and you were able to see the tear streaks on the poor bunny’s face. 

If your heart had broken at the sight of the comments, seeing Binnie getting affected by them might as well have ripped it out of your chest and stomped on it. 

Cradling his head, you set the pillow beneath it, draping the blanket over his shoulders. 

The next morning, he wandered into the kitchen, oversized hoodie practically hanging off of his slouched frame as he sniffled a little. 

You ran to feed him some breakfast, offering to cuddle with him for a while as if you didn’t know the reason for his off mood.

Binnie gave you a thankful look and there you were, the bunny’s arms wrapped around your waist on the couch. 

Then you had an idea. Nonchalantly grabbing his hands, suddenly they were pinned above his head, and Changbin’s eyes widened in realization just as one hand began to squish his stomach. 

“AGH—Hehey!!” Binnie giggled, trying to yank his arms down to shove at your hands, throwing his head back a little as cute snickers completely overtook him. 

“You’re so cute! How could I not find the chance to make you smile?~” 

Changbin flushed a happy pink as your fingers moved to his ribs, digging into the crevice harshly.

He squealed in surprise, suddenly breaking out into hysterical cackles. “OKAHAY NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!” 

“But why not?” 

He could feel your pout. “BEHECAUSE IHIT TIHIHICKLES TOHOHOO MUHUHUCH EHEHEHE!!” Binnie laughed, and you had the urge to squeeze him; cuteness aggression was making you practically lose your mind. 

“But…please?” You asked, flashing him your best puppy eyes while continuing to tickle every rib, even sneaking your fingers to the sides of his chest just to hear him scream. 

“T-TOOHOHO MUHUHUCH!!” Binnie began to scrunch his nose up in an attempt to ward off some ticklish energy; news flash, it didn’t work. 

“Awhh! Look at your cute nose!” You squeal in delight, booping him on the nose before leaning down to blow soft raspberries onto his soft belly. 

Tears welled up in his eyes. Changbin howled in ticklish agony as your lips blew the gentlest of raspberries onto his sensitive stomach. 

“OKAHAY AAHAHAHA ENOUGH!! I CAHAHANT TAHAKE AHANYMOREE!!” Binnie begged finally. 

You decided to let him go. “No matter what LEAVE’s say, you’re my favorite bunny.”

[snowstark]

Pretty Things [teenker].

LINK TO AO3

requested by @alignallofthelights!

Prompt: Omega!Peter and Omega!Harley both go into heat at the same time, Alpha!Tony knots them through it, they alternate between knottings and both Peter and Harley are impatient for their respective turns. They use a knotting dildo while they wait, but nothing fills them quite like Tony's knot. Bonus points if Peter and Harley argue with each other while Tony knots the other (“it's always your turn,” “why do you go first”) and one uses the others heat scent to make Tony re-knot while his knot is deflating, etc. making the other omega have to wait longer for their turn with Tony.

AKA Peter and Harley both want to get railed into a new dimension by Tony.

When Tony stepped into the house, he was met with the sweet scent of omega slick—no, two scents, lingering in the air, sharp and tangy and just right. He set his grocery bags down, tilting his head, and chuckled when he heard pitiful whimpering noises coming from their bedroom, just like music to his ears, his sweet, precious omegas.

He headed straight for the room, opened the door quietly, and inhaled sharply at the sight before him.

The boys had made their nest, not overly extravagant, having each other was enough. They’d stripped off their clothes, probably because it’d been too hot for them, and the clothes lay in a messy pile on the floor next to the bed. There were four thick blankets surrounding them in a soft pile, pretty shades of blue and green and pink and yellow that Tony had bought for his good boys, and a few of Tony’s t-shirts and hoodies, and each of their stuffies—a white bear for Peter, a brown one for Harley.

Fucking precious.

And it would be absolutely wholesome, except for the fact that they were both clearly in heat, panting and crying and desperate and needy.

Harley was the first to spot him, and he made a pitiful little noise in his throat, quiet, but it was loud enough to catch Peter’s attention. The other boy turned his gaze too, following Harley, and his eyes widened pitifully at the sight of Tony standing at the door.

Tony stepped inside, not bothering to close the door behind him, and pulled his tie free before shrugging off his suit jacket. He undid the cufflinks, making the two omegas whimper—Tony recalled with a smile how they’d once told him that him taking off his cufflinks killed them, that was how hot it was—and then rolled up his shirt sleeves.

“How long have you been like this, hm, poor things?” Tony crooned, shifting onto the bed.

Both boys instinctively scrambled over to him, practically toppling over each other like little pups, making him smile.

“Looks like a bit, huh?” he murmured, opening his arms and letting them snuggle close. “Sweet things. Alpha’s here now. He’ll take care of you.”

Peter let out a small mewl at that, then tipped his head up, exposing his neck hungrily and desperately enough to make Tony’s mouth water. “Please,” the boy whimpered, trying to press closer and accidentally shifting Harley back. “Need your knot, please, Alpha—”

“Me too!” Harley whined, brow furrowing in what looked like anguish. “Me too, Alpha, please—”

God, they were going to kill him.

Tony let out a small growl, then let his lips latch onto Peter’s neck, sucking and licking, and while he did, he threaded his fingers through Harley’s hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck too. He gave Peter one last hot stripe of his tongue before moving to Harley, relishing in his panting and whining, just as pretty as Peter’s noises had been.

“Alpha, alpha,” Harley panted, and the sweet, tantalizing scent grew stronger. When Tony pulled back, he followed helplessly, eyes half-lidded and already dazed.

With a crooning noise, Tony gently pushed the middle of his chest with a hand to tip him backwards, onto his back, lips twitching with amusement when Peter followed suit immediately, eyes flashing with need and a bit of possessiveness. Tony didn’t mind; he always did like it when his boys got riled up like this.

“Where to start…” he drawled, letting his fingers ghost over the boys’ chests, making them whimper and keen. “Hm.” He let his eyes wander throughout the room and rest on the box of toys they kept for easy access, and then nodded, satisfied. He pulled away from them to head over to the corner of the room to fish out the toys that had popped into his mind, ignoring the needy noises of protests that Harley and Peter made at his disappearance.

Once he’d found everything he needed, Tony shifted back onto the bed, holding up each toy for a few moments so that they could see what he had planned.

“Get on with it then,” Harley begged, eyes flashing with what was almost defiance, and his scent was tinged with desperate eagerness that contradicted his tone and words. “C’mon, we—been waiting all day, please, c’mon, you’re so slow.”

Oh, and there it was, Tony noted with delight. The feistiness, the brattiness, it had so much potential. It was always nice to be able to knock Harley back into his place, make him reel from being smacked him into submission, make him cry big fat tears and apologize and say, yes, Alpha, ‘m sorry, Alpha, pleasepleaseplease—

“We’ll start,” Tony agreed with a shark-like grin. He picked up the handcuffs—he preferred rope, that was no secret, but this was easier for what he had planned—and gestured for Harley to give him his wrists.

The omega eagerly obeyed and Peter whimpered with jealousy as Tony clicked them into place before hooking them onto the headboard.

“Oh, don’t cry, baby boy,” Tony crooned at Peter, letting his fingers brush over Peter’s cheek in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. “I’m taking care of you first.”

“What?” Harley gasped in outrage, and Tony chuckled. “But—”

“Oh, yes, I know you’re the one who’s cuffed.” Tony pinched his nipple, making him yelp. Good omega. “That’s ‘cause we all know you can’t keep your hands to yourself, darling boy. Now, you stop yapping and I’ll take care of Petey-pie before moving on to you.”

Peter’s eyelashes fluttered as Tony moved to sit between his knees, ignoring Harley’s whine of complaint, though he took mercy and stroked his fingers on the inside of his thigh, just enough to soothe him.

Tony bent down and kissed the inside of Peter’s thigh, making the omega gasp. He chuckled lowly, rumbling in his chest, and licked a hot, wet stripe up to his balls. “Tell your Alpha what you want, baby,” he murmured, “and Alpha will give it to you.”

“I-I—” Peter whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. His curls were already in a sweaty mess over his forehead and Tony reached up to push them back. “W-Want you to—please—” His hips lifted off of the bed instinctively, and Tony chuckled again, pushing them down firmly.

“Alpha can’t do anything ‘till you tell him, omega.” That was bullshit, and they all knew that, but hey, it was a game, and Tony was in charge, so there.

“Eat me out,” Peter begged, face flushing shyly at the words, his eyes still squeezed shut tight. “Please, Alpha, ‘s been so long, need you s-so bad—”

“Shhh.” Tony pressed a kiss to his hip, then patted it. “Go on, then. Turn over. Since you asked so nicely. So pretty, baby.”

Peter flopped over immediately, raising his ass in a desperate offering, already making the prettiest keening noises Tony had ever heard and he hadn’t even started.

Good omega.

Tony bent his head, feeling Harley’s gaze burning into the side of his head, and licked up in one wet motion. The sweet taste of Peter and his slick flooded his mouth and he growled before going in for more, brain going white and fuzzy with omega, mine, my omega.

He growled and nipped at Peter’s cheek, making him whimper, and flattened his tongue to drag more wet stripes in his cleft. Peter’s hole fluttered with each mewl he gave, which only urged him on more, making him slip his tongue in to fuck him with it, a teasing precedent for what was soon to come. Wet noises filled the room, punctuated by Peter’s gasps and breathy moans and Tony’s chuckles against his skin.

Harley whimpered, the scent of his slick flooding Tony’s senses, and he grinned against Peter’s ass. He pulled back, wiped his chin on the back of his hand, and let a finger sink into Peter’s hole. It gave way easily, and Peter moaned, loud, pushing back against the finger.

“O-Oh—oh, god.”

“Feels good?” Tony murmured, shooting Harley a sly glance, smirking when the omega looked absolutely fucking wrecked and devastated. “You’re a good boy, Peter. You deserve Alpha’s knot. Don’t. You?” He punctuated his words with two fingers now, squelching in the wetness.

“Y-Yes!” Peter cried out, back arching in desperation. “Ohmygod, yes, Alpha, I-I—”

Tony leaned close and took one last lick around his fingers, then pulled back, grinning at how dazed Peter was now, and slid a hand through his sweaty curls. “You taste like fucking candy, omega.” He waited, but when he got no response, he gave the boy a crisp, light smack on his cheek, making his eyes roll into his head. Tony’s lips twitched with amusement. “Say thank you. Use your manners. Alpha rewards good boys.”

“T-Thank—Thank you,” Peter gasped, squirming. “‘s— please— more—”

“Oh, you want more?” Tony cooed. “Not enough? Greedy.” He pinched his thigh. “My greedy, needy omega. So filthy, you’re an absolute mess and I haven’t even played with you properly. You sure you want more?”

“Yes, please! Pleasepleaseplease—”

“Alpha!” Harley cried out, clearly unable to hold back. He was trembling in his restraints, and Tony took mercy on him and ran a hand down his chest.

“Yes, omega?” he drawled.

Harley stared at him with wet eyes. “I… I…”

“Yes?” Tony grinned.

Peter mewled next to him, and Harley blubbered, “Please, I—can I—can you please eat me out, please, I’ll be so good, I-I—” He broke off with a gasp, eyelashes growing heavy with tears.

“Oh, look at these crocodile tears,” Tony crooned, flicking some away with his thumb. He pinched Peter’s hip. “What do you think, baby boy? You think Harley deserves some fun now? Think he can behave? Be as good and sweet as you?”

Harley gasped again. “Please—”

“Didn’t ask you,” Tony told Harley mildly, making him whimper. “Peter?” He patted his hip.

Peter bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut tightly, looking torn between yes, he deserves it and no please, give me more, I deserve it. Eventually, though, like the good, sweet omega he was, the boy gasped, “Yes. Yes, Alpha, he— yes.”

“Mmm.” Tony reached up slowly and unhooked Harley from the cuffs, hearing the hitch in his breath. “Go on, then, Harley. You heard him. Flip over. Or are you gonna make me do all the work?”

“N-No, Alpha,” Harley stammered, hastily flopping over. “I want—”

“Oh, I know what you want.” Tony dragged his nails across his ass, making him gasp, and he watched in admiration as four pink lines bloomed across his ass cheek. “And I’m gonna give it to you, as long as you keep that damn mouth of yours shut. No sass, Harley.”

“No,” Harley agreed breathlessly. “N-No, no sass, promise, Alpha, promise.”

“Good,” Tony growled, and then spread his cheeks to bury his tongue, drawing flat, wet stripes across his pucker.

Harley moaned obscenely loud—a sharp contrast from Peter’s little whimpers and cries—and wriggled, squirming against the bed, back arching as Tony ruthlessly licked and kissed. He let his eyes flutter shut—my omega—and time passed.

Time passed as he indulged himself in the sweet scent and taste of his omega, taking over his entire goddamn world until the sound of Peter’s high-pitched crying and whining yanked him back out. Tony pulled back and cooed at the tear tracks on Peter’s face. “Poor thing,” he murmured. “You always look so pretty when you cry. Unlike this one—” He cracked a hand down on Harley’s ass, making him yelp “—who brats too much to look that angelic. Petey-pie’s an absolute angel, isn’t he, Harley, hm?” His tone made it clear that there was only one right answer to his question.

Fortunately for Harley, he seemed to be feeling smart enough—or maybe he was just too needy to even come up with a smartass answer. He nodded, panting, “Yes, yes, Alpha, he is, he’s pretty, he’s—”

“Mm, he is. Now, let’s see.” Tony drew back, allowing Harley to flip back over onto his back. Far too aware of their hungry gazes, he smirked, and pulled back to finally free his cock from his pants.

It was like a Pavlovian effect, the way Harley and Peter both perked up, eyes widening, and Peter licked his lips. God, Tony could see that they were aching for it; they had to be. It went straight to his cock, making it twitch. My omegas.

This was always the hardest part, choosing who got his knot first, choosing who would cry and whine and pout while waiting for his turn. He picked up the dildo he’d brought with him, one that had an inflatable knot, and held it up. “Volunteers?” he teased.

It was almost endearing how Harley and Peter both scowled in response.

Tony hummed, then gestured for Harley to flip over. The boy obeyed, albeit a bit reluctantly, and Tony grabbed the bottle of lube next to him. The cap opened with a snick and he coated the toy liberally with it. Harley glanced back and let out a small whine. “How come you always go first?” he complained, glaring at Peter.

Peter’s cheeks turned rosy, and the scent of his heat and desperation spiked, involuntarily, probably, making Harley scowl even more. Tony’s dick twitched again when he realized that they were literally fighting over who got his knot first. And if that wasn’t the biggest fucking turn-on for him, ever, he didn’t know what was.

“‘s not fair!” Harley whined, wriggling back like he was trying to reach Tony before Peter could. “Alpha, it’s—”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Shhh,” he murmured, and let the tip of the toy nudge against his entrance, pushing slightly. The head slipped in, and Harley groaned. Tony’s mouth went dry from lust; his omegas were so fucking tight, god, they were going to kill him. He slowly worked it in; Harley hadn’t really even needed the lube, but Tony knew that he liked it wet. “This isn’t a punishment, omega. You’re good. You’re very good. Alpha just wants to see you be patient.” God knew Harley could learn it, along with some manners. “Now let me give you what you need.”

Tony pushed the toy inside in one smooth motion and Harley keened, all thoughts of complaining gone by the sensation, back arching as he pushed back. Tony teased him with it a bit, then made sure it was fully seated inside him before grabbing Peter by his hips and dragging him close.

The omega yelped in surprise, but his legs fell open instinctively, making Tony grin. He yanked off the rest of his clothes quickly, then pushed two of his fingers against Peter’s hole. He pulled back to suck his fingers, making Peter flush red, and then worked them in.

Peter was still tight, even though he was in heat. Tighter than Harley, who could take his knot like a champ. Maybe that was why Tony was letting Peter have his knot first; he wanted to see some pretty tears trickling down a pretty face.

Peter gasped in complaint when he pulled his fingers out, but Tony quickly fixed the issue by letting his fingers press against Peter’s tongue, silencing any gulps. He pushed down just hard enough to elicit a gag, and didn’t let up, holding him there as he let the tip of his cock rub between Peter’s cheeks.

“You need it?” he crooned, and both Harley and Peter whined. “Shh, omega. You’ll get it. You know, you’re so fucking tight, I really do need to prepare you. Can’t hurt my pretty things, now can I?” He pulled his fingers out and placed a hand on Peter’s hip, holding him steady as let the head of his cock slip in slowly. Peter groaned, scrabbling to grab onto the bed, and Tony had to bite back a moan of his own as Peter clenched around him, tight and wet and silky.

My omega. He growled, and pinched Peter’s hip. “You’re so tight, omega, how do you expect me to give you my knot when you can’t even take in the tip of my cock, hm?” He pushed in slowly, making Peter wordlessly mewl again, and after a few moments, began to let his hips snap up.

He’d intended to go slow, but Peter was abso-fucking-lutely irresistible. Peter pushed back against him like the good boy he was, and Tony bit his lip to stop the flood of cursing that threatened to escape. He crooned, stroking a hand down his spine. “God, look at’chu,” he breathed, “you’re so fucking pretty, Petey. So gorgeous, lookin’ so damn pretty, impaled on your Alpha’s cock, begging for it, crying for it, you’re fucking perfection, a fucking masterpiece.”

Peter shivered, eyes squeezing shut tightly, and he whimpered, but it was a good kind, Tony knew that. Peter had the biggest praise kink out of all the omegas he’d met throughout his life, and Tony knew that he’d basically just drop-kicked him into submission with those words.

Harley let out a low moan. “A-Alpha, Tony, w-what ‘bout—”

“Shhh,” Tony hushed him, smirking when Harley moaned miserably again. He let his hips begin to work, and the sound of skin against skin filled the room for a few moments, punctuated by Peter’s gasps and keening whimpers until Tony reached over to place a hand over the end of the dildo, pushing it in.

Harley wailed.

Tony inflated the knot effortlessly, watching as shudders wracked Harley’s body. “Feels good?” he demanded breathlessly. “Tell me how good it feels. Now.”

“S-So good!” Harley gasped, groaning. “Good, ‘s full, not— not full ‘nough, please, Alpha, please, I n-need—”

He was interrupted by a high-pitched mewl from Peter as Tony let his hips snap up hard enough for his balls to smack against his ass, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“What do you need?” Tony gritted out, even though he already knew the answer. “I’ve filled your hole, I’m filling this one’s—fuck—so what do you—”

“Y-You!” Harley wailed, clenching around the dildo. “‘s not enough, please! N-Not full enough, ‘s not—”

The words went straight to Tony’s dick and he groaned, hips picking up their speed until he could feel it coming, he—oh, fuck—he came right in Peter without a warning with a grunt, and felt his knot begin to swell. Peter mewled, face etched with pure gratification and eyes shining with gratefulness as he looked up at Tony through half-lidded eyes.

“You need what he has, don’t you?” Tony growled as his knot finished growing. “Need to grow fuller, omega? A little toy’s not enough, is it? You need my knot, not a fake one?”

“Y-Yes!” Harley sobbed. “‘s not—please—”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Tony looked down and traced a finger delicately over the rim of Peter’s hole, stretched around his knot, making him whimper. “It’s almost your turn, shhh. No need for those crocodile tears, sweetheart.”

“N-Not—” Harley gasped, and Tony interrupted him.

“Yes, they are,” he said sternly. Harley cried. Despite his words, he felt a flash of sympathy for the omega, so he reached over and began to fuck him in earnest with the dildo, still inflated with the knot, making Harley’s eyes roll into the back of his head. “See, omega? I’m being nice to you. Gonna make you come. This one—” he cracked a hand down on Peter’s hip, enjoying the gasp he got in response “—hasn’t even been allowed to come yet; he’s been so busy enjoying my knot. You’re getting something he doesn’t have yet, and you should be grateful for it.”

“O-Oh, god—” Harley flailed, trying to grab onto something, to— to—

Tony paid him no mind, just fucking him earnestly until Harley’s body went taut. Reaching down, Tony gripped his cock and gave it a long, lazy stroke, still pumping the dildo, then watched in satisfaction as Harley wailed and came, his entire body shuddering from the force of it. Strings of white coated his hand and the sheets, and Tony pushed the knot in deep, knowing that nothing would be worse than if he chose to pull it out. That would just be pure torture, and he wasn’t that mean.

When Harley was done gasping and writhing, Tony lifted his hand to his mouth, drawling, “Made a mess everywhere, my sweet brat. What should we do about that, hm?”

Harley wordlessly shuddered and leaned forward, his tongue poking out to lap at Tony’s hand. Tony rumbled in his chest, pleased, and he didn’t take his eyes off of Harley until Peter whined.

He looked down, realizing that his knot was going down now, and Peter was trying to push back, clenching tight around him like he was trying to hold onto it, and it went straight to Tony’s head and dick. He swore and pulled out before Peter could convince him to fuck him senseless, wincing at the cry that Peter let out. “P-Please! Not yet, n-need more—”

Tony stroked a hand through his curls and murmured, “Shhh, it’s okay. You feeling empty, hm? You need me to help you?”

Harley made a little noise of disbelief and betrayal. “B-But—”

Tony clamped a hand over his nose and mouth, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, then released him, smirking when Harley fell silent. He reached behind him to pick up another knotting dildo, and Harley watched with wide eyes as he lubed it up and let it nudge against Peter’s entrance.

Peter cried in complaint, but Tony let it smoothly slip in, and inflated the knot again. “See?” he murmured, already shifting over to Harley as his cock began to harden again, eager at the scent of Harley’s desperation and neediness. “Alpha takes care of his pretty things.”

“N-Not ‘nough,” Peter cried, making Harley scowl before Tony wiped it off by deflating the knot and pulling the dildo out of him. He groaned.

“It is enough,” Tony told him as he moved between Harley’s legs. “You had your turn, and now it’s Harley’s.”

His pretty things were going to be the death of him, he thought as he let the tip of his cock slip in. Harley fluttered around him, and Tony let him adjust for a few moments, marvelling at how tight he was despite the fake knot he’d taken, before letting his hips begin to cant up, dragging desperate, almost pained noises from Harley. It wasn’t long before Harley pulled his knot from him, locking them in place.

“S-So good,” Harley gasped, clenching tight around Tony. “N-Needed you, Alpha, hnnngh.”

Tony rewarded him with a gentle stroke of his hand down his side, silently praising him.

Peter was whimpering breathily next to them, watching through half-lidded eyes and sweaty curls that fell across his forehead, and Tony reached over to push them back, then let two of his fingers slip into Peter’s mouth. He watched in rapt fascination as Peter suckled desperately, and didn’t pull them out even when he felt his knot begin to go down, not even when Peter came untouched from the feeling of the knot in his ass and his fingers in Peter’s mouth, filling him up in both ends just the way he needed.

Tony exhaled shakily as his knot fully went down, and Harley made a disappointed noise. Peter’s eyes snapped open, like he knew it was his turn again, and Tony chuckled. “M-Me?” Peter asked breathlessly, looking so fucking adorable. “‘s my turn, Alpha?” A sweet scent filled the room as Peter made a pleased, eager noise in the back of his throat.

Tony opened his mouth to reply that yes, it was Peter’s turn now, when Harley groaned in protest, like he was saying, already?

Tony looked down, ready to reprimand him, when Peter’s heat scent practically overpowered his senses, making him snarl a curse before he gripped Harley’s hips tight, fucking into him again. The feeling of wet and tight and mine blinded him.

Harley let a triumphant, pleased noise, and Tony saw white as he came again, knot growing again already.

Peter cried out in protest. “It was my turn!”

“And I got his knot,” Harley crowed, though his voice was raspy and equally as breathless. His body was wracked with shudders from the bone-melting pleasure of winning Tony’s knot again, and the scent of Peter’s distress and desperation wafted through the air. “F-Feels so good, thank you, Alpha, so big ‘n full ‘n perfect, o-oh—”

Peter cried out, and even through his daze Tony could see him clenching around the knotted dildo in his ass. “H-Hurts,” he sobbed. “N-Need, please—”

Harley growled.

“Boys,” Tony panted, voice full of censure, “no fighting. Play nice.”

Harley and Peter both made offended noises and he barked out a laugh.

Tony stroked Peter’s hair in consolation and let him fuck his hand, which he held in a loose ‘o,’ and indulged him with another orgasm.

When his knot went down again, he cracked a hand down on Harley’s ass as a silent reprimand for being greedy. Then, he pulled out slowly, watching the fluttering hole clenching around his cock, trying to hold on, and he gently soothed a hand down Harley’s back.

“Shh,” he murmured, though even he didn’t know who he was talking to. Both of them, probably. “Shhh. Let Alpha take care of you.” He shifted off the bed and crouched to open the mini fridge they had in the room, pulling out a bottle of water.

It was ice-cold, a sharp contrast to the warm bodies he’d been stroking and touching, but his hands didn’t shake as he twisted the cap open and carelessly tossed it onto the nightstand. He urged the boys to flip over with gentle touches and crooning words in a sing-song voice, then pressed the opening of the bottle to Peter’s lips first.

“A-Al—”

“Shhh,” Tony soothed again, gently tipping the bottle back, letting the water flow into Peter’s mouth. The omega spluttered at first, then began to thirstily gulp it down, encouraged by Tony’s petting and stroking.

Tony pulled it back once Peter had had half the bottle, then tipped Harley’s chin up and let him drink too. “Feels good, huh?” he murmured, watching Harley wordlessly gulp it down. “Good boys, both so good for me, so needy, so hungry, so sweet.”

Peter whimpered at the words, and the smell of more fresh slick made Tony’s mouth water. “Should probably make you eat something,” he murmured, crushing the now empty bottle effortlessly and tossing it to the floor. “Gotta keep your energy up.”

He reached into the fridge and pulled out some fresh strawberries, chuckling when they whined in protest. “Shh. It’ll be quick. Be good for Alpha.”

They both nodded, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes, and Tony blinked when he saw absolute, pure adoration in them.

His pretty things were so fucking perfect, and he was going to have the best time of his life helping them through their heats.

[rikeza]

YOU DID IT

Pairing : Bokuto Koutarou x GN!reader

Summary: you got into your dream university

Genre: fluff

Words count: 627

A/N: i honestly don't know what to think of that one lmao. I also think the reader is gender neutral but don’t hesitate to point out if I messed up

When the pounding against the door reached his ears, Bokuto looked up from his phone.

He frowned and made his way to the entrance, wondering who could be making such a commotion. The captain opened the door, and you were standing there. Your fist was mid-air ready to continue bullying the door, and you were and clutching a paper sheet in your other hand. Your hair was thrown into a haphazard bun, and you only had on an oversized hoodie that acted as a dress and pink crocs.

Bokuto grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“Hey, baby. You didn't tell me you were coming,” he said, putting the device in his pocket before wrapping his arms around you.

“Sorry. It’s just that— Aaah Kou!”

Bokuto kissed your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, and every part of your face his lips could attain. You shrieked when he spun the both of you around. He let out a booming laugh, you couldn't help but giggle as well. You hit his shoulder lightly and taking the hint, he put you down. He let you in and shut the door. You wobbled a little, feeling a bit dizzy.

“What brings you here?” He asked, putting his hand in the small of your back to guide you, an amused spark dancing in his golden-coloured eyes. “Not that you need a reason to come.”

“I did it, Kou! I did it!”

You turned around, grinning manically and gave him the paper sheet. He took it and unfolded it, quickly realizing it was a letter. He raised his brows, looking at you curiously. You only beamed at him, silently urging him to read it. And so Bokuto did, his chest swelling with pride the farther he got into the letter.

“You got accepted into the University of Tokyo!” He shouted, looking at you with wide eyes.

“I did!” You nodded, bouncing up and down.

Before you knew it, Bokuto swept you off your feet and was spinning the both of you around, as you squealed.

“I knew it! you did it, my baby got accepted into the University of Tokyo!”

His warmth enveloped you, and you could finally let go of all the stress that had been weighing you down lately. Because, if Bokuto had no doubt you’d get accepted, you weren't as confident. You had been a nervous wreck for the past two weeks. Your boyfriend’s support had been a great help, but both of you knew this letter alone held the key to your peace of mind.

The two of you danced across the living room, your laugh replacing the music. To Bokuto, your laugh was a song he could never grow tired of. A song he wanted to listen to on repeat every day of his life. You danced, and danced and danced, carefree and drunk on love. You danced until you were both out of breath and simply stood in the middle of the room.

Your body was pressed against his. His arms were wrapped around your waist and yours around his neck. You looked up at him, and the universe stopped. Your eyes were filled with so much love, adoration and pride, that it took his breath away. He stared at your face, determined to carve every one of your features in his mind. You looked so beautiful, it was almost unfair. Gently, Bokuto leaned his forehead against yours. And his warm lips brushed against your own when he whispered,

“I’m proud of you.”

You shivered, and his hold on you tightened. He was so proud of you. So proud that you were accomplishing your dreams, dreams that you worked so hard to attain.

Bokuto was proud that you wanted him by your side as you reached for the moon.

[breakyeol]

Sweet, Sweet Relief

Pairing : chanyeol x reader

Summary: in which your gorgeous best friend knows just what to do to help you relax. 

Warnings: strong language, shy yeol towards the end, explicit sexual content; mild muscle kink?? i think??, dry humping for like two seconds, oral (f. receiving) aka pussy eating king back at it again, fingering, park chanyeol bc the man deserves a warning all his own 

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n; ah yes, best friends to lovers, my favorite cliche. i can’t stop writing for Chanyeol lately?? which really isn’t that out of the ordinary bc the man is literally my muse, but it seems a bit excessive at times yikes. but i also think it’s a good thing because i’m making some leeway with his prince au!!! yay!!! hopefully it won’t be too terribly long of a wait! until then, i hope these drabbles turned one shots will hold you over :) enjoy!

“You’re stressed out.”

It wasn’t a question.

You sighed, head shaking as you spared Chanyeol a glance from the corner of your eye.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not.” Was his abrupt response, concerned eyes dragging over the length of your tensed features, pausing on the visible lines above your brow and at the corners of your mouth.

He was right, of course. You weren’t alright. In all honesty, you hadn’t been alright for the past month. Your latest assignment was beating the absolute shit out of you, draining your mind and body of all its viable energy and leaving you an exhausted, stressed out disaster of a person.

Unfortunately, you knew that if you admitted it out loud to Chanyeol, he would not let you spend another second staring at your stupid computer screen. But you really had to get the project done by the end of the week or you were totally and royally screwed. And if he couldn’t make you feel better, Chanyeol would end up feeling like shit and that in turn would make you feel even more like shit than you already do and it would be an endless cycle of the two of you feeling like shit and does anybody really need that right now? You were already struggling enough without having an extra pouty, sulking best friend to tend to.

“Chanyeol—“ you began, running your palms over your face as you concocted a number of things to say to get him to stop worrying. But, he didn’t give you the chance.

“I can do it again.”

Your hands fell away from where they’d begun to press against your sore eyes, a look of confusion crossing your features.

“Huh?”

He swallowed, shifting where he sat beside you on the plush sofa. You followed his every movement through narrowed eyes, your confusion building as a shade of pink dusted over his cheeks.

“I–if you want me to... I can do it again.”

It took you a second. To put the pieces together. To remember. For the shock to settle over you. It took a second, but it was with a jolt that you realized what he was talking about. Warmth blossomed beneath your skin, but you forced your expression to fall into that of gentle chiding.

“Yeol. We agreed that it was a one time thing.”

The near rejection had him crumbling in on himself, the blush coating his cheeks intensifying tenfold as he fiddled with his fingers in his lap.

“I know but... I don’t mind. If it helps.” He suddenly straightened his back and you damn near jumped out of your skin as one of his hands fell across your thigh. He stared into your eyes, determination and sincerity burning in his own. “I want to help.”

“Yeah but you don’t have to help like th— ah!” You yelped in surprise as he suddenly pushed you and you fell backwards onto the couch with a soft ‘oof’. “What the h– ell…” your voice gave with an embarrassing crack as Chanyeol crawled on top of you, straddling your hips and caging your head between his arms. The sudden change of position caught you completely off guard, and you found yourself grappling hopelessly to try and get your mind back on track.

“Let me help you, y/n. You know I’m good at it.” His voice had dropped an octave, softening into a near whisper. Heat pooled in your cheek, and you blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sure he was good —probably one of the best you’d ever had if you were being completely and totally honest—, but accidentally fucking your best friend while you are both wasted and horny beyond rationality is completely different than committing the act while sober and capable of discerning between right and wrong. And this— this had to be wrong.

Even if it felt so deliciously right.

Quickly ridding yourself of the thought, you pressed your palms against his chest with every intention to pushing him away, only to falter at the feeling of taut, bulging muscle beneath your fingertips that you were almost certain hadn’t been there the last time you’d laid your hands on him.

“Have you been working out?”

The question was so out of place in the situation that Chanyeol couldn’t rein in his laughter before it came bubbling from his chest in several loud, contagious eruptions.

“A little…” his lips curled into that familiar, boyish grin, “wanna see?”

Asking proved pointless as he sat up before you could conjure up an intelligible response and took hold of the bottom of his hoodie. In one soft motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside without a care. You couldn’t help but gawk like a fool at the sight you were left with.

“W–wow.” You coughed out, blinking rapidly as you absorbed the expanse of the tanned, toned body on top of you. ‘A little’ had been an understatement. The last time you saw him shirtless, you can’t quite seem to recall there being such a defined six pack… or such impressive biceps… fuck.

“Wanna feel?”

His large hand was already wrapped around your wrist before the question escaped his lips, though this time he actually waited for your verbal approval before proceeding. Was it really the best idea to be feeling up your shirtless best friend after he’d just propositioned you? Probably not. Were you going to do it anyway? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Allowing him to guide your palm to his impressive pectorals, you almost moaned at the feeling of the hard, warm skin beneath your greedy fingertips. “Not bad, huh?” He asked, smug smirk twirling at the corners of his lips.

“In a word.” You offered mildly, far too absorbed in tracing the defined ridges of his abs to come up with one of your usual smart ass responses. The faintest of gasps fluttered from his lips as you caressed over a particularly sensitive area, and you didn’t miss the goosebumps that rose across his sun kissed skin— nor the pressure of something hard suddenly nudging up against your hip.

Swallowing thickly, you tipped your head up, making the deadly mistake of meeting his eyes. They were dark, darker than you’d ever seen them, and hooded, pretty eyelashes fluttering across his flushed cheeks with every lazy blink. Something dangerous yet tempting swirled within them, and you found yourself too overwhelmed to hold his intense gaze for much longer, quickly diverting your attention elsewhere.

But, just your luck, your eyes happened to land directly on the second most dangerous feature on his face— his lips. They were a dark, lovely shade of pink and deliciously swollen from the relentless assault of his teeth. The unexpected urge to tip you chin up and kiss him crashed over you with all the strength of a tsunami, heat flooding down between your thighs. Instinctively, you tried to close them, but the shape of his body prevented you from doing such. Unfortunately for your sanity, the pressure of your legs squeezing around his hips gave Chanyeol a different idea all together, a whole new way of absolutely wrecking you.

You almost— scratch that, you quite literally choked on air when he suddenly rolled his hips down, grinding against you. It was more experimental than anything else, testing the waters, seeing just how far you’d let him go. When you showed no signs of pushing him away and telling him to go fuck himself, he did it again, and this time, you really did moan out loud. Chanyeol shuddered at the sound, positively delighted that he’d been the one to pull such a delicate, sexy noise from you.

Encouraged and invigorated with newfound determination, he set a steady, confident rhythm with his hips, rolling them into yours in hard, deliberate, fluid motions.

“Let me make you feel good, y/n.”

A shiver wracked your body, and you found yourself utterly helpless against the deep rasping bass of (what you liked to identify as) his sex voice. It was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, with a deliberate yet natural hoarseness that shot straight to your core. And no being on earth was immune to it, including you.

“Okay. Fuck, okay,” you caved, breathing heavy and uneven just from that juvenile dry humping alone, “but this is seriously the last time, Chanyeol. We can’t keep doing shit like t–this.”

A triumphant grin twisted onto his rose petal lips, “that’s alright. Just this once is all I need.”

Contrarily, you feared this little indiscretion would make you crave him all the more.

You sighed softly as his head fell into the juncture of your neck, painting hot, open mouthed kisses across the vulnerable skin. “No marks.” You huffed lightly when he resorted to sucking and nipping, and you could feel the pout that downturned the corners of his lips, but he made no objections nonetheless. A trembling breath flooded out of your chest as he descended your body, pushing up the loose fabric of your t-shirt to press searing kisses across your belly, all the way down to the elastic of your leggings. He glanced up at you, and somehow the angle made him look more attractive than he already was.

“Don’t be nervous.”

You shot him a lopsided grin, “who’s nervous?”

He didn’t look convinced, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your hips. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s completely alright, just tell me and I’ll—”

“Don’t stop.” Chanyeol’s eyes widened at the sudden interruption, staring up at you with all the excitement and hope of a puppy getting a treat dangled in front of his nose. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you allowed your thighs to relax, falling open before him. “Please… don’t stop.”

He literally whined, though it quickly pitched into a rough, heavy groan somewhere deep in his chest. Long fingers slipped beneath the tight elastic of your leggings, making quick work of tugging them down the length of your legs. The air was cold against your bare skin, prickling goosebumps shooting up across your freshly shaved and lotion lathed legs (you silently thanked yourself for making yesterday one of your monthly self care days). The chill of the air was warded away by the warm press of his hands against the flesh of your thighs, grip tight enough to bruise.

“Fuck.” You hissed as he feathered his mouth over your clothed pussy, the heat of his breath rippling through your core in tiny shockwaves. Something dangerous glinted in his hooded eyes, and you let out a shaky moan when he flicked his tongue experimentally. The thin grey cotton darkened with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal, and he moaned quietly when your faint flavor hit his taste buds.

“Baby,” he purred softly, rolling his thumb over your clit and prodding the tip of his tongue where he estimated your entrance was. Your head tipped back against the cushion, mouth opening in a silent gasp. One of your hands reached down to weave through his thick black locks, while the other grabbed hold of the armrest behind your head. “Can I take them off?”

“Yes.” You breathed, removing your hand from his hair to brace it against the couch as you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull the black cotton down your legs. He tossed them aside haphazardly, a low groan rumbling in his throat at the sight of your bare core, wet and exposed in front of him. The first time you’d done this, it had been too dark and he’d been too drunk to really appreciate you. So, he’d take his time now. Really take his time.

“You’re so pretty.”

Warmth blossomed beneath your cheeks and you scoffed softly, trying your best to act like the compliment hadn’t made your heart flutter. He dragged his index slowly through your arousal, mouth falling open with a breath of amazement as he admired the glistening wetness that coated it. Chills rolled down your spine, an almost embarrassingly desperate whine resonating in your throat.

“Chan.” The urgency in your voice made him smile, and he looked up at you with eyes sparkling with mischief. You could only watch helplessly as he dragged his finger away from you, and slipped it between his lips, humming in delight.

Fuck. He was definitely trying to kill you.

Luckily for you, that one little taste proved to not be anywhere near enough for his insatiable appetite and, without warning, he pressed his face in close and began lapping eagerly at your pussy. Your mouth gaped, hips bucking up uncontrollably as his nose ground into your clit, his hot tongue licking hungrily at your entrance. Pleasure ignited in your veins like a wildfire, explosive and untamable and all consuming. It stretched through every part of your body, setting your skin ablaze in the wake of his touch.

“Oh my god, Chan—” he groaned against you in response, hooded eyes fluttering blissfully as he lost himself in the taste of your cunt. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, fierce and unrelenting, the sound of it wet and messy. You were moaning his name, thigh tightening spastically around his head, but his strong, calloused hands kept them apart, forcing them open so he could have his way. You almost lost it completely when he wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking.

Strangely enough, you found that without the intoxication of alcohol in your system, everything he did had that much of a more intense effect on you. It was like every touch, every sensation was amplified by your mere sobriety; the heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the eagerness of his tongue, the pressure of his fingers. You felt all of it, every one of your senses going into overdrive.

And god it was so much. And yet, you still wanted more.

“Y– your fingers, Chan, your fingers, please—” you panted, brows knitting as you felt that familiar tightening in your gut. He quickly obeyed, sinking his long middle finger inside of you with such ease you almost felt embarrassed. But there was no room for such emotions when you were so enthralled in the hot rush of pleasure bursting like the most brilliant of firecrackers in your veins.

A second finger was swift to join the first, stretching you out so deliciously that your toes curled. With his free hand, he tugged at your knee, bringing it up to rest over his shoulder. The new angle forced your hips off of the plush cushion below, his skilled fingers burying themselves deeper, pillowy lips sucking harder. It was over the second his digits curled, stroking up against that perfect little spot that had white hot electricity crackling in your blood.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast. It was hot and overwhelming, the persistent, eager pressure of his mouth and hands drawing it out as long as it could possibly go. He dragged it out until you were limp and trembling beneath him, moaning and whining out broken fragments of his name, too lost in the bliss inducing thralls of your high to feel even the slightest hint of shame.

His ministrations seemed to grow even fiercer through your orgasm, his ravenous moans increasing in volume right alongside yours. He only pulled away when he knew you wouldn’t be able to withstand anymore, resorting to pressing soothing kisses and murmuring breathless praises against the soft, trembling skin of your thighs.

“Fuck you, Chanyeol.” You laughed breathlessly, tossing an arm over your eyes.

“Fuck me? Fuck you, I almost busted in my pants when you came. That was so fucking hot.” He groaned, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he crawled back on top of you, caging your head between his arms. You chuckled, warmth spreading through your cheeks. A sweet smile upturned the corners of his mouth. “Did it help?”

The question was less than a breath against your lips, so soft you had to strain your ears to hear it. You swallowed, gaze momentarily dropping to his mouth before returning to his eyes, only to find that they’d honed in on your lips.

“It helped. You helped.”

He inhaled shakily, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of his bottom lip. “Can I help a little more?” He asked, and you felt his bangs feather over your forehead as his head lowered. Hot breath rushed over your mouth. Instead of answering, you reached up and cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss. It was short, shy, sweet. Such a stark contrast to the fierce hunger he’d displayed going down on you not two minutes ago that you couldn’t help the giggles of amusement that came bubbling from your chest. He broke away from you with a bashful smile, gently resting his forehead against yours.

“You suck.” He mumbled, pouting childishly.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one that’s done any sucking.” You teased.

“Who am I to argue with the facts?” He sighed dramatically, feigning defeat.

You laughed loudly, an obnoxious cackle that had to be one of the most unattractive sounds you’d ever made, but it was abruptly cut off when he reattached his mouth to yours. You hummed contently, carding your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck. The taste of you lingered on his tongue, and he painted the inside of your mouth with it. Warmth spread through your chest, your heart picking up speed as you melted into his kiss, melted into the warmth that the presence of his body provided you with.

“I lied.”

Your eyes blinked open, surprised by the sudden admission. “Huh?”

The look on his face stirred to life a strange, but vaguely familiar emotion in the depth of your chest. A crimson blush darkened his cheeks and his gaze shied away from yours. For a moment, you were reminded of the little, goofy looking boy that shyly handed you a heart shaped box of caramel chocolates on Valentine’s Day all the way back when you were thirteen. He had the same big sweet eyes, the same crimson cheeks, the same large pink tipped ears.

“I said that just this once is enough...” he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing as he nibbled nervously on the corner of his lip, “but it isn’t. It isn’t enough.”

“What do you mean?”

He cupped the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your lip. “I want you. I- I want to be more to you— to be more to you than just a friend.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, offering him a sly smirk. “Are you… confessing to me, Park Chanyeol?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He smiled down at you bashfully. “If you say yes.”

“Hmm…” you squinted your eyes and pursed your lips as if you needed to think it over. But you had a feeling that a moment like this was long past due, so you resisted the urge to draw it out and torture him, opting to give him a more straight forward answer to put his racing heart at ease. “Yes.”

“Thank god.” He groaned happily, smooshing your face between his massive palms and tugging you into a deep, but playful kiss that made your skin tingle. You giggled noisily against his lips, draping your arms over his neck to keep him close. “Does this mean I get to eat you out like that whenever I want?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you snickered as he pumped his fist, hissing out an eager ‘yes’. You grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, drawing his attention back to you. “And next time...” you tipped your head up to nip at the sensitive lobe of his ear, letting a downright wicked grin curl across your lips, “I’ll gladly return to favor.”

[psychdelia]

okokok i’m personally a long haired billy stan and i would have loved to see him grow his hair out super long and curly but,,, post s3 billy with short hair. the sides are cut but on top he has a mess of unruly chopped blonde curls that are short but growing out.

when he first leaves the hospital he wears jackets and hoodies with the hood up. if he doesn’t have a hood, he wears beanies and keeps them covering his ears. whenever people ask why, he just says he’s cold. which. isn’t a lie, but more a variation of the truth. he does run cold these days, much prefers sweatshirts to half unbuttoned tops (but he does miss those during the summer.)

he’ll never admit to being insecure about his ears. he feels they’re a little big. maybe stand out too much. the worst is when they turn red when he’s blushing or cold and they draw more attention to themselves. he’s always hated them, since his mom left up until now. she would always tuck his hair behind his ears, tell him that he’s perfect with a kiss to the forehead. he hasn’t had anyone to do that for him in years.

when he woke up in the hospital to short hair, he cried. pressed his hands over his ears, hiding them and blocking out all the beeping machines and white noise around him, breath ragged as he silently sobbed into the pillow.

his hair had grown out a little by the time he was able to leave the hospital. the sides weren’t as bare and the top of his head consisted of blonde curls that weren’t long enough to style but too short to keep contained in hoods and beanies. a couple of curls usually spilled out onto his forehead. when he moved in with joyce, she took on the role of moving his hair out of his face with a gentle touch and warm smile. she’d ask, “you bringing the mullet back anytime soon, blondie?” and billy would chuckle. shrug as he responded with a “think i’m just gonna let it grow out.”

max and the other little shits liked to mess with him. they were afraid of him in the beginning, kept their distance and avoided him at all costs. he couldn’t blame them, though, as he had grown afraid of himself as well. it took lots of therapy and joyce holding him as he broke down countless times about the way his now trembling, scarred hands were used to kill against his will. however, once the party discovered he had gone soft due to a miscommunication about the walkie talkie channels and they all woke up at 2am to billy crying and quietly calling max’s name because he had a bad dream about all the shit he put her through before possession... well they just weren’t as afraid of him. they’d bug him as if he was their older brother. kept tugging at his hoodie strings, stealing chips out of his bowl, begged him to watch movies and play d&d with them. he refused to play d&d never lasted through a movie, always fell asleep halfway through to the sound of the tv and not-so-quiet whisper commentary, mostly coming from dustin.

on one cursed evening, everyone was there for movie night. piled on one couch and the floor were the party, robin, steve, and billy on the other couch, steve sitting between the two. nancy and jonathan managed to slip away but not before billy glared at jonathan since he couldn’t leave AND they were supposed to smoke tonight, earning an apologetic thin smile and shrug. as usual, he got halfway through whatever the shits were making him watch again before falling asleep. except this time his head landed on steve’s shoulder, curls spilling out of his hood and brushing his forehead and steve’s neck. he woke up when the movie ended, groggy and tired with his face buried in the crook of steve’s neck. he groaned, annoyed at dustin, mike, and lucas all talking over each other at the same speed and volume, not processing the position he was in until steve chuckled and he felt the rumble against his lips. it sent billy flying back towards the couch edge, suddenly awake as he stared at steve with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

“woah, hey,” steve looked at billy as if he were a wild animal, approaching him with gentleness and warmth. “mornin’ tiger. you fell asleep man, no biggie.”

billy swallowed the dry lump in his throat down, tense muscles finally going lax as he slumped against the couch. he glanced up only to find steve smiling and robin smirking knowingly, sipping on her coke as she stared at a frazzled billy.

the two got closer after that, steve and billy. steve always sat down closest to billy, sometimes making room for himself in a space much too small, gently shoving billy aside to plop down before pulling billy half onto his lap. one time in particular it was billy who had left his room to find no open seats available. steve just. stood up and grabbed billy’s hand, dragged him back to his original spot on the couch. billy figured steve was offering his spot up. was in the surprise of his life when steve plopped back down and grabbed billy’s hips, urging him down onto his lap. billy’s cheeks immediately reddened. sitting on steve’s lap, his back to steve’s chest, was already one thing. to be in a full room with everyone’s shocked eyes on them?

billy tried to escape. he really did. steve had other plans if the strong arm he wrapped around billys waist and the softly whispered “relax” was anything to go by. it took about ten minutes for billy to relax in steve’s arms and lean back against him. his cheeks remained red, alongside the tips of his ears hidden under a beanie. he hadn’t expected steve to grab onto his hips, gently squeeze his love handles and press his thumbs into them as he hooked his chin over billy’s shoulder. by the time he managed to sneak his hands under billys sweatshirt, skin-on-skin contact as he grabbed at his hips again, fingertips digging into the new softness, billy was a wreck. his face was on fire, his body betraying him with every hitched breath and lean back into steve’s embrace. he nearly lost his mind as steve pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, now shaved bare and exposed to the world, hidden from the room around them. billy scrambled to get up, rushing to the kitchen with a mumbled “thirsty,” eyes glued to the floor.

and of fucking course steve followed him into the kitchen. he shot him a weak glare when steve asked, “what’s wrong, baby? my lap not as comfortable as my shoulder?” while grabbing at billys hips again, urging him close. billy gave in, letting steve pull him close and rest a possessive hand on the small of his back, holding their bodies flush. “you’re an asshole.” billy huffed, shaking his head. a few stray curls fell into his face and steve’s other hand shot up, fingers twitching, hesitating before reaching over and pulling billys beanie off.

and like. billy wasn’t expecting that. he was maybe expecting a cheek cup or a finger tucking his hair back into place. but now he stood exposed, growing curls messy atop his head and the tips of his ears red, out for the world to see. he saw as steve’s eyes looked his face over, lingering on his flush and then his lips for a second too long before flicking over to his ears. he hummed softly.

“you’ve got cute ears,” steve murmured, leaning in and pressing a kiss below his lobe. “and a cute blush.” steve took his pierced lobe into his mouth, metal hoop cold against his tongue. “and an even nicer ass.” the hand on the small of billy’s back dipped lower, grabbing a handful of ass and squeezing.

billy smacked steve’s chest playfully, huffing out an “asshole” as steve cackled, pressing kisses up his neck before planting one on his lips.

[fanficparker]

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER SIX

“They agreed with each other violently and disagreed with each other pleasurably.” - A Suitable Boy, Seth

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.13k words

Warning: Swearing, guns, knives.

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

<< FIVE [ MASTERLIST ] SEVEN >>

"Who let you enter my private study?"

Harrison asked, stopping with one step inside his office, fixing the watch on his wrist. His eyes focused on the uninvited guest.

"My ability to walk." A smirk played over Sandhya's lips as she flipped a page in the file she was holding, twirling the ball pen between her fingers. The base of the pen rested below her lip as she lifted her eyelid to catch a glimpse of Harrison's irritable face. And damn he indeed was irritated.

"No one comes here without my permission." He hissed, striding into the centre of the room, staring at her furtively until his gaze landed on the other parts of his office. His office was a mess. Not anywhere near how he left it. His file cabinet was open and at least twenty files were lying on the sofa and a few over his desk. There were two on Sandhya's lap as she sat with her legs crossed over each other, leaning back leisurely in one of the chairs, skimming through the papers. An empty plate and a coffee mug were also sitting on his desk. The mug wasn't even placed over a coaster. He could even see some bread crumbs scattered on the wood.

He barely managed to not lash out at her, clenching his fists. Drawing in a shallow breath, he opened his mouth in an attempt to reason with her but she was the first one to speak.

"Can you log into the system? I need to look up something." She pointed the tip of the pen at the computer placed on his desk. Her voice was far from that of requesting even if she framed it as a question.

Harrison's brows pinched, "Are you serious?!" His voice sounded so pitchy, almost resembling a train wreck about to happen.

"Yes."

That's all? His stomach rumbled with anger. She didn't even look up at him. That bland yes twisted like a snake in his gut. He was past taking orders, especially from her. So, he walked up to her, swallowing his building rage and snatched the file she was holding.

"Hey!" She squealed, trying to take it back as he pushed it over his head and out of her reach.

She rose from the chair, about to grab it when he dropped the file on the floor behind his back, scattering the papers.

"Why would you--"

"Because it's my office and those are my files! And fucking," he seethed, trying to keep his voice casual, lifting the mug from the table, "We don't eat in the study, let alone dump the scraps on the desk. Also, you didn't even use a coaster!" He groaned upon noticing the ring the liquid left on the wood before he settled the mug again on the table, only this time there was a coaster beneath it.

Her eyebrows pulled together, disbelief roaring through her head, "You are worried about the coaster--"

"The white oak---"

"The uncle was murdered in this house and the nephew is more interested in coffee stains." She squinted her eyes, shaking her head.

Harrison bit back a groan. Her words had managed to flip his stomach. He sighed keeping his conduct civil.

"As much as I am curious about Clarke's mysterious death," he spoke as calmly as he could, meeting her eyes, "We aren't even sure if he was murdered in the first place."

"You gotta be kidding me!"

"I am not kidding you!" He bit back, "And anyway, get out of here. I don't like outsiders touching my stuff," he shifted his gaze to the side, hands folded across his chest.

She scoffed, almost scornfully. "Says the one who had no problem sleeping together."

Harrison's neck snapped at the words, his temper reaching new heights. Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward, looking down at her face. "If I had known it was you, I would have never--"

"Exactly!" She snapped, "You didn't know who you were sleeping with, how do I ensure you know about the people working here?"

"That's bullshit."

Sandhya exhaled, failing to reason with him. It was harder than she had expected. So, she tried the gentler way, trying to make her words sound closer to a request, "I need you to give me access to your computer." For no avail--

"What made you think I would do that? You have already seen enough." His hands dropped from his chest and she fought back the urge to roll her eyes.

The last attempt at asking and being gentle, "Look Harrison," her voice was sweeter as if she had accepted her defeat, moving to the last resort, "You have already ruined my Plan A and now I need to know about certain things to come up with a Plan B."

"You really think you're some kind of mastermind in planning? Don't you?"

"Harrison, that was my job back then--"

"Oh. I thought your job was to seduce strangers and sleep with them." He didn't hesitate but when the words finally parted his lips, he noticed the light in her eyes dimming for a brief second, the little grin on her lips fading. His heart thumped in his throat. Perhaps, he went too far.

But what he said wasn't a lie. Perhaps, it was okay. He didn't care anyway, yet his eyes moved to her neck, somewhere-anywhere, away from her face.

Those scars on her throat fell into his line of sight. Fine red lines, shallow, peeking off from her pink hoodie. He hadn't paid much attention before but she looked cute in the outfit, a way he had never expected her to look. Her expression defied the notion though, driving his brain back to the thick air that engulfed them.

Her hand came to cover her throat, gently rubbing across the marks. He swallowed. His eyes flickered back to hers and she averted her gaze to the side. Probably, that was the closest he would ever get at marking her.

He was waiting for a reply, a sharp hit back. Instead, the air between them seemed to hum quietly. Harrison had hit the mark so blatantly, Sandhya didn't even bother refuting it. And that somehow bothered him.

She tore her gaze from him, turning on her heel. He felt the urgent need to cut the silence.

"I don't support the idea of a murderer walking among us." He spoke slowly.

He heard her sigh heavily.

"Well enough," she made up her mind, walking away from him and picking up the file, he had previously dropped, "You live in your protected shell, dreaming about sunshine and rainbows while someone stabs you in your sleep," her voice was still without heat or anger, "But you know what..."

She turned to face him again, eyes hardening, "I don't want to die or lose what I have earned so, I'm going to do something about it."

"Good luck." He muttered, eyes never leaving her figure as she stormed off the room.

***

The day was heavy on Sandhya. Checking up all the records of the people Clarke had ever worked with was more time consuming than she had thought, especially considering how her initial plan of dividing the work with Harrison went amiss.

She had navigated through whatever documents he had in his room, along with Clarke's and had taken the help of Holly to get access to their server. It would have been nicer to have her in person than on a phone but she was indeed helpful, although, Sandhya hadn't found anything game-changing. There was at least a compact list of people she had her suspicions on, though.

The library was bigger than what it appeared from afar. Probably they could shoot a Jurassic Park movie in here. Or Night at the Museum or library or whatever. She had laughed at the thought. She had also walked through all three tiers of the magnificent space, analyzing the delicately carved rosewood shelves carrying books older than time. They even had some of the original manuscripts of the classics. Unbelievable.

But now she was tired. It was over six hours, she was sitting there, skimming through all the information she could get her hands on. The mob business was full of mischief. Interacting with people you should definitely keep a six feet distance from was customary .

She sighed, shutting the library computer and keeping the files aside. Untying her hair and pressing her fingers against the pulsing side of her head, she tried to relax. A gasp left her lips. She bet she saw a shadow move outside.

Her heart stopped for a moment when the lights flickered. There was definitely someone who shouldn't be here.

Slowly, carefully, she rose from her seat, ducking down the table. Then she heard it. Footsteps. She scrambled forward, keeping low, hiding behind a pillar, drawing the knife from her clothes. She waited and waited, breathing through her nose. But no one came for her. And then it hit her.

They could be here for Harrison.

She risked a peek, looking outside the library. There was still no one in sight. The alleyway seemed dark, dead; enough to accelerate her pulse. She climbed down the stairs, one foot at a time, letting her eyes wander around the hall. Stopping and hiding behind an intersected wall, she saw it: A guy in all black, twisting the knob to Harrison's room, the haft helpless in the vice of his grip. He entered inside.

Sandhya swallowed. Her throat felt dry. She only had a knife on herself right now. Protecting Harrison at all costs was a requisite. Even when he was an insufferable jerk.

He was a team.

And she hated teamwork.

She also hated jerks.

Harrison turned in his sleep, lying over the left side of his body, hugging the silk sheets that covered him. His room was pitch black, with curtains all drawn shut. He preferred sleeping in the dark and maybe that was the reason why the silver light shining over his thin eyelids discomforted him. He wasn't a heavy sleeper and little sounds managed to bother him.

He had somehow grown accustomed to the noise his clock made. His mind erratically jumped between disconnected, unwanted thoughts whenever he sensed other sounds in his proximity. Sounds that didn't match the rhythm of his clock.

Noises of shallow breathing.

Noises of out of tune footfalls.

Out of tune...

His eyes flew open, wide, fixed on the dagger that stood three feet above his chest, reflecting the minimal amount of light his window shades failed to conceal.

He tried to kick off his sheets but the dagger lunged forward swiftly like a wild animal. He squirmed, unable to move, waiting for the impact. Only that he never felt the object pierce his body. The guy groaned, his steps faltering backwards.

Harrison unspooled himself from the sheets, quickly switching on the lamp. Leaping from the bed, hands first, he landed on his toes, squatting.

Sandhya's arms were crossed around the guy's neck from the back. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she tried to push him back.

"Don't just stand there!" She cried, struggling to hold the big guy as she pulled him backwards, pressing her forearms against his throat.

Harrison shook his head, jumping forward. His heart pounded in his chest as he hit the man over his shoulder. The guy with his face blocked out with a black woollen mask, wailed, stumbling on his feet. He slammed Sandhya's back against the window, dropping both his weapon and the whimpering girl on the floor.

Harrison tried to catch him but he ran, pushing him back, storming off the door. His eyes roamed at the door and then at Sandhya. He sighed, giving out his hand. Grabbing it, she pulled herself on her feet.

"Don't say it." He mumbled, jutting his tongue out of his compressed lips.

"Told you so." She said anyway, voice so low that only he could hear, flashing him a small grin, more of a grimace, actually. His own mouth twisted but then his eye caught the sight of his window, the shades drawn away because of the rustling. His slight frown turned into a scowl.

"Watch out--" He grabbed Sandhya by her waist, pulling her down with him, capturing her body beneath his as a gunshot blasted the window of his room, crashing, shattering the glass over them.

A moment passed in silence as they tried catching up their breath.

"Are we even?" He mouthed, manoeuvring his eye line back up to her face. She was horrified, her chest rising and falling.

"We'll see..."

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…TO BE CONTINUED… // COMMENTS WILL BE APPRECIATED.

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Tags: @parkerpeter24 // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid //@softholand // @annathesillyfriend // @harryhollandsgirlfriend // @miraclesoflove // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @samhollandscupcake // @brokenwhiteboyy // @spidereader //

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[ibelongtowrath]

Skipping The Previews - MLQC (Ling Xiao/Shaw) NSFW

Summary: You decide to go see a movie to take your mind off of everything that's going on in the world, but a sexy stranger thinks it's a good idea to take the seat right next to yours. Rating: Explicit! 18+ NSFW Relationship: Ling Xiao x Female Reader, Shaw x Female Reader, Tags: oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, shameless smut, semi-public sex Word Count: 5,707

Read on AO3

Notes: I've been wanting to write something about Shaw ever since I've seen pictures of him & finally encountered him in MLQC and whew...I know he's going to wreck my Kiro and Gavin biases! I wanted to portray him as kind of cocky, since I got that kind of vibe from him, and I hope I managed to capture that essence here. Please keep in mind that I started writing this before movie theaters were shut & things began getting very serious. I was thinking of a scenario where the reader would be upset that Shaw sits directly next to her, and a reason that the theater might still be empty for them to fuck freely in lol. Please enjoy!

It’s midday Saturday, and the movie theater is practically deserted. Carefully, you push the handicap button with your elbow, allowing the doors to open so you don’t have to physically grab them. Everyone is supposed to be doing mandated social distancing, staying six feet away from other humans at all times, until they can get the spread of the virus under control. Going to see a movie in the midst of a pandemic is not the smartest idea, but you want to take advantage of being able to go out as much as you possibly can before we’re all in lockdown. A good science-fiction action movie will take your mind off of things, even if only temporarily.

Grabbing your favorite drink from the Freestyle machine, a Cherry Coke, you walk towards the theater the movie will be playing in. On your way there, you pass the mirror by the exit of the women’s bathroom, and take a quick peek at your reflection. You’re not exactly sure why you bothered with putting so much effort into your appearance when hardly anyone will see it. Shrugging and fluffing your hair quickly in the mirror, you turn back and continue walking into the theater.

You had picked the seat all the way in the furthest corner of the theater, away from everyone else. Even if there was no social distancing rule, you would have picked it anyway. You settle down into the recliner, the leather cold as it touches your bare legs. It’s an unseasonably warm March day today, and you’re wearing shorts for the first time since September. 

Pushing the button, you recline the chair virtually as far as it will go. The theater is completely vacant, and you pray it stays that way. There’s still about 15 minutes before the previews start, and you decide to pass the time browsing your Instagram explore page, watching makeup application videos and laughing at a couple cute and funny cat videos. You’re so fixated on one particular video of a rather chonky cat, you don’t notice the handsome stranger settling into the seat directly next to yours.

You had pushed the middle armrests up to give yourself more space, and when you hear the strange crinkling sound next to you, you’re confused, because you haven’t moved. Your eyes dart to to left, and widen in shock when they meet the gaze of a gorgeous stranger’s; an amber, honey-colored hue you can’t help but stare into. 

You try to keep your expression neutral, but he’s so attractive, it’s hard to keep your composure. His lavender-grey locks of hair fall messily, but carefully at the same time, over his face, framing it perfectly, some of his fringe falling into his golden eyes. You resist the urge to touch the locks of his hair, to sweep them out of the way, so you can better admire the beautiful flecks of gold and honey in that gaze. His purple and black hoodie, darker in hue than his hair, perfectly compliments the color of his eyes. He wears a black choker around his neck, and jeans that are messily, but intentionally, ripped at the knees. Several hoop earrings adorn his ears, a cuff hugging the upper cartilage of his left ear.

Breaking off his gaze, you feel yourself blushing furiously, the heat spreading to your cheeks like a wildfire. Thank goodness you put on a bit of foundation today, so he can’t see the furious rush of red that must be stretched across your face. You notice his hands, the right one wearing a fingerless glove, clutching his phone. The other is bare, a maroon beaded necklace decorating the wrist.

“Is this seat taken, love?” he asks, his lips turning up on one side, flashing you the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen. He knows the answer, obviously trying to provoke you. 

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, despite feeling your heart  thump, thump -ing loudly against your chest, you turn your gaze towards the screen. An ad for an interactive mobile game is playing on the projector. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” the stranger says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“In the case that you’ve been blissfully ignorant, which is probable,” you respond, gaze hardening on the screen before you, “we’re supposed to be staying at least six feet from other people.”

“Damn, you’ve got some bite.” He grins at you.

Running his fingers through his hair, he continues. “Yeah, I’ve seen the news. Been wanting to see this movie, though. I saw only one person had bought a ticket, so I bought the seat next to ‘em. I was hoping it would be next to a pretty girl. I was right.”

You turn to look at him, an incredulous look on your face. The compliment is flattering, but he doesn’t have to know that. You try to keep your best poker face on.

“And you thought that was a good idea?” you retort. 

It comes out with less bite than you intended, now that you’re looking at him directly. His devastatingly good looks are working their charm on you, and he picks up on it. The cocky smirk returns, a glint of something mischievous flashing in his eye. He knows you’re faltering, and he fully plans on persuading you.

“I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know each other.” 

You can’t help but continue to stare at him, in complete awe of his audacity.

“Figured if you turned out to be some random dude, I’d just go sit in another seat. No big deal.” 

He shrugs, but that wild glint is still in his eye. In the pause that follows, he takes the time to look you over. His gaze lingers on your full lips, then drops to the swell of your breasts beneath your t-shirt. It continues downward, to the curves of your waist and hips outfitted in your favorite pair of short black shorts.

Feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze, you unconsciously drop your hands into your lap and look down. You know you should get up and find another seat, or at the very least try harder to make him move. Some feeling you can’t quite place is anchoring you to your current spot. Is it...excitement? Is it arousal?  No. No way .

The previews should be starting in a few minutes, and you’re thankful for the coming distraction.

“Name’s Shaw, by the way.” His voice suddenly cuts through the silence between the advertisements on screen.

Crossing your arms, you look to your left. You decide it can’t hurt, telling him your name. 

“ Y/N ,” you tell him. “It’s nice to meet you, Shaw.”

“Likewise,  Y/N ,” Shaw replies. 

The smirk reappears, but more playful. It doesn’t quite match the look in those topaz eyes. The determination is still there, and you brace yourself for whatever he’s going to try saying next. You know, deep down, that his unrelenting perseverance, charm and good looks might just be your undoing.

Shaw reaches for something behind him. He pulls out an orange bag of Reese’s Pieces, slightly shaking it so the peanut butter and chocolate pieces clink together. He opens the bag, grabs a handful, and drops them in his mouth, his tongue sticking out to catch the pieces in case they fall. You can’t help but stare at the pink wetness and length of his tongue, wondering what it would be like to kiss him and feel it on your own…

Whoa, where did that thought come from ? you ask yourself, confused. Your face feels like an inferno yet again. As if sensing your thoughts, he audibly crunches the candy in his mouth. He swallows, and grins at you.

“Want some, pretty girl? Looking like you do,” Shaw asks, tilting the bag towards you. 

He knows you were staring, and not at the bag of candy.

“U-um...sure,” you stammer, poorly attempting to keep your composure. 

You hold out your hands, cupping them, fully expecting Shaw to pour the mini candies into your palm. Instead, that devilish glint returning to his amber eyes, he pours the yellow and orange candy pieces into his own hand. Confused, you feel your brow furrow slightly, wondering what he’s planning on doing.

Before you can react, Shaw closes the already short distance between you on the recliners. He pushes himself over and encroaches into your personal space. You feel the heat of his body next to yours, his jeans-clad leg brushing up against your bare skin. Your nerve endings feel electrified, your heart beating so hard, it feels like it could explode through your chest at any second.

Shaw leans in, as though he weren’t already close enough. His face is now mere inches from yours. You feel your eyes widen in shock. This close up, his eyes are even more mesmerizing. His skin is perfect, blemish-free, and his lips look so soft, so inviting…He lifts his gloved hand towards your face, fingers lightly brushing your jaw. Then, moving his hand up to your face, he strokes your lips gently with his thumb.

Nonplussed by his move, you feel frozen. You’re unsure of how to react. At the same time, his close proximity and the softness of his skin as he caresses your lips causes goosebumps to flare on your legs and up and down your arms. You start to feel the excitement building within. Giving in to the feeling, you can feel the arousal beginning to pool in your underwear...all caused by this handsome stranger. With a wicked grin, Shaw places his thumb between your lips, pushing against them lightly.

“Open wide, pretty girl,” he coos. 

You part your mouth at his command, your excitement unable to be contained. 

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. 

He takes his hand, fingers tilting your chin up. With the other hand holding the candy, he drops them in your mouth slowly, the pieces clinking together when they land on your tongue. He takes his hand away as you close your mouth and chew the candy, bursts of chocolate and peanut butter dancing on your tongue. You swallow, looking at Shaw again, just as the theater lights begin to dim. The previews are starting, and the theater is still deserted.

With that sexy stunt, you feel your chest beginning to rise and fall a little faster. You try to control your breathing. The tension between the two of you escalates with every breath. With that mischievous expression still on his face, Shaw reaches his hand out and cradles your face in his hand.

“Do you want some more, love?” asks Shaw, talking over the volume of the first preview that has begun playing on the screen. 

He runs his tongue over his teeth, almost taunting you. Fully aware of the dangerous double entendre in his words, you feel your arousal escalate, almost unbearable at this point. 

Instead of answering him, you gently grab Shaw’s hand, moving it upwards, towards your lips. 

Deciding to give him a double meaning of your own, you find yourself opening your mouth a bit wider, wrapping your tongue around his index finger. You close your lips around it. He tastes like the sweet candies. You run your tongue underneath his finger softly, then slowly pull it out of your mouth. 

You’re feeling powerful and sexy in the way Shaw is now gaping at you, completely turned on. His expression quickly changes back to his usual cocky, lopsided grin.

“What’s that you said earlier about being six feet apart?” he teases, leaning in towards your ear, so close you can feel his breath tickling the side of your neck. 

He lightly nibbles at the lobe, then moves lower. He kisses your neck, adding another gentle bite. You feel yourself shudder in delight. It’s easy to forget you’re sitting in a movie theater and someone could walk in at any second.

Shaw continues leaving red marks, from your jaw to where your t-shirt begins. He pulls the fabric down, revealing your shoulder, kissing and nibbling. You whimper, your excitement and desperation getting harder and harder to hide with every bite. You feel your nipples starting to harden against the lacey cups of your bra. Sensing your agony, Shaw lifts his head up and grasps your face softly yet firmly.

“Look at you. Getting all hot and bothered,” he coos, his silky voice causing your legs to tremble. 

His hand still holding your face, Shaw lightly turns your head towards his, then crushes his mouth against yours. It muffles your cry of shock, quickly turning it into a gasp of pleasure. You lean further into him, deepening the kiss. You bite his lower lip and cause a slight groan to escape from his mouth. You use this opportunity to meet your tongue with his, hungrily massaging them together. 

Unable to hold back any longer, the titillating stimulation having completely drenched your panties, you break off the kiss. You can feel the excess saliva shining on your chin. You turn to face Shaw, stand up. Then, you swing your leg seamlessly and straddle him, feeling the hardness of his erection between your legs. The leather chair crinkles loudly as you move. He places his hands on your hips, hooking his thumbs through the belt hoops of your tiny black shorts.

“You bad girl,” Shaw taunts, hot breath tickling your ear. “What if someone sees?”

“Then they’re going to get a show,” you quip, silencing him with your tongue.

After a minute, or who knows how long - you’ve long since stopped trying to keep track of time - he pulls away from your hungry kisses, burying his head in your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. You feel Shaw start to lift up your shirt, revealing your lacy black bra. 

His hands run slowly, deliciously up your abdomen. It starts from your hips, tracing the curves of your waist, and finally reaches the band of your bra, slipping his fingers underneath the silky fabric in one fluid motion. Goosebumps dart across your skin at his touch.

His fingers dance across the skin under the band so deliciously, you’re aching for more. When they reach the cups, he pushes them up, your breasts bouncing and spilling out with the sudden freedom. The exposure causes your heart to leap from your chest, but thankfully, no one else is around. You’ve never done something so lewd in public before.

Continuing to kiss your neck, his hands cup your breasts, caressing them gently. Shaw pinches and rolls your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, shooting pleasure straight down between your legs.

He begins his journey of bites and kisses again down your body again, moving from your neck, and down to your breasts. You feel him tonguing your nipple, lightly sucking as his tongue dances across the sensitive skin. He continues with his talented fingers on your other breast. 

"Mph!” 

You moan, hardly caring about how loud you’re being. All the self-control you tried so desperately to cling onto has been washed away by the hands of a sexy stranger.

The possibility of being caught heightens the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your desire now akin to a fire, every touch of Shaw’s on your skin only serves to stoke it further. Each nibble, each caress, sends jolts of electricity through your body. Your nerve endings feel as though they’re out of control, each stimulation causing more sensitivity. You bite your lip with the pleasure of it.

Deciding it’s time that Shaw shows some skin of his own, your hands reach up under his loose sweatshirt. Fingers moving delicately, you trace the taut ridges of his abdominal muscles. Taking your cue, he lifts the fabric, pulling it further up. It’s giving you - and anyone who might walk into the theater, for that matter - a full view of his perfectly-sculpted body.

You run your hands up and down the length of his abdomen, drawing heavy breaths from Shaw. His chest rises and falls more rapidly. You lean forward then, lips on his neck, sucking the skin into your mouth. Then, you move over his defined clavicles and pecs, returning the love bites he had so graciously gifted you not much earlier. 

He gasps in pleasure, placing both hands on your ass, barely covered by the fabric of your tiny shorts. He squeezes it as you grind your hips against his thighs. 

Shaw’s hands move to the button of your shorts, undoing it quickly and pulling the zipper down. Your matching black panties peek out from the opening. He pulls them forward slightly, then slips two fingers in. 

He ventures down slowly into your folds, the other hand gripping your inner thigh. A lewd noise escapes from your lips, and you hear Shaw’s breath hitch at the sound of your desperation.

You’re so wet, Shaw’s fingers slide up and down with ease. They linger around your swollen clit, begging to be touched. He teases it with his fingers, sending delicious waves of pleasure up your spine. 

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, the sudden absence of them making you hungrier. Your desire is even more fierce. Your pussy is begging to be filled, and you can feel yourself clenching in frustration at having to wait.

Holding up his hand, you see the evidence of your arousal that coats his middle and ring fingers, slick and shiny in the light of the screen behind you.

“Naughty, naughty girl. Getting so turned on in a place like this.” 

He sounds so proud, so full of himself. You lean back slightly, placing some distance between your bodies. Looking down at the sizable bulge in his jeans, seeing that he’s quite obviously just as turned on as you are, you feel your eyebrows raise at him.

“I could say the same for you,” you purr, your voice as smooth as velvet.

Shaw looks at you then, drinking in the sight of you. Lips pink and swollen, your eyes, half-closed and shiny, glazed over with lust, your hair messily falling around your shoulders. T-shirt and bra pushed up, bare breasts bouncing with every movement. His eyes fall on the delicious pinkish-red trail of love bites leading from your neck to your breasts...all in this very public setting. 

He draws a sharp breath in, his cock straining harder against the constricting fabric of his jeans. Excitement is etched all over his skin. He knows he should stop, but he doesn’t want to, and he’s hoping you don’t want to either.

“What are you going to do about it?” Shaw tilts his head up at you, and you recognize the challenge in his words.

“You’ll see.”

Half of your brain screams at you to stop, to end this now before it goes too far. The other half eggs you on, telling you that you only live once. The metaphorical angel and devil sit on your shoulders, each giving you a reason to listen to them. Grinning, you decide to turn towards the devil, abandoning all common sense. The thrill and the pleasure are overloading your senses. All rationale and reasoning are being completely thrown out the window.

You find your hands on the button of Shaw’s jeans, unbuttoning them, and pulling the zipper down slowly. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. After a few seconds, his fully-erect cock springs out. You widen your eyes in surprise at his length and girth. You’re a bit nervous about your ability to fit him, but you never back down from a challenge.

You grasp a hand around his erection, jerking him up and down a few times. You tease your thumb around the head, drawing out ragged breaths from Shaw. You remove your hand from his cock and, without a second thought, you stand up. Shaw watches you in anticipation. 

The rush is so satisfying, you never want it to end. You’re in complete shock at yourself for feeling like this. What happened to the careful, cautious girl whose motto was “better safe than sorry?”

She’s dead and gone now .

Feeling the adrenaline blazing a trail through your veins, you sink slowly to your knees in front of Shaw’s seat, your eyes never leaving him. His eyes widen, realizing what you’re about to do, and he scoots forward to the edge of the seat.

“You’re crazy!” laughs Shaw, teasing but obviously delighted. “Crazy, crazy girl.” 

You grin, accepting it as a compliment. The adrenaline rush gains more and more momentum. You can feel your pussy throbbing. Your black lacy underwear is completely soaked with the anticipation.

You lean in, grasping his length in your hand, jerking it up and down in slow, tantalizing motions. His pre-cum leaks out, and you dip your tongue into his slit, tasting and lapping up the salty fluid. Removing your hand from his shaft, you use your thumb to caress his head. You run your tongue over the length of his dick, back and forth, as though you’re tasting the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever tasted. 

Shaw looks down at you then: reddened lips, swollen and moist with spit. He inhales sharply, leaning back against the chair as he does so.

Sufficiently lubricated with your saliva, you breathe deep. You open your mouth, accepting his generously-sized dick into it. You’re swallowing around it, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. You’ve never deepthroated any guy as big as him before, and you feel your throat rebelling in protest at the new challenge. You manage to quell the gag and relax your throat muscles. 

His dick fully engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth and throat, you hear Shaw let out a ragged, breathy moan: 

“Fuck, oh, fuck…”

He leans forward again, threading his fingers through your hair. The sudden action forces his cock a little further down your throat than you’d intended. This time, you can’t control the small gag that escapes you. Tears form in your eyes; one manages to escape, and falls down your face. Thankfully, Shaw doesn’t notice, and you continue your movement: back, and forth, swirling your tongue up and down his shaft as you move to the rhythm of a song nobody else can hear. 

Having lost track of time, you continue. The loud music and explosions of a preview of some new action movie is playing behind you. You feel his dick twitch, knowing he’s close.

“F-Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, pretty girl…” Shaw groans, stroking your hair.

A few seconds later, Shaw finally releases, shooting hot white ropes down your throat. You move your head back, slowly pulling him out of your mouth. You grasp his length once again and slowly move your hand up and down. More of his cum leaks out onto your lips, dribbling onto your chin. He looks down at you then, riding out the final throes of his orgasm as you lick your lips with a grin. You catch the slightly bitter white fluid on your tongue and make a big show of swallowing.

Shaw sits back against the cool leather of the recliner, panting, trying to control his breathing. He grins, the corner of his lip turned up, feeling amused. He can’t believe you had the balls - no pun intended - to suck him off in the movie theater. He thought he would be lucky if he got your phone number, especially considering how cold you were to him at the beginning. Pulling his underwear and jeans back up, he stands up suddenly. He looks at you, still on your knees. 

“Stand up,” he tells you, and you follow his command, getting up slowly. You feel your legs shake slightly.

“Sit.”

You sit, in the same space Shaw had been sitting just seconds ago, the chair still warm from his body heat. Without warning, Shaw is now on his knees. Just as quickly, he starts pulling down your shorts and lacy black panties over your legs and feet, discarding them on the floor. You gasp in shock. That cocky upturned smirk returning for the umpteenth time, Shaw revels in your surprise.

“Just returning the favor, yeah?”

Before you can react, he forces your knees apart, spreading your legs. You whimper, slightly ashamed that you’re in this very compromised position. The hunger grows in Shaw’s steady amber gaze. Your pussy is now on full display, the fleshy pink skin coated in the clear fluid evidence of your arousal. 

Shaw begins by hooking his arms around the bottoms of your thighs. He slowly kisses the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to where you want him to be most. Your desire feels like agony. It’s like a thirst dying to be quenched, a growling hunger aching to be quelled. After what feels like forever, you feel his tongue flicking at your clit. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure and electricity up through your abdomen and into your chest. 

“Shaw!” you hear yourself crying out his name, overtaken by the combination of pleasure and adrenaline. The fire spreads through your body like a wildfire.

Unhooking an arm from around your thigh, Shaw inserts two fingers into your pussy. They fuck you while his talented tongue works its magic on your clit, alternating between sucking and massaging. His fingers curl up as he plunges them in and out of you, massaging your g-spot. 

Shaw suddenly pulls away from you then, his voice husky. 

“Oh, baby girl, you’re going to be making a mess of that seat.”

He continues his song and dance of getting you off. The combination of his fingers and tongue is almost too much to bear, and you begin to feel the heat between your legs start to rise uncontrollably. You know you’re close, and can feel the pressure building. 

Within seconds, you feel the orgasm reach its crescendo, trails of fire burning from your hips up into your abdomen. Your heart pounds as you dissolve into the pleasure. At the same time, as though in sync, a loud gun “BANG!” sounds off, playing from the preview on the large screen. 

You arch your back, riding it out, savoring the delicious electricity pulsing through your most sensitive nerve endings. There’s a sudden gushing feeling between your legs. Realizing you just squirted for the first time, you clap your hand over your mouth in embarrassment and excitement. The fluid leaks down your leg, pooling on the underside of your thighs.

“You didn’t tell me you were a squirter,” Shaw quips, licking his lips. They’re shiny, coated in your juices. He flashes that gorgeous smile at you.

Figuring that you also weren’t aware based on your lack of response, Shaw stands up, silhouetted by the flashing lights of the screen at the front of the room.

“Think I sufficiently returned the favor, right, love?” he asks, leaning over you. 

Your tongues meet yet again, tasting each other on your lips. As he presses into you further, you notice he’s still hard. You glide your hand over the noticeable bulge, teasing him. He inhales sharply and groans into your mouth, then pulls away.

“Guess you’ve still got another round in you,” you hear yourself say. You immediately feel your face flush, shocking even yourself with your sudden boldness.

“Guess so,” Shaw replies, moving to sit down in the set of recliners to your left. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, his fully-erect cock springing out once again.

“You made a mess of that one, so why don’t we try another seat, yeah?” 

He winks at you, then lifts his hoodie once again to reveal his perfectly sculpted abs. He leans back, his dick resting up against them, enticing you over. You glance around the theater, still somehow empty. You then look back at Shaw, who sits patiently, waiting for your reaction.

The devil that’s still sitting on your shoulder whispers into your ear:  Do it. You’ve already gone this far, what’s a little further ?

You feel a grin forming on your lips as you walk over to Shaw. Pressing against him, you straddle his thighs. You tease his cock with your pussy, your wetness coating him. His breath hitches in anticipation as you hover over him. You slowly lower yourself onto his cock, the delicious feeling of his girth filling you up overcoming all your senses. He stretches your walls and you gasp, never having felt this full before.

At the sound of his moans, the feeling of a dark, sinful, rush flows through your veins. Adrenaline, raw lust and desire are controlling all of your actions. You roll your hips, and he groans louder, placing his hands on them as the dialogue behind you drowns out the sounds of your sins. You bounce up and down, moving to the tempo of a lullaby no one else can hear. He grabs your breasts as you ride him, drawing out a whimper of pleasure.

Shaw thrusts into you, matching your cadence. You lean into him, the two of you pressed together as you fuck without inhibition. The feeling of his cock between your walls is heavenly, and you throw your head back in ecstasy, hair hanging loosely down your back. 

“Hey,” you hear Shaw whisper suddenly, “why don’t we switch it up?” 

The words are breathy, as though it’s hard for him to speak and fuck at the same time.

“What...do you mean?” you answer, confused, though you’re finding it equally as hard to speak coherently.

“Stand up.”

Lifting yourself off of him, you do as he says. You’re in the back of the theater, and if anyone came in just then, they would see your naked behind, save for your t-shirt and bra pushed up as far as possible. 

Shaw remains seated for a few seconds longer. He reaches out behind you and squeezes your supple ass. Your naked, curvy silhouette is framed by the bright lights of the newest science-fiction action movie trailer, and he has never seen anything so sexy before.

Finally, he stands. You watch his movements carefully, your curiosity heightening. Suddenly, he moves behind you, gently pushing his knee between your legs.

“Bend over,” he instructs. 

You obey.

It doesn’t take long to realize what position he wants you in, and his hands reach out to grab your hips as you’re bent over the seat, facing the back of the recliner. You oblige him further by arching your back, deepening the angle for his maximum pleasure.

An initial wave of the fear and paranoia of being caught rolls over you, but you feel it ebb as Shaw begins slamming into you yet again, returning right back to the same rhythm where you had left off in your sinful lullaby. All of your attention is focused on him. His hands rest on your hips, guiding your movement as you push back into him. 

He’s so big, you can feel him filling you all the way. The heightened angle is allowing his cock to go so far, up to where he can reach no further, but thankfully it doesn’t hurt. Instead, you revel in the feeling. You’ve never been fucked by a guy who could slam all the way into you like Shaw does.

His hands grab your ass as you bounce up and down methodically. He moves them back to your hips, guiding them up and down as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

His dick slams into your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself on the verge of shattering once more. Not even seconds later, you hit your climax. The fire pools low in your abdomen. The buildup starts slow as the fire blazes to life, then transforms into a pleasurable inferno, shooting all the way up into your chest.

“Mph!” 

A cry of ecstasy tears from your throat. Riding out the final throes of your orgasm, your pussy walls clench tighter around his dick, causing him to gasp. The sudden tightening, a torturous yet delicious feeling, becomes nearly too much for him to handle, threatening to make him come undone sooner rather than later.

“Shit, I’m gonna…” Shaw rasps, barely finishing his sentence as he, too, cums, spilling into you.

Breathless and panting, you pull yourself off of him and stand up, your legs shaking so much you have to hold on to the seat in front of you to prevent yourself from tumbling onto the floor. Quickly, you reach down and pull on your underwear and shorts, a little bit relieved to be covered up again. Shaw is also breathing hard. He’s grinning at you as he buttons his jeans, then glancing to the seats to your left. There’s a few wet spots on the seat - the glaring evidence of your sin.

“You certainly made a mess, huh, Y/N?” he teases, leaning towards you, amber gaze burning into yours. “And not just the seats.”

Blushing furiously at the double meaning, you look towards the aisle.

“I-I’ll go get some paper towels,” you stammer, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air.

Running to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you return a few minutes later, several paper towels in hand. You wipe down the seat, hands shaking all the while. When you’re done, you ball up the towels in your hand, moving to throw them out. As you turn to leave, Shaw pulls on your arm.

“Hey, wait. The movie’s starting,” he whispers, holding you in his gaze. You turn towards the screen, and, just as Shaw said, the title screen of the movie flashes across. Something else catches your attention, and you look down to find another couple walking into the theater, whispering loudly about how they made it just in time.

You look back over at Shaw, and he flashes you that gorgeous smile, winking at you as you sink down into the seat next to him. He wraps an arm around you and you start suddenly, but sink into him. His touch is surprisingly comfortable.

“That’s definitely the best way to skip the previews,” he laughs, and you feel yourself smile, the devil on your shoulder winking at you and finally disappearing.

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 39

The near cloudless skies above let the afternoon sun beam down upon the city of Townsville, most of its light reflecting off the glass of the towering skyscrapers and redirects down towards the estates and manors that make up the upper crust district. The sunny glow seeps its way straight through a small window set along one of these manors; resting along the floor of a seemingly random dark room; a stream of dust passing through the sunshine when the door to this room creaks open. From the light that comes out from this doorway, the room is revealed to be filled with numerous party supplies. A lone figure stands within this very light and waltz’s right on through the doorway, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the walk in closet. With the closet door shut, the room starts to dim back and lets the sliver of natural sunlight be all that illuminate the closet; a young man with a blue mane dressed in white glazing over the party decorations, fancy cups and plates, tapestries, fancy sculptures, even a shut down automaton dressed in a suit.

Can’t believe Kingsley’s folks got a whole closet filled with this kinda fancy party stuff; makes a guy wonder how often they throw these kinda stuffy shindigs. Lookin at all these kinda decorations, doubt any of them were any fun ragers that didn’t even draw out even a little bit of a cheer; much less set about half the building on fire. Maybe the robot has some sparks in em, but it might be a safe bet to say that it ain’t gonna be hostin even a four year old’s discount birthday bash anytime soon…What was I doing here again? ...Oh right, the tapestries. That’s it. Reminding himself of the reason he had ventured into this darkened walk in closet in the first place, Tore reaches right over the numerous plates, cups, and decorations and grabs hold of a couple of rolled up pieces of cloths from one of the shelves; the blue boy zipping out from the dust filled closet with tapestries in tow.

Straight out through the hallway does Tore go through a fancy hallway, passing through the pictures of Kingsley with his happy family that hang along the wall; making his way towards the front lobby while keeping the rolls of cloth tight in arm. Amidst his rush out from the hallway however does he wind up bumping straight into somebody; both of them and the tapestries spilling onto the carpeted floor. “Ah!” Its in shaking off the little bump and rising back on his feet that he see’s who exactly it is he had wound up running into; the young daughter of the estate, dressed in a pink hoodie and black leggings. “Watch where the hell your going!” she rudely barks. “Sorry, Chloe. Couldn’t see ya while carrying these for yer bro’s party.” The mere mention of her brother’s party sours the young girl’s mood even further, incentivizing her to head straight towards the door; even as Tore continues to speak while picking up what he dropped. “So, how good are ya-” Hearing the front door slam shut makes him turn back towards the front, the red head he was trying to converse nowhere in site. “-Holding up…” Huh, guess she’s still tryin to workout some stuff after what happened with Circe half a month back. Can’t really blame her sour mood with what she went through; least she’s actually going out of the house now.

Within the main hall of the estate, a girl with flowing dark brown hair dressed in green army jacket covering a salmon pink dress carefully holds a golden chandelier above her head and hovers it straight up to the roof; keeping her eyes on the top of the decoration as she nears the hook set along the ceiling. Carefully does she weave the top of the chandelier right along the hook and slowly backs away to let the exquisite ornament dangle on its own; its golden finish shimmering against the sunlight that seeps inside. Just as the young lass lets out a relieving sigh from finishing this task, her nerves are wound right back up when hearing Tore echo out: “Got me the good’s Cayenne!” The girl glances back down towards the entrance to the main hall to witness the blue boy run right inside while he asks: “Where ya want em?” “Where do ya think Kingsley said, dumbass? Just hang one of them up at the top of the stairwell.” “On it.” Cayenne giving her these instructions, a pair of white wings sprout out from along his back and ascends straight up to the very top of the twin stairwell; landing right along the very center and scanning length of the roll to try and find where it ends. “Hey uh, I don’t see an end. How do ya open this?” Right as he asks this, the boy manages to find a lone button set along one of the sides and claims that he: “No wait, think I found it.” Pressing this button, Tore watches the whole tapestry roll down from the railing and unravel into a gorgeously sown picture that hangs just above the hall set between the twin staircases.

“Huh. Figure it was gonna be some old family heirloom from like medieval times or something. It don’t look half bad though.” “Does it look alright to you?” Cayenne aggressively questions. Standing behind the stairwell railing does the blue boy peer down to the finely knitted tapestry that he had just freshly rolled out, finding the top to be facing the floor below. “You mean from my perspective or yours?” Upon the indigo angel’s cheeky little comeback, the spice queen can’t help but let out audibly upset gnarl; prompting Tore to correct himself with: “Kidding. Just-just kidding here, kay? Gimme a sec to find the button.” “Nrr. The withdraw feature seriously has one hell of a fuckin kickback. So don’t be acting like such a reckless jackass and just hold-”

Before Cayenne could give anymore words of warning to the blue boy, he manages to find the same button he used to unravel the tapestry and wastes not another moment pressing it. The entire knit work art swiftly rolling right back up and snapping shut as it flings itself into the air; smacking Tore right in the face as he takes off. From the top of the stairwell does the rolled up tapestry careen through the air and straight towards the freshly hung chandelier; the rolled up cloth slamming against the golden decoration hard enough to knock it off the hook and send it plummeting down towards the hard marble tile. In but an instant is the golden chandelier reduced to nothing but pieces that scatter across the floor in a loud crash; both the spice queen and indigo angel hovering down towards the wreckage as Cayenne’s fists violently tremble. “God fucking dammit! What the hell is wrong with-” Before Cayenne could unleash all the enraged fueled screaming and cursing bubbling within, her anger starts to simmer when he finds the blue boy showing signs of growing worry, but rather seemingly on the verge of crying while staring down to the wreckage he caused. Amidst letting loose a short growl does Cayenne instead decide to walk off and simply let the boy be; the spice queen strolling straight down the hallway set along the left. Swear that blue dumbass sometimes just doesn’t fucking listen. Like seriously just pisses away anything ya try and say to him.

While walking through the carpeted hallway, Cayenne witness a lone door set along the side crack open with a young man with orange hair peering out from within and asking: “Just heard a loud crash! Is everything okay!?” “Ain’t anything that bad, Kingsley. Just the blue dumbass out there wound up breaking one of your guys’s chandelier.” A small sigh escapes from the boy genius’s lunges as he is relieved how: “Least nobody got hurt.”

“Kingsley. Get your sweet buns in here and let me finish.” a voice within the room urges. Seeing the boy genius retreat back, Cayenne follows him in to find a flamboyant boy with partially blonde hair dressed around his black haired crown; Kingsley stepping onto a small stool as he asks the boy: “Benji, do we really need to get my measurements now of all times? All of us are in the middle of prepping for a big formal tonight.” “Bay-be, this big party you guys are throwing is about this big young superhero team you all are forming, ain’t it? So you all serious need some uniforms to match the motif, something that just screams iconic to go along with this little league of yours.” Speaking this does the small crystal earring hanging right along the side of his head start to let out a strange sparkle; a roll of measuring tape set along the table behind them hovers in the air and is drawn straight into his hands. As Benji wraps this length of measuring tape around his clients waistline, he hears the boy genius assure how: “Do-don’t get me wrong here. I’m thankful for the help I’m getting in prepping for all this.” “Please, sweetie. Its the least I can do after your mom taught me so much about clothes and armor design. And from the sound of things out there, you need all the help you can get.”

“And speakin of actual needed help, that indigo dumbfuck out there’s already wound up breaking a chandelier, tore up a couple of table clothes, and wound up shattering some glass in the span of like two hours.  Why in the hell are you keeping him around if all he’s gonna do is just wreck shit.” Cayenne gets back on topic with. “Agh….When Mally and the other’s wound up getting back home, she told me all the sort of stuff Tore’s been through these past two and a half weeks.  From the way she put it, it sounds like things got incredibly bad for him on his end too, like something that just tore is soul in half. Figured that giving him something to do would keep his mind off it.” “Not that I don’t sympathize here, but I doubt keeping him workin’s gonna cheer him up all that much. Ya ask me, he needs to sort through all that emotional bullshit.” “I’m sure he will. He just needs some downtime to think things over.”

“Yeah so, how’s that thinking stuff going for you?” the spice queen then questions. “Whaddya mean?” the genius asks. “Y…Yer fuckin with me, right? You and my aunt just came up with this whole club fulla fresh out the pussy heroes ready to shove their feet straight down the forces of evil’s asshole with you at the top and you ain’t even sweating a drop here. Won’t lie here, ballsy, but a little worrying. You feeling okay?” “I’m...still pretty surprised myself. Wonder if all the stuff we went through before hand might’ve prepped me for something this big. Feels like yesterday when we escape that little fortress out in the middle of the tundra, got kidnapped by a gang twice, almost died to Circe, having the whole town come after me in a manhunt, my girlfriend’s dad nearly blowing up the town, my sister getting possessed, my parents souls getting taken…” Among the distant ring running through his head, the sounds around him grow muffled as he himself grows silent; a lone voice pushing through the deafening ring with: “Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley...Kingsley!” The last shout that blurts out from the spice queen manages to snap him straight out from his haunting moment of reflection; the boy genius shaking his head before peering over to Cayenne with: “Di-da-du. My-my point is that with everything we’ve been through these past several month or so, leading a whole generation of new young heroes against the forces of evil should be simple in comparison.” “You sure you’re alright?” “Don’t gotta worry about a thing Cayenne, I’m fine.”

Rising from under them does Benji cut straight between the two to add how: “You know what isn’t so fine? I need to split outta here to snatch up a particular sort of fabric I got in mind for the uniforms, one that they only sell along the east end of Townsville. Gotta make it over before the animals in opening hours grab them.” Right as the fashionable young boy was about to race right out, Benji stops dead in his tracks to turn back and question: “Oh, before I go. What color are you wanting for the uniforms?” “Uh...the logo we got’s purple. Maybe find a shade of that.” Kingsley suggests. “Fantastic choice, I’ll see what I can do sweetie.”

“I seriously can’t believe he’s gonna be in the tech department.” Cayenne disbelieves. “You haven’t seen the kind of high tech state of the art armor he makes.” Kingsley argues. “While were talkin about it. You still haven’t really picked out a supervisor for that branch yet, haven’t you? Ya got me rockin the combat division, your girl on knowledge and info; and for some damn reason, you went ahead and made that pussy little ghost boy head of supernatural.” “Hey, I’ll have you know that Damian’s gotten a lot more brave and bold these past few months; he ain’t even disappearing when he gets slightly anxious.” “But we still ain’t got anyone sitting their ass down on the seat for the tech department. If we plan to announce this whole alt young justice bullshit, then we can’t show up on stage with half a deck here, and with you acting as leader, I doubt that you’ll have time to fill both bottles with piss.” “Yeah, I know. Its why I’ve been looking into a couple of promising people I heard about. Even got Mally suggesting somebody, but I still need to look into them.”

Before the two could speak even another word on the whole matter, the violent sound of a rumbling explosion catches there attention; both of them facing towards the door leading into the hallway; Cayenne barking: “The hell was that?” “Sounds like it came from the front hall, come on!” Kingsley claims as he rushes out the door alongside the spice queen.

Leaping out from the end of the hallway, both of them are left alarmed when greeted by the site of blazing flames enveloping a pair of large flower pots set along the side; the flames threatening to climb up the wall and reach the decorations hanging above. What draws their attention however is the blue boy standing before the blazing pots with bits of cake and candle at around his feet; all the while panicking with: “What do I do!? What do I do!? Why aren’t the water sprinklers going off!?” “Uh. My dad’s been dismantling the sprinkler system so it could deal with electrical fires more effectively.” Kingsley answers. “Well ain’t that fan fucking tastic! How the hell we supposed to put this out!” “I got it.” they hear another voice shout out. Glancing towards the direction of this call do they see the misses of the estate race right in with a fire hose in her hands; the big hipped milf pulling back the lever to unleash a torrent of gushing water. In a matter of moments are the flames threatening to climb the walls of the manner doused by the downpour of water; the gorgeous pot of flowers left under these flames reduced to a charred crisp down to the remains of their petals.

Turning off the flow of water, Kingsley’s mother drops the hose straight down onto the floor before she herself falls to her knee’s; lamenting how: “Those two pots...They were thirty thousand dollars each. There’s no way we could replace them for the formal tonight.” Clutching the blue boy by his shoulder, Cayenne jerks Tore to face her and aggressively claims that: “Ya got ten fucking seconds to say what the hell happened here, else those flowers ain’t the only thing that’s gonna be set ablaze!” “I-I don’t know. I seriously just went to the bathroom for about 3 minutes and when I came back they were on fire.” Pinching one of the frosting covered candles off from the marble tile, the misses of the house looks closely to the soaked party candle and concludes how: “Oh...I think this might be my fault.” “It is?” “Huh?” “Xcuse me? “Let me show you why.” the mother insists.

Through a pair of twin doors, the misses opens up to reveal to them an assortment of sweets and pastries set along the kitchen; most of which of moderate quality, something she explains with: “I don’t really tend to bake all that often, but I wanted to break out the over mitts for this special occasion. I woke up around seven mixing batter, pouring sugar, and laying bread crust all just to make this whole splurge for all the guests that’ll attend.” “Geez, splurge really is an understatement here.” Kingsley comments Among them does Cayenne notice one of the cakes holding several candles having a big chunk broken right off and asks: “Guess this was the little firestarter? The hell happened?” “Oh. It happened when I was pulling out a couple of homemade pies I left in too long out from the over. Part of the baking sheet was stuck on the oven grill and I had to jerk it out. I pulled so hard that I flung both of them through the air; one of them wound up smacking a piece of the cake off and flew straight into the front hall. I saw some of the candles fly off the cake and land right into the pot of flowers; as soon they caught on fire, I raced out toward the nearest fire hose they had. Can’t believe that my baking blunders nearly caught the entire manor on fire.” “Hey, don’t worry about it.” Peering over do all of them see the blue boy scrapping some of the splattered pie off the wall and shoving it straight into his mouth; Tore complimenting how: “This beef pot pie you made ain’t half bad.” “Its supposed to be apple.” the mother replies. After swallowing all that he had shoved in with a single gulp, the indigo angel lets out a little hiss and jest how: “Maybe adding some cinnamon might fix it.” Alas does this little attempt to ease the room only fuel the misses dismay more and have her put her hands against her face, all the while Cayenne shakes her head at him with an upset gaze. “B-but I might be able to fix those flowers.” “Really? How?”Kingsley questions.

Returning to the set of burnt oversized flower pots set along the main hall, the three watch closely as Tore stands before the charred petals; the blue boy’s wings sprouting forth as he takes in a deep breath, From where they watch do Kingsley, Cayenne, and the Misses behold as bits of glimmering color penetrate the walls of the estate to gather into the indigo angel until his figure is coated in a thin layer of lively aura. With the power that he had mustered, Tore thrusts the palms of his hands out towards the two charred remains of flora and cast forth all he had gathered upon them; letting the light that he engulfs them in seep straight into their petals. Yet despite his best efforts to restore the bouquets to their previous natural glory, all the colorful light that seeps into them only manages to bring but a single flower back from its burnt demise; a single flower that blooms among the ruin. “What? Aw…” the angel moan. Beholding the minimal restoration, Cayenne gives a less than sincere applause as she sarcastically praises how: “Wow. What a miracle. Truly the coming of the holy is thy.” Midst her little sarcastic jest does she feel Kingsley elbow jab her side, causing her to stop her little insincere praise. Approaching one of the burnt pots herself, Kingsley’s mother reaches out to the freshly revived flower and plucks it out from its scorched others; beholding the colorful sheen shimmering along the flora’s restored petals.

“Hey, don’t sweat about it, Tore. They’re just a bunch of flowers, nothin too important.” the boy genius attempts to comfort with. “But I was looking to bring both pots back to life. God, I can’t get anything right today.” the indigo angel claims. “That’s a fuckin understatement.” the spice queen whispers under her breath. “How bout not worrying so much about the décor. The party doesn’t start til later tonight. I’m sure we can handle it.” Kingsley suggests. “Well, what’s that leave me to do?” “Uh...Ya know, there’s gonna be a good dozens of people that are attending this little party, some of them pretty important guests of honor. Some of the catering servants we usually got to handle all that are taking their vacation days. Maybe you could help keep the party going, make sure everyone’s having a good time, refreshments aren’t running out, just miscellaneous stuff.” “And not to be a complete fuck up while yer at it.” Cayenne rudely adds.

Upon that very moment do the front doors swing right open, revealing the very fashionista himself strolling straight in with a bounce in his step; claiming to them all: “Well if that’s the case, it’d pain me to see him going around catering in those rags.” “Its been like 20 minutes, how the hell are you back already?” Cayenne wonders aloud. “What’s wrong with what I got on now?” Tore question. “You’re joking, sweetheart. Just look at the poor thing.” From the designers words does the blue boy peer down to his short sleeved white blazer, looking to the numerous stains, burns, tears, wrinkles, and stretches littered across its once pure white fabric. “It’d be a downright felony to have you serve wearing that mess. Come. I shall sow you a suit worthy to match.” Benji exclaims, grasping the blue boy by the collar and dragging him down the hall. “Well, with half of the treats ruined. I better get back to baking before the party starts this evening. I just hope that I don’t wind up making another mess like that again.” the mother claims as she retreats back towards the kitchen.

With both of them left along with one another, the spice queen strolls over to Kingsley side and once again asks him: “Hey, you sure can handle all this?” “Um- of course I can. I’m sure when Renee and Damian get here, things should be smooth sailing from then on.” “With the kinda shit that goes on with all of us, it’ll be a hell of a miracle if it does” Cayenne comments as she walks off. As his spicy pal floats off out from the main hall, Kingsley is left alone with nothing but some new thoughts running through his head; pondering on Cayenne’s very words.

Several hours pass as the afternoon clear blue is replaced by the twinkling night sky that hangs above the entire  city, the lunar glow of the half moon shinning down onto the manor and reflecting off the roof of the dozens of vehicles that pull into the massive driveway. Stepping out from these vehicles to an array of people that stroll through the driveway to the manor front doors; some dressed fancy while other’s dress more casually as they enter the estate. Beside the front doors are a pair of door keeps that kindly greet the numerous guests that enter with: “Evening folks.” “How are you doing?” “Welcome to the estate.” “Hope you have a pleasant time.” “Please direct yourselves to the main hall.” These very guests step through inside to behold the Spicer manor’s main hall to be decorated with numerous finely woven tapestries,  towering statues, lines of pots filled with flowers, and paintings depicting family and friends. Set along the sides of the main hall be the catering platter holdings small portions of meat, cheeses, crackers, punch, some alcohol, even some of the humbly made cakes and pastries that the Mrs had made.

Along the side of this grand hall, the blue boy himself peeks out from the dark recesses of the left hallway and beholds the numerous guests that fill the main hall and slowly spread themselves out through the abode; a small anxious breath escaping from his bit lip as he stares to them all. Don’t think about what happened then, Tore. It’s a new night. New moment. You’ll get yer mind off what happened then in no time. Just focus on what your friends are counting on ya for and play the servant. Circulating these thoughts through his head does the indigo angel finally steps out from the hallway darkness and right into the light of the main hall, letting the light hit his suit of deep indigo blue complimented with an undercoat and cuffs of silk white. His blue main held into a short ponytail that dangles behind the crown of his head.

From the side of the hall, the finely dressed blue boy makes his way straight to the platter table and swipes a silver platter filled with small little meats and snacks; the angel’s eyes glued to the treats as he attempts to hold back the chance to dunk them all down his gullet. Snap outta it, man. These ain’t made for you, these’r for the guest. Just hold the platter above your head and try not to look at the delicious cheese, warm moist meats, and savory salty crackers together in cute little sandwiches… After taking a moment to shake off the temptation, the blue boy strolls away from the food table and ventures out towards the guest further off; holding off even taking so much as a glance at the food he delivers.

From the platter table, the blue suited boy strolls over to a couple of guest enjoying the party and attempts to lower the tray in his hands down to present them the selection of snacks;  only to wind up accidentally bumping the silver tray into their side and nearly spilling the goods. Before all the little sandwiches could smack against the guest, the indigo angel manages to slide them back onto the tray in the nick of time; swiftly offering them in a sort of faux innocent manner with: “Snacks?” Despite his little blunder, the guests swipe some of the little treats right off the plate with some hints of offense; Tore soon strolling off towards the dozens of other party goers while attempting to keep what remained of the food he carries on the silver plate.

Perched atop the manor’s front hall stairwell, Kingsley keeps his eyes peering down to the numerous guests partaking in the parties pleasantries below; all of them sipping wine, eating little sandwiches, and generally mingling among each other. Just look at all of them down there. Wonder what they’re even expecting outta all this...out of all of us...They’re expecting someone who can lead the this new team to keep the peace, to fight off the forces of evil. What if we can’t...What if I’m not-

Among his thoughts of doubting self reflection, a familiar voice cuts through and snaps him back to reality as he hears: “Hey, Kingsley.” “Jolting out from his thoughts does the boy genius swiftly turn around towards second floor hall to discover his supporting blonde, Renee, approaching; the girl’s eyes reflecting a distinct worry as she asks him: “Is everything okay?” “Oh. Y-yeah, everything’s fine. I just really didn’t expect so many people to show up.” “What exactly did you expect after the announcement of the Vanguard League a week ago? Everyone here’s practically looking forward to see the impression of this new teams leader. Why don’t you go down there and mingle a bit?” Upon his girl suggesting such, Kingsley constantly shifts his eyes about as if searching for way out, stuttering out how: “Uh-uh-uh...Ma-maybe not now; the party just started. They should get some time to enjoy themselves. Besides, you really want me to go down there looking like this? An occasion like this calls for more formal wear. Let me just get dressed in the suit I got in my closet.” Watching her boy race walk right past and head straight down the second floor hallway, a stark worry is reflected in the smart blondes eyes as he watches the boy genius retreat into the depths of the hall.

Slowing his walk down to a simple wander, Kingsley takes in small, calming breaths as he travels further into the decedent hall, constantly shifting his head back and forth from his front and back. As he peers back to the hallway he strolls through, a lone figure suddenly rises up from the carpeted floor before him; the boy genius nearly falling back from the unexpected visit. After keeping himself from falling right on his ass, Kingsley starts to calm himself when realizing it only be his friend, Damian; the boy apologizing with: “Oh! Sorry for popping in so suddenly like that...You feeling alright? I mean I know I kinda scared you, but you just seem so tense.” “Yeah. Just feeling a tad nervous about the party here.” “Believe me, you ain’t the only one here. When you suggested for me to be the head of the Supernatural department, I seriously nearly fainted hearing you say that. I really didn’t know what to think. But afterwards, I took some time to process all of it, and I realized how honored I was that you would choose me of all people to help you run something this huge. I’m still feeling a little tingly to be honest.” “Really? How exactly did you process all that?” “I just simply thought of all my loved one’s who I would make proud, all the people who’ll look to me for guidance, all the other’s that’ll count on us to be the mainline defense against this new budding evil. You know, given everything else we’ve tackled together, I started to understand why you thought there would be no one else better for the job.” “Hmm…” “I think I should go down there and introduce myself to all the guest that came to see us. Why don’t you just take a little bit of time to think things over and come down when you’re ready. Alright?” “Yeah. I might do just that.” Having given this tidbit of advice to his friend, Damian hovers out towards the direction the boy genius had came from; leaving Kingsley with all these newfound thoughts running through his head.

Back within the downstairs kitchen, Tore finishes pouring out several glasses of wine set along a silver platter; the blue boy setting the wine bottle aside and very slowly lifts the plate off the table; careful not to spill a single drop as he carries them all out. Out from the kitchen twin doors, the indigo angel first strolls over to a couple of gents and ladies; presenting the freshly poured wine and offering with: “Refreshments?” “Oh, delightful.” “Choice.” “Fine and Dandy.” “Thank you, young man.” After serving to the more fancy folk, Tore ventures over to some dressed in more casual wear; offering them the drinks with: “Some wine?” “Thanks there.” “Nice.” “About time they got drinks out.” With but half of the refreshments having been taken, the blue boy starts to venture out towards the other side of the hall; careful with what wine he still had atop the platter he carried. Got those, now just to see if some of the other guests along the east wing want anything like some refills or snacks or-

Amidst this thought does he fail to see where he walks and bumps right into one of the guests; all the wine glasses he had been carrying spilling right onto the floor as both of them fall. “Ah, jeez. That’s coming out of the paycheck.” Tore comments as he starts to pull himself back up. Glancing over does he see another having fallen onto the floor and rush straight over to help the finely ruby red dressed woman a hand; apologizing to her with: “So sorry about that.” Taking the boy’s hand, the blue boy pulls her back on her feet; the pinkish red young lady looking to the boy with her three eyes and implores that: “I’m the one that should be sorry. I seriously wasn’t looking here I was going.” “That makes two of us then.” he rebuttals, the two of them sharing a little bit of a laugh between them. “So, you enjoying the party so far?” the blue boy then asks. “Oh, absolutely. The people up here have been so nice and friendly; never thought that life out here would be so much different up here.” “Up here? You come from down south?” “Oh, way down south.” the young lady answers. “Guess that’s two for two we got here. I came from up North, all the way up to the country of Maple leaves and pine tree’s. Winter’s up there a little too cold, but other than that, it was a real nice place to live at. Bet you don’t gotta worry about winter’s down there, do ya?” “Oh hardly. You’d be hard pressed to find even a little tiny flake of snow drop down where I’m from.” “Really? You even seen snow before?” “Of course I’ve seen snow silly. I’ve seen a lot more places that have a lot more to offer then that.” “Hey, I’ve done some big traveling around pretty recently, even to some places that ain’t really nice and neat; still, fun memories...mostly fun. From the way you’re putting it, sounds like she’s got some good stories stashed in that head of yours.” “Oh sure. Though I doubt I’d seen as much as my dad; he’s been practically everywhere. You should really come meet him.” “Ah what the hell. Seems like everyone here’s served pretty well. 10 minute break wouldn’t hurt. Name’s Tore.” “Vera, Vera Lucitor.” the girl introduces with a curtsy as both her and the suited blue boy both stroll along the halls past the numerous other guests and head straight out to the west wing of the hall.

Out along the east side of the hall, Damian waves goodbye to a couple of guests as he floats away; to which he feels somebody grasp his shoulder with: “Hey listen.” Jolting back from ho had grabbed him, the ghost boy calms himself when seeing it to be the spice queen herself; Damian noting: “Well, this is certainly a surprise. Hard to believe you came down here on you’re own. You usually don’t enjoy associating with the more fancy folk.” “You kidding. I hate this fucking uptight shit. Came down here looking for Kingsley. He said he’d be down here in a minute.” “How strange. I just ran into in a couple minutes ago. He said he was rather nervous about the party, so I thought he should take a minute to himself.” “That’s not what he told me.” A third voice chimes in with. Peering out from the crowd beside them do the two witness Renee approach them, continuing to state how: “He told me he was going to change into a suit.” “Really. Might be possible that he’s just doing all three at once.” the ghost boy guesses. “Still, it ain’t like him to mix his story up that much. Maybe we should give him a ring, see what’s going on with him.” Cayenne suggests. “I tried that already; didn’t get a single answer. You think something might be going on with him?” “I’m not too sure. Maybe we should try finding him and find out what’s going through his head.” the ghost boy offers. “Might not be a bad idea. How bout you go search upstairs while Renee and I stay down here in case he comes back down.” This little search party set up, Damian hover straight up through the second floor, leaving the girls to start their search up through the first.

While strolling through the west corridor leading down towards the west hallway, both the indigo angel and young lady continue to chatter among themselves over the numerous adventures that both of them had; Vera continuing off with: “I still remember my trip down in the Hydro kingdom. All the water Nymph’s I met were so nice down there; even offering us tools that let us breathe underwater to take in the sites of their ocean. Just so many beautiful sites I wish I could’ve taken pictures off. They’re cities were lovely sites too, just decorated with jewels, seashells and gold. And the cuisine, never in my life did I taste sea food so delectable.” “Sounds real fun. I remember when my family went down to the middle of the bahama’s for a vacation and we wound up having to fight back against a raging forest beast that was kidnapped people left and right, including our mom. So Roy, Mally, and I went through the woods and fighting this massive monster the size of a giant mound. After punching a part of its shell clean off, we manage to wind up beating it down and send it running right off; setting all the people it kidnapped free. After that, the town we were staying at went and gave us a banquet to celebrate. Think Mally might’ve vomited after finding out a dish she ate had lizard testicles in it. I still remember her beating Roy upside the head as he was laughing over it. Can’t lie, almost bust out giggling myself just watching it all.” “I figured you didn’t cut it as a servant all that well; but I didn’t really think you’d be such a natural warrior like my mom. I’ve seen her in the depths of combat outnumbered, armed with but a single sword; the best I could compare the way she fights is with the grace and elegance of the wind itself.” “Funny. Most of my friends say I fight with all the grace of an overly tipsy Irishman drunkard’s worst nightmare. Guess they mean I can take a lot of hits and still keep on brawlin. Like I seriously remember this one time I got stabbed in the stomach and I was still swinging.” “Really? What sort of teacher did you have to help develop that sort of resilience?” “I can thank my Bosnia war vet grandma taking both Roy and I in for one summer. She really knew how to take a dirty bomb and somehow hit back ten times as hard.” “Sounds like she has a lot more in common with my dad than anyone else I know.” “What’s he like?” “He’s pretty much a clean cut and kind sort of man. Though I won’t lie that the few times he loses his temper can be pretty explosive.”

When finally venturing out from the corridor and entering the west hall, Vera peers through the crowd set before them and states how: “I think I can see my family from over here.” “Which one are they?” the blue boy questions as he gazes out through the crowd. “They’re the couple with the toddler in the woman’s arms.” This little detail given, Tore manages to spot the very woman donning a blood red dress holding a little tike with horns dressed in a little suit in her arms; all with a horned man with three fiery red eyes standing beside them both. “Hey, I think I...think I...Oh…” A sense of overwhelming dread begins to slowly settle in the boy’s stomach when he realizes why all of them look so very familiar, drips of sweat beginning to run through his head as he peeks over to the young woman beside him, the last pieces of the puzzle clicking in his mind. The memories of traversing through hell’s very keep and facing their king still fresh on his mind.

While the indigo angel is left utterly horrified upon these newfound realizations, the young woman beside her starts to skip over towards her family and waving to them with: “Hi everyone!” “Vera. How are you liking the party so far?” her mother in the blood red dress asks. “It’s going so wonderfully thus far.” “I am rather curious of what this New Vanguard league has to make of itself. The bold confidence to lead through danger is something not many can hold.” her demonic father states. “And speaking of new faces. I just got done chatting with a quite interesting gent who’s told me tales of his exploits set though his numerous journey’s. I wish to introduce you all to this boy named Tor-” Vera attempts to introduce, only to turn around to find nobody waiting beside her. Peering through her surroundings, she attempts to spot the very boy in question; swearing to her family how: “Huh? Strange. He was just right beside me.” Peering out towards the direction his daughter had come from, the horned father gazes outwards to notice a figure of indigo blue hurrying through the corridor leading to the main entrance hall; a rather suspicious glare set within his three eyes.

Racing out from the hallway and across the main hall, a myriad of panicking thoughts race through the blue boy’s mind as he dart straight towards the other side; disregarding every single guest that calls for his assistance. “Say, could I get I refill?” “Are there any more snacks?” “Excuse me. Do you know where the bathroom might be?” Why is he here!? Why is did the king of hell gotta come up here tonight of all nights, at this place of of all places!? And of course the girl with three eyes is her dad, so obvious. Should’ve realized it sooner. You think any of them would’ve recognize who their daughter was talking to? Know the mom probably would. The face of someone who broke into yer baby’s room is one that your never gonna forget. Wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d pull out long sharp blade and finish her castration appointment on the spot. Okay, think Tore. What’s your best bet on slipping outta here? Can’t just barge out, it’d cause too much noise. Maybe hiding somewhere til the parties over? Nah, Kingsley and the other’s are gonna want an explanation. They might be able to help though. Sure Kingsley could think of a plan involving a fake mustache and a slightly understandable foreign accent...or would that be too racist?

Opening one hallway door after another, both Cayenne and Renee peer into every room they come to; all the while calling to their friend with: “Kingsley?” Cracking open one room, the blonde sees nothing but darkness wafting within the bathroom; not even a single figure hidden among the shadows. “Kingsley?” Swinging open another door, the spice queen peers into every corner of the decked out lounge, only to find no one held within. “Kingsley?”

Meeting up with one another, the very first thing that Renee asks Cayenne is: “No luck on your end either?” “Afraid not. Where the hell could be possibly be hiding? Swear to fucking god if he wound up bailing…” “That’s not like him though. This isn’t like him. He wasn’t that skiddish about being the teams leader a couple days ago. You think the pressure might be just now setting in?” “With all the damn organizing he’s been doing keeping him busy, I wouldn’t be shocked if it did. Can’t help but wonder what sort of shit he’s been dealing with right now.” “Guys!” the both then hear from across the hall, the familiar voice making the spice queen let out a “so done with this shit” breath. “And speaking of having to deal with bullshit.”

Gazing out towards the direction of the hysterical screaming, both girls behold the blue boy himself sprinting through hallway like a maniacal marathon man; his arms flailing about as he races right towards the both. Right before the indigo angel could run right into them, Cayenne reaches over and clutches Tore right by his face; the Spice Queen tossing the boy back onto the carpeted floor. As they watch the blue boy arise off the scarlet red carpeting, Cayenne then questions: “Alright; what the hell sort of fucked up brain hemorrhage are you suffering from now to race through the hallway like a screaming jackass?” “We need to get everyone the heck outta here pronto! The king of hell himself is in the building!” Tore warns. “Yeah? He’s a part of the guest list, dumbass.” the spice queen answers. “What!? But why!?” “The underworlds Royal family are famous not just as celebrities, but also for the diplomatic work in multicultural relations. They could give the league a vast network of connections if we manage to impress the king.” Renee elaborates. “They’re serious here just to chill and mingle. That’s it. Why the hell are you freaking the fuck out so much?” Cayenne questions.

“Ahh...S-So, Mally told you all about the trip I took with Mall, right?” Tore starts to explain with. “Yeah…” Cayenne confirms. “And about the Halo’s that we needed to collect to get the warpgate to work better.” “The hell’s your point?” “Well, one of those rings we had to get was stashed underneath the Lord of Hell’s castle.” “You fucking didn’t.” “Yeah...And while I broke into their home and swipe the Halo from under them. I might have wound up breaking into their young son’s room and scarring him, nearly got my balls cut off by the queen, bust through a couple of their walls, had Mall mow down a good chunk of his forces outside...And to escape, we had to work together to beat the Kings into an unconscious mess. Th-that-that’s all, really.” Both girl are left unsurprisingly astonished with all the blue boy said he had done underneath the king of hell’s own roof; Renee pleading to tell her that: “Please tell me you’re not serious.” “Augh…Sounds pretty bad saying it all out loud, don’t it?” the indigo angel admits. Upon having heard all of this, a small chuckle is all that could escape from the Spice queen’s mouth before she starts to stroll off and mention how: “Whelp. It’s been a hell of a ride knowing ya.”

“Guys, come on! Don’t make me beg here! If I winds up getting caught out in the middle of this party, the devil that’s among us’ gonna have his Kybr hide roast to a delicious crisp served neatly with a side of gravy coated mashed potato’s and freshly salted stuffing.” Despite the blue boy’s desperate plea, Cayenne continues to head down through the hall; only stopping when hearing Renee claim how: “Cayenne. We’re in the midst of forming out own superhero team, so dealing with situations like this is gonna be something on the clock.” “Oh come the hell on, Renee. Why the hell do we gotta stick our necks out for a guy that brought all this shit on himself.” “Because that’s something that heroes do.” The blonde reminding her of such, a frustrated sigh escapes from the spice queen’s lips as she starts to return to their side and mentions how: “It’s shocking how I’m not used to this shit.”

“So, any idea’s?” Tore asks them both. “Think the best thing to do is to call Damian and have him whisk you away. All with no one being the wiser.” the blonde first suggest. “Not a bad idea there. Just gimme a sec.” the spice queen compliments while pulling out her phone from her pocket. After fidgeting with her phone for a brief moment, the spice queen puts it up to her ear and hears the tone ring; waiting as the tone keeps repeating and repeating in her ear. Alas does the tone simply redirect straight to his voicemail, Cayenne putting her phone away as she curses out: “God dammit! Did he leave his phone at home again?” “What now?” the indigo angel questions. “Whelp, with the phoning in option gone. I’ll have to buckle down and try and find the pissy little ghost boy myself. Renee, get this dumb blue bastard some new digs to cover up with while I try and look for him.” the spice queen commands as she glides through the hallway. “Wait, what should I try and do while and she’s gone...Great…” “So, do I gotta return the suit?” Tore questions, Renee taking her glasses off to pinch the top of her nose.

Along the corridors upstairs, Damian phases through every wall and every door in his way whilst searching for the boy genius himself, flying through bathrooms, bedrooms, and lounges as he constantly calls out with: “Kingsley? Kinglsey? Where are you?” Oh lord, just where the heck could that boy possibly be? But it really isn’t like him to hide the truth like this? Why would he not tell us anything? Does he not want any of us to worry about him? Is he ashamed of have second thoughts? If I had know that being the team leader was what really was on his mind, we could’ve talked things through, let him know that he ain’t alone on all this.  Let’s just hope that he’s not feeling unsure enough to do anything drastic.

“I’m not really so sure about this. You really think this might fool anybody.” the indigo angel claims, gazing to himself in a full body mirror while donning a gorgeous indigo blue short gown; its sheen finish reflecting the light of the room. “I’m exactly sure about that; but with how urgent this is and with what little time we got, there really isn’t that much other options to work with. Besides, this was the only dress she could find around here that would look good on you.” the blonde beside him states, applying eye shadow of a similar color. “Never thought I’d look that gorgeous in a dress. The fabric and eye shadow compliments my hair amazingly. I can kinda see why Roy likes doing this sometimes.” “I only wish I had more time to work, but the guests outside are gonna want to know what I was doing this whole time; so this quick little revamp is gonna have to work for now.”

Tore’s visual transformation finally finished, the blue boy strikes a sassy pose as he admires himself in the mirror; Renee admitting: “I didn’t really expect you to have that sort of figure. It really work.” “It does, don’t it. So what sort of escape route ya got in the works?” “Hmm. Front door is obviously out; some people might see through the ruse. Going through a window might just seem conspicuous.” “Can’t exactly fly out, either. With wings as bright as mine, people are gonna see me fluttering out in the night…Didn’t exactly see anyone going to the garden. You think with this sort of party, it be pretty crowded.” “I think Kingsley mentioned something about a problem with the garden water sprayers and the fountain. With nobody around, it might just serve as the perfect escape route; just go through, jump over the fence and run through town to get back home.” Renee plans through. “Sounds like we got a plan here. Though I might need another to explain to my mom why I’m coming home in this.” “Hmm...Pulling it off this well, I’m not sure she’ll see a problem.” “True.”

Along the left side of the main manor hall, the pair peek out from the shroud of darkness set along the west hallway corridor; both of them beholding the numerous party goers mingling among one another, all while a few other servant race around tending to their requests. Pouring drinks, serving snacks, all the things that Tore himself was tasked with. “Hmm, seems pretty okay to me. Don’t see a pair of horns anywhere in site.” “Most of the manor’s first floor looks pretty packed with guests; that except for the kitchen over there. That’d make a good midpoint between the front and back halls.” Renee elaborates. “Let’s just hope that the king’s family haven’t split up; if any of them recognize who I am, might as well be dead on the spot.”

The first part of their little escape route planned out before them, both the blonde and crossdressing angel emerge out from the hallway and brave ahead through the front manor hall; weaving through the numerous guests and few servants that shuffle among eachother. “Excuse me.” Renee apologize as she swerves through the crowd. “Pardon me, good sir.” Tore says, attempting to put on the best ladylike impression he can. “Sorry.” “Just need to get through, so sorry.” “I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” “I love the suit you got on, is it silk?”

All seems to be going rather smoothly as the two of them make their way towards the pair of twin doors leading into the kitchen; Renee whispering to the blue boy she leads: “Almost there. Once we get into the kitchen, we’ll figure out a way from there.” “Yeah, thanks for all the-” Right in the midst of thanking the blonde for her gracious assistance through this predicament, the blue boy then feels something tug on the back of his dress; Tore glancing back for his hopeful expression to shatter when finding that something to be the very young lad of the hellish royal family himself gazing up to him. “Oh lord.” Tore utters. “What is it?” Peering back herself is Renee alarmed to see the devilish horned little tike smiling up to them with a precious grin; that weariness setting into maximum overdrive when hearing a woman close by call out with: “Issac! Where are you sweetie?” In a matter of just seconds do the two witness the human queen of hell herself cut through the crowd as she starts to strolling over to her lost little child; Tore’s eyes shifting about in a panic as he tries to come up with something with just seconds to act. With not many options to work with, Tore grabs hold of the blond beside her and shoves her gently in front of the little horned baby boy; the blonde whispering to him: “What are you doing!?” “Keep’em busy!” the indigo angel feverishly requests as he retreats out in the opposite direction.

While the blue boy heads out behind her, Renee peers back just in time to face her majesty approaching and scooping her little boy in her arms; the little tike letting out a little cute giggle while his mother thanks the blonde with: “Oh, I can’t thank you enough for finding him for me. the boy can get really rambunctious and slips away from time to time to chew on stuff.” “Uh-R-really. How old is he?” Renee responds to her with. “Little bitty Issace here just turned two, those little horns of his just grew in about five months ago.” “Ha ha ha ha, sounds like he can be an adorable little trouble maker, can he? I wonder what having him for a brother wound be like?” the blonde girl jests, slightly peering out towards one of the golden statues set behind the mother. Within the shimmering statue’s reflection can she see the blue boy she had been escorting slip through the crowd and head straight through the doors leading straight into the kitchen; a slightly relieved breath escaping from between her lips as she hears the queen herself ask: “So what pray tell are you planning on the future for this Vanguard league.” “Uh, well. We already have most of the leader division seats filled. It won’t be long before we manage to find the last one to fill in.”

Back upstairs does Damian continue to phase through every single room set along the floor, searching for even a single sign of the boy genius among them; all the while he continues to call out to him with: “Kingsley, where are you. All of us are getting worried here.” “Where the hell are you mopping, dammit!?” he hears a familiar voice crassly shout out for. Phasing straight through a couple more rooms, the ghost boy peeks right through a door to discover the voice belonging to the Spice queen herself roaming through the hallway; Damian grabbing her attention by asking: “Cayenne, you’ve had any luck in finding Kingsley?” “You mean you haven’t sussed him out yet?” Cayenne questions in return. “Oh, I tried. Believe me have I tried. I’ve phased straight into every single room, nook, cranny, and closet set throughout this floor; and not once did I see even a single orange hair of his. I just don’t know where else to look.” “Hmm...Think I might know where he’s hiding. The one place he always goes to think to himself or cry, often times both.”

Within the dark recesses of secret storage space lies dozens of miscellaneous toys, tools, portraits, clothing, and numerous boxes that hold more than meets the eye; some of the contents within threatening to overflow and spill out onto the dust ridden floorboards. Suddenly does a random stack of boxes begin to tremble from something shaking underneath; the grunts of the ghost boy all that manages to make it through as he struggle to open the door held under these boxes. “It’s all too heavy.” “For fuck’s sa- Just lemme try.” “Wait, I think I can-” In a single instant are all the boxes set over the trap door sent flying through the dusty air as the way is flung right open; the light from the hallway downstairs flooding the space as Cayenne hovers up; Damian phasing straight through the floor beside her as pieces of junk rain down. “What’s so wrong about simply me phasing through the floor?” “Where’s the hell’s the fun in that?”

Its then that the two then hear a brief shaking sigh sound off from across the space; Cayenne strolling over to the side to flip a switch; the light bulb above illuminating the entire attic and finally discover the boy genius himself huddled in the dusty corner, his head buried in his knee’s. “Kingsley? Are you okay?” Damian questions as he hovers over to him, only for his words to go unanswered in place of some light sobbing. “Dude, the hell is up with you?” Cayenne then joins in with as she walks closer. “Am I good enough?” both of them hear the boy utter out. “Come again.” “Am I the right sort of person for this kind of job? To lead an entire team of young budding heroes against rising evil, an evil that we must keep at bay else the people I sworn to protect risk being hurt or worse. And all the other’s that will have to look to me for guidance, all of them hinging on my every word for hope and inspiration...I-I didn’t really didn’t put it into perspective much before tonight; but now that I am, that sort of overwhelming pressure and responsibility, its... What if I do something wrong, something I can’t go back to and fix. Like send a bunch of young heroes to their deaths. Wind up making a mistake that cost dozens upon dozens of people their lives. Something that could very well change the course of history for the worse. I wouldn’t know how to fix that; or even if it could be at all.” Such unrelenting worries spiraling through his mind cause the nervous young man to quake in his boots as bouts of sweat run down through his skin; his friends before him looking to Kingsley with great concern.

Down along the back hall of the main floor, the blue boy dressed in silky indigo peeks out from the kitchen twin doors and gazes out past the numerous guests enjoying the spread out platters of cake and meat entree’s to find the glass sliding door leading to the backyard. Hung on the handle of the sliding door was a single dangling sign; one that read out that: “Due to plumbing maintenance issues. Entry into the backyard garden is prohibited. (Yes, again.)” The moment of truth. A little further through the minefield and it’ll be home free from then on out. Just gotta not mess this up.

This little self motivational pep talk going through his head, the finely dressed indigo angel emerges out from the kitchen and blends into the fancy dinning crowd like a serpent through the bushes; slithering through the numerous guests and party goers that enjoy their meals and snacks. In his little sneak out through the back dinning hall is his attention drawn out to the side, his pupils growing when beholding the incredible platter spread out along the length of a table set along the side; all the little sausages, salamis, cracker sandwiches, cakes, fruits, pieces of stake. Eh, maybe a little bit on the way out wouldn’t hurt.

Strolling right over to the table filled with delectable little treats, Tore wastes not a second partaking in the wonderful spread set before him; some he shovels straight into his mouth while others he indiscreetly stashes away in the breast of his dress. This might as well as count as a whole dinner and dessert. Midst his little picking platter detour towards the exit, he fails to see where he was sidestepping and winds up bumping right into someone and fall right onto the floor; wiping off some of the food that splattered onto him while claiming that: “Ah, sorry. Didn’t really see-” The indigo angel quickly snaps silent when glancing over to who he had just bumped into and discovers that somebody to be coincidentally the very same demon princess he had ran into before, parts of her dressed stained with steak grease. “No. I should be sorry. I-” Vera attempts to retort with, but stops speaking when peering over to find no one before her; swiping off some of the food that got on her as she rises confused. Glancing around to figure out who she might’ve ran into, the princess fails to notices a couple of feet sliding straight underneath the tablecloth; the indigo angel keeping his mouth shut tight as he crawls along towards the other side of the platter table.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” a voice questions. Gazing over to her side, the demon princess finds her father walking over to her side; Vera answering him on how: “Oh, I’m just fine dad.” “Did you simply just trip?” “No, I...I thought I just bump into someone. But I’m not sure who, or even what. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find a soul.” As her daughter explains this, the king’s eyes venture out towards the very back of the room; where a lone figure with matching indigo hair and dress slithers out from the dining hall and straight into the backyard garden. His eyes squinting as a sense of familiarity starts to creep upon him.

“Why did you decide to try and hide up here and not talk to us.” Damian questions, staring to his friend huddled in the corner. “How could I even start? Having been appointed the leader of the Vanguard league about a week ago and now of all times in the middle of an introduction party are doubts and pressure starting to set in; how are people gonna look seeing me like that? I supposed to be the spearhead against rising evil, but they haven’t even properly formed the team yet I’m already shaking?...I’m not so sure now if they made the right choice putting him in charge.” Kingsley worries. “That ain’t the kinda shit I seen you do.” he hears the spice queen pierce through with. “What are you alluding to?” “The hell I’m saying his that we’ve been dragged through all sorts of bull, and every single time we’re drowning in the absolute worst piss, that carrot top ya got for a head goes into overdrive to get us out. All the kids Circe had kidnapped, Renee’s dad nearly blowing up the city, everyone’s souls getting fucking ganked; even when you’re knocked outta the game, the work ya put in gets us all so damn far. I’m not fucking with you when I say I think we’d all be long dead if you weren’t there covering our asses.” Hearing this coming from his friends causes him to cease quaking in his boots and start to stand back up; lifting his head up to theirs and questioning with a slight smile if: “You really mean that?” “We seriously couldn’t think of anyone better for the job if you left.” Damian assures him.

Out behind the Spicer manor, Tore ventures through the garden in his efforts to distance himself from the party as far as he could on foot; his eyes glued to the brick wall set along the very end of the garden as he weaves around and hopes over several dug up pipes among the garden path. Just several more meters and over the wall, this whole night’ll just be a thing of the past; just another wacky and cooky night of cross dressing shenanigans full of comedic close calls and socially awkward misunderstandings. Just the usual teenage dramatic comedy happy hour on whatever the heck channel or streaming service even airs those anymore. Wonder if I should keep the dress?

Alas, before the finely dressed blue boy could bound right atop the wall, Tore peers his eyes right along the top and screeches dead in his tracks; his pupils shrinking as he slowly starts to waddle back as he beholds the very king of demons staring down upon him. Oh...oh no. “To think, after you and your partners transgressions, you decide to nest right above my kingdom. Foolishly wondering about as if I would not seek justice. After all that you two have done; breach my kingdom’s abode, destroy my forced, threaten my family; the tormentous pits of the damned would be but a mercy. Instead, I shall carry your execution out myself; engulf your entire being in the depths of my scorching pyres until nothing remains of you in this world. Not even a single piece of your soul.” Promising such to the indigo angel under him does the demonic king leap down from the top of the brick wall and land before the blue boy; the earth quaking in a glowing hellish red as his feet stamp onto the ground.

Everyone in the manor sitting behind them stop right where they stand and gaze about to wonder what’s causing the commotion; some of them falling on their asses while the trembling shakes the entire estate. Within the attic above does Kingsley nearly plummet down into a display of pointy figurines, Damian catching him before he could fall right into a single figure. “What the fuck is that?” Cayenne exclaims. “It sounds like it’s coming from outside.” Kingsley answers.

Erecting out from the cracks of this trembling earthquake be a shell of unholy red power with patches of brimstone covering its surface; threatening to encase both the king of demon’s and the indigo angel within. The blue boy rockets up in a frantic hurry to outrace the forming barrier in hopes of escaping; his hopes dashed when the spherical prison encloses at the top and cuts off the angel’s escape. Slamming right into the top of the cage does its inner layer let out a violent pulse of orange red that sends Tore plummeting back down towards the garden earth; crashing straight down into the concrete set before the cages very conjurer.

Outside this newly formed prison do most of the guests that dwell inside the manor all look out through every glass door and window they could see from, including the king’s own daughter; who attempts to reach out to him with: “Dad, what are you doing!?” Yet do the princess’s words fail to bait even a single bit of the demon’s attention as he keeps his sites to the angel rising before him; his majesty swinging his open palm upwards to let a geyser of hellfire erupt right underneath the boy and launching him up in enveloping flames.

Among the crowd watching the chaos unfold before them, the queen herself manages to squeeze herself through the other guest with her young baby boy in her arms; peering upwards to the figure her husband had just set alight. All of them behold as the scorching blaze that engulfs the boy above is dispersed all at once as the boy’s angelic white wings sprout forth from his backside; his facade having been burned away to reveal the angel underneath. Most of his dress covering his upper torso destroyed, the make up covering his face chipping off under the heat, and the band holding his hair burned away and letting his indigo blue mane flow out; all of these details together giving the queen the answer of who he really was. “...Him! That little miscreant! He’s the exact same boy who broke into our home and terrorized out baby boy.” In listening to that single realization is the crowd around her left utterly astonished, some of them gasping while others say among themselves how: “Did that really happen?” “I heard recently that the royal family’s home was attacked.” “Can’t believe somebody would try and scare poor Issac like that.” “What a little blue asshole.” “Hope the king lights this little marauder aflame!” Soon enough is the entire spectating crowd riled up into a maddening cheer, their numerous praises and encouragements coming out from their mouth being for the king to beat the little blue punk into a sobbing mess. Agh, great. Not only am I gonna die, I’ll go down in history as the jackass that deserves it…Maybe I just had this coming. Peering down to the demon king himself, Tore could see the blazing fury held within his very eyes; a wave of hellfire beginning to erupt from his entire body. Whelp, if I’m going out like this, better get as much fun outta it as I can.

Upon the realization of there being little way out of this predicament, indigo angel quickly decides to start off by delving straight down to where the fiery king stood; constantly flipping through the air as he plummets downwards with but a single leg sticking out. Right as the blue boy’s spinning axe kick was moments from slamming straight onto the demon’s horned head; the king halts the boy’s descending kick with just a single arm; Tore feeling as if he had hammered the back of his foot against a solid wall In a matter of moments does the demonic king let out a blazing burst of flames from his body that blows the blue boy away and send him out through the rest of the garden; the angel’s very body crashing straight through the stone fountain set in the middle and through numerous other flowers making up the rest. Tore manages to flip back onto his own two feet and grind himself to a skidding halt moments before he could hit the side of the unholy cage, soon glancing out in the direction he came from to behold a blaze of fire streak out towards him like a lunging serpent. As he witnesses his angelic foe spring up from the very flames he had cast forth, his majesty launches himself straight after him in a fiery explosion and reaches out in just a matter of moments. Hanging just above the indigo angel, the hellish royalty unleashes a blast of hellfire that sends the blue boy careening back down towards the earth below; the crowd inside cheering for the king as the angel crashes into the dirt.

Just above the cheering crowd of guests, Kingsley, Cayenne, and Damian all peer out a window overlooking the entire garden and peer out to the ensuing brawl between the angel and demon; all the while the boy genius question: “What’s going on!? Why is hell’s King trying to roast Tore alive!?” “Seriously, its been like half an hour since we split up. What the hell did we miss?” Damian asks as well. “Heh heh heh heh. Okay, so you guys are seriously not gonna believe the shitshow that blue dumbass wound up getting into.” Cayenne offers to elaborate.

Behind the spectating crowd gathered beneath them Renee joins in watching the ensuing fight alongside the numerous guests; asking one of them: “What on Earth is happening right now?” “I’m wishing to know the exact same thing.” the blonde hears someone beside her say. Peering off to her side, the blonde girl discovers the questioning voice to belong to none other than the princess herself; Vera adding: “Just what is my dad even thinking doing something like this.” “Seriously can’t believe that blue asshole broke into their royal family’s home and terrorized their family.” they hear someone vent. “Wait what!?” the princess exclaims. “No! He’s not like that. It’s all just one big misunderstanding. Does he even look like somebody like that to you.” Renee attempts to informs.

Despite most of the crowd either ignoring or dismissing the blonde, Vera peers back up towards the chaos and watches closely as her father continues to duke out against the angel; the unholy king letting loose a bevy of fire from his maw that transforms into a demonic creature of flames that pursues his majesty’s foe. The indigo angel glides away from the pursing monstrous blaze, fending away the fiery beast with a volley of pale rays; all the while the princess state how: “He does seem rather familiar. The blue mane, the white wings, the light coming out from his body; all of it’s just making bells ring in my head. Just where have I seen him before?” Its in thinking back to not so long ago that she remembers the moments she was just moments away from the cold grip of death; bleeding out underneath a pile of broken castle rubble, surrounded by darkness. In but seconds his the vial of shadows lifted away, her site blurred to everything except a figure dressed in light; that very same glow enveloping her and pulling her away from the brink of demise. Among her recovery does her vision start to return, all the while the figure began to fly away down the castle corridors; the princess only able to make out white wings and a blue mane from the retreating figure. “That person...It was him...Oh no.”

Hearing this from the princess, Renee looks over and sees Vera attempt to slip through the thick crowd in hopes of making it outside; only for the overwhelming numbers to shove her aside. Coming over to the princess’s side does the blonde help Vera off the floor, all the while hearing her state how: “If I can’t get through, I won’t be able to break dad’s cage in time to tell him.” “You know how to break it?” Renee questions. “I’ve seen my dad use this barrier many times and saw how he breaks it open when he’s done. But even if I got out there, I’m not sure how I could even reach up around it by myself.” Its in hearing the princess lament of such that Renee peek out through the window set beside the sliding glass door and gaze upwards to discover her boyfriend and his pals watching the ongoing brawl through a second story window: “I might know some people who can. Come on, we gotta hurry.” the blonde girl tells the princess as she races back from the crowd, the princess she tells this to feverishly following after her.

With just a single blast of white does the indigo angel blow away the pursuing flaming demon, the monstrous pyre evaporating in the ray of pale power. This tiny victory is unfortunately short lived however as a pillar of rising flames erupts right behind the boy with a demonic silhouette underneath its blaze. The very moment that Tore turns back towards the column of fire, a hand of fiery brimstone reach out from the flames and grasp hold of the angel’s neck, the blue boy feeling the incredible heat radiating underneath the rock palms grasp as the king of hell emerges out from the blazing inferno. Amidst struggling under his majesty’s burning grasp, the king himself take his other brimstone covered fist and prepares to swing its hard rock right into the angel’s face; Tore repeatedly beating against the rock clutching his neck tight, the brimstone cracking with each it. With the fifth strike does the boy manage to burst the brimstone holding him up apart and free himself from the demonic king’s grasp; though his escape proves too late as his majesty slugs the angel right in the face with his other brimstone gauntlet, sending Tore spiraling down towards a part of the garden lined with numerous statues.

Among the resulting rocky collection of dust and dirt, the king hovers back down upon the earth where he had struck the blue miscreant down to; peering around to a number of statues that lined out along the walkway wayside that bare items such as books, weapons, and other tools, some baring a sort of resemblance to both Kingsley and Chloe. In strolling along the garden path is his majesty in his search, the hellish lord is left unaware of the angel himself hiding behind a statue of a beautiful woman holding a scale of justice in her hand; Tore himself peering out through the rest of the garden for anyway to tip the metaphorical scale. Okay Tore, you went through this before and barely survived the last time against this guy. Taking this guy head on right now is a seriously bad idea.  Maybe not with what’s in the tank right now, but maybe with what’s around. A bit of juice outta turn things around. Glancing out towards the foliage that makes up the garden, the indigo angel realizes his options in drawing out nearby power having been cut short; most of the flowers, vines, and other lively greens that once stood in bloom among the decor now engulfed in a blaze of hellfire Doesn’t seem there’s a lot left to work with here, but what about outside; All the other plants and animals out in the city. Should be more than enough to borrow from it all to make it through this.

Setting his mind on the life that lies beyond the garden, Tore clasps his hands together as he focuses on the plants, people, and animals that dwell within the city. Come on, need something here. Yet no matter how hard he focuses on all that live beyond the garden, even to those with the manor just outside; the angel opens his eyes to find not even a single bit of colorful light coating his body. Wh-what? Why hasn’t anything came yet? Focused on all the living things in Townsville, but there’s not even a single glow of color here. Why is this happening now!?

Left at a flustered loss over the lack of power he had failed to gather, the blue boy has little time to ponder how or why as he feels an incredible heat come from behind and turns back to witness the stone statue he hides behind start to melt before his eyes; Tore crawling backwards as he sees the demon king standing right behind its stone. Raising his fist up high, the demon king’s hands suddenly combust in a blazing fury as he starts to swing them down to the angel before him; Tore managing to flee back away before his majesty hammers his fist down to the ground in a blazing quake. Among the bursting flames does Tore peek back in his retreat to see his hellish foe relentlessly pursue after; his mind running a hundred miles an hour thinking of what other options he has. Fine, if anything out there won’t help out, then there’s might be something in here that can; something that can quell this guy’s fiery temper. But what? Among his swiftly look around does the blue boy manage to spot the remains of the broken fountain; some of the pipes sticking out from the stone and dribbling water out from within. Hey, that might work.

Before the indigo angel could take the chance to delve down towards the busted fountain; the king himself swoops right beneath him with hands of blazing fury; Tore evading his grasp as the demon cast forth a bevy of flames up towards the boy above. In the middle of evading his majesty’s blistering hellfire, Tore delves right down towards the king himself to deliver a couple of kicks to counter with; one right in the stomach and one straight into his face. Attempting to send out a third one however, the indigo angel winds up getting his leg caught right in his hellish foe’s clutches; the demon king seeing fit in the moment to light the boy’s leg ablaze. Enduring the burning pain, the blue boy swings the leg the demon king holds straight upwards and flings his majesty up into the air above; following up by firing a beam of white straight upwards out to the ascending demon and using its force to descend down towards the ground.

Recovering from the unexpected counterattack, the demonic king plummets down towards the plume of stone dust with his burning red eyes locked to the cloud; seeing the figure of the boy he pursues. While the king of hell drops downwards towards his angelic foe, the dusty cloud starts to let him see the blue boy grasp something from under his feet and uproot it up to the surface; ultimately caught off guard when witnessing the angel pull out a massive pipe pointed up towards him. “Get ready for the flood!” Tore warns with a smile. Descending down too fast to stop himself in time, all his demonic majesty could do was grind himself to a halt just before the open end of the pipe; preparing to face an entire torrent of gushing water from the quaking pipe. Alas when the pipe finally stops shaking, nothing but a pitiful stream is all that drizzles out from its steel depths; Tore looking inside to wonder if that was really all the water it had as the king lowers his guard. “Does...does he not know people shut their water off when working on their piping?” Kingsley questions. “Oh my fucking god…” Cayenne sighs while shaking her head.

In realizing the angel’s attempts to thwart him having blown up right in his face; the hellish king uncovers his face and tilts his burning scowl down upon him; returning his remark with: “Cute. Wish to see what a real flood is like?” With but the snap of his finger, the entire garden ground underneath starts to violently tremble as fissures form between what foliage had yet to burn; the remaining flowers combusting into flames when geysers of lava spew out from earth. The fiery hot goo swiftly covering the earth, Tore leaps upwards into the air to avoid its molten heat; the boy peering down in his ascent to see nothing but a few statues and rocky stands peek out from under the melting lava.

Taking in the view of the unholy red prison starting to flood with the fiery hot goo from the second floor, Damian claims to both his friends how: “Okay, this is getting too outta hand. We need to do something.” “My thoughts exactly.” the spice queen declares before leaping out through the window and towards the scene. “Cayenne, wait!” Kingsley attempts to warn. Spurring her friends warning aside does Cayenne charge straight towards the side of the unholy prison; putting as much force as she could as she rams her shoulder straight onto its side. The very moment that the spice queen touches the surface of the barrier is a powerful pulse of hellish power unleashed, one that blast Cayenne aside and have her crash right into the side of the manor. “The hell was that shit!” “A rather counter intuitive attempt with solve this with force, I’d say. Allow me.” the ghost boy scolds her with as he hovers out towards the red cage for a go. Approaching the hellish barricades surface does the ghastly young man turn himself completely intangible, gliding out towards the red wall as fast as he could. Yet strangely does this as well prove fruitless; the unholy cage stopping Damain right their and pushing him away; despite being totally incorporeal. “What!? How!? Why can’t I phase through it!?”

Its midst their questioning mysticism that Kingsley hears somebody behind him give them their answer; responding to the ghost boy’s quarrel with: “Only royal blood can unlock the seal. Without doing so, everything, even souls, are kept in and out of its unholy walls.” Hearing this answer, the boy genius quickly peers back to find both his blonde lover and the princess of demon’s herself standing behind him; Kingsley going: “Renee! Wait, you know how to break it open?” “Indeed I do. Those chunks of brimstone that line the barricade are the locks that ultimately keep the cage together. If they are unlocked, the cage shall shatter.” Vera elaborates to them. “So, you know where the key is?” Renee questions. Upon hearing the blonde girl ask this does the princess take off the pointed crown set atop her head and pricks one of her fingers with one of its sharp ends; a thick crimson leaking right out from the tip of her finger. “It’s right here.” “So you were being literal? Why?” “It’s a family practice. With but a drop will the brimstone locks break, I simply need someone to break through the layer’s underneath to reach them.” In hearing the princess explain all of this does Kingsley peer down through the window to see both of his friends still struggling to pierce through the prisons unholy defenses; Cayenne constantly beating against its surface while Damian repeatedly attempts to phase through, both yielding little to no success. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough. We need to do more than that.”

Inside the unholy prison itself, Tore continues to flee from the grasp of the demonic king of hell in a boiling sweat; all while beholding his majesty thrusts his palms down towards the lava beneath them both and commanding the molten liquid to spew up in geysers after the angel. As the blue boy weaves around the spewing strands of red hot goo, he could feel his very skin on the cusp of boiling as the incredible heat from these flung strand beats down upon him. Finding a couple of approaching waves of lava far too large to evade, the indigo angel instead fires out rays of pure pale power against these encroaching hellish waves; effectively dispersing the boiling before it could engulf him. Despite having spurned away his hellish foe’s cascading waves, his efforts proves to be nothing more than a distraction as king of hell plummets downwards from above with a blazing flame in the palm of his hand. The very moment that Tore turns back is one that is far too late, discovering his demonic royalty hovering above and unleashing the hellfire he holds in his hand; engulfing the angel in a plume of his fiery wrath as he’s blasted back.

While holding in the overwhelming desire to scream out, the blue boy careens through the fiery garden air in a smoking mess; threatening to crash right into the side of the hellish red barrier. But in the nick of time does Tore manage to regain his aerial balance and stop himself moments before he could slam straight into the side of the cage; the smoke enveloping his body disappearing to reveal the numerous burns along his skin. Okay. Can’t really call on any sort of power from outside. Every living thing in here that could’ve been a source of power is submerged in a sheet of boiling lava. And the King of hell is still aiming to burn away what skin is still left. If there’s nothing left around here to draw life from… With his demonic foe on the verge of striking him down, the indigo angel takes his focus away on the seething burns left along his body and starts to concentrate on what life he held within; the pain he feels eventually numbing as a colorful power starts to well from within the depths of his soul.

“Enough dawdling here. The time of your punishment is at hand. Say what prayers you have left, for they will not be answers for where you shall be sent!” the king of hell tells the angel before lunging after with hellfire engulfing his entire hand. Right when his hellish majesty was on the verge of striking the boy down with a furious hellfire, his assault thwarted on the spot when the blue boy grasps his wrist moments before he could be struck. Left astonished by the unexpected grab, his hellish majesty glances down to the blue boy as Tore in kind peers upwards; the angel’s eyes flashing a rainbow of colors along his pupils. ...Then I’ll just use what life I got left.

His fist coated in a colorful aura, the indigo angel straight slugs his demonic foe right in the chest; the incredible force of the assault hard enough to send his majesty crashing down into the pool of lava, with the red hot goo splashing onto the sides of the red unholy cage. “Whoa!” Kingsley exclaims. “Holy shit!” Cayenne shouts. “Dad!” Vera screams.

Yet mere moments after taking the descending splashdown straight into the pool of fresh hellish lava, the demonic king surfaces up out from the molten goo in an ascending burst straight after the angel above; globs of the boiling liquid clutched in his hands. Closing in on the indigo angel, his majesty scatters the globs of fiery goo straight out towards the boy above in little pieces. With small bullets of flaming lava coming straight at him, Tore rockets straight down towards the approaching flurry of flung lava; sticking his arms out towards the spread as he begins to twirl through the air in a straightforward aileron roll. The colorful life force held within his hands combined with the swirling velocity, the indigo angel spur away the flung scatter of molten liquid; piercing straight through the storm and towards its very sender.

Upon nearing his demonic majesty does the blue boy cease spinning through the air, focusing all the power he has in a single fist; ready to slug the demonic royalty straight in the face. Alas when Tore was on the cusp of punching his foe right in the shnoze, the king of hell weaves right around his swing with hellfire coating his fist; his majesty countering back with own brand of a fiery strike straight onto the boy’s backside. The burning assault sending him careening across the blistering hot garden air, Tore sticks his legs out towards the side of the cage he threatens to crash right into and manages to land right on his feet; the unholy prison wall letting out a furious pulse of flames that launches the blue boy back out towards the very demon that had conjured it. In but a matter of moment does the indigo angel return out towards the king of hell and swings his leg straight out to his majesty, the glowing blue boy landing an overwhelming kick right to the king’s side hard enough to send his fiery foe careening aside. As the demonic royalty recovers from the swift counterattack, the indigo angel thrusts his palms out towards the demonic royalty and fire out an incredible wave of colorful life out towards his majesty; the incredible ray widening exponentially as it streaks through the blistering hot air. The colorful ray proving too wide to dodge, the king of hell commands the magma beneath him to rise up before the encroaching wave and hardens its molten goo into fiery stone in but a matter of seconds. Though the wall of hardened lava manages to take initial brunt of the colorful ray, it quickly begins to weaken under the constant stream of power and breaks apart in a matter of seconds; the overwhelming blast engulfing the fiery demon in a flash of of bright colors.

Once the light from the incredible wave starts to finally dim, the indigo angel peers down to the pool of lava beneath to discover his fiery foe left floating along the surface; then witnessing his majesty swiftly snap right out from his dazing stupor in a roar of blazing hellfire. Arising out from the molten pool does the king of hell once more face the radiant colorful angel with a burning rage reflected in his bright red eyes; his entire body engulf in a scorching fury as he proclaims that: “That’s it! This has gone on long enough. I thought of making this quick, but you seem to wish for this to drag on. No more! I’m going to fry you alive from where you float!” While listening to the hellish devil’s decree, an encroaching dizziness begins to seep its way into the boy’s head; his vision blurring in and out as he threatens to pass out from exhaustion. Come on, don’t give out just yet. Just a bit more.

Right outside the barrier do both Damian and Cayenne hover above the unholy prison with both Vera and Kingsley riding upon them; the boy genius informing the spice queen that: “We need to break open that cage as fast as we can. Cayenne, take Vera around and break the locks holding it together.” “On it.” Cayenne simply complies with, gliding down to the crown of the hellish cage with the Vera atop her back. “Right. Damian, I need you to take me over to the water pressure controls. They’re right down in there.” the boy genius then orders the ghostly young man he rides on; pointing to a little steel shack set along the corner of the backyard. “Alright, hang on.” the ghost boy complies, delving down towards the very shack his friends pointed out. As they dive down towards the small steel shack, Damian turns both himself and the boy genius on his back totally intangible and phases right on inside; Kingsley hopping right off his back when landing inside and race straight over to a set of pressure valves and control panels within its walls.

While the boy genius starts to get to work on the panel and turning the numerous valves; the ghost boy behind him argues: “Kingsley, are you sure about this? The pipes underneath all that lava are probably sealed shut by now. I doubt any water would get through, even if we break the barrier.” “I know, but that’s not what this is for. When we bust it open, all that lava inside’s probably gonna spill out all over the place. So if we can’t stop it from spilling, I think it’s better if we try and slow it down while keeping it from reach the manor so no one watching all this gets hurt.” “If you didn’t want anyone in the splash zone, why didn’t we break them all up first?” “With what little time we have to work with, I got Renee to try and work on that, maybe clear a way for them to escape.”

“Seriously people. We need you to evacuate the estate before the situation here becomes any worse. Don’t any of you understand how severe this could turn?” Renee tries to reach through the observing crowd with. “You’re kidding, right?” “I sure am not gonna leave now and miss all this.” “I wound up traveling across the world just to see what this new team has up their sleeves and sure as hell ain’t leaving now.” Among their overall noncompliance can the blonde not help but let out a frustrating growl; swiftly calming herself down with a little breath before she could do or say anything crazy. Oh Kingsley I seriously hope you have a plan working for this.

Above the very barrier before them do all of them watch as Cayenne hovers just above its very top; the princess riding atop her eyeing the brimstone chunks along the outside. “So, ya saying that these locks are under a sheet of brimstone right?” “Indeed, but none of you have yet to tell me how you plan to break through their layers.” Vera claims. “The hell’s so fun about telling you? Why don’t ya just see for yourself.” “Wait, what do you mean by tha-” Just before the princess could finish questioning the spice queen’s statement do they both start diving straight down towards one of the brimstone slabs along the unholy barricade; Vera holding on for dear life as Cayenne prepares to strike away at the stone. In just a single swing does the Spice queen manage to bust through the brimstone’s outer shell; swiping away the debris to reveal a hellish insignia with a hole dead on the middle. “Damn, that looks fuckin sick. You need to dunk your finger in there or…?” “No, no. Th-that won’t be necessary. Just give me a moment.” the princess tells her, her body still quaking from the unexpected drop down. Hovering her finger right over hellish insignia,  the princess lets the blood seeping from her finger drip straight into the hole; the entire face alights in a glow of orange and lets out a horrible shriek from under its stone. While covering their ears from the trembling screech, both of them witness the brimstone crumble apart in a burst of hellfire; the unholy prison’s red walls starting to flicker as the lock falls apart. “Hell yeah. One lock down, three more go.”

Gliding within the burning air of the red cage itself does Tore continue to fight off the devils hellish assault, pushing away the demonic king with a pulse of pure colorful life. In being pushed back that the king of hell command the lava beneath in to rise out from the earth and bellow out towards the indigo angel; the intense light from the boiling lava covering the boy as he rushes outwards. With but a wave of his hand, the blue boy casts forth a colorful wave that disperses the fiery hot goo wave and rockets out towards the king himself; his entire body coated in a lively colorful aura as he nears. Seeing the indigo angel incoming, the demon waves his arms upwards to conjure a whirlwind of fiery hot flames from right underneath the blue boy; engulfing the boy in a tornado of blistering heat. Tore blocks his body from the fiery inferno blowing at him from all sides, enduring through the searing flames as his body starts to glow brighter and brighter in a multitude of colors; a light that the king beholds beyond the blaze of his whirlwind. Finally does Tore unleash all he had in an overwhelming shockwave that disperse the flaming whirlwind, the almighty push casting his hellish fiery foe straight down into the pool of molten liquid.

From this overwhelming wave, the colorful aura that irradiates out from the boy’s body starts to fade away to unveil his skin left nearly gray; Tore clutching his heart as he tries to catch his breath. “Ah...Oh god...Can’t keep going anymore...Might just burn myself out.” “You’ll burn either way.” a voice from below claims. Peering down beneath his feet does he see a pillar of lava spew out from the below and flutters back to avoid the seering goo; his escape failing to take him far as an arm pops out from the molten liquid and tightly grasp his neck, the devilish pyro emerging out and finishing with: “I promise such.” Midst his struggle to free himself from the fiery king’s clutches, the blue boy grabs hold of the king’s horns and pushes back with as much strength as he had left to muster; his majesty letting out a seething growl as he begins to take in a deep breath. When seeing his hellish foe taking in a deep breath, he realizes all too well what the king’s next move was and shove his knee straight into the devil’s jaw; the indigo angel keeping the devil’s trap shut as bits of lava escaping from the demon’s nose. The demonic king’s cheeks puff bright orange as he starts to choke on all the excess lava gathering in his mouth; tearing up as he finally lets go of the blue boy and kicks him away, vomiting all the molten goo out from his maw. The demonic royalty takes a brief second to cough out bits of lava as he rubs the part of his chin the angel had kneed; his other hand trembling as he peers over to the blue boy and calls him a: “Cheeky little bastard.”

Just outside the unholy prison do all the numerous dug up pipes littering the garden starts to spew out a torrent of rushing water; all of it starting to soak everywhere from the stone paths, the grass, the foliage, every drop spreading out along every inch of the backyard. Up along the crown of the devilish cage does Vera let a drop of her blood peter out from her finger and fall straight into the brimstone lock; the symbol surrounding the hole letting out an unholy shriek before crumbling to pieces. Witnessing the red power that makes up the bubble flicker more frequently, the spice queen claims that: “Just one more.” Right when they were about to hover out towards the final lock, both of them hear a familiar voice call out from the distance; peering out to find both Kingsley and Damian gliding over as the boy genius orders: “Heya, lets switch!” “On it!” Cayenne complies, taking grasp of the princess atop her back. “Wait, what the hell do you think your-” Without even a single warning does the spice queen straight up toss Vera up out towards the ghostly young man hovering above, all the while Kingsley leaps down as she arises. Almost simultaneously, the boy genuis manages to land right in Cayenne’s arms just as Damian catches the princess amidst her ascent; Vera taking a brief moment to calm herself while riding atop the ghost boy’s back. “Oh...Oh dear…”

Held within the spice queen’s grasp, Kingsley peers down and watches as the open pipes soak his backyard in more and more water; Cayenne asking the boy: “You wanna say what you got in mind or are we just pissing in the wind?” “At this rate, most of the water here won’t be enough to stop all that lava. I think we need to do something else to keep it from reaching the manor, something I think you excel at.” “Whatcha got in mind for me to fuck up?”

After explaining what else the boy genius has in mind, Cayenne hovers out over towards a stone column set over the garden and setting Kingsley down at its very top; the boy genius watching as the spice queen fly out near the manor and delve down towards the ground set between it and the garden. All the numerous guest spectating these events jump back as Cayenne dive bombs down along the ground and scrapes through the dirt with her bare fists. Seeing his spicy partner starting to make out a ditch between his home and backyard, Kingsley peering over to Damian and the princess hover above the cage.

When floating just inches away from the last brimstone lock guarded in a layer of brimstone, Vera wonders to the ghost boy: “I do wonder how you plan to break through the layer to reach the lock.” “Oh please, I’m not a brute. There won’t be any breaking needed.” he claims. Gently grasping the princess’s arm the ghost boy turns her limb completely transparent, Vera letting out a little shriek before Damian tells her to: “Calm down. It’s alright. Just simply dunk your hand right in where the hole is.” “Uh...okay.” Carefully, Vera does what he instructs and is astonished to see her arm phase straight through the brimstone like nothing was there. The blood from the demon princess’s finger dribbles down from the tip straight down through the brimstone; soaking through until dripping into the lock hole underneath. Like before does the hard rock begin to scream out before it falls apart, the entire red bubble holding both her father and the boy he fights trembling at the seems. “What is going on?” the ghost boy questions. “I suggest we flee before it burst open.”

Upon the princess’s warning does Damian take her away from the red cage as it starts to quake far more violently; suddenly collapsing in a powerful burst that breaks the glass of the manor and knocks the people inside on their asses. With the walls of the unholy cage broken does the lava that was kept inside start to spill out further through the garden; the guests of the manor running like hell as a big wave of the molten goo flows out towards them. When arising right out from the ditch that she had just dug out, Cayenne sees some of the lava melting the stone column her pal stands atop off; the base of the pillar melting away as it threatens to tumble down into the scorching lava. Immediately does the spice queen spring into action and dart straight towards her falling comrade, snatching Kingsley right out from the air moments before he could take the fiery plunge. While hovering above, Kingsley watches as the lava that spills starts to collide with the water streaming through the backyard; only slowing the molten liquid down as he head straight for the manor. “Come on. Come on.” the boy genius utters. With sweat running down their foreheads, Kingsley and Cayenne watch as the lava starts to fill up the freshly dug out ditch set before the manor; growing more tense as the lava starts to reach the top. But with how deep Cayenne had dug and the running water starting to slow it down, all the lava that spills out manages to just rim the very top of the ditch, both of them letting out a huge sigh knowing their home and all the people within were safe and sound. “Holy shit...So, now how are we gonna take care of that shit show.” the spice queen wonders, pointing out towards the continuing brawl.

Despite the red cage that had encased them both having vanished, the demonic king continues his onslaught against the indigo angel; slugging the boy with fiery swing after another and scorching him further with every strike. Though Tore attempts to counter the king’s flames, he proves far too exhausted and spent to reliably get any hits of his own in; failing to even raise a single hand up as all that be left for him is to endure his majesty’s blazing wrath. Placing his palm right underneath the blue boy’s head, the king unleashes a burst of searing flames right from above; a fiery blast that sends the angel plummeting down towards the earth. Crashing down into the charred soil below, Tore still feels the scorching heat beat against his back; despite there not even being a single glob of molten liquid left. When attempting to pull himself off the blistering hot earth, the blue boy only able to pull up onto his ass moments before his demonic foe lands before him; Tore left frozen in place as the king of hell looks down upon him with a fiery glare. Not even a word is spoken between them as his majesty raises his hand to the sky and engulfs his arm in a thick burning layer of hellfire; the light it emits rivaling that of the sun. Whelp, really facing the heat now, and with a nearly empty tank of gas too. Body here’s practically more burns than skin. And lookin like the final stop here is a one way road straight into the fiery depths of oblivion. If this is the way this road trip ends, better just use what fuel I got left. These determined thoughts ringing through his head, Tore faces the demonic king head on as the colorful aura that had once coated him returns in full force; its rainbow glow matching that of the very fires that he faces.

Seeing the two on the verge of clashing at any moment: Vera peers down to her ghostly ride and demands that: “No! Damian, let go of me!” “From this high up!? But-” “There’s no time! Just do it!” On Vera’s request does the ghost boy complies and releases the demon princess from his grasp, letting her plummet down towards both her father and the angel; the princess gazing down to witness both her father and the angel lunging out towards one another. Right as the two were about to lunge upon each other in a clash of lively flames does Vera drop between them both; urging the two to suddenly stop dead in their tracks, their blinding light dimming as they behold the princess standing between them.

Even as her legs quake from the drop that she had just endured, the demonic princess stands before the fury of her burning father and demand out from him that: “Daddy, you need to stop, right now!” “Vera?...Why!? After this miscreant broke into our home, scared your mother and brother, stole the family treasure, and beat me unconscious! Why after all of that do you wish for his life to be sparred!?” “Because he had saved mine!” the princess answers, his daughter’s responds quelling some of the king’s burning fury.

In my hurry through the castle hall’s, parts of the roofs had collapsed onto me and buried me underneath their dark red stone; it honestly felt as if my chest had been smashed open and that death was knocking on my door. That is until I started to feel a warm glow run throughout my body and return me to reality once more. The unbearable pain that I had suffered from had vanished in a matter of seconds as I began to return; awaking from my stupor to find my dress torn open in places where I had felt this agony. Rising up from the behind the rubble, all I could see retreating from me was a figure donning a blue mane and wings of pale white gliding deeper into the castle. Since then, I couldn’t help but wonder if those events had actually transpired or if they were simply a hallucination brought on by a concussion. But seeing this boy with my own eyes proved to me that it was no mere illusion; if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here before him tonight.”

His daughter having told this side of the story to her, the demonic king takes a calming breath as the flames enveloping his body disperse; quelling the murderous rage he had gardened towards the blue boy. Yet does a thin layer of doubt remain as his majesty marches right past his loving daughter and over to the boy behind her; Vera staring in concern to her father as he walks beside her while uttering: “Daddy?” Standing tall just inches away from the kneeling angel, Tore takes up a stance as the king stares down upon him with a fiery orange glare; the only words that he says as a demand to the boy to: “Start explain. Now.”

About a half an hour passes as the lava that dwells within the ditch starts to cool from the water flowing from the pipes; whatever fires and flames that lingered having been dowsed out. Sitting patiently beside him does the fiery royalty listen to the indigo angel he was but moments away from roasting in burning hellfire as Tore goes on to finish with: “Once I realized who the Kybr truly were and what they were like; I wound up having to fight Mall in hopes of stopping him. If it weren’t for my sibs and their friends helping me to stop Mall and destroying the warp gate’s core, the Kybr would’ve wound up flooding the universe.” “Is that all?” the devil beside the angel questions. “Yep…” the blue boy simply responds back to with hints of disappointment. Hearing the last of what the blue boy has to say for himself, the king of hell lets out a small sigh as he rises back on his feet and stroll out towards his daughter; telling her to: “Come on, Vera. We’re heading back home.” “Um, okay. Thanks again for all your help, Vanguard League.” the princess thanks with as she follows her father out towards the backdoor. The misses of the estate coming out from the sliding glass door, she winds up running into the exiting royalty; who apologizes to her with: “I apologize for the mess I had caused tonight. I promise to pay off the damages.”

Despite the night having just been saved, Kingsley can’t help but peer over to the blue boy; watching the angel as he slouches over with his hands over his face. Before he could go over to try and comfort the blue boy, he suddenly feels somebody giving him a big pat on his back and glances over to find Cayenne congratulating him with: “Damn, Kingsley. You’d did a fine ass job keeping yer cool under all that heat.” “Uh, thanks. Pretty surprised myself on how cleanly I handled it all. I thought for sure I was gonna crack among the action.” “Well, I can safely assure that you handled it all with such incredible grace and fortitude; even I was shaking through most of it all.” the ghost boy hovers over and praises. Racing right over to his side does Renee give the boy genius a great big hug, embracing her boy tight as she claims how: “I told you that all those worries you had were just in your head. Even when things turn out their worst, you become your very best and bring out everyone’s A game.” “You guys think so? Maybe being this whole leader thing won’t be as bad as I was inflating it to be.” Kingsley corrects. “I wish I could say the same about our garden.” he then hears his mother lament.

Peering aside, the boy finds her mother grieving over the site of her now destroyed backyard; what remained of the numerous colorful flowers and bushes that made up its natural beauty now left charred and burned beyond any sort of recognition. “It might not be that bad, Mrs. Spicer. We could just rebuild and replant everything again.” Renee attempts to cheer her up with. “I’m not sure that’ll be possible. The soil itself is far too charred and burned for anything planted here to grow. I’m not sure if it’ll ever recover.” Damian points out, a statement which only furthers the mother’s sorrow.

Rising out from his self pity does the indigo angel behold the consequences of what his fight with the demon king had entailed; the smoke wafting from the burnt foliage covering the night sky. “God...all this is just my fault. None of this wouldn’t have happened if I was here. If I didn’t go with all and wind up nearly dooming everyone.” “Oh Tore...yeah it pretty much is.” “Cayenne!” Kingsley snaps. “What? It’s cause if him that the king of hell through a big shit fit in the first place.” “But he was just trying to help us with the party; how were we supposed to-” “No...Cayenne’s right. I gotta try and make up for all this. All the trouble I just wound up bringing here.” the blue boy states. “Just how do you plan to start? This garden’s practically lifeless the way it is.” the ghost boy tells him. “...I might know how.”

Among saying such does the angel start to stroll out towards the very center of the destroyed garden, taking in a deep breath of the smoke arising from the earth. Once standing right in the midst of the ruined garden, the indigo angel exhales the breath from his lunges and closes his eyes while clasping his hands in a prayer; once again focusing all the plants, animals, and people that reside outside the garden wall. All throughout the city are little bits of colorful light drawn out from within every single thing alive within Townsville; be it from the biggest of elephants held within the zoo to the smallest of insects that crawl along the underbelly of the town. The countless bits of life all flutter through the city skyline and gather out towards the upper district; every single piece taken straight out to the backyard where they all drawn within the blue boy’s body. Kingsley, Cayenne, Damian, Renee, and the Misses stare upon the indigo angel as his entire body and the wings on his back is enveloped in a rainbow of aura that alights the entire backyard in a colorful glow. Holding all the lively power he had gathered throughout Townsville, Tore thrusts his arms straight down into the charred earth beneath his feet and sends it all surging through the soil; the once burned and scorched ground now glowing alight in a multitude of lively colors that shine across the neighborhood.

Soon enough does this brilliant light start to fade, letting all that dwell within the once ruined backyard all behold the overflowing flora that spreads out before them; numerous flowers, plants and tree’s of dozens of families and species now standing before them all in an incredible burst of nature and vegetation. “What?” Cayenne utters. “Wow.” Renee softly awes. “Amazing.” Damian gawks. “Our garden. It’s practically overwhelming. Everything’s flourishing greater than ever.” the misses of the estate gushes. Peering over is everyone’s attention drawn to the blue boy who had made it all possible, resting soundly against the base of a thick oak whose height rivals the manor before it. “Can’t believe he did all this in mere seconds.” the blonde girl surmises. “He brought not just the plants, but the soil itself back from the clutches of death.” the ghost boy marvels. “If he can do all this. Just what the hell are we supposed to do about this blue bastard.” Cayenne questions. Kingsley stares out to the indigo angel left soundly sleeping underneath the massive thick oak; letting his burns rest as the nightly wind brushes the leaves down from their branches and flutters onto the slumbering blue boy. “I don’t know Cayenne. I really don’t know.”

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

Thank you all for sticking around here for this long. And I wanted to start off this season by finally firing a Chekov's gun that I set up a while ago. Also wanted to do something with Kingsley processing the thoughts of being a leader to a budding organization with big plans since it wasn't really touched upon. Also add in some little details that weave into the mainline story here.

I'd say I'm at a near competent in terms of writing skills, but there's always more out there I could learn from and improve. I hope all of you stick around to see that process take place. Thank you.

[qvicksilversass]

You Can Be So Cruel - Part 8

(Pietro Maximoff x Plussize!Reader) (M)

You used to think no one could hate you as much as you hated yourself, until you meet the speedster with a seeming desire to break you.

Words: 3202 Warnings: Anxiety, body issues, bullying, language, angst

false apologies

The city’s quiet and you welcome the stillness, the cool air easing the crawling sensation over your skin. The row of benches only lit by dim street lights stretching out as far as you could see. The delicate rustling of leaves the only sound. You inhale, trying to get a grip on your emotions, clear your mind. Part of you knows how dangerous being out here alone was.

You knew, but you couldn’t stand being in your room anymore. You had to get away. You’d ripped up your dress, scrubbed at your skin till it's red and sore. Still, you can't get rid of his smell, the remnants of his touch on your skin.

For the first time in so long, you felt beautiful, desired. Pietro had made you feel that, his words, his actions they all seemed so genuine. The whole night played over and over in your mind, you kept trying to find something you missed. Some clue that you should have seen.

Why couldn't you ever learn? You're someone people use, never enough for people to value,  only something to pass the time.

You contemplate walking back to the tower when your phone vibrates in your pocket with another message. You wanted to ignore everything, forget everything. So you watch the stars, shining through the trees and over the imposing buildings of New York. You watch until the sky turns a lighter blue, then pink and golden as the sun rises. Even as the park starts to come to life filling with families and tourists, you can’t bring yourself to leave.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?! Do you know how worried they are about you?”

Surrounded by wisps of blue, Pietro towers over you. You daren’t look up, afraid of what you’d say, what you’d see in his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t admit that might care enough to worry about you. Pietro sighs and sits next to you on the bench.

“Have you been here all night?” he places his hand over yours, stopping you from picking at the hem of your hoodie and tentatively interlocks his fingers with yours, “I’m sorry.”

All that anger and hurt you’d been pushing down all night seeps over your chest, I’m sorry? That’s it? 

“I trusted you, even after everything you did... I believed you Pietro...” you hear the crack in your voice, daring to glance up at him, “do you know what it's like to hate everything about yourself? To never be beautiful, wanted? To give anything to feel normal?” 

“Just once I thought I could, with you.” You drag your hand from under his, desperate for a glimpse of understanding, that he’d be honest this time, but he can't even look at you.

“Those things I said-"

“Which things?” You chuckle, wiping your eyes, “what am I saying? I already know.” 

Pietro held your face and in spite of yourself you lean into his palm, “I didn't want to hurt you. This with you, its, I don't know how to-” 

Yet he did, again. You don’t want to hear excuses, didn't want him to have to lie to you again, “you know what? It's fine, Pietro. You sleep with everything that moves. I knew that. How many girls have been in that bed since I got here?" 

You get up to leave, hardly taking a step before he pulls you back to face him, "That's because of you!" 

"What?"  

"I shouldn't like you, but I can't stop thinking about you!"

"You shouldn't like me?"  

I shouldn’t like you. You’re not my type. I don’t know why I like you. This is wrong. You’re wrong.

"So what was last night? Some experiment to get me out of your system? Do you realise how fucked up that is?"  

Pietro shakes his head, gripping your arms, "No, fuck, y/n, that's not what it was like, I-"

"Do you promise?" You snarled, shoving him back away from you and turning to run, run away from his words cruelly echoing in your mind. 

---

Fuck. You had to get out of here. You couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face seeing him everywhere. As soon as you got back to the tower, you head straight to your room, taking your suitcase out of the wardrobe.

“Y/n?” The door creaks open and you ignore it, grabbing anything you can think of. You must look crazy, but you can’t stop. The thought of getting away from him the only thing keeping you from breaking.

“Where are you going?” Wanda asks, Steve stood behind her. 

“What did he do this time?” Steve frowns and your eyes flit to Wanda before you go back to packing, stuffing more clothes in your case.

Like you don’t know. Like you aren’t both dying to say I told you so.

You want to scream, what’s wrong with you? Wanda wouldn't tell Steve, only if you wanted her to, “I need to go for a few days, that’s all.”

They share a look, Steve cautiously putting his hand on your shoulder, “No. You're gonna stay here with me and Wanda. It’s date night you promised we'd watch-”

“Steve…”

Not now. You wanted to run, not pretend you were okay. That your heart wasn't wrecked and your skin crawling with shame. Wanting to do anything to stop it to not feel it anymore.

“I’ll get us some drinks.” Wanda smiles the gesture not meeting her eyes and you feel guilt crawl in your belly. You want to appreciate their concern, yet it makes you angry. Why are they bothering with you? They should let you go. You dig your nails into the skin of your arm as Steve moves things around, clearing the bed and stacking pillows.

“Steve stop, you don't have to keep doing this, I’m not your responsibility you don't have to keep-”

“It’s not because I have to, I want to.”

How can he? To see you so weak all the time? To have to take this every time you fall apart, it wasn’t fair on them. Your phone beeps and Wanda’s red mist snatches it before you can, shutting it in your drawer.

“He can wait.”

Steve waves the remote around pressing random buttons, “Now, we gonna cuddle and watch this movie or do I have to find it myself?”

Wanda rolls her eyes and grabs it off him, “No!”

You watch them arguing, scrolling through the menus and don’t realise you’re smiling until Steve beams at you. He pulls you down to the bed and sits you between them. Intro music plays on the screen and Wanda hands you both drinks and popcorn, leaning into you and pressing you closer to Steve.

“How ‘bout I kick his ass?” 

“I’ll invite him to power training,” Wanda remarks, "if he saw what you could do he’d think twice.”

“I could fuck up his hair? Think he needs both arms to run?” 

Wanda laughs, putting down her drink and resting her head on your middle, pulling the blanket up to her neck. She never made it through a full film.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

“That would never happen.” Wanda yawns and you stroke her hair, hearing her soft snores not long after. Steve smirks down at her before yawning himself.

God, you wished being around Pietro was this easy, this natural. Not to have all the tension, the doubt, all the fear. If Wanda and Steve hadn’t come to your room tonight, you’d have left, given up on everything.

“Take what you need okay?”

You glance up at him not quite sure what he meant. Was this pity or concern, did he really care for you? Whatever it was, you start to relax in spite of yourself. That anxiety in your heart calms and you let your head rest on his shoulder.  

Steve wraps his arm around your waist drawing you against him and giving your waist a quick squeeze to let you know it’s okay, you’re not hurting him. He makes you feel safe, they both do, and you’d never be worthy of it.  Steve yawns again and you feel his breathing slow as he falls asleep too, your eyes hardly staying open as you attempt to watch the film.

You wake surrounded by warmth, a heartbeat steadily thumping in your ear, soft fabric against your skin. Wanda's gone the blanket tucked over you both, your arm draped over his waist. 

You peep up at him and smile, his hair’s all messy and stuck up where his head’s been on your pillows, his face tilted down towards you. He must have been so uncomfortable. That bit of stubble he had when you first got here now a beard and you have the urge to run your fingers over his jaw, find out if it’s as soft as it looks.

What was he doing here? Wasting his time on you? He's so beautiful, so kind. You find yourself wishing you were good enough for a man like him. Good enough to be treated how you know he would. He begins to stir and you move your arm away sitting up. 

“Morning,” he smiles sleepily, moving hair out of your face, "how'd you sleep?"

“Really well actually, you make a great pillow.” 

“I better go get changed, Monday meeting..." he yawns, stretching his back, “how ‘bout you?”

The thought of facing Pietro fills you with dread and Steve notices, wrapping you up in a hug and it instantly calms you.

"Whenever you feel like this, you come see me or Wanda. No running away. Not when your this close." 

"Okay?" 

“Okay.”  

---

The next week feels like hell, you’re constantly angry and it starts to consume you. You can't get Pietro and that night out of your head. You're always aroused when you're near him, always frustrated. Always ashamed. You close yourself off and focus on training, staying in the gym till late at night, hardly sleeping. Every effort he made to apologise you shut down, you didn't want to hear it. Nothing that came out of his mouth meant anything anymore. 

By Sunday you’re exhausted and not in the mood for breakfast with everyone, only attending for Wanda. You help her cook and make drinks while they chat about their week. 

"Hi there."

Everyone looks up at the unusual voice, watching the girl stride through the room in nothing but a shirt. Her beautiful long blond hair falls in messy waves down her back and it's obvious what she's spent the night doing.

Wanda and the others glance between each other confused, while your chest tightened and your stomach turned.

That shirt. It was the same one Pietro wore to the party.

The girl giggled and went to look in the fridge for god knows what, bending over and revealing pretty much everything.

Steve covered his eyes and Sam whistled, "damn, leave something to the imagination."

She turned to face him, red-faced and giggling. Not at all bothered she'd flashed the whole room. Was this her attempt at flirting? Bucky muttered 'tramp' under his breath and turned back to his breakfast. You gritted your teeth, looking back to your plate.

Steve tried to collect himself, "Sorry miss, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Eva," she smiled leaning over the counter, her breasts popping out of the shirt. Though at least her ass was facing the other way this time.

"Are you really Captain America?" Eva purred and walked around Steve, feeling his arm muscles. The look of fear on his face was priceless, "Damn, you are as built as you look on TV."

"Eva is it? What are you doing here?" Wanda asked and Steve breathes out in relief.

"Well, I met this guy in a bar last night, tells me he's an Avenger. I didn't believe him until he brought me here, and wow, look at you guys."

She tried to move onto Bucky though he was having none of it. Standing up and throwing his dishes in the sink, "get dressed and go home lady."

"I told you to wait in my room." The voice is loud and angry, accompanied by the unmistakable streak of blue as Pietro grabbed Eva by the arm.

"Sorry babe I was hungry, you gave me quite the appetite."

Eva winked at you and you felt the bile rise in your throat. You tried to sink back into your chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

"Y/n, this isn't, she's just..." Pietro whispered when he saw you, a little bit of guilt mixing in with the anger and embarrassment. Unable to take your eyes off his there’s a quiet tension. Everyone wondering why he was explaining himself to you. They all knew about his sleeping around. All joked about it.

"Wait, that's y/n?" Eva laughed pointing at you, an entirely different attitude to you than before. You bit your lip, fighting back an insult. Pietro started dragging her off.

"Let’s go Ella..." 

"It's Eva," she scowled, yanking her arm out of his grip and walking beside him, "you don't remember my name, yet you go on all night about that? Are you kidding me?"

"That's enough. It's time you went home Eva." Pietro’s hardly containing his anger as they carry on walking, almost shoving her out the door.

"Don't worry Peter, I'm leaving. Last night was nothing special. Seems your quick at everything," all your mouths dropped open then, "you're not even a proper Avenger, I only wanted to meet them."

"That was low man." Sam chuckled.

Wow, she was a bitch. Yet that bitter part of you is enjoying his embarrassment. Serves him right.

"That's what happens when you can't keep it in your pants." Steve growled and stormed off. Oh god, had he figured it out? You let out a frustrated breath, your head dropping into your hands. 

“Am I missing something?” Sam’s staring at where Steve was just standing, then back to you. 

“Just my brother being an ass.” Wanda fumes and you help her gather up plates and throwing them in the sink.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Bucky smiles, ushering out a confused Sam, “same time next week?”

Wanda’s attention turns to you as soon as they’re gone, “Are you okay?”

“Nope.” 

"He’s infuriating. I know he cares about you, he's confused-"

"This isn’t confused...I don't know what this is Wanda-”

Eva storms back through the common room heading for the elevators. You hold your breath as she turns to glare at you, pointing in your face.

"Good luck with that man-whore piggy, he's fucked up!" 

"What did you say?!" Wanda yells and you have to hold her back, your hand on hers to stop her using her powers.  

"She's not worth it." You're hardly containing your own anger. This is the kind of girl Pietro wants? Did her pretty face really make up for how hateful and arrogant she is?  Eva smirks looking down her nose at you as the elevator doors close.  

Why didn't you leave when Steve offered? Why did you get so drunk? Why were you so weak so eager for the attention he gave you? Why the fuck did you want to defend him, punch that bitch's lights out? God, you’re both fucked up.

“Neica, I want to talk to you!” Wands yells, hitting his arm, but Pietro doesn’t take his eyes from you. Striding past Wanda and picking you up before you can react. He drops you down and slams the door to his room, standing back against it. stopping you from leaving. 

You can’t be here. His bedsheets are still all crumpled and messed up, did he even shower? How can he bring you here? You hit him in the chest, pushing him, anything to get past him, get out. Still, he doesn’t flinch no matter how hard you hit him.

He grabs your wrists trapping you between him and the door,  "Please, will you fucking listen to me?!"

"And What? You’ll explain?” you struggle against him, him pressing his body into yours only making you angrier, “I'm just like Eva...just another night to you!"

“You’re nothing like her! I want you y/n." 

"Yeah, when you're horny, when you feel like it, in-between making me feel like shit!" 

He lets you go, pacing the room, his shoulders heaving and runs his hands through his hair, "You don't care, you wouldn't talk to me!"  

“So you find the nearest girl and fuck her instead?!”  You scream back at him,  your hand on the door handle ready to leave. Why can’t you bring yourself to? Why can’t you ignore the pain in his eyes when he steps closer, his hands drifting from your neck to hold your face. 

"Let me make it better, let me keep my promise.”

That fucking promise. It meant nothing the moment the words left his mouth, only you were too stupid to see it. You can't let yourself trust him like that again.

"That night was a mistake, I was drunk." 

“So it meant nothing?” he asks searching your eyes, “this means nothing?” 

"I'm sorry the ugliest, fattest girl you've ever been with doesn't want you. I need to concentrate on training, not you." 

Your voice falters, the way he’s watching you, so intense his eyes on your lips. He’s not listening. You try and push him away, he only holds you closer, tilting your face to kiss you again.

In an ideal world, his kiss would show you how much he cared, how much he wanted to make it up to you. But this wasn’t that. You can still smell Eva’s perfume. Imagine his hands caressing her soft flawless skin, so much softer than yours. Did he give her false promises? Praise that meant nothing?

Pietro tries to deepen the kiss and something inside you snaps. You want to hurt him, make him stop. You bite down on his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. He jumps back wiping the blood from his lip with his thumb and you dismiss the sadness in his eyes for shock.

“You’re disgusting.” You grit out, never meaning the words more and shove past him, slamming the door. 

“I know.”

---

Part 9

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Main Masterlist

[jay-and-dean]

Love me once, shame on me  Chapter 1 : Watermark.

Serie Summary :

2005. Dean and her are in love. He’s the first. Fist kiss, first friend, first love. And she’s everything he didn’t know he needed. Secrets are shared, promises are made… And broken. 2019. He doesn’t even remember she exists, like nothing was real, like he never told her she was the one. She spent her all life trying to deal with his betrayal. But this time she’s about to unravel the mystery of why Dean Winchester broke her heart.

Love me Once, Shame on me MASTERLIST

READ OTHER STORIES HERE => MASTERLIST

Serie Warnings : Violence, mention of attempt suicide, swearing,Smut, unprotected sex (you are smarter than this), Fluff.

Chapter Warnings :  Violence, mention of attempt suicide, swearing.

Words : 2.3k

gifs not mine, found on google

Watermark

           I look at my arm, gently rubbing the long scar on my skin, and on the other arm. I still can't feel anything with my middle finger on the left hand, I lost all sensitivity on it when I opened my veins many years ago, damaging a nerve with the sharp knife I used.

           When the waiter comes near me, I hide the scars with my very long sleeves as usual and asks for a black coffee with a chocolate muffin. I love chocolate, always have.

           Looking out the window I watch the rain fall on it, forming stripes like infinite tears blurring the world. I warmly smiles when the waiter gives me what I ordered and open the book I brought.

Supernatural "Skin"  by Carver Edlund

           The book is used but I don't really take care of it, bending it in every ways, sometimes reading in the rain, barely sheltering it... Whatever ; I read all the volumes so many times, it could crumble now, it would still be a fair natural death for it.

           Dean Winchester is alive.

           I have to stop thinking about it, and yet, an entire year after hearing this, I still can't deal with this information. He was dead. Again. He was dead and I thought about trying to kill myself again for days... I got out of this life to avoid hearing his name, I travelled the world to run from diners like this one, just to forget about bacon cheese burgers. And years after, I heard it, just like that : Dean Winchester came to Asa Fox funerals.

           My broken heart started beating again... and bleeding to. Nightmares stopped but I couldn't sleep. I had to see him. I had to understand.

           So there I am, in that crappy diner where the chocolate muffin isn't even made of real chocolate, reading to relax, watching the door. If I'm right, he'll come through that door with his brother and his FBI suit to ask questions, not knowing I already solved the case.

           I am about to see his face again, smell him again, hear his voice. I'm about to know if he really forgot about me or if he just doesn't care anymore...

           Fourteen years later.

 *************************

2005

 "Agent Cobain" I say showing her my fake badge.

She half smiles, taking it in her hands and looking deeply in my eyes. The bell rings and the hallway is suddenly crawling with loud, horny teenagers.

"I don't think so Agent" she says with a mocking smirk.

"E-excuse me ?" I stammer.

"FBI badges have a light watermark there, and you're too young to be in charge of a murder case by yourself anyway... Agent Cobain, have you seen your car ?" she smiles.

"What the... listen..."

"Plus, I don't think many FBI agents call their daddy to check in. I heard you earlier..."

Her smile gives me the urge to hit her face and to take her in my arms in the same time. Who is this girl ?

"Oh I see, I'm dealing with the little genius of high school" I grunt through my teeth.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. Her smile fades away and she looks behind her before saying lower :

"If you want to unravel this school's secrets, I suggest you ask teachers, not students... Good luck with that."

 ************************

           The fourth time the door opens, Dean Winchester comes in.

           An older, even more charismatic, stronger, manlier version of the Dean Winchester that once took my virginity.

           My heart is missing beats after beats. I prepared for that, and still, this is almost unbearable. I have to carry my broken heart on my opened wrist, and he doesn't even remember I existed for him.

           I hate him as much as I love him, but some say it's the same thing right ? Every possible emotion is strangling me, it physically hurts. But I'm far too broken to cry, I have no tears anymore, every single one have been shed a long time ago.

           He comes toward me directly, because I'm the only customer apart from the two men eating waffles at the counter and laughing loudly. In an instant, the book is hidden in my big messy bag. I can't stop looking at him, I can't stop remembering.

"Agent Smith" he says with a voice way lower than it was. "Can I ask you a couple of questions ?"

I can't help but smile, looking at the fake badge.

"Do you know how we can tell a badge is authentic ? " I ask with a sad smile.

He looks at me, frowning. I take a sip of my coffee to swallow a piece of my heart stuck in my throat.

"This watermark, just here..." I rub the badge with the tip of my finger, eyes on the picture of him." Is almost impossible to fake."

He stares at me suspiciously for a moment. He is all the same, and yet everything changed. His eyes are darker, his face is still perfectly handsome but he's been through hell, and it shows. It seems like his hair are darker too, and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes are not just expression lines anymore. Were his shoulders always this broad ? His jaw so strong ? He is a man, and not any man.

"You're not an FBI agent, you're a hunter" I add, taking another sip of coffee.

Dean's eyebrows raise in surprise, and he sits in front of me. That's when I can smell him. I swallows hard, hiding behind my now empty cup.

"Are you a hunter ?" he asks low, looking behind him like someone could understand our conversation.

"Yeah, sometimes."

"How can you be a hunter sometimes ?" he asks with a soft smile, putting his badge back in his pocket.

"Long story... So you're a hunter" I say looking at the Impala through the window.

He still have this car, the guy died like twice at least, but he always drive he's father's car fourteen years later... How I loved that car, how I waited for it to park in front of high school, how I stopped the music and opened the window to hear it come, lazily laying on my bed, how I loved feeling the leather on my sweaty skin, when he was making love to me on the backseat...

"And judging by your nice taste in cars, you must be Dean Winchester" I state trying not to stare at him.

"How do you know ?" he asks with an amused look.

"No long hair, not Sam" I lie.

"Oh you know my brother too ?"

"You are kind of famous, you know. Coffee ?"

 ****************************

2005

"So this is where you live ?" I ask trying not to sound judgmental.

The small trailer is parked in the middle of nowhere, a folding chair and a small table in front of it.

"Yep" she says with that singing voice of her, opening the door. "Must be very different from your house."

"Not that much" I mutter, thinking about the crappy motel I'm staying at. At least this place seems clean and quiet.

She disappears inside and comes back holding two fresh beers. The late sun is making her frown while she sits on the step before her door, handing me one of the beers.

"Are you even allowed to drink ?" I ask, already knowing she's not the kind of girl to follow the rules, she's way too smart for that.

"Do you really care ? You're nor even a real cop !"

When the night falls, we're still talking. She told me about that missing teacher and what she found about him, all by herself. She doesn't even know about the supernatural but she still closer to solve the case than local police. This girl is really smart...

"What I don't understand is how could mister Johnson avenge himself being dead" she says handing me another beer. "Or maybe he had it all planned... Still, it doesn't make sense."

For me it makes perfect sense, and she just almost solved the case.

"So where are your parents ?" I dare, looking around.

"Hum... I'm alone, I'm an emancipated minor. But hey, not for long, I'll be eighteen in two months. Freedom !"

My heart sank at the idea of her being alone. I don't see the trailer the way I saw it minutes ago. It seems sad, isolated.

"I'm sorry" I say looking down.

"Don't be. I fought for that. Anything but foster home or orphanage, for me it was hell..."

"I mean, for your parents..."

"Hum. Yeah" she shrugs.

She look at me in the eye and smile widely. She stands and go inside, then brings other beers, handing it to me. That's when I notice her cheek are a little pink, like she was just a little drunk or awkward.

"I told you everything, you interrogated me four times in a week, and you're nor even a real cop. I think it's my turn to ask questions !" she says, giving a light kick on the chair I'm sitting on.

How can I tell her I just wanted to see her a little more ? I really feel like we could be friends, she remind me of Sam so much, and I miss him like hell. I'm just so lonely.

"Who are you Dean ? Are you some kind of secret hero ? Like Batman ? Or are you a serial killer trying to seduce me ? How can somebody using fake credit cart to pay a simple donut can have a car that beautiful ?"

"Wow wow !" I raise my hands. "Fake credit carts now ?"

"I've been in the street, Dean"

How can she see so clearly through me and not be afraid ? I mean, anybody would be suspicious. I sigh and look at the Impala parked beside her old wreck, all shiny and proud.

"Maybe you're the serial killer" I say with the more charming smile I have in me. "Maybe you'll kill me and take my car."

She laughs and stands, taking her oversized hoodie off, leaving her in a black Nirvana tank top. I wasn't expecting that, a babe body underneath the "fuck you" look.

"Agent Cobain would never have worked on you" I say forcing myself to look away from her chest.

"Never !" she laughs. "It's dark."

She disappears inside again and I wonder why I am still here, but I guess I just don't want to go back to the motel and watch crappy TV ; what's wrong with making friends ?

           Suddenly, a myriad of colored light bulb come to life everywhere near us, like little shy stars. And I can't help but smile like a child at the beauty of it. When she comes back, she hands me pizza with that already familiar smile and only then I realize I'm just a little drunk, and I want this evening to last all my life.

 ******************************

             Dean takes the monster's head off with a sharp swing of his machete but the thing keeps on moving and another grabs him from behind, trying to bite him. I shoot three times in his head, making Dean close his eyes tightly like I would miss him and shoot him instead... It won't happen, I learn with the best.

           This of course doesn't kill it but the impact free Dean.

"How do we kill those fuckers !" he groans seeing too other zombie-ish monsters coming toward us.

Sun. Only sun can burn those creatures, I know it as I already discovered what they are. But I can't just tell Dean, and night is still young. The only way would be to cut their legs to keep them immobile, drag them outside and wait for morning.

           When one of them takes my head and smash it on the wall, Dean screams my name but I fall on my knee, dizzy and unfocused for a moment. He can't come to me, already fighting two of them, he calls my name but I don't answer. I've seen much worse and I'm a lonely hunter, I can handle myself, he'll learn to trust me. When the creature bends on me to lift me, thinking I'm stunned, I shoot his face at point blank range. He stumbles back and I start shooting his knees, I shoot it so many times his legs almost detach from his body. And I have no bullets anymore.

"At least it can't move anymore !" I laugh, knowing I must look like a psycho.

Then I come to Dean, still struggling with the overly strong creatures and take the machete he's dropped to cut his attackers in half one by one.

"Fuck, you're daunting !" Dean says scattering the other zombies until we're surrounded by moving pieces of monsters.

"What do we do now ?" I say already knowing the answer.

"Let me call my brother, let me call Sam."

Sammy... I only seen him once, on one of the best days of my life. I remember talking to him on that cafeteria, dazzled by the southern sun through the window, his eyes wandering on the purple hickey his brother made on my throat, far from knowing Dean did it, and that his brother was waiting for me outside. I was so thrilled to meet him after my lover talked so much about him, after he trusted me enough to let me convince him to drive us all the way to Stanford, to check on his baby brother.

           Maybe Sam will remember me. Maybe he won't. Maybe he will have forgotten me just because he only spent an afternoon and an evening with me. Maybe he will have forgotten me the way Dean have... Like I never existed.

Feedback is soooo appreciated ;)

[minalous]

BTS reacting to you sexting them - vocal line

bts reacting ♥ to you sexting them ✿ rap line ✿ vocal line

Jin: It was always something about his face and his smile, an invisible veil of purity that had you mistake him for an angel. Jin was one the most handsome, or even the most handsome, men you have ever seen. 

No one would ever get suspicious over the little touches he left on your bare skin, when your shoulders were exposed he would touch you over and over again with the tips of his fingers, making you hold back small purrs.

It wasn’t some kind of revenge what you decided to do on your anniversary,  because eventually you had to to do something to repay him for all the great pleasure he offered you those nights he secretly sneaked out of the dorm.

“Seokjinie..”

“Yes love?”

“Where are you?”

“I am having lunch with the boys”

You knew that he would get angry if you started texting me him all of your dirty thoughts but you couldn’t hold back for much longer. He wouldn’t get angry with you but with himself; not being able to restrain himself when it came to you was one of his weaknesses. 

“Your hoodies smell so good Seokjinie..”

“Are you in my room?”

“In your closet.. naked.. wearing one of your pink hoodies”

“Love, how did you even get in there?”

Jin was trying hard not to picture you into his big closet, contemplating whether he should come up to his room or not. You texted him a photo of you only in his hoodie and before sending it you added a small note. 

When he saw the note, a small grunt made its way into his throat but he suppressed it to not arise suspicion.

“I need you, jagiya. Right between here. I swear I’ll be good and quiet”

“Do you know what I need, jagiya?”

“Please tell me..”

“I need to fill you up until you can take it no more and have you full with my cum. And if you dare let it drip, I’ll make sure to use my fingers to put it back behind to its place. Even if there are people around us. Got it, jagiya?”

Jimin: The boys had a photoshoot that morning. Jimin told you he would do his best to look good but you already knew that it would be the easiest thing to do. Jimin struggled to understand how beautiful he was; there were times you tried hard to boost his ego and the times you succeeded were a blessing.

Hoseok sent you in secret some of Jimin’s best shots, thankful that Jimin decided to pull a hot, mysterious look. The longer you looked at his pictures, the harder it got to control your urges. 

You rubbed your thighs against each other, attempting to calm the need that was slowly arising between your legs.

“Your thighs look so inviting baby”

“...what are you talking about? Where are you?”

Jimin didn’t know Hoseok had sent you pictures of him, he didn’t know how bad his looks were affecting you.

“Jimin.. Your hands and fingers are so veiny. I need them around my neck”

“Is this where you only want them baby?”

“I need them inside me Jimin. My fingers don’t feel so well as yours do”

There were times you had control over Jimin and there were times he had control over you. The exchange of power between the two of you was the hottest thing in his opinion. And today was one of the days you made Jimin want to take control and ruin you.

“Who told you to touch what’s mine pet?”

“I am sorry, sir. But you look so good that you made me lose my mind”

“Wait until I come home. You’ll see how it feels to lose your mind”

Taehyung: Taehyung was a simple man. Whatever he wanted it, he claimed it. Your first few dates had you wonder even if they were dates. The way he treated you was as if you were his queen and the way he talked to you was as if you were his long missed friend.

It didn't take long until he claimed you as his either. Taehyung's touch was one of a kind; arms that could hold you safe and warm, and hands that could take your breath away, literally take it away.

Taehyung had asked you to follow him to the library that was near their dorm. Namjoon wanted some new books to read and Taehyung was willing to go pick some for him.

Taehyung enjoyed reading books too. When he saw an interesting book, he told you to join him by picking a book to read too. He leaned back on the bookcase with his fingers delicately wrapped at the bottom of the book.

"Why do you have to look like so hot even when reading?"

"Where are you, you little stalker?"

You had hidden around the library and continued praising him.

"What would you do if I wanted to suck you right now?"

"I wouldn't stop you, sweetheart"

Taehyung asked to say a detailed way of how you would suck on him, with you ending up all hot and bothered and with Taehyung sending you a picture of his huge bulge.

"I didn't know libraries can be so fun Tae.."

"We should have tried this sooner, sweetheart"

"Do you know what else is fun?"

"What?"

"This little isolated part of the library.. I can be quiet for you"

"Oh you will be, sweetheart. Because your mouth will be full and after that, you will be too wrecked to talk.."

“I wish you were already here to do that”

“By the time I am done with you.. your ass will still be red, little toy”

Jungkook: The youngest of the seven, the one so innocent and sweet but also the one who would make girls go crazy with his amazing dancing skills and angelic voice. And this amazing creature was in love with you.

Jungkook was so shy with you though, his eyes barely ever met yours in an attempt to avoid the continuous embarrassment of blushing when he saw you. It was easy to pull the cool boy facade in front of his hyungs but when alone with you, he would run away.

One night, Yoongi came to you and told you about his huge crush on you but that wasn’t what surprised you. He told you that Jungkook was the only one who never got into a “relationship” with any girl or boy before.

That made your heart bloom, the amount of satisfaction and pleasure it gave you to acknowledge how much you affect Jungkook. You started texting him but things got pretty heated quickly enough.

You asked Jungkook if he likes you and he cutely replied by telling you he liked from the first time he saw you. You talked for over two hours before he said that he wanted to see you more.

“Want to see me more Kookie?”

“I like spending time with noona”

When you saw his message and the mention of the cute petname, something suddenly inside you craved to make him reach his limits, to make him desire you more.

“So do I Kookie. We could spend some time alone”

“All alone with you?”

“I won’t bite you!”

“I wish you would noona”

Before you could reply, Jungkook hurried sending you another message.

“I am sorry about the last message noona. Yoongi hyung gave me some shots to drink”

Yoongi had taken action to make Jungkook loosen up even if it would probably shock him remembering all the things he told you.

“Biting is only one of the things I want to do to you”

“Noona..”

“What is it Kookie? I am sorry if I got too far”

“No! No! I want more of your teasing”

Since Jungkook asked for more, you could not let the opportunity slip.

“Touch yourself for me”

“I already am”

“Such a bad boy.. not waiting for me to join you”

“Play with me noona”

You didn’t hesitate telling him what was on your mind since it was too late to stop yourself from feeling your body giving in to the hot mess called Jungkook.

“Would you like me to ride your thigh while you’re pleasuring yourself for me? I bet you would”

“My fist doesn’t feel as good as you would feel noona”

“Close your eyes and imagine it’s my hand”

“Noona please call me, I want to hear your voice to come. Are you wet for me? I know you’d want to feel me stretching you”

And with all those filthy words coming out of Kookie, you called him only to be met with his low grunts and shaky breaths. Kookie wasn’t the shy little boy anymore and you were glad..

[m0onbean]

Bonfire (Camp Counselor AU!) Chapter 4

category: floofy

pairing: sanha X reader

warnings: cussing

note: WOW I FINALLY UPDATED THIS SERIES! sorry it took so long... i lost inspiration to write anymore, was caught up in requests, and a whole bunch of other shit. enjoy!

What you expected for your first night at Camp Moon was definitely not a shirtless MJ running around the cabin clanging pots and Moonbin screaming BTS lyrics.

"EXTRA PLUS ORDINARY... GEUGEOTTO BYEOL GEO ANYEOOOO!!"

Groaning, you used the pillow you brought from home to muffle your ears. "DO NOT WAKE ME UP UNLESS YOU ARE RAP MONSTER."

Hurt, Moonbin clenched his chest but left the room anyways. You heard groaning from above you which reminded you of Sanha's presence.

"Good morning Sanha," you sighed and started to climb out of your scrambled bed. You heard some shuffling of blankets above you and a lengthy yawn. Chuckling, you finally manage to leave the room to brush your teeth and get ready for the day.

When you finished and closed the lights to the restroom, you were taken aback by the glowing face standing in the door way.

"AH!" You yelped and stumbled back. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it was just Rocky... being Rocky.

His customized flashlight was shining under his chin and he was smiling mischievously. "Good morning (Y/N), ROCKY SWAG. It's currently 6 am, congrats for waking up earlier than Sanha!"

"Kinda difficult to not wake up when MJ is literally slamming metal pots together and Moonbin is screaming lyrics to Not Today," you sarcastically replied and headed back towards Sanha's room.

Rocky chuckled and followed behind you, "Be prepared for that every weekday morning. Which reminds me..." he pulled out a crumpled paper from his hoodie pockets and tried to straighten it out. After failing at straightening out the completely wrecked piece of paper, he just handed it to you.

You looked over it curiously and saw that it was a document that held this entire week's schedule. "Right now we're going to eat breakfast in the mess hall and come back and start preparing for our kids to arrive later at 12," Rocky explained as you read everything.

Nodding your head, you attempted to fold it neatly and place it in your pockets. "Sounds great! I'm excited to meet our kids."

He smiled, "They're always wonderful every year. By the way, since we have some time, head over to the office to get your own flashlight right now."

Obeying him, you quickly changed into a shirt, jeans, and hoodie, and marched down to the office. As you headed there, you caught a glimpse of the other camps' cabins. They were of all different sizes, representing how many people were in each camp. Clearly, Camp Moon had the smallest cabin, but possibly the nicest one.

At a glance, Camp Sun's cabin could definitely be mistaken for an office. It was no wonder why you accidentally approached them first, mistaking them as the office instead of an ACTUAL cabin. It was ENORMOUS. Different flyers and posters were taped on the front door and it basically gave off that official vibe.

A shiver ran down your spine when you were reminded of your encounter with Howie. To think that you shook his hand even frightens you to this day,

Upon arriving at the office, you noticed some adults working at the front desk, occupied with their work. You opened the glass door to be welcomed with a powerful heater blasting warmth. Sighing in relief, you walk up to one of the workers and greet them.

The woman had round glasses on, brown bangs, and a cute camp outfit. "Hi my name is Leslie, nice to meet you!" she shook your hand and sweetly smiled.

"Nice to meet you too! My name is (Y/N), I'm new here." you cheerfully replied.

"Ah, are you the new Moon everyone's been talking about?"

You were caught off guard. "H-huh?"

Leslie cocked her head at your unawareness. "Yeah! Everyone's been talking about how Camp Moon finally got a new member after years... and how it's a girl!"

Scratching the back of your neck, you looked down to the floor in embarrassment. "Oh... yeah. That's me."

"Well, welcome! It's really amazing how you fit into that camp. I'm in Camp Venus, I just got duty to work in the office for now."

"Oh, nice! About that, I'm here to customize my flashlight."

"Okay, follow me!" she gestured you to another room where different sorts of machines lined up against the wall. Shelves and cabinets were everywhere, making the room really look like an arts and crafts room.

"What color do you want your flashlight to be?" Leslie asked while looking through the different cabinets.

"What colors have been taken already?" you asked while watching her.

She hums and takes out a document. "Jinjin took green, MJ yellow, Eunwoo blue, Moonbin black, Rocky red, and Sanha pink." (these are based on their power ranger colors from ASTRO OK READY)

"I'll take white then," you answered while remembering how Sanha showed you his snazzy pink flashlight.

Leslie nodded while scribbling on her notebook. "I'll make the flashlight right now and give it to you during lunch."

Thanking her, you were about to turn out the door before she stopped you.

"Wait... You know Jinjin right?" she hastily asked and a pink tint rose on her small face.

You rotated your body to face her again. "Yeah. The one who talks slowly right?"

She laughed, mouth curling up and eyes smiling. "Yup, that's him! He's always been like that."

"What about him?"

"Oh... u-uh... can you ask if..." she shyly lowered her voice. "-he likes me?"

Upon arriving at the cabin, you saw that everybody had woken up and was running around the house in a rush. They all screamed good morning at you not before rushing in and out doors.

"What's going on?" you asked curiously while dodging all of their movements.

"We're behind schedule!" Eunwoo screeched while trying to pull up a sock on his foot.

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you took the crumpled schedule out and tried to read the text. Indeed, you all were supposed to be at the mess hall by now.

"It's all because Sanha couldn't get out of bed earlier!" Rocky whined while sitting at the couch casually, waiting for everybody.

Once they were all done washing up, everybody walked out the door, bodies shivering from the morning air. Although you put an extra layer of sweater on, it was still cold. Why didn't you bring any winter coats?!

Sanha noticed your arms shaking so he walked up behind you and hugged you tightly while waddling like a duck. Giggling, you copied his motion and the both of you waddled together with his arms wrapped around your body.

"Get a room," Moonbin groaned and hugged himself alone.

As you all walked across the mountain to reach the mess hall, you spot another group also heading towards there. The group was made of a TON of people marching simultaneously.

"Who's that?" you quietly asked.

"Camp Sun." Jinjin answered in a low voice.

It was pretty obvious considering the extremely buff and large man leading them all, Howie. Sanha hugged you tighter as you all kept on walking while keeping wary eye contact of them.

Inevitably, the both of your camps met at the front of the mess hall. Howie gave your group the stink eye. "You guys are late... as expected of you Moons."

"We could say the same about you," Eunwoo scoffed.

The buff man scowled, "Be prepared to get your asses beat in the tournament next month. We have practiced all the games together and let's just say you'll be faced with another defeat... again."

His eyes met yours and he examined you carefully. "Huh, a new girl? Aren't you the menace who came up to my door on the first day?"

Your body stiffened, "Yes. I'm so glad it was the wrong door."

He cackled, ice driping off the edge of his voice. "All of us agree. We wouldn't want a weak girl like you here anyways."

"HEY! Don't fucking call her that when you don't even know her." Sanha suddenly barked while gripping tightly onto your hoodie.

Howie eyed him suspiciously, "Why? Defending your GIRLFRIEND I see?"

A blush crept up on Sanha's cheeks. Before Jinjin could beat Howie's ass, the door to the mess hall flung open. Behind the doors stood a tall lady with tied back blonde hair.

"You guys are so freaking late! Get your asses in here!" she scolded and turned around back to the cafeteria.

After giving eachother one last death glare, the two of you entered the huge auditorium. Loud conversations boomed in the room as soon as you stepped in. Lunch tables were set up with a bunch of people sitting at them together. The boys lead you to a table near the walls of the room and you all sat down together.

"Sorry you had to see that (Y/N)... we have bad tension with Camp Sun." Jinjin muttered shamefully.

"Oh, it's fine." you waved off.

"They're way too competitive, but we don't accept their hate like that," MJ spitefully said, venom dripping off his voice much different than his usual honey sweet vocals.

Sanha stayed silent with his head bowed down shamefully. You nudged his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

He nodded at you but said nothing else. As the other members talked amongst themselves, your hand found Sanha's and your fingers interlaced.

"Sanha... tell me what's wrong," you quietly urged so the other members wouldn't hear.

He sighed in defeat and glanced at you, "I just don't like how Camp Sun is probably going to pick on you now for being a 'girl' which I don't even understand..."

Giving him a reassuring smile, you squeezed his hand. "It's fine Sanha. I can handle myself."

He crooked his eyebrow silently but squeezed your hand back anyways. "I'm trusting you to stay strong (Y/N)..."

"What are you two talking about?" MJ nosed in by stretching his arm and leaning next to you guys.

"What did we say about choosing favorites!" Jinjin pouted solemnly.

"Ah, I'm sorry guys! It's just that I had something to ask Sanha, that's it!" you urgently insisted.

They all rolled their eyes and gave you a we're salty and you should further explain yourself look. To your defense, Sanha also spoke up, "Don't worry, she was just checking on me."

Moonbin suspiciously eyed how you two were still holding hands under the table. Realizing what it looked like, you quickly released your hand from Sanha's and shoved it back in your pocket. "I-It's not what it looks like..."

MJ gasped dramatically and stood up. "(Y/N)... You're cheating on us?!"

Everybody else except both you and Sanha's burning faces all stood up and gasped.

"What about us? What about everything we've been through?" Eunwoo sang with his face in his hands.

"And what about trust?" Moonbin continued and sobbed.

"Guys sit down everybody's watching!" you hissed at them like a mother while forcing their bodies back down on their butts.

To your relief, the High School Musical performance was immediately ceased once a familiar round glasses girl walked up to your table and tapped your shoulder next to you. "Hi (Y/N)!"

"Oh, Leslie!" you exclaimed more happily than it should've sounded.

"Since you're new here, want me to give you a tour of the camp? That is, if you haven't seen it yet," she pushed up her glasses.

"That sounds great!" you jumped up to her offer.

Sanha pouted and grabbed your arm carefully. "I thought you were going to eat breakfast with us."

Leslie looked at him weirdly, "I think she should have a tour here first."

Moonbin jumped in, "No, she should stay here with us since we've only known eachother for one day and we hadn't had breakfast together yet. The tour can wait."

"Well, I think the tour should be now since she won't have a chance to go on it later due to the incoming children," Leslie firmly tugged on your arm.

Looking back and forth, you were left speechless.

"Why don't we just let (Y/N) decide by herself?" Jinjin offered. Leslie's facial expressions immediately softened when her eyes met his.

"U-uh yeah. Sounds good," she retreated like a cat moonwalking back to the shadows.

Everybody's faces turned to yours expectantly.

[where-ls-my-mlnd]

You ever just randomly get in the mood to partake in self-destructive behavior? Wait, shit. Let me rephrase that. Make it sound less deranged. You ever sunk into a vicious sorrow, like, the worst, most agonizing, screaming sorrow you’ve ever felt in your entire life, spend a week being consumed by this horrible unrelenting pain, and then develop the urge to do things that are deleterious to your well-being in order to cope? Holy fuck that sounds even worse. Ah, son of a bitch— don’t go thinking I’m insane now, alright? ‘Cause I’m not. Severely insane, anyway. I’ve always had a couple screws loose, but that’s okay, and hardly the point, anyways. The point is quite simple at its core. Allow me break it down for you. Ever since I was young, I have been terribly, dangerously, and inexorably fond of self-destruction. That’s not a secret. Never has been. You don’t develop a drug addiction because you like the feeling of safety, you know what I’m sayin’? It stems from a profound inner sense of chaos, a desire to escape; whether it be from your emotions, your life circumstances, or the world at large, that is so strong, and so fucking undefeatable, it becomes larger than you are. Even the strong-willed can be absolutely wrecked by addiction. No one is exempt. Addiction doesn’t give a fuck who you are, where you’re from, what your aspirations are. It just wants to break you, and then build you back up again, and have you walking around half-alive for years and years so it can feed on the last of your life force. It doesn’t want you too strong, but not too weak, either. The ideal is for you to be slowly decomposing over the course of half your life or sometimes more so that it can drag out the torturous process for as long as possible. If you’re lucky, you’ll hit bottom, a massive part of you will die, and you’ll be reborn. What you choose to do with your second chance at life is entirely up to you, and that’s the tricky part. I’ve seen many people carelessly waste their chances, as if they thought God was just doling them out for free. I’m rueful to say that I have wasted my own chances before. A gross disregard for the life I was so blessed to still have. But maybe I should go easy on myself. Why should I take such care of my life— when I did not even want to live it? That’s a question for the ages, ain’t it? Psychologists would love to pick that shit apart. Well, anyway, what I am incredibly happy to say is this: I was one of the lucky ones, and after countless failed attempts, I was able to kill that monster once and for all, and in its death I found a brand new life for myself. It’s not an easy life, but nothing is ever easy with me. All that matters is it’s my life, I fucking made it for myself, and I am so damn grateful and elated to be living it. What I am hesitant, and slightly anxious to say is this: in my heart resides the same fondness for self-destruction that got me into so much trouble as a teenager. I’d like to say I’m not surprised— and if I did, it would be at least half-true. I have always had an unadulterated, skin-crawling need to be free. And I’ve always gladly done whatever I thought was necessary to achieve that freedom, even if it was illegal, stupid, morally bankrupt, or just absurd. That’s the thing with me. I can’t fucking stop, ever. If used for different purposes, it may even be called admirable: that furious, unyielding drive. I like to think I can still channel that energy, in my career specifically, but these days I’m honestly not sure. But there is a difference. Back in the day, I would start shit just for fun. I was seeking something, for sure— something that I still don’t feel like I’ve found. Beyond the classic premise of a teenager’s quest for self-discovery, there was no greater goal, or purpose for my antics. I did it because I could, and because after a while I began to fall in love with destruction. Raising hell was my religion. In an otherwise Godless world— that was always the altar at which I worshipped. Now, I find myself self-imploding because of so, so many violent, turbulent emotions to which I cannot put a name. It’s just like, my fucking mind, man...it’s a hell zone. That animal urge to unleash all inhibitions and just say fuck it is only ever activated by deeply unpleasant feelings. It’s almost like I’m...acting out. I‘ll be overcome by a wave of melancholy, or hit by sudden, thrashing anxiety, and I’ll get so overwhelmed that I feel like I need to do something to let it out. Something drastic. Something impulsive. Something absolutely fucking insane. Something like what I’m doing right now. Driving in my car, vibrating with excitement in my seat, to pick up J, who’s waiting for me in that damn park so we can go to a fucking club. A club! I literally just passed three years of sobriety, fuck, what is this? Am I trying to relapse? Well, no— I’m not an alcoholic, what the fuck? You know, I mean, can I handle my alcohol? No. But like, if I start drinking, can I stop? Uh...yeah! I’m only a drug addict, it’s fine! Holy fuck that was the most disturbing sentence I ever said. Well, whatever, I don’t think anyone’s gonna whip out any fuckin’ shards in the middle of a nightclub. Coke, that’s a given. But like, I can avoid it probably, also I barely like it! So who cares?! Imagine someone offers me a bump— I’m not gonna whore myself out for it. Not gonna hold out my hands and beg oh yes, please, PLEASE give me some coke! You know what I’m gonna say? WHAT THEY TEACH YOU TO IN SCHOOLS, BABY! N-O! NO...no thank you, not a big fan of the booger sugar, I’m a member of the elite, I only like amphetamines. OOPSIE I forgot to use past tense. Used to like amphetamines. There we go. Oh mother of fuck, what am I doing? God— I hardly remember getting in my car. See, this is what I mean! When the pain gets real bad, I start to act fucking chaotic! And lord knows the pain has been abject as of late. To this day I don’t know how I even survived Sunday night. In that dark, sinister park, and in J’s brutally honest words, I was met with a feeling of despair I can only describe as deadly. I don’t know how I didn’t do something to myself. I’m sure I wanted to. After a certain point I think I just blacked out. System overloaded or something. I got home, by some fucking miracle— I know because I woke up in my bed around 3 am because I had been crying in my sleep, which is just fucking neat. After that, I don’t know. I really wish I could remember. Perhaps some things are too horrific to remember. The days that followed were even worse. I spent my time floating in and out of sadness, then to bitter, uncontrollable anger, back into sadness again, then for the grand finale there’d be a thick feeling of complete numbness, and that would be what followed me throughout the day. Sometimes I’d see her in my dreams, and still miss, love, and need her desperately— other times I’d feel disgusted by the vile creature she has become and want to forget we ever shared a moment so sacred. It was mostly the first one though, and that’s what made it so hard. You should’ve seen me, flipping through old photos of her like a fucking weirdo and clutching them to my heart, like if I held them close enough, she would hear how loud it beats for her. I was lovesick for the very first time since I was twenty one years old and discovering that bad boys, if given the chance, will treat you bad every damn time. I was never under any illusions that this was healthy, but I knew something was seriously fucked when I abruptly stood up and almost passed out, and later realized it was because I hadn’t eaten in two days. Thank God for fast food and its obscene amounts of fat otherwise I might still be a touch too skinny. Before I knew it, the week had passed me by, and this brings us to tonight. Tonight. It’s kind of a funny story how my spirits got so lifted. I was in the shower, which is a story in itself. I don’t know how I forced myself to take a shower in that state— I can’t even get out of bed most days. I get out of that bitch, right? I bury myself in my towel like a blanket ‘cause it was colder than my father’s stare in there. I wipe the steam from the mirror. And my breath was stolen away. I actually looked good. Fuck, I looked amazing. My eyes were bloodshot from crying, yeah, but my eyelashes looked darker, longer, little tiny beads of water dripping off them, and my complexion looked so fresh and healthy, and my lips had somehow turned a perfect shade of pink like I just blew a cherry popsicle or something. Was I sort of...pretty when I cried? Is it just like Lana Del Rey said? Oh my god, I thought. It was. I watched as my eyes brightened and my face was lit up by a smile at the realization. I broke into this demented cackle, and stayed there five minutes longer than I should have, gripping the edge of the sink and laughing gleefully. By the time I got back up to my apartment I was still in disbelief. Did I look that good all the time? Had I always been sexy? I couldn’t stop looking at myself. It was like I had been given a whole new face, a whole new body. I tried to just sit and quietly watch TV but it felt too wrong. It’s a Friday night. I live in the heart of the city. I’m not emotionally attached to anyone anymore. I have exceptional looks all of the sudden. I have more pent-up sexual frustration than I know what to do with. It just seemed too...perfect... And so, I decided, with a slightly manic sense of determination, that I was going to go get laid. Got a little dressed up because, yes, it’s true, my closet does consist of more than just hoodies. Fluffed up my hair a bit, stared into the mirror some more, then I hit up J. Man did he sound jittery when he answered the phone. Never in my life did I think that J would ever ask me, under any circumstances, for any reason, “What...what’s up?” I was too enchanted by my own reflection to analyze it at the time. “LISTEN, are you busy?” I demanded, trying out different poses in the mirror. He wasn’t. This pleased me immensely. “I wanna go fucking clubbing, J. You wanna go clubbing?! Let’s go clubbing! I ONLY WANT TO GO IF YOU COME WITH.” A heavy sigh from the other line. “I don’t know, man...” Panic instantly arose and began to frazzle my mind. Oh, god, it all seemed so clear now. He was gearing up to leave me. That was all there was to it. I had been too clingy, too emotional, too inconsiderate before; I had expected too much of him, and for that he was pulling away from me. That sigh held the leaden weight of our previous interaction and it was palpable, even over the phone. It was obvious I had to do something. “Come on, J...there’s money in it for you.” Needless to say, he was suddenly very eager to agree when I told him to wait for me in the park and that I’d pick him up in one hour. All the while I’m fucking hauling ass to collect his ounce of coke that I promised him, splitting it up into several different amounts and agonizing over how best to organize it. I figured it out eventually— because I fucking worked my brain half to death. The attention to detail was painstaking but it had to be done. And now, here I am, riding around the city, glorious night air blowing in through the open window, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Uptown Funk, feeling that same wild, intoxicating rush as if it never went away. Perhaps I’m going a little crazy, perhaps I’ve never been saner. But I haven’t felt this good about myself, or anything, in a long time. Honestly, I don’t know that I’ve felt very confident since I entered my twenties. Something about all the self-introspection makes it hard to view myself in a positive light. But I’ve done enough of that, enough self-introspection for ten lifetimes. If there was ever a time where I deserved to go fucking ape shit, and have fun, and act like a normal twenty-something year old...it would be now. Spring break, bitch. May as well bask in my freedom while I still have it. Lush, gorgeous greenery juxtaposed with tall, steely, glittering buildings and the sudden feeling of quietude that being surrounded by nature brings: that’s how I know I’ve made it to the park. Almost out of respect for the calm, solitary setting, I instinctively go to turn down my music, drowning out the sounds of saxophones and terrifically catchy guitar riffs and Bruno Mars’ bright, joyous voice in favor of comfortable, worshipful silence. I wouldn’t mind driving around this place for a while, but I don’t have to look very long to find him. He’s standing on the sidewalk, looking as close to peaceful as he can probably get, cigarette in hand; never without his crutch, his trademark accessory. A shadowy figure in the near-dark, an apparition, an enigma, as always. I find myself breaking into a smile as I pull up and then subsequently stop the car, sliding out of my seat and nudging the door closed with my hip. I can see him very well now that I’ve gotten closer and— oh! What the fuck— okay, J! Giving me a little shirt-half-unbuttoned moment! He’s...okay, wow, he’s kind of serving. He’s really serving. He’s dressed in this sleek little black shirt that matches his hair just divinely and dark jeans and he looks so good I can’t help but raise my eyebrows and widen my eyes in surprise. “JAMES DEAN! How’s it going?!” I exclaim in lieu of a proper greeting. “What’s this little number? Did you get all dressed up just for ME?!” I let out a laugh, “Goddamn, man! Who the fuck told you to show out like that?! You are giving me so much life right now, J. I swear to God—you look so fucking good! What the hell?!”

[thecouncilofali]

First Big Meeting Part 1

“You’re late,” one of them says in almost a snarl, as I plop down in the chair at the head of the table.

I nod. “I know. I pushed things too far last night and couldn’t get to you, I was fighting sleep just to finish the small bit I had. But we’re taking care of this now.”

“Is this the getting to know you part?” one with a younger voice asked.

I shook my head. “As much as yes I want to-,” and then stopped, and thought. There’s a lot from yesterday I need to go over, but it may be easier to identify triggers and where I tend to not manage certain things if I work out names and faces first.

I feel that overwhelmed feeling of a rush of impulses hitting to do too much at once. Going through everyone would take more time to initiate, but it’s important in the long run.

I nod at the one to the left closest to me. “Name, age, pronouns, introduce yourself.”

He sighed, and leaned back. He’s in a black jacket, pulling at the seems and worn at the pockets and elbows, black skinny jeans and sneakers with holes at the toes. His short, dark hair greasy and unkempt, with skin acting up in agitated red patchy flakes around his nose and eyes, a few freckles unevenly splayed across his face. “I’m Josh, 14, he and him and all that, and I struggle with a lot of social paranoia, and sexism.” His foot taps against the table in agitation. “And anger issues. This feels like therapy.”

“It kind of is. What do you think of Tavi?” I ask him.

He looks away. “She’s ... nice. But she makes me uncomfortable.”

“Neil?”

He shook his head. “I ... know he’s there in reach to help. Feel like I’m constantly about to fuck up around the guy. Same with her.”

He wraps his arms tighter around himself and tries to sink back into his chair, his foot tapping against the table even more nervously.

I nod, and move onto the one next to him, one I’m familiar with. “Anne, go for it.”

“You already know me.”

“Everyone hides from each other, and from me, and you’ve been avoiding me lately. Go on.”

She sighed, her breathing nervous and aggressive and glaring at everyone at the table. Her skin has patches of scars, where her skin looks heavily wrinkled and dried out and discolored, along her arms, her ribs, the side of her face and along part of her mouth. She does her best to cover them with a purple hoodie, and flipping short, greasy, unevenly chopped brown hair over the side to cover the worst of it. You can see red scratch marks along the ones on her cheek and neck.

“I’m Anne. I’m 18. She, they. I’m angry and I don’t like talking to anyone.”

Her arms are tightly crossed over her chest as well, and she’s avoiding eye contact with me. She radiates guilt and paranoia, and she starts scratching at her neck again.

“Don’t scratch, you’ll agitate it more.”

She scoffed and tucked her arm back down.

I look to the next one, and he sits up excitedly. “I’m Joseph! I like costumes and stuff. And masks. And bags. And making things and dressing up? I like pretending to be other people it’s fun that way.” And then fidgeted. “And makes me feel better sometimes. Anyway I’m almost nine, and I’m a boy!”

His hair is in a greasy dirty blonde mop that falls into his eyes, a birds nest in the back. He has freckles splayed across his cheeks and one blue, one brown eye. It looks like he’s missing a couple teeth, and the rest are yellowed and damaged, and I feel most likely cavity riddled. He’s massively underweight with over-sized, bright colored clothing on. Even his shoes are too big for him.

I can’t help but smile a little, but it’s bittersweet. I know he shares the part of me that indulges in separating me from myself, and copy catting those around me when I get nervous. He’s associated with the part of me that over indulges in pretend and fantasy.

“I’m Gloria,” says the one next to him. “She, her, sixteen, and I’m better than all of you.” She said it with a glare, but her voice is quivering with nerves. Her hands are shaking. She’s under weight as well. Dressed in nicer clothing than most of them, but it’s stained, worn, and mismatched. She keeps a pink, feathered boa around her neck, blue eyes that match mine, and straight, shoulder length, dirty blonde hair pulled back into a too tight ponytail. You can tell there are patches where the hair is thinner than the rest. She pulls at her hair in stress. Poorly applied concealer covers pimples and blemishes on her skin, and it looks as if the rest of her make up was done while trembling.

I feel like she’s part of the eating disorder as well.

“Would you like anything to eat?” I ask. “Maybe an orange?”

She leans back and swallows hard, shaking her head, and the urge to gag increases with me. “N-no, I’m fine, thanks.”

There’s this feeling that this is enough people, enough problems, that to take on or learn about any others would be too much, be overwhelming, and I look to the masculine one sitting next to her.

“Name?” I ask, leaning forward.

He shook his head, and I swing my leg at him. “Name,” I say more sternly.

Several names flip through my head, as if he’s trying to pick one.

“What do you want to be called?” I try.

“... S-stan,” he says nervously. “I think.” And then shook his head, paused, and then softly, “Benjamin.”

“Age, pronouns, what’s going on with you.”

“Uhm... 14, he, them, I guess, and I panic a lot? I feel depressed a lot. Things overwhelm me a lot of the time and I have trouble doing, uh, anything. Feel kind of constantly angry at things.”

So depression. And giant mountains of self doubt, from how he feels. His hair is brown and greased as well, bags under his eyes. His eyes are nervous, hands pulling at the over-sized, thick black jacket, he wears. He’s wearing blue jeans a size too big and shoes that have all the traction worn off at the bottom.

“Pelly was down here.”

“Get her away.”

“Why was she down here?”

“She was too close?”

They all chime up in a nervous, anxiety riddled chorus.

“We live with her still. Let’s focus on getting out, not that she’s here. That’s a consequence we have to live with for awhile.”

Everyone’s tense but there’s nervous nodding in acknowledgement, and some are able to ease, the others are still paranoid.

“If she does anything to cross another line I’ll speak out.”

And they ease ever so slightly more.

I look at the one next to Benjamin, another kid, with headphones on.

“Wright,” he said. “My names Wright, I’m ten, I like music.” He thumbs over an old walkman from the early two thousands. “I’m stressed without it. Oh, and he, him, they, she,” and shrugged. “I’m all of them.”

His hair is slightly greased but he smells of soaps, his hair dyed copper with brown roots showing, like it hasn’t been maintained in two or three months, his clothes worn and wrinkled like they’ve been slept in, but they’re clean. Some of the seams are tearing, and the shirt is too small and the pants too big. He’s wearing a binder, one too small for him as well, and his nails are a wreck from stress picking, small sores on his arms and legs as well he tries to hide.

“What do you listen to?” I ask him.

“Mostly classical. Helps me focus. Pop if I need to cheer up,” and then shook his head. “That’s it.”

I look to the one next to him. “SARAFIA!-”

“What do you actually go by,” I ask immediately, dead staring.

“... Aimee,” she says quiter, shifting and staring at your lap. “I’m 14 but I wish I was 12 again. I like dress up. And I know I’m smarter than anyone else here,” she says, staring at the others across the table. “And I hate boys.”

She has unevenly applied make up I remember from when I was 7 or 8, out of those kid kits. A pink scrunchie, a white dress that’s been strained at the seams, stained, and slept in. Her hair is brown with faint blonde streaks, greasy with split ends, and she has scars like claw marks over her lip, down her arms, one in her back like someone tried to rip her shoulder blade out.

“Hate boys?” I ask plainly.

“There stupid, violent, and impulsive. They’re predators, all of them,” she spat out, crossing her arms and slamming back like a toddler in a fit. “They’ll act nice but the moment you trust them they’ll take advantage of you.”

“What do you think of Neil?”

“I wish he wasn’t here. The moment you think you’re friends again he’s going to stab you in the back for her.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT HE DOES.”

I shake my head. “He’s a lot of things. That isn’t one of them. What do you think of Tavi?”

“I don’t trust her. She’d throw us to the wolves in a moments notice the moment we let our guard down.”

“I’ve let my guard around her. It usually ends with talking and apologizing and actually having a good day.”

“I don’t. Trust. Her,” she glares, insistent.

So paranoia, superiority complex, insecurities covered up by hubris.

I glance at the last one at the table currently. “Name?” I ask softly.

They shook their head.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Jax,” they stated, sliding half under the table and fingering along the grooves in the wood of the table. “I’m seven but I feel older. I don’t like focusing on stressful things. I get distracted a lot. Prefer they, them.” There’s a pause, as they seem to get fixated on the grooves in the wood, before sitting up, blue eyes dead staring at me. “I like people, I like being by myself sometimes, I like enjoying things. But I feel tired a lot too.”

Their hair is at that bowl cut length that hits their eyes, but looks to be watched. Light brown with a hint of red, skin slightly darker than the others, as if they like going outside.

They nodded. “I like sitting outside and doing things, even when it’s hot out, just as long as I’m not burning, and with other people too.”

They pulled out a pink toy car I used to have and run it back and forth across the table, watching it. They feel overweight but malnourished, the clothes they’re wearing a size too small. They rub they’re eyes sleepily before fidgeting in the chair and continuing to run the car back and forth, in gentle, almost noiseless movements. They seem to keep their voice quiet. I’m aggressively remembering how I used to play alone as a kid.

“What do you think of Tavi?” I ask them.

“She’s really nice, and really pretty. But I feel like she gets angry sometimes when we don’t get things. Like we don’t care but we just don’t get things. I like her a lot though,” and then softly kicked their feet. “I’m excited for this week.”

“What about Neil?”

“He can be scary sometimes, but I like him. He’s super smart and he seems like a good person. I wanna be more like him sometimes. I like how he handles things.”

I nod. “Anything else?”

They stop moving, and think a moment. “I get stressed a lot. Like everything is stressful, and I don’t know why, but I just like enjoying things, even when I feel tired.”