#but yeah I have a teenage boy going through it and I am so good at getting a student to a place where I don’t have to use disciplinary

[thirstkanaphan]

Some more thoughts about Youth

(be warned, I've had an edible)

Here's Mingi singing Youth on BIBIM-POP (full ep here)

I love this version of Youth and Mingi has never sounded better. His tone is so good and he brings a mellow flavor to this performance that we don't see when he's on stage. I also love how deep his voice gets at the end.

I also really appreciate having the English translation because the lyrics are really quite insightful.

The line adults use the word youth to say that sadness is happiness / to enjoy the moment makes me suspect that Mingi was told by many adults in his life not to complain about his struggles...that the pain he was experiencing was incorrect and that he was actually really happy, right? You're an idol, aren't you? The way certain adults deny the pain young people feel and insist that this is the happiest time in their lives. Mingi asks of his Youth: Did you enjoy these times? Did the happiness outweigh the pain? Bear in mind, Mingi wrote this song when he was 22 and on hiatus. This is 22-year-old Mingi talking to his younger self, not the 25-year-old singing the song.

It's hard to even sleep, yeah

I wonder if the "yeah" isn't meant to be a lyrical punctuation to the line; instead, might we also think of it as a question mark: It's hard to even sleep, yeah? Mingi asks of his Youth, To make dreams a reality, yeah? and Youth responds: I'm too young, it's too hard right now.

We know Mingi's a fan of emo music from the '00s (my teenage years) and his playlists include Fall Out Boy, Simple Plan, The Killers, Green Day, and Linkin Park. This musical influence is more apparent in Tunnel, where he is especially candid and vulnerable in his lyrics, but Youth also frequents the same space. The lyrics are pure emo, even if the sound is smooth r&b.

If I may take a step into speculation, Mingi constructed Youth to explicitly evoke those references so that casual listeners stay on the surface of the song and don't venture deeper. What did I do wrong? With a drink, can it be shaken off? We don't know the answer and we never will, but this may be the first time I've ever heard reference to drinking in a kpop song. The fact that no one to my knowledge has talked about this line may be some evidence that Mingi succeeded in his goal ("emo concept"). Yet it's such a distressing sequence of lines, and you can't help but think of Mingi's hiatus and the strength it took to come back.

Then you exit that chorus to the sound of Yunho's voice soaring above the instrumental track. On this night, night when even the moon cries / Please find it, somewhere in my heart / Is there a place I can rest? It's such a devastating refrain, and he puts those words in Yunho's mouth.

The wind of my twenties / when I was alone

jeeeeeez what a line. I'm reminded of Seonghwa's letters to atiny ("Before I knew it, the cold that seemed never-ending made me take off my thick coat and all of a sudden, bright flower petals occasionally began to warm up the world. I, who want to resemble that worm season, am now celebrating my 27th spring.") Seonghwa has a poet's spirit but Mingi has such a good grasp of drama. The wind of my twenties / when I was alone is pure emo but it nudges at something deeper and more existential. Mingi is still in his twenties; he'll continue to be in his twenties for a while. The line implies future knowledge of the right-now Mingi. He's still going through it.

Of course I'm going to connect this back to Yungi, because the two got very candid in their conversation for Off The Record. Yunho praises Mingi for his growth and development, but remarks that Mingi has lost some of his innocence. I wish I could see more of that happiness from you, Yunho says.

Mingi's response is so interesting (although I'm sure a native Korean speaker may be able to clarify from the subs): The thing is, it's not really innocence, I think I just adapted...I'm not the type to lean on others, because I only trust in myself.

Yunho's sad and fond face is soul-crushing

Yunho hopes to see more of Mingi's youthful joy and wishes that Mingi could look back, reflect on yourself, and refresh. Maybe it's the edibles talking, but that kind of sentiment sounds familiar. Mingi has had to adapt to protect himself from people who've sounded like that and that losing some of his innocence was the cost. Maybe I'm stepping way too far into speculation, but Yunho put himself in the role of adults who use the word youth [innocence] to say that sadness is happiness, to enjoy the moment. Shouldn't Mingi feel upset?

But then Mingi says I think I felt what kindness and thankfulness is from you about Yunho. Yunho, who took him to lunch and bought him beef in high school; who traveled across town to eat with Mingi and waited for him to finish his meal; Yunho, who experienced the same highs and lows of pre-debut and idol life...

Yunho who called him nearly every day of his hiatus.

Yes, as in all things, Yunho is the exception. In his 8 Face episode, Mingi compares him to a "savior-like entity."

Yunho has been keeping an eye on Mingi since predebut. Here's a letter he wrote for Mingi which Mingi reads aloud during a live:

Look at Yunho, the way the embarrassed smile drops from his face.

Mingi owes Yunho his life, however you interpret that statement, and it means something that Yunho is someone from whom Mingi learned a kindness that got him through the worst of those months. It's for that reason that only Yunho could get away with asking Mingi to enjoy his youth.

From an interview with Jongho published in December 2024:

I don't usually write this much but if you have any thoughts or opinions about Youth, I'd love to hear them!

[mama-qwerty]

Do you think that Tom would be secretly jealous over the fact that Wade was able to form a friendship with Knuckles in a short amount of time, while he himself has trouble having a full conversation with the kid?

Even though Sonic and Tails already are fond of him, the idea that Knuckles isn't as close to him but with his best friend instead would probably bother him a bit

Tom stood at the window near the front door, watching as Knuckles slid into the passenger seat of Wade's truck. Wade gave a little wave, before pulling away, taking the boy . . .

Well, Tom didn't really know. Knuckles never said, and asking Wade seemed almost like an invasion of privacy. Even though Tom and Maddie were supposed to be looking out for the echidna, just like they did the fox and hedgehog who were currently sitting in the living room playing video games.

"You're gonna get frown lines glaring out the window like that."

Maddie's voice broke through his thoughts, and Tom turned to find her hauling a basket of laundry toward the utility room.

"Do you see the way he smiles when he heads off with Wade? He never smiles like that around here."

She rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like he's a teenage daughter going out on dates with a guy you don't trust."

Tom flinched slightly. "I just . . ." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sonic buddied up to me right away. Tails, too. Why won't Knuckles?"

Maddie shrugged, shifting the basket on her hip. "He's not like the others, Tom. In a lot of ways, he had a much harder life. He wasn't looking for . . ." She gestured around them. "This. A home. A family. New parents. He was looking for that emerald. And now that he has it, he's trying to figure out where to go from here. Where he fits."

"Yeah, well, right now he seems to 'fit' better with Wade than us."

His voice was a little harsher than he meant it to be. This whole situation was actually kinda pissing him off, and he wasn't quite sure why. Sonic thought the world of Tom, and Tails was right there, too. Was it an ego thing? He had to have everyone love him?

He didn't think so.

He was pretty sure, anyway.

Maddie watched him for a moment, before moving closer. She ran a knuckle over his cheek, drawing his attention back to her.

"You're jealous."

His brow furrowed. "Am not."

A smile curled her lip. "You are. Sonic practically appointed himself a Wachowski from all those years he snuck around outside, and Tails has absorbed some of Sonic's admiration of you. But Knuckles doesn't see you that way, and it just eats at you."

Tom pulled his lips tight. She may have a point. A little one. A nano-point.

"I don't want him to idolize me or anything, but I mean, come on. Wade??"

Maddie shrugged. "Wade's got his issues, but he's a good guy. And maybe Knuckles needs someone who's not gonna be as . . . fatherly."

"But I'm not--"

"You may see it as being Sonic's 'buddy', but we all know what you really are to him." Her voice was softer, but not unkind. "Tails, too. I'm just saying that Knuckles wasn't looking for that. He doesn't want parents. Not right now. I made the mistake of just lumping him in with the others as a kid who needed a mom right before he went AWOL with Wade to Reno. I tried to parent him when he wasn't ready for it."

He didn't respond, instead looking out the window where Wade had been parked a few moments before. All that had gone down while he'd been out of town, and judging from how freaked Maddie had been when Knuckles had disappeared after the ill-fated grounding, she understood his feelings right now.

Knuckles was the hardest of their kids to understand. He didn't speak much of what happened while he was being the Most Dangerous Warrior in the Galaxy, and Tails tended to go a bit tight-lipped, too, when asked. The echidna was independent to a fault, proud to the point of almost-but-not-quite arrogance, and insisted he didn't need to be looked after.

He was older than the other two, but that didn't mean he still couldn't benefit from having people care for him. Watch over him.

Tom turned back to Maddie. "So it doesn't bother you that he spends more time interacting with Wade than us?"

She blew out a little huff. "Hell no, it pisses me off." A little smile pulled one corner of her mouth. "But I understand. It was one thing when Sonic came. He knew Earth life, he watched us for who knows how long. To him, he practically lived here already. Tails is a smart kid who seems to adapt easily to new situations. But Knuckles . . ."

She trailed off, glancing out the window with a little sigh.

"He's different. He likes to feel in charge of himself. So, like it or not, we're just gonna have to let him come to us when he's ready. And we have to stop treating him like a kid who needs to be taken care of. Even though he is. He has to decide he wants it before we can meet him there."

Silence settled over them as her words sank in. They made sense. If Knuckles were a dog, rescued from the fighting pits, you'd have to establish yourself as a safe place before getting too close. Let him realize he was safe before trying to establish any closer relationship. And while it hurt him to think of the echidna like that, based on what little he knew of Knuckles' history, it was heartbreakingly similar.

Wade had somehow broken through this defensive exterior Knuckles still wore around the Wachowski home. As much as it pissed Tom off, maybe he needed to swallow his pride and ask Wade just how he'd done it.

"He's such a proud little guy," Tom said, his voice softer. "Always watching out for danger, trying to protect us. I just wish he'd see that we want to do the same for him."

Maddie nodded, letting out a soft sigh. "I know. It kills me that he doesn't see himself as needing it. But I think he wants it. I've seen the way he looks at us when we hug Sonic or Tails. But if he catches me looking, he just turns and walks away."

Another awkward silence fell, broken only by the soft sounds of video game music from the living room.

"We just have to give him space," she said, and Tom could hear the frustration in her tone. The sadness. "Let him know we're here, but don't push it. As hard as it is, we're gonna have to leave it up to him to show us when he's ready to reach out."

Tom's heart clenched. He hated that idea. Waiting for this traumatized kid to decide he wanted love. Wanted to be part of the family. Knuckles apparently did want that closeness, otherwise he wouldn't be so buddy-buddy with Wade. He just wasn't ready to get it from the Wachowskis.

Yet.

"Yeah," Tom sighed, running a hand down his face before taking the laundry basket from her. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

They headed toward the laundry room, and Tom cast a quick glance in at Sonic and Tails, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, game controllers in their hands.

It'd been so easy with them. They both had joined the family like they'd always been there.

He wished it was that way with Knuckles, too. He hated to think of the horrors the echidna had seen as he grew up. The hardships he'd gone through.

And Tom wanted nothing more than to tell him he didn't have to be afraid anymore. Didn't have to be so tough anymore. Didn't have to take care of himself, or be worried about being betrayed. That there were people who cared about him, wanted to love him, if only he'd let them.

He uttered another sigh. Time. It would just take time.

And they would just have to be patient.

[itspileofgoodthings]

sometimes boys (students) will force you to enforce the rules to the strictest measure of the disciplinary law.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Me, scooping myself the most ginormous amount of Neapolitan ice cream you’ve ever seen: “Mmm protein.”

[lovebugism]

I lurvvv ur writing so much and I totes am picking up what your putting you down, Steve picks you up for a date in his truck you’re tryna get to know each other first but the tensions just building and you can’t resist heheheh👀🫣

thank you for requesting :D — eddie and the gang get strangely protective of you when the find out steve's taking you out on a date (loser!reader, implied enemies to lovers | 1.6k)

The sun sets outside of The Palace Arcade. Dustin bursts through the doors and out into the orange-tinted parking lot, headed undoubtedly for Eddie’s rusted van. “I call shotgun!” he shouts to no one in particular, but to you especially. He’s confused and only slightly relieved when you don’t race him for it.

“You can have it,” you say with a roll of your eyes, pausing on the curb and crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie pauses mid-stride. His wild curls sway around his face when he spins to glare at you, dark eyes narrowed in an accusatory squint. It’s unlike you not to challenge Dustin for the front seat, just like it’s unlike you to dress as nicely as you are now — all pretty and made-up for a day at the arcade.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

“No,” you shrug, pretending to be cool about the whole thing. “I told you, Steve’s picking up—”

“You didn’t tell me that,” he interjects. 

“That’s weird,” you scoff an awkward laugh. “I coulda sworn I said something earlier—”

He takes one slow step towards you, glancing up and down your form with a suspicious gaze. “What’s going on? Are you lying to me?” he rambles. “Wait— You’re not staying late to try and beat my Robotron top score, are you?”

“No!” you blurt, half-offended by the accusation. “You’re literally the only person who cares about that stupid game, anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Steve’s coming to get me because…” you trail off, speaking in hesitant murmurs as your friends crowd behind Eddie. You swallow hard and lift your chin, feigning an air of confidence. “Because we have a date.”

“You have a what now?” Lucas wonders aloud, voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Eugh!” Eddie groans, much louder than probably necessary.

“It’s not a big deal!” you shout back.

“You guys are gross,” Dustin grouses.

“It’s one stupid date!”

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs emotionlessly. “But one stupid date turns into one stupid year together. Which turns into one stupid marriage and having stupid babies—”

“You sound jealous,” you laugh.

“…Of you or Steve?”

“Either.”

“Doesn’t matter— It’s still disgusting,” he concludes, face screwed with horror. “Now whenever I see you guys, which is practically all the fuckin’ time, all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Steve boning each other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a pervert,” a familiar voice quips from a distance. 

Your heads whip in sync to find Steve sauntering down the sidewalk with his hands in the front pocket of his creased slacks. He’s wearing his good khakis, and the nice sweater his mom got him for his birthday. An angel, fallen from the heavens, now landed in your lap.

Eddie scowls while the brunette boy flashes you a lopsided smile. “Ready to go?” he asks you, despite the number of curious leers from the surrounding teenagers.

They’ll probably never get used to King Steve having a thing for a weirdo like you. 

You won’t either.

“Yes, please,” you lilt quietly and take the hand he extends towards you. His palm is warm and softly calloused under your touch, almost the exact feeling of velvet.

He leads you a few spots down to where his truck sits idling. Eddie calls behind you, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright? Actually, no— Don’t do anything I would do.”

You smile over your shoulder. “Whatever, Eds."

“And don’t keep her out too late, either, or I’ll call the Chief,” Dustin shouts, rushing to the two of you when you disappear between Steve’s pick-up and a rusted Chevy. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, trying hard to be intimidating despite his oh, so pinchable cheeks. “And, trust me, I’ll know.”

He leaves out the part where you live across the street from each other.

You nearly say something about his empty threats until Steve beats you to the punch. “I’ll have her home by midnight, Dusty-Bun,” he cajoles over his shoulder, opening the squeaking passenger-side door for you.

You giggle to yourself and duck inside. 

The pleather interior is still smooth, with little to no signs of weathering. And everything in it smells like Steve — his cologne, his hair gel; the cigs he smokes, the gum he chews to cover it up. It’s a sweet sort of musk that makes your head swim.

“Don’t call me that!” you hear Dustin gripe when the driver’s side door opens and closes again.

Steve puts the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Wham! plays softly on the radio. He sends Dustin a measly wave as he backs out of the parking lot. The boy flashes him his middle finger in return.

“Sorry about them,” you murmur, sliding the seatbelt over your chest.

Steve laughs. “You say that like I don’t know ‘em.”

“Still. They’re total freaks. I feel like I should apologize.”

“Nah, don’t— don’t worry about it,” he stammers, suddenly very hyperaware of the song playing on the radio. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. A sickly sweet pop beat that he can hardly stand, so he figures you must despise it.

His hands grow clammy on the steering wheel, and he readjusts his grip. “Uh, you can put a tape in the deck. You know. If you want to or whatever.”

You take the opportunity to fish through his belongings with perhaps more swiftness than you mean to. He motions to the glove box, and you lift the handle to open it. Right on top of the unorganized cassettes sits a tube of lipstick — a tiny golden thing with a ring of familiar maroon at the bottom.

“Wow. This is a really pretty shade, Steve Harrington,” you croon. “I bet it really brings out your eyes.”

Steve’s gaze flits from the road, to the lipstick in your hand, and back again. His face floods with horror, and your grin widens. “That’s— That’s Robin’s. I swear. She leaves her shit in here all the time, it’s so annoying—”

“I’m just messin’ with you, Stevie,” you giggle.

You keep the lipstick in your lap while you rummage through the tapes. Plastic clatters together under your fingertips before you ultimately settle on a David Bowie cassette. Modern Love plays softly through the speakers. You smile to yourself when Steve taps his anxious fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.

He clears his throat. “I, uh— I didn’t wanna say anything earlier, you know, with Eddie and everyone around, ‘cause they’re total drama queens, but, uh… You look really pretty tonight.”

You slouch in your seat, trying and failing to hide your smile. “Just tonight?” you tease.

“Every night,” he corrects.

“Well, you look really pretty tonight, too, Stevie.”

Your eyes narrow in a playful squint. Steve’s cheeks flush a faint pink color. He rolls his eyes and turns away. “Stop flirting with me,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“You started it!”

“No, I was being sincere. You’re just trying to get in my pants.”

“Oh, am I?” you lilt.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, why does that have to be such a bad thing, huh?”

Steve glances at you for a moment. The amber streetlamps whip by every few seconds, casting flitting shadows over his statuesque face. “…You’re doing it again,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you say, though the way you look at him says otherwise. 

You sit up straighter and flip down the truck’s visor. A sliver of your eyes shows in the small mirror there. You slide the top of the lipstick off with a soft click. 

“Think Robin will mind if I use this?” you ask him, already twisting at the bottom of it.

“I think Robin forgot it existed the second she left it in here,” Steve scoffs.

You smear the muted rogue over your bottom lip, then rub your mouth together to disperse the satin onto your top one. It feels strange there, like a heavy swathe of powdery silk.

The last time you wore lipstick was senior prom, you think — and even then, you'd wiped it off as you snuck into the Hellfire classroom to finish Gareth’s D&D campaign.

It feels foreign on your lips now, but a good kind of foreign, as you turn in the leather seat to face Steve better.

The mischievous look in your eye makes him cower slightly. It makes his heart skip a beat, too, but he cowers nonetheless. “What are you doing?” he wonders without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothin’,” you lilt, cupping his left cheek in your right hand. “Just focus on the road.”

His breath catches when your lips press to his jaw, lingering there to stamp the shape of your mouth onto his skin. He tries hard to focus on the road, but he gets quickly drunk on the feeling of you — on the warm hand on his face, on the soft plush of your lips, and on the perfume spritzed on your neck he can smell from here.

He has to remind himself to breathe while your mouth kisses wherever it can reach — his chin, his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

The entire right side of his face is soon marked with your lipstick stain. It makes him feel slightly unbalanced. He needs you to do the same to his left side, too, so he can feel whole again.

“What was that for?” he wonders aloud, breathing heavily for a reason he can’t name, as you settle back in the seat beside him.

“For bein’ so pretty,” you shrug.

“You know I can’t go into Enzo’s looking like this, right?” he laughs.

“Well, maybe we don’t have to go to Enzo’s at all. Maybe we could go somewhere a little more… private.” 

Steve’s eyes flit to you once, then linger on your face for longer than he means to. Your lipstick has smudged softly from where you’d kissed him so ardently. Your mouth is slightly swollen from it, too, as it curls into a mischievous grin. He shakes his head and turns away before he can drown in your eyes.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “Lover’s Lake it is…”

[theemporium]

[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

.

“Fuck.” 

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?” 

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?” 

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile. 

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

liked by jackhughes and 837,278 others

yourusername ready to rock north america❤️🖤

view all 13,738 comments

user i am going to the nashville show!!!

user she is THE moment

user omg i can't believe the tour has already started

user BKEWBFJBWEKFBKWEJBF

jackhughes congrats on the tour!! ur gonna kill it!!❤️‍🔥

user JACK HUGHES????

user who the fuck is jack hughes?

...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.” 

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background. 

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter. 

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said. 

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?” 

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.” 

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?” 

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?” 

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?” 

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended. 

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!” 

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin. 

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?” 

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.” 

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.” 

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him. 

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!” 

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.” 

But he did. 

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did. 

...

liked by jackhughes and 213,839 others

yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

view 12,930 comments

user MOTHER!!!

user hot AND talented. your fav could never

user new music when!!!

user THE SHIRT-

jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍

user not this guy again

user not a man

notzegrasipromise JACK???

...

...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.” 

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt. 

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off. 

“Uh, what?” 

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned. 

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended. 

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?” 

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted. 

“So are you!” 

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate. 

...

liked by jackhughes and 362,373 others

yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

view all 14,737 comments

user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.” 

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?” 

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?” 

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response. 

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced  but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke. 

quinnifer: ur right 

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

liked by jackhughes and 983,373 others

yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

.

[jinxificada]

something to relax

dealer!jinx x fem!reader

summary: you deserve a rest, so you turn to the infamous jinx for help.

notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 4k !! inaccurate drug dealing.

🃜🃚🃖���🂭🂺

"i'm telling you, you're insanely overworking yourself. i don't even understand where'd you get all the time to do everything you do." your friend scolds you jokingly, though you can tell she's honestly worried for you.

"nonsense." you roll your eyes in denial, "i'm alright, we take the same classes."

"i'm not in any club doing extracurricular stuff, nor am i tutoring any dumb kid." she discusses, walking with you through the crowded hallway towards your next class.

"well i don't really have a choice, it's for the-"

"the scholarship, i know." she sighs, finally arriving. "just... please take a moment to relax."

you both take your seats almost in the middle of the classroom, by the windows. she always sat in front of you, so she would turn around and chat whenever she wanted without you being able to ignore her.

"what about we go to that party on saturday?" she proposes and you already bite your lip with an hesitant expression, "please! we don't have to stay the whole time, just an hour or two."

"i don't know... i don't have a car and it’ll be too late to take the bus." you poorly excuse, not wanting to fully reject her.

"i can drive you! or you can just stay at mine." she happily resolves and you just nod with a sigh.

it's not that you didn't like hanging out with your friend, nor she's always so insistent. she usually is very understanding and gives you space. but the exams were getting close and you needed to higher your grades in a couple of classes, so you've been paying extra attention in classes, speaking with a couple of teachers on how to improve your grades and busying yourself with the usual assignments, the extra assignments, and tutoring this one kid below your year for some extra money.

unlike most of the students here, your family isn't able to properly pay for your education. you've done your previous years in the public school your small town, your teachers were so amazed with your capabilities that they recommended your parents to send you somewhere... better. they all collaborated on writing a recommendation letter for your acceptance. and you got the full scholarship! congrats, now you have to work harder than your classmates in order to keep it.

it wasn't fair, and your friend knew it. she felt so bad that she couldn't help you with money or your studies, but she can help you to ease your mind a bit.

so, you could only frown while making a mental list of all the valuable things you could be doing instead of this, standing in a big kitchen full of intoxicated teenagers. your friend was trying to talk with you while mixing alcohol in disposable cups for each one of you.

"and tomy was sticking his tongue inside of mary's mouth in front of her father, ew! you should've seen their faces when they realized, her father was burning red, i don't know if from embarrasment or anger." she rambled with a loud laugh.

you chuckle, mostly because her laugh was contagious. "who was tomy, again?"

"shh, he's coming." she suddenly leans in to whisper before pulling back wearing her social smile, "tomyy!"

a rather scrawny tall boy comes from behind you saying your friend's name in the same way, "fancy seeing you here!" ah, he had a high pitched voice.

"i didn't want you to miss me!" she quickly jokes, "nice party!"

"i'm guessing you're having a good time." he chuckles. at this point he's set himself right next to you and still hadn't acknoledge you. "have you already found jinx?" he asks curiously with a supposedly mischeavous smile.

"damn, she's here already?"

"yeah, just bought from her in the second garden."

'what the hell is a second garden?' you thought with a weirded out glance.

they chat a bit more and you think you know the kitchen from memory after rolling your eyes around as they talked. the boy soon moves to another guest and your friend turns back to you.

"the funniest thing is that they were sent to the principal's office was for sucking their faces off in the middle of class." she continues the conversation she was having with you as if you've never been interrupted, it was a talent of hers.

'is this what she thinks of a relaxing night...?' you mentally complained. you had your friend talk you ear off 5 days a week, but that didn't seem enough for her. at some point you muted her voice from your head and only listened to the loud pop music and different people talking over each other. your eyes were fixed on the next room through the kitchen's door, the flashing lights barely illuminated the crowd. blondes, brunettes and redheads, they all stay in the background when a blue head pushes through them to your way.

you physically react with a quiet sigh when you can see her face. a pretty girl, with the softest features you've ever seen, decorated with a messy dark makeup and intense eyes. curious to see how her full style looked like your gaze lowers on her body, she was wearing a white laced corset gripping her chest for life and low wasted black denim shorts, along with the biggest boots you've ever seen.

the girl who caught your eye walked into the room with loud, confident steps. people quickle recognized her, some greeted, some lowered their eyes to the floor. she only smiled briefly before grabbing two closed bottles of vodka like she owned the place and left.

"who was that?" you breath out, realizing you've been holding it the whole time.

"jinx," your friend shrugged, "local dealer, mental problems and rich daddy." she summarized, fixing her lipstick and soon changing the topic.

the night ended up being a boomer. your friend got a stoner to share his blunt with you both and that, mixed with the alcohol you had been drinking since the night started, made you both pretty tired and sleepy. luckily, your friend's house was about two streets down from the party, allowing you to arrive sound and safe while intoxicated.

you couldn't deny that you slept like a baby.

but the week started again a day after, along with your responsabilities. and it seemed that it's gonna be a shitty one.

for your extracurricular activity, you had the job to take decent pictures for the school's paper. they were all rejected by the president in charge. you scored a negative B in a practically easy test because you were too distracted noticing that the so named jinx was in the same class as you. 'she looks very pretty in the dark blue uniform.' was your constant thought. and the cherry on top, you didn't have your extra money of the week because the parents of your student were late with the payment.

they were showered in wealth, why won't they give you your 50 dollars? now they’ll have to pay $100 next week.

but for now… you had to survive with the remaining money you had left for the rest of the week. and it was only monday.

you thought you could handle this particularly difficult week, but all this tension build up only to blow up on your face. and the face of the teacher who was telling you why you had to rewrite the essay you just submitted.

you were use to cry over stress, you thought it was a healthy way of letting it out. just not in the public eye.

tears and sobs were comming out of you as you walked down the halls, feeling like millions of eyes were judging you. how embarrasing, right? but that was only your mind playing you, the only person who looked at you twice was tomy who recognized you but couldn't recall from where.

it was friday and the classes already ended, the club was about to start in ten minutes but you were debating whether test your luck and see if it can all get shittier or just call it a day and go home.

but a loud yell of your name from behind you interrupted this final decision, your friend throted her way up to you and worriedly wiped your tears.

"are you okay? what happened?"

"i'm fucked up! i'm gonna fail all my exams and get kicked out from this stupid school!" you dramatically cried in the comfort of your friend's arms. you knew she was fighting demons to not roll her eyes and say 'i told you'.

she listened to your whines for a couple more minutes until she had an idea.

"okay stop, shush." you frowned but stayed quiet anyways, "listen, i know jinx stays in club hours to sell, she must be in that shitty bathroom from the second floor. why don't you go buy some weed and relax this weekend?"

your frown deepened and even a light blush appeared on your wet cheeks, "uhm, i don't know... why don't you just stay at my house to hangout, please?"

"oh hun, i would love to but my parents are taking me to visit my grandma." who lived far far away, you nodded. "just, try what i'm telling you, okay?"

"okay..." you hesitantly say, your friend seemed in a rush because just when you were about to ask her how much it would probably cost and how many grams you should buy, she pecked both of your cheeks in goodbye and left you standing in an almost empty hallway.

you were on your own now, hoping the 15 dollars you had left from this long week would be enough, but you doubted it.

you hesitantly pushed the door of the supposedly shitty bathroom (it didn't have a mirror, nor the renovated cubicle doors the other's had, though it was perfectly functional). welcomed by the sight of jinx sitting on top of the counter sink, ciggarette in hand and an amused smile on her face while she talked with another girl.

they quickly shut up at your presence. you purse your lips awkwardly at them, you were about to greet them when this other girl just scoffed as if you ruined something and leaned to whisper in the bluehaired's ear. jinx only chuckled in what you thought was a very flirty manner and the girl left, leaving you alone with her.

it was a good moment to say something, jinx was looking at you expectantly but you were too busy checking her out.

the school uniform itself is rather conservative, but it was usual for students to fix it to their liking as long as it isn't too inappropiate. jinx seemed to be an exception, because you didn't know how was she allowed to move around with the skirt so short. you weren't complaining, not at all. with the way she crossed her legs you could easily appreciate her pale legs, noticing a few marks and bruises which fed your curiosity.

she cleared her throat, "so? you came all the way here to stare at me?"

"no- no, sorry." you quickly apologized and presented yourself, taking a few steps closer, your voices echoing in the bathroom,

"right… what can i offer you?"

though her words were friendly enough, her tone was playful and given that you had a breakdown just minutes ago, you couldn't help but feel like she was mocking you. she probably was.

"i, uh, i was wondering what's your cheapest relaxing item?" you hesitantly ask, seeing the corner of her lips rising the slightest bit in a smirk.

"are you familiar with drugs?"

"no... not really."

"then i have the perfect discount for you!" jinx smiles brightly and you get even more closer, interested. "weed is ideal for begginers, and i can give you 15g for 100 bucks, whatcha say?"

"oh." you instantly gloom. "and... h-how much for 2 or 3g?"

"3 grams? you can barely make a blunt with that." she mocks raising an eyebrow, studying you for a second before smirking again. it was hard to read her, but you could sense she had something in mind as it seemed rather mischeavous. "for 3g... 20 bucks."

you sighed, looking away in embarrasment. you heard that her prices were high, but this... what did she need so much money for, anyways?

"okay, um... i don't have enough money with me right now. thank you." you sheepeshly said, ready to turn around and go back home to keep crying.

"wait!" she suddenly says, decrossing her legs to shift in her spot, "don't give up so easily... we can arrange something..."

"arrange...?" you repeated, confused. jinx motioned with her fingers to approach her and you did, mantaining a respectable distance before she could reach your arm and pull you even closer, caresing the lenght of it along with your hand. you were stunned, feeling your ears and chest warm up. "how come?" you murmured, trying to grasp on the situation.

"i'm feelin' nice..." she hummed, "i can give you 5g... if you give me head."

"e-excuse me?" that was your first reaction, pulling the hand she was holding away and to your chest, "what...? are you serious?"

"oh don't be such a prude!" she chuckles, giving you a knowing look, "d'ya think i'm dumb? i've seen you staring, i know you want me."

her bluntness made you blush, damn, her mere presence made you blush. she was exposing you while offering her body in change of some weed. you've never been in this kind of situation before, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of something to say.

she kept distracting you though, with that pretty smirk of hers. since you didn't instantly ran away, jinx knew her guess was correct. reaching for your hand again and rounding your hips with her long legs to pull you closer, till your body hit the counter she was sitting on.

"i know you want me." she repeated in a low tone, "and i know you need it, toots." you unconsciously lean into her touch as she caress your cheek, right where the dried tears rested on.

"i don't want to t-take advantage of you..." you dumbly say, jinx almost pouted at how adorable you were. you thought it was you who was taking advantage of this?

"you're not, silly!" she giggled raspily, "this is business."

"i'm- i don't.... i'm not sure..." you rambled, and before you could make a point -if you were ever going to make it-, jinx pulled you into her for a kiss. a hungry, intense kiss.

and you instantly melted, your hands traveled to hug her waist as you reciprocated. she tasted like that ciggarette she was smoking a moment ago, mixed with the flavour of some candy.

you thought it was hot.

her body shifted closer, sitting by the edge of the counter to easily push her hips into you. the heated make-out was interrupted by her own heavy breaths.

"see, toots?" she rasped, "you can do it."

"okay." you hummed, leaning in to kiss her again. it was ridiculous really, how easily you gave in. specially after she dodged your attempt with an evil smirk.

"uh-uh." she pushed you by the shoulders, "i asked you to eat me out."

you almost scoffed in complain, before realizing that maybe… this was even better.

"but i have a condition." jinx called for your attention with an amused chuckle. "you have to make me squirt."

"fuck." you sighed, "really...? are you-?"

"i know i can, yeah." she nods, spreading her legs for you, "but it won't be easy..."

you certainly wouldn't mind trying, you weren't exactly up close to her pussy and you could already feel the smell of her arousal, inviting you to taste her. jinx lifted up her skirt to expose her lingerie, a furious pink with a wet spot on her center that watered your mouth.

soon enough you were kneeling down, it was a bit uncomfortable given the height of the sink. hesitantly, you licked your lips and looked up at her, in search of confirmation. in response, jinx flashed you a playful smile, leaning back to rest her weight on her hands.

satisfied, you concentrated on her pussy, carefully pressing down your thumb as if testing the waters. her hips twitched at the contact, moving towards your hand. you let out a hum, 'sensitive?'. experimentally, you sticked your tongue out to lap over her underwear, the wet spot growing as it mixed with your saliva. you were contently taking things slow, against jinx own desires.

she aggresively gripped your hair to push your head into her pussy, "don't tease me, nerd." she husked.

and you couldn't bring yourself to mind, rushing to move her panties to the side to finally taste her. you wanted to impress her, you wanted her to like you, and give her the best head she'd ever have. your lips hugged her clit, quickly working on her pussy, sucking and lapping. you were rewarded with quiet sighs and trembling legs, occasionally a moan. but it seemed that jinx was trying not to crumble, silencing her sounds by pressing her lips together, though it barely did the job. you didn't mind, not when you were making out with her pussy so fervently.

your hands gripped her plushy thighs as you put them on your shoulders, helping her to stay still. her hips twitched towards you every now and then, when you would suck particularly hard on her throbbing clit. and you? you were having the time of your life.

as busy as you always were, it’s been quite long since you had some fun like this.

jinx looked down at you with furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks, meowing softly as she felt herself coming undone at your enthusiastic work on her pussy. her hand pulled at your hair and you opened your eyes to meet hers, but her head was thrown back in pleasure. you didn’t stop, instead you moved your hand to furiously rub her center until she looked at you again, biting her lower lip to muffle her moan. she came against your mouth, rocking her hips lazily against you.

you licked her clean a few times before realizing you didn't accomplished your task, she didn't squirt.

"well well, toots," she said accompanied with a breathless and amused chuckle, "i told you it would be- mhm!" her mocking words were interrupted by your actions, you decided that you'll just try harder.

you went back at it, this time focusing more on her unattended hole. when your tongue explored a little more inside, your nose hit her clit sending shivers through her back as she arched. her initial surprise was overpowered with pleasure, she didn't care anymore about not showing how much she was enjoying herself.

after the previous stimulation, this time she reached her limit much quicker. you really wanted to make her squirt, so you put all your effort on your fingers, which you carefully put inside her. jinx cursed above you, letting you do whatever you wanted with your body as everything felt just so good for her.

and the reward came along her relief, her cum fell all over your lower face, though you shamelessly tried to drink all you could.

"mkay, stop-" jinx whined lowly as you kept your mouth attached to her pussy, against her own words her legs squeezed your head tightly.

you pulled back a few seconds later, wiping your chin with the back of your hand only to smudge all her fluids to your cheek, making her giggle. she motioned at you to get closer, opening the flush of water on the sink by her side.

"thanks." you smiled quietly as she cleaned your face with water, "your thighs..." you pointed out at the wet mess on her inner thighs.

"i know."

jinx took a deep breath before making an effort to get down the counter, barely struggling to make her way inside a cubicle. you shyly stayed put, fixing your hair looking to anywhere else to give her some privacy as she cleaned herself up.

"i didn't know you were that stubborn." the bluehaired girl mocked you, suddenly she was by your side again. this time cornering you.

"you- you asked me to do it."

"yeah..."

there was something so mesmerizing in her blushed cheeks, her darkened blue eyes. your breath got caught in your throat when you felt her slim fingers sneaking under your skirt uniform to playfully pull on the edge of your underwear.

you only looked at her with little hesitance before you tried to lean in and kiss her. she dodge your attempt for the second time, not letting you time to react when she forcefully turned you around, pushing her chest on your back.

"i can give you the 15g, if you let me play a little bit." she whispered against your ear, nibbling at the earring you were wearing, "hmm? will ya let me?"

"yeah," you quickly agreed with a pleading voice, hitching up your own skirt and resting your hand on top of hers while pushing your hips, your movements were hurried and desperate, there was a pulsing desiring waiting to be attended. jinx was overly amused, rubbing your center over your underwear. "yes..." you sighed, throwing your head back to her side, leaving you neck exposed for her to keep her lips busy with.

breathless moans left your mouth, relaxing your body against her touch when loud steps startled you. it was impossible for you to ignore them because there was a chance that someone could caught you both. though jinx didn't seem to care, mindlessly biting your skin.

"did you hear that?" you mumbled, your body tensed in anticipation.

"yeah," she giggled in response, capturing your attention by getting her hands under you panties which got a squeak sound out of you. "imagine if they find us here."

"not funny-" you grumbled, unable to push her away but your eyes fixed on the closed door.

"c'mon baby, must be the janitor. he's not allowed to come here." she reassured, her other hand moving your head to her, kissing your lips messily.

you gave in, sighing into her as she pump her fingers in and out of you. you already felt so stimulated that a few minutes later you were already cumming on her hand. she doesn't stops till you ride out of your high.

jinx loudly pecks your cheek, pulling her fingers out and up to her mouth, sucking off your cum.

"god." your voice trembled at the sight.

she only smirked at you, walking to her bag which was laying on the floor. your eyes were closed while you fixed yourself again, anxious to get home and change your dirty underwear as you can uncomfortably feel the stickness.

when you opened them, jinx left on the counter a small ziploc bag.

"a deal is a deal." she shrugs, "enjoy."

you slowly reached to the bag, a bit conflicted by how the situation was ending.

“i- i’m not even sure i needed it now.”

jinx raised her eyebrows at your murmur, you came to her with those desperate and anxious eyes, only for you to not accept it?

but she knew better, with her signature mischievous smirk she approached you once again, puts the bag in your hands and let her fingers linger a bit more on top of them.

“how about this? take ‘em home, use it tonight and touch yourself thinking ‘bout me.”

your eyes open slightly, and you blush like you didn’t just fuck her a couple of minutes ago. either she always caught you out of guard, or you’re simply not used to being… so vulgar.

“so? will you do that f’me?” she stares at you expectantly with those big blue eyes, amused by your reactions.

“y-yeah, yes i’ll do it.”

“cute.” she sighs, leaning to peck your cheek once again before going to grab her bag and walk towards the exit. “i want proof! text me later!” she chuckles loudly by the door and just as loudly smacks it closed.

[avocado-writing]

i neeeed smth silly with wade and his s/o having a stereotypical teenage girls' sleepover- painting their nails, gossiping about boys (logan) and trying to style wade's wack ass wig.

sigh unfortunately i am in love with The Idiot

Honestly? You’re pretty fucking happy.

Wade is incredibly attentive. A goofball, sure, and the kinda guy to take things a little too far sometimes - but he can always tell when there’s something wrong. You’ve been far too stressed. Work has been getting you down, too much pressure with not enough appreciation, and it just feels like you’re being ground into the dirt by someone’s heel. Your usual enthusiasm when you come home has been ablated and you’ve barely been able to give Wade a smile recently. 

So tonight, when you walk in with gloom heavy around you, you’re pleasantly surprised when the apartment is lit with candles and your favourite album is playing quietly on the stereo. Wade looks up from where he’s judging between two facemasks. 

“Okay, we can go with ‘jasmine tranquillity’ or ‘rose seduction’. I’m feeling ‘rose seduction’, but maybe that’s because sensuality is my middle name. Well, one of my middle names. Wade Winston Sensuality Wilson.”

You put your work bag down and fix him with the smile which can’t help rising over your face. 

“What’s all this?”

“I couldn’t have my pookie ending their week on a bum note. I co-opted the place for ourselves tonight.”

“And Logan doesn’t care? Al?”

“Out drinking and at bridge, respectively. I’ll let you guess which one’s where.”

The image of your gruffest housemate sitting across from three retirees while playing cards makes you snort, and Wade knows he’s got you. 

Now? Now the facemask is smelling the room with soft perfume and you’re swilling your Merlot around in its glass, watching as Wade holds one of your bare feet in his lap and carefully applies red to your nails. There are curlers in your hair but none in his wig, because god knows you refuse to touch that thing any more than you absolutely have to. 

“This wine is nice,” you hum, slightly buzzed from the two glasses you’ve already had.

“It’s not, it was ten dollars, but once you’ve had enough you stop noticing that it tastes like ass,” he replies. Yeah, okay, he’s right. You down the rest of it and lean back against the sofa, watching him work as your vision swims a little. 

“You’re really good at this,” you hum. Wade doesn’t tear his eyes away from where he’s applying varnish in neat, diligent strokes. 

“I can sever a guy’s spine through his first and second lumbar vertebrae from thirty feet away. I’ve got steady hands, babe.” As easily as if he was commenting on the weather he holds up a small tray of press-on decals. “Now, do you want the little apples or the little cherries?”

You snort, gleeful. “Oh my god Wade, did you get those from Claire’s?”

“Yes I did. I went into Claire’s today because I’m confident in my masculinity and it’s a wonderful, joyous place to be.”

“… did Laura go in with you so you wouldn’t feel weird?”

“Yukio. I’m picking the cherries,” he decides with an air of finality. You cradle your woozy head in your arms and sigh, happily. 

“I love you, Wade.”

Finally he looks up, his face melting into a smile. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Now do you wanna watch Definitely, Maybe or Bridget Jones tonight?”

“Bridget Jones. You get weird when we watch the other one.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. 

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13

[yearsbecomingcool]

nice guys finish last | daniel markowitz 18+

donate to gaza here | masterlist | part 1

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | you see how long danny can really last.

warnings | f!reader, sexual context, mentions of premature ejaculation, subby!danny, dom!reader, handjobs, degradation, titty worship, nipple play, & edging.

word count | 1.6k

a/n | if writing submissive men is wrong i don't want to be right. this was so fun to work on, it's been a long time since i've written any smut involving men so this was a bit of a challenge, but a fun one nonetheless. i'm trying to figure out which other character's of fred's i want to write for so if y'all have any requests pls share, i am a deeply indecisive person. also!! if you'd like to be on my taglist for future fics let me know!!

You’re sitting on Danny’s lap as he hangs his head in embarrassment. He can’t believe he just came in his pants from making out and grinding. He feels like a teenager again in the worst way possible. He gathers himself enough to speak, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, cupping his face in your hands, “Hey. It’s okay, I’m not upset.”

“It’s just…it’s so fucking humiliating,” he whines. 

“Why? Danny…it was hot.”

He looks up at you, a bit confused. “What? I came in my fucking pants like- like a teenager. That’s embarrassing!”

“To you maybe. I don’t know…I liked it. It’s cute, I didn’t know I got you worked up like that,” you giggle, playing with his hair. 

“Cute? You’re messing with me, there’s no way you thought that was cute.”

You shake your head, “Some girls are into it y’know, I am at least. Makes me feel good to know that all I had to do was kiss you and dry hump you. Makes me think about how you’d react if I actually got my hands on you.”

“You want to touch me?” He asks it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Did you think I was grinding on you for shits and giggles?”

He blushes bright red, “I just…didn’t want to assume anything. I-I don’t know.”

“You’re fucking adorable, truly.” 

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Danny, let me make this clear. I want to touch you, I think you’re attractive, I’ve been into you for years. Fuck whatever insecure thoughts are running through that head of yours, okay? It’s hot that you just came in your pants like that, I wanna see how long you’d last if I touched you for real if you’d let me.” 

He wets his lower lip with his tongue and nods his head. “Please…” It comes out small and pathetic. He winces as he hears it leave his lips. 

“Please what? Tell me what you want me to do, Danny.” You straddle his lap again, thighs on either side of him. Your hand goes down to his belt. “I can’t give you what you need if you don’t ask for it.” 

He throws his back against the couch, whining pathetically, his hips rolling up against yours. You reach down to pin his hips to the couch, “Be a good boy and use your words.” 

“God…you’re really gonna make me?” He asks breathlessly. 

“I mean unless you want to go off into my bathroom and try to get yourself off, then yeah, you’re gonna ask for it.” He’s only seen this side of you a couple times in his life and every single time he’s crumbled beneath your feet, ready to do whatever you ask of him. With other girls he’s been the one to take charge, but as you order him around he can’t help but melt and bend to your will. 

He closes his eyes and sighs, “Please…please touch me. I need it so bad.” 

His pleas are music to your ears. You smile down at his lap and start to undo his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side. You lean forward and start to kiss his neck while you undo his pants. You don’t pull his cock out immediately, you’re gonna tease him first.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah? You hold off on coming till I give you permission and I’ll let you suck my tits. How does that sound to you?” 

He opens his eyes, glancing down at you hungrily. “I-I just have to hold it till you say?”

“Mhm, that’s all I need from you, pretty boy.”

“Fuck it, yeah, deal.”

You chuckle against his neck, your hand trailing down to his crotch. You begin to palm him through his underwear, whimpers falling from his lips almost instantly. “I knew that would work, fucking perv. Did you think I’d forget every time you’d look at my tits in my bikinis? You looked at me like you wanted to eat me, just wanted to bury your face in ‘em, hm?”

“Oh fuck me…” He mutters, his hips bucking up towards your palm, desperate for something more. “You noticed?”

“Danny, you’re as subtle as a brick through a window. You could’ve burned holes through them if you tried hard enough,” you laugh. You squeeze him through his underwear and his eyes shoot open like he was just given a shot of adrenaline. He whines so pathetically that you can’t help but smirk, “So sensitive…” 

“I can’t help it…I haven’t been with anyone since Allie,” he mumbles. 

“Forget about her, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Promise.”

You tug his briefs down, his cock springing free. “You were hiding this from me this whole time? Allie was a lucky girl,” you chuckle, biting your lip as you look down at it. You hold your palm up to his mouth, “Spit.” 

“You want me to spit on it, shouldn’t you do that?”

“Sorry, should I just dip your dick in your Dr. Pepper?” You ask sarcastically.

“Please don’t.” He leans forward and spits into your palm obediently. 

“Atta boy.” You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it at a slow teasing pace.

He mewls at your touch, his head falling forward against your neck. He places soft kisses starting at your ear, trailing down to your collarbone. He keeps his hands to himself as best he can, gripping your waist. “Can’t believe this is real…” He mumbles against your skin. 

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking of me, Danny?” 

He whines, “So many times. I felt so guilty every time, just couldn’t get you out of my head. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He begins suckling marks into your delicate skin, you whine as you get him off. 

You pick up the pace, watching how his body reacts to your touch. Part of you is shocked he’s held it this long after how quickly he came before. “Pervy boy…getting off to your best friend like that, should fucking punish you for it. Do you even deserve to cum again tonight?” You’re teasing, of course you’ll let him cum, you’re not cruel. It’s just way more fun to watch him squirm. 

“Please, please, I’m sorry! I-I just…you-”

“Hm, shut up. Fuck the deal, gonna give you what you need.” You tug your shirt down with one hand, your bra exposed. “Don’t make me do all the work here, it’s not gonna suck itself.”

He reaches forward to tug your bra down as well, he starts to kiss down from your collarbone to your breasts. He leaves marks every now and then, leaving a dark trail you know will leave you wearing turtlenecks for at least a week. He spends his time marking you up, he’s wanted to do it for years. He reaches up for your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, eliciting a whine from you. He smirks as if he’s won, you squeeze his cock softly to remind him who’s in charge. He lets out a strangled yelp and bucks up into your hand. He takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling at it as he moves his hand to tweak the other. You pick up your pace, muttering a mix of praise and degradation.

“Pretty fucking boy, you’re so good for me. Bet you spent so much time fucking your hand imagining doing this to me, hm? Bet you felt so guilty seeing me after, poor baby couldn’t get me out of his head. You’re doing better than I thought, didn’t know you could handle a pretty girl's hand around your cock. Could barely handle a kiss before.” You laugh as he suckles at you.

He’s practically fucking your hand at this point, bucking his hips pathetically. You squeeze your hand around his cock, stroking him and keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes squeeze shut and he moves his mouth to your other nipple, whining against your skin as he feels himself getting closer. He suckles harder, causing you to wince at the slight pain. You tangle a hand in his hair, pulling his face flush against your breast. He lets out a strangle moan and spills his seed against your lap and into your palm. As he comes down he suckles at your breast as if he’s soothing himself. 

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily. You bring your fingers to his mouth, “Clean ‘em up for me?” I ask. He brings your fingers into his mouth, sucking till they’re clean. You pull them from his mouth, wiping them against his t-shirt. You grab his chin and lift his head, you smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He grins bashfully, leaning his head back against the couch. “I didn’t know you could be so mean…or that I’d like it so much.” He lifts his hand, trailing his fingers over the marks he left on you. He looks proud of them.

“You owe me a turtleneck for these y’know, we’re lucky it’s winter.” 

“Hm you could just show ‘em off instead. Let everyone know I left ‘em there,” he numbles.

“Who knew you could be so possessive,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“Look at you, if I don’t leave a mark I’ll never get another chance.” He sounds sad.

“You’re going to get many other chances, the night’s still young, I haven’t come yet…and tomorrow I might wanna wake up with a pretty boy between my thighs,” you tease, stroking his hair gently. 

“Fuck…I feel like I need to clean you up instead. Another round in the bath maybe? Your hot water got fixed, right?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, fucking finally. C’mon, I think you owe me an orgasm or two.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

over 30 years old - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 390

"Was my father really as bad as Snape says?"

Harry's question came from seemingly nowhere, as the boy sat by the fire, staring into it contemplatively. He'd been off during Christmas, and this question, though abrupt, wasn't completely unexpected.

Sirius looked over at Remus, who was sitting next to him on the couch, reading a book as Sirius did the crossword. "No, Harry. Snape is biased. You father is- was- an amazing man. So...so kind, and caring, and loving. He just..he showed his worst side to Snape, unfortunately."

"But how do you know?" Harry asked, turning to them both, eyes swimming in tears. "Maybe- maybe he just tricked you, or was a good liar! You said yourself, all people have good and bad in them, maybe he was bad! Maybe I'm-"

But Sirius interrupted, stopping the boy from spiraling. He'd been trying to figure out a way to tell Harry for some time, and now seemed like the moment. "Because your father helped me through a really difficult time in my life, Harry. A time when I thought...I though nobody would love me or accept me. He was there. And he was so kind and supportive."

Harry's eyes shone with curiosity. "What happened?" he asked bluntly, as only a teenager could.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "I realized I was in love with my best friend. And, shockingly, I was raised to believe that having feelings for another man wasn't okay. When I finally caved and told your father, he talked some sense into me. Told me that my mother was a bitch, and I should go for what I want."

For a moment, Sirius mistook Harry's incredulity for disgust, but then he spoke. "You were in love with my da-?"

"Merlin, no!" Sirius laughed, realizing his mistake. "No. James...James was my brother. No, I was.." he took his hand and hesitantly put it on Remus's knee, "...I am in love with Remus, here." He felt Remus stiffen slightly before he relaxed under Sirius's touch, sending him a small smile.

Harry looked back and forth between them several times, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to figure out a difficult Potions step, before nodding to himself. "I...yeah. That makes sense."

And both Sirius and Remus burst out laughing. "That's exactly what Prongs said," Sirius choked out between his chuckles.

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[zhelin-thames]

The night was calm—eerily so, by Amity Park’s usual standards. Danny Fenton, better known to the ghostly underworld as Danny Phantom, leaned against the brick wall of an alley, munching on a cold burger. His patrol had been uneventful for once, and he was planning to call it a night when the sound of footsteps echoed down the street.

Danny didn’t need ghost sense to know someone was watching him. The footsteps were light, precise, and purposeful—not the aimless shuffling of a drunk or the hesitant steps of a passerby. Whoever it was, they were skilled. His eyes flicked toward the shadows, but he kept his posture casual.

And then the kid stepped into the light.

“Train me,” the boy said, his voice even and steady, though his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Danny blinked at him. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, dressed in black from head to toe with a hood shadowing most of his face. But it wasn’t just his age that gave Danny pause. It was the look in his eyes—sharp, cold, and determined. This kid was on a mission.

“No,” Danny replied flatly, taking another bite of his burger. He’d seen this kind of determination before—he’d been this kind of determination before—and he wasn’t about to let this kid follow in his footsteps. The vigilante life wasn’t just dangerous; it was a one-way ticket to pain, loss, and an early grave. Danny had survived by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with someone else’s life.

The kid didn’t flinch. “Train me.”

Danny sighed. “No.”

He turned and began walking away, hoping the kid would get the hint, but of course, he didn’t. The boy followed him like a shadow, his footsteps silent but deliberate.

“Train me.”

Danny stopped and turned to face him. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

The kid shook his head. Danny could respect that kind of persistence, even if it was annoying. Still, there was no way he was getting roped into this.

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing, but trust me, you don’t want this life.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy said firmly. “I’ve trained for years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your plan when things go sideways? When you’re outnumbered, outgunned, and one mistake away from getting yourself killed? You think martial arts and stubbornness are gonna save you?”

The boy didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and Danny could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But we’re doing it my way, got it? First rule: what’s your name?”

The boy straightened, his back rigid with pride. “I am Bruce Wayne.”

Danny froze. Wayne. As in the Wayne family. The rich, fancy folks who owned half the buildings in Gotham. He stared at the kid, suddenly understanding why he was so serious—and why he’d probably been trained in martial arts since he could walk.

“Alright, rule number one,” Danny said, recovering quickly. “When you’re in your vigilante identity, you don’t give people your real name. You need to keep your identities separate. Got it?”

Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding the importance of this, but he nodded.

“Good. Now again—what’s your name?”

The boy hesitated, his brows furrowing as he considered the question. Finally, he squared his shoulders and said, “Batman.”

Danny blinked. Then he blinked again. The kid’s tone was serious—so serious that Danny might have actually been intimidated if not for the fact that his voice cracked halfway through the word.

Danny bit his lip, struggling to hold back a laugh. “Alright, Batsy,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he could stop himself. “Rule number two: no vigilante-ing until you’re twenty. Teenage vigilantes get killed. They make dumb mistakes, and trust me, I know. I was a teenage vigilante, and let me tell you, it’s not worth the risk.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What? No! I need to protect Gotham. I can’t wait four more years to do that!”

It was the first time Danny had heard any real emotion in his voice. The boy’s face softened, just for a moment, and Danny could see the weight of the world pressing down on his narrow shoulders. He wanted to argue, to convince Danny that he was ready, but Danny shook his head.

“Nope,” he said firmly. “You wait until you’re out of the ‘teen’ range, or I don’t train you. End of discussion. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one: don’t give out personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you’re sixteen now, and I wasn’t even trying to get that info out of you.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, and a low growl escaped his throat. Danny couldn’t help but think he sounded like a cranky puppy.

“Fine,” Bruce muttered, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument. But Danny could tell he was already filing everything away, committing the rules to memory. The kid was smart, no doubt about that.

“Good,” Danny said with a grin. “Training starts tomorrow, Baby Bat. Meet me at Nasty Burger. Civvies only.”

Years later, Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his head pounding as he argued with a pint-sized acrobat perched on the Batcomputer.

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but Danny was already walking away, his laughter echoing down the alley.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice low and measured, “you’re not going out there. You’re nine. You wait until you’re twenty, and that’s final.”

Dick Grayson crossed his arms, his small face twisted into a defiant scowl. “But you didn’t wait until you were twenty!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not!”

Bruce groaned. He was starting to understand how Danny must have felt all those years ago.

Meanwhile, in Amity Park, Danny Fenton paused mid-bite of his burger. A strange sensation washed over him—a tingling at the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in years.

“I don’t know where or why,” Danny muttered, narrowing his eyes at the distance, “but I just know Baby Bat is doing something dumb again. And I don’t like it.”

It had been years since Danny Fenton had reluctantly taken on a certain sixteen-year-old Bruce Wayne as a trainee. The so-called Baby Bat had been stubborn, determined, and relentless in his pursuit of justice—even if Danny had been equally stubborn in making sure the kid didn’t get himself killed before he turned twenty.

Now, years later, Bruce Wayne had turned into Batman—the Batman. The name was spoken in hushed tones across the criminal underworld and was plastered on the news every other week. Danny couldn’t help but feel proud… and maybe a little exasperated.

He’d done his job. Bruce was alive, competent, and running Gotham like a pro. Danny had thought his days of worrying about Baby Bat were long behind him.

But that thought was obliterated the moment Bruce reached out through a very specific secure channel.

Danny leaned back on the couch in his apartment, half-listening to an old horror movie playing in the background while munching on chips. His ghostly senses were quiet, and for once, life was calm.

That’s when the Bat-symbol flashed on his computer screen.

He groaned loudly, almost spilling his chips. “I knew it. I freaking knew it. I should’ve ignored this brat the first time he said ‘Train me.’”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and opened the line. The face staring back at him was unmistakable—Bruce Wayne, older now, with sharper angles and a jawline that could probably cut glass. Despite the years, Danny immediately recognized the faint glint of determination (and maybe stubbornness) in his eyes. Some things never changed.

“Bruce,” Danny drawled, leaning against his desk. “What do you want now? Did you break something? Or someone? Or are you just here to tell me about how Gotham still sucks?”

“Danny,” Bruce said, his voice as grave as ever. “I need your help.”

Danny squinted at him, skeptical. “Help? With what? You’re literally Batman now. What could you possibly need from me?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and Danny almost laughed. He’s nervous. What the hell is going on?

Finally, Bruce spoke. “It’s my family.”

Danny blinked. “Your… family?”

“They’re... difficult,” Bruce admitted begrudgingly, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You? You, the most difficult person I’ve ever met, are complaining about difficult family members?” Danny wheezed. “Oh, this is rich.”

Bruce didn’t look amused. “Danny.”

“Alright, alright,” Danny said, wiping his eyes. “What’s the deal? You’ve got Alfred, right? Let him handle it.”

“This is different,” Bruce said, and Danny could hear the faintest edge of discomfort in his voice. “You’ll see when you get here.”

And with that, the line cut out.

Danny stared at the blank screen for a moment before sighing. “I swear, if he’s gotten himself in over his head again…”

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor via ghost portal the next evening, stepping out of the swirling green vortex in his Phantom form. The grandeur of the place hit him immediately—it was just as ridiculous as he remembered.

He floated down into the Batcave, landing silently behind Bruce, who was reviewing a crime map on the massive Batcomputer.

“Alright, Batsy,” Danny said, his voice echoing in the cave. “What’s the big deal?”

Bruce didn’t even turn. “They’re here.”

Danny was about to ask who when he heard a series of rapid footsteps and loud voices approaching from the tunnels.

“—I told you to stop touching my stuff, Todd!”

“Like I care, Drake!”

“You’re both insufferable,” another voice cut in, colder and sharper.

“Guys, please!” someone else chimed in, clearly exasperated.

And then they were there—a collection of teenagers and young adults, each looking like they belonged in their own action movie.

Danny blinked. “Bruce,” he said slowly, turning to face him. “Why do you have an army of kids?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his children assembled in front of Danny.

“Danny, meet my… family.”

The first to step forward was the oldest—a grinning man in his twenties with an acrobat’s grace and bright, mischievous blue eyes. “Dick Grayson,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Danny shook it, eyeing him warily. “The original Robin, huh? Bruce talks about you sometimes. Says you’re the ‘good one.’”

Dick smirked. “Good to know I’m still the favorite.”

“Only because you don’t give me headaches,” Bruce muttered.

The next kid to step forward was a young man with a white streak in his dark hair, a leather jacket, and an air of barely-restrained chaos. He didn’t offer a handshake.

“Jason Todd,” he said, his voice rough. “And you’re the guy who taught Bruce how to nag, huh?”

Danny snorted. “And you’re the one who probably causes most of his headaches.”

Jason smirked. “Damn right.”

The third was a lanky teen with sharp eyes and a smartphone glued to his hand. “Tim Drake,” he said, not looking up from the screen.

“You’re the tech guy, I’m guessing?” Danny said.

Tim nodded distractedly. “You could say that.”

Next was a young boy, no older than ten, with a scowl that could probably scare grown men. He crossed his arms and glared at Danny.

“Damian Wayne,” he said. “Biological son.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the little terror Bruce never shut up about.”

Damian bristled. “I am no terror—”

“Yes, you are,” everyone said in unison.

Danny turned to Bruce, his arms crossed. “So… what do you need my help with? Because it looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “They don’t listen to me. Half the time, they’re arguing. The other half, they’re trying to outsmart each other—or me.”

“And?” Danny prompted.

“And,” Bruce said reluctantly, “I thought you could help… mediate.”

Danny blinked. Then he started laughing again. “You want me to babysit your army of vigilantes?”

“It’s not babysitting,” Bruce growled.

But it absolutely was.

Over the next few days, Danny found himself in the middle of Bat-family antics. Whether it was Jason and Tim bickering over whose tech was better, Dick trying to wrangle everyone for a “team-building exercise,” or Damian threatening to fight literally everyone, Danny was beginning to realize why Bruce looked so perpetually exhausted.

But for all the chaos, there was a sense of family here that Danny couldn’t help but admire. It reminded him of his own ragtag group back in Amity—Sam, Tucker, Jazz, even Vlad in a weird way.

Eventually, Danny pulled Bruce aside. “You know,” he said, “for all your complaining, you’ve built something pretty amazing here. They’re not just your team—they’re your family.”

Bruce looked at his kids, a rare flicker of softness crossing his face. “I know,” he said quietly.

Danny grinned. “Well, you’re still a pain in the ass, but I think you’ve done alright, Batsy.”

And so, Danny’s unexpected reunion with Bruce turned into a week-long crash course in dealing with the next generation of vigilantes. By the time he left, he was exhausted—but also a little proud.

As he stepped back through his portal, he shook his head with a smile.

“Baby Bat really did grow up, huh?”

Somewhere in the Batcave, Bruce smirked.

[augustinewrites]

cw: jjk manga spoilers (up to 221), blood, sword fights heh + note: it's finally here, and somehow it's worse than shibuya!

“is he gonna be mad?”

“satoru?” you snort lightly, taking another bite of your frozen yogurt. “he’s just going to ask if you won. he might try to take the sequel of that new book set you got as punishment— but i’ll see what i can do.” 

across the table, megumi huffs, leaning back into the plush booth. you’d picked him up early from school today, the reason being yet another suspension. his second since he’d started the school year. you suppose that’s the reason for his sullen disposition and existential crisis. 

“am i a bad person?”

you glance up at him in acknowledgement, but take a moment before answering. he stirs the frozen yogurt around in its cup, looking rather glum.

there’s a delicate way of going about these types of things. children (especially teenagers) are complicated creatures. they’re still at their most malleable, your words and actions shaping their very future.

“i don’t think you’re a bad person, megumi,” you answer softly, setting your spoon down. 

“but i…i keep doing bad stuff,” he argues dejectedly. “and— and i was mean to tsumiki—”

“hey. no one’s born wanting to do bad things,” you tell him. “and when they do…it’s usually more complicated than we think. there are bad situations where sometimes we have to do bad things. even if we don’t want to. even if we’re not proud of them.” 

“but how do you know that i’m not?” he asks again, and your heart aches. 

“because i know you,” you smile. “i’ve known you for eight years, megumi. yeah, i think you could afford to try using your words instead of your fists once in a while, and be a little nicer to your sister…but i know everything you do comes from a good place.”

megumi doesn’t reply, staring out the window with that pensive frown of his. all you can do is wonder if you and satoru have done right by him. if you’re doing right by him now. (such is the life of a parent, you suppose.)

all you can do is hope. 

“hey,” you grin, holding your hand out to him. “promise me something?”

_____

you stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being gutted by a sword. gasping, your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the material sliced right above the small, almost imperceptible bump of your stomach. 

your megumi would never hurt you. your megumi, your sweet, gentle boy who still muttered the song about bunny ears as he tied his shoes. who always offered his sister the last bite of cake, even though you knew he wanted it for himself. who cried the first time his shikigami were injured in battle. 

but this isn’t megumi.

you barely dodge the blade again, ducking and sending your demon dogs out to slow him down as you sprint down the alley. your heart shatters at the sound of a high-pitched whine, but you can’t stop, you can’t look back—

“going somewhere?”

you skid to a stop in front of him, staggering back as quickly as you can. 

megumi— no, sukuna stands in front of you now, holding a sword you’d taught his vessel how to make, how to use. 

“please,” you beg, thinking of tsumiki’s body a few blocks away. thinking of gojo in the prison realm. you can’t lose anyone else today. “please let him go.”

“i don’t think so,” he grins, sick and twisted as he slowly makes his way towards you. “if only he’d unlocked his full potential sooner. if only you had.” 

“he’s just a child.” you say, voice trembling. you look around. there’s no use in running. he’s gotten much too strong.

but you’re not ready to die either.

he wasn’t patient, lunging first and taking the offense. it’s a struggle to meet him at every swing, deflecting blows that send tremors down the sword’s point of impact and reverberate through your arms. 

playing defence is the smart move. you’d wait for an opening or a drop in his own defence. then your goal would be to disarm him and attempt to grant yourself an advantage. 

(in theory, at least.)

when your swords lock once more, he forces them to the side, kicking you square in the chest. the impact knocks you onto your back. before you can get up, he’s on top of you, driving his sword into your shoulder.

the pain is so blinding, so white-hot and tortuous that you almost immediately pass out when he pulls it free and tosses it out of your reach. 

sukuna is in your face now, lips peeled back into a smirk as he laughs, the top of his finger slowly dragging down your face.

“putting you down now would be letting this brat off too easy. doing it slowly, however—”

“get off her.”

your heart skips a beat. that voice. 

there’s a flash of recognition in megumi’s eyes. just a for a second. 

“satoru?” 

“is that any way to treat the person who washed your underwear for almost ten years?” he tsks, hands in his pockets as he steps into the alley, quite literally kicking the king of curses off of you.

he sweeps you off the floor as gently as possible, your stomach flipping at the familiar sensation of being teleported.

you’re not in the alley anymore, you’re up on the roof of a building. as soon as satoru sets you on your feet, you look up, studying his face. the eyes you love so much stare back at you. 

the emotions you’d kept bottled up since he’d been gone pour out at once. proof of your heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness spilling over your lash line.

suddenly there’s too much space between you and you tentatively take a step forward. 

“it’s you,” you breathe. “it’s really you.” 

he says your name softly, and arms you’d longed for envelop you. you feel safe, if only for a moment.

“you need to get to ieiri,” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek gently. “go. i’ll stop him.”

you both close your eyes, as if the words hurt.

_____

“promise me you’ll always be good.” 

megumi sighs, but places his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.

“i’ll see what i can do.”

[writememysticfalls]

Nice Kitty | Kol Mikaelson

Summary: Kol stared up at you from the floor. His chest gleamed with sweat. “Nice kitty,” he whispered.

You and Kol are dirty rivals. A spell gives you total control over his body, so you decide to teach him a lesson.

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x witch!reader

Genre: Suggestive, Enemies to lovers

Word count: >1k

“Morning, princess,” Kol said, sliding into the cabin’s tiny kitchen.

He rested his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

Kol was naked - apart from a towel draped low on his hips. He shook out his brown curls, spraying you with water.

“You're in a good mood,” you said, eyes fixed on your book.

“Yep,” Kol said. “Because that nasty spell you tried on me last night didn't work.” He booped your nose. “Maybe little Y/n’s not ready for big boy magic.”

“How do you know the spell didn't work?” you said, smirking.

You reached behind your back, and pulled out a human heart - Kol’s heart.

“What have you done to me?” Kol panted, clutching his empty chest.

You smirked. “I stole your heart. I control you now.”

You lifted the heart.

“I am sick of you calling me princess… ” you said, squeezing the heart, so Kol groaned, “and little girl…” he sank down the wall “and mamacita, which is just yuck.” Kol fell to his knees.

Kol stared up at you from the floor. He was panting like a dog, mouth open, his chest gleaming with sweat. “Nice kitty,” he whispered.

You grabbed his hair in your fist.

“If you want your heart back…” you said, twisting his hair, “you'll have to beg.”

Kol narrowed his eyes. “Never. I've been tortured before, love.”

You pulled his hair harder, till his eyes welled up in pain.

“Can I-” Kol stuttered. “Please can I have my heart back?”

You giggled, releasing him.“I'm not giving you your heart back, dumbo. I’m going tell Klaus to give me the white oak stake, or I'll crush the heart and kill you.”

You booped Kol on the nose. “But I couldn't resist. You look so pretty on your knees.”

You and Kol marched through the woods, on the way to meet Klaus.

“I get it. I'm your slave,” Kol said. “But is the outfit really necessary?”

Kol was wearing a pink tutu, a pink fluffy tiara that said “FAIRY PRINCESS”, and a matching pink wand.

“No,” you said, skipping along, holding Kol’s heart. “But you look so cute!”

Kol had had enough. He reached out to snatch the heart from you.

You refused to let go. You and Kol fell to the ground. You rolled over each other in the dirt.

“Get - off!” you shrieked. Kol’s heavy body pinned you to the ground. His hot breath tickled your face.

“Vasmatos-” you tried to say, but Kol pressed his hand over your mouth, stopping you.

You and Kol both squeezed the heart at once.

And you got the weirdest feeling.

It was like being drunk on champagne. Everything turned hazy, golden. The world felt like one hilarious joke.

You suddenly felt that you didn't want to hurt Kol. You wanted to… kiss him.

Kol looked down at you like he was thinking the same thing.

Kol pulled his hand off your mouth, and flicked your plump lips with his thumb.

“That feels funny,” you giggled. “Good funny.”

“Yeah?” Kol said softly.

Kol stuck his tongue out, and licked your pink lips. You started laughing hysterically.

You pushed Kol down onto the soft forest floor, so your body was above his.

“Ha ha,” Kol said. “Upsy daisy.”

He bit the soft skin under your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

You noticed Kol’s heart, discarded on the floor. You had a vague feeling that the heart was important. But that felt so distant… and Kol’s mouth was so close…

You reached out, and dug you fingers into the heart.

You and Kol were struck by a vision.

-

A teenage Kol, stretched out on his bed, asleep. The twisted sheet left little of his sun-kissed back to the imagination.

“Taya…” Kol mumbled.

He bit down on his pillow. His breaths sped up.“Taya...”

A woman appeared at the doorway, clearing her throat.

Kol scrambled to a sitting position. The sheet slipped onto the floor.

“I’m awake,” he said thickly, his muscled arms wrapped around his knees. He blushed, and red exploded over his chest and legs.

“You're late for your morning lesson,” she said, faintly smiling. “And… I’m not ‘Taya’. I'm Miss Taya, to you.”

-

“Who’s Taya?” you said, walking behind Kol as he stormed through the forest. You were carrying Kol’s heart in your bag, to avoid touching it.

Kol’s face was a painful red. “You. You got inside my head!”

You said, “Technically, I got inside your heart-”

“Shut up!” he said. “Please… don't do that again.”

Kol was trembling with shame and anger. Your brown eyes had seen deeper into his soul, into his memories, than any girlfriend’s ever had. And it terrified him.

“It's not like I enjoyed that,” you said. “The freaky magic of the heart made me… like you for a second.” You shivered.

Kol realised that they had almost arrived at the Mikaelson house. His time was running out.

“Okay,” Kol said, stopping in his tracks. “You've won. You've humiliated me.” He grabbed the tutu in one hand, and danced around in a circle, waving the wand with the other. His face fell. “Just please don't give me to Klaus.”

You stared hard at Kol. “Why are you so afraid of Klaus?”

Kol scratched the back of his head. “I can't tell you. Just trust me.”

“If you want me to help you, I need the truth,” you said.

Kol looked down. “I've never told anyone this. I don't know how.”

You waited.

Finally, Kol pulled out his heart, and dug his nails in. Both you and Kol both struck by another vision.

-

Teenage Kol, peeking through a cottage doorway.

He was clutching a thorny rose, and his brown, muscled forearms were covered in scratches.

His eyes grew wide.

In the dark room, Taya was gripping the wall, her long hair flowing over her naked body. She was breathing hard.

A naked man grabbed her body from behind, his hands on her waist.

The man’s laughing blue eyes met Kol’s for a second.

It was Klaus.

The rose crumbled in Kol’s fist.

-

You gasped lightly. “That was Taya, your teacher. The one you had a crush on. Klaus was…”

“Klaus was fucking her,” Kol said darkly. He sat on the forest floor, crushing a pebble in his fist.“A few months after that, she disappeared, like all of Klaus’s girlfriends. The bastard killed her.”

You held Kol’s hand. “I'm so sorry,” you said, gazing up at him. “You loved her.”

“I think I did,” Kol said. “You know, before Taya died, I was a nice guy. Worthy of a good girl like you,” he said, smirking. “But that night, I decided to stop loving people so easily. Trusting them.” He thumped his chest. “Enter Kol Mikaelson, world-class arsehole.”

“You're not an-” you started. You smiled. “Okay, you are an asshole. But you're not… a bad person.”

Kol placed your hand on his cheek. His chestnut eyes held yours. “You're not like me, Davina. You're good; you're beautiful. And Klaus hates things which are good and beautiful. You can't make a deal with him. He’ll destroy you.”

You stepped away from him.

“I'm sorry, Kol,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes. “I really liked you.”

Then, your face hardened into a mask of fury.

“Klaus Mikaelson!” you yelled, running towards the Mikaelson house. “I have your little brother’s heart. Give me the white oak stake or he'll be dead by the time I count to ten…”

Kol pounded a tree trunk with his fist in anger, again and again, until the wood crumbled under his fingers.

He had trusted you. He had let you in. And you had used him.

Kol was lying in his bed in the Mikaelson house that night, when he heard a quiet “Ow.”

How was he such a trusting idiot, despite being hurt a thousand times?

-

He laughed, sitting up. Your head was stuck halfway inside his bedroom window.

“Help me,” you said. “My hair’s stuck.”

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Kol said, massaging his head. “Having your hair nearly yanked off.”

“Let me in,” you repeated, your voice breaking. “I'm here to rescue you. And this hurts like a bitch.”

“Who taught you that word, little girl?” Kol said in mock horror. “Wash that pretty mouth of yours out with soap.”

But he gently untangled your hair and gave you his hand to climb inside.

You sat down on the bed. Kol flung himself into an armchair in the corner of his room, his bejewelled finger tapping the arm. His head lolled back on the seat.

“Where did you get that pose from? GQ?” you said, laughing into your hand.

Kol got up and sat quietly down next to you, his ears burning. “Shouldn't you be more sorry or something?” he said. “You did try to sell my body today.”

You looked down. “I am sorry. I was going to leave you with Klaus, but then I thought about your story, and… I felt bad.”

Kol lightly brushed your hair behind your ear. “Is that the only reason you came back, then? You felt guilty?”

You met Kol’s eyes. You looked perfectly serious in the way only young people can. “No. I felt… a lot of things.” You looked down. “But I can't like you that way, Kol. When I like boys that way, people get hurt.”

“I know,” Kol said. “That tends to happen to the people I like, too.” His hand nudged yours on the bed, so your little fingers were touching. “I do have a knack for falling for the wrong people, don't I?”

You scoffed. “Are you talking about Taya right now? Because I really don't think bringing up your-”

Kol silenced you with a kiss. He was surprised at how good a kisser you were. Your body melted against his without shyness. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer. For a second, he was jealous of the boys who had kissed you before him.

“You're a good kisser. Should I be worried?” Kol said. He twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, possessively.

“You're a bad kisser. Should I be worried?” you said.

“Hey!” Kol said. “I have a thousand years’ experience…princess.”

“Yeesh,” you said. “You must not have done a lot of kissing in the last thousand years.”

Kol laughed. This was probably a bad decision, but it didn't feel that way.

It felt like hope.

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part three

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton × Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), fluff and angst, plot is thickening…

masterlist

The morning after…

He knows that he shouldn’t be in this bed anymore. He should’ve left the moment he woke up and realized that he wasn’t in his own hotel room. He should’ve done so many things, like taking a cold shower and texting y/n that last night was nothing more but a mistake. That she is simply too young for him and that her brother is his best friend. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, I hope we can move on from this and remain friends.” Yes, that’s exactly what he should’ve texted her.

But he didn’t. Instead, he has been watching her and the way her head is comfortably laying on his arm for the last hour. Y/N’s hand is gently holding onto his biceps. He has known this woman for such a long time- when did things change? His right hand brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, which earns him a soft sigh in return. This is nice. He vows to himself to get to know her better- in a different way.

He can feel her stir and a moment later a sweet smile appears on her lips. “Hey.”, she softly says, voice raspy and fragile. Almost like honey dripping down a spoon. Lewis can’t help but mirror the smile:” Hey.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I dreamt about you, so pretty good. Yeah.”

Y/N lets out a weak chuckle and rubs her eyes:” You’re that charming after weaking up? Give me five minutes.” At that Lewis laughs before propping himself up on his elbows:“ Take your time…“ He sees how Y/N opens her mouth to response to him when suddenly his phone rings.

y/nvettel has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, sebastianvettel and 1,368,222 others

y/nvettel: had to visit my favorite boys 🙂‍↕️💜 thanks for having me

view all comments…

user 1: ROSCOE!!!!!!!

user 2: wdym your “boys”??? george’s missing :((

user 3: @/user2 i think she means something else by “her” boys 👀👀👀

mercedesamgf1: coming home must have felt amazing, right?? 🤩😉

user 4: not one post with nico... suspicious 🤨🤨🤨

user 5: @/user4 right??? she has hundreds of lewis but none of her "boyfriend" 🙄

roscoelovescoco: love you auntie y/n ❤️

“Who is it?”, Y/N asks tilting her head, and Lewis rolls over to grab his vibrating phone off the bedside table. “It’s my manager.”, he mumbles:” It’s- it’s too early for him to call me.” His eyes move up the screen: 8:34 am.

The moment he presses the green button he can hear different voices talking over one another. “Lewis?”, his manager, James, declares almost immediately. “Yeah?”

“Please.”, James says, and the driver can hear the annoyance and bitterness in his voice:” Please, tell me you’re not with her right now.”

His eyes move back to Y/N, who is scanning his features for any signs. “What if I am?”

There’s a lengthy and heavy silence before James lets out a deep groan. Lewis can practically feel the frustration coming through the phone. “Why do you care so much about that kind of thing? You haven’t before.”

“Why do I care-? Lewis, there are photos of you and Y/N circulating online. You do know what the people are going to say about that- about you, right?”, his voice is suddenly very calm, too calm for this type of situation. “You have known this girl since she was a teenager. You were already in your twenties. You know what they’re going to say about that- think about your reputation. Please, I need you to focus on what’s important.”

[igotanidea]

Cracking: Damian Wayne x reader

part 5 of "Family rules" series.

He was going mad.

For a girl.

Nothing he ever thought would happen to someone like him.

A guy raised by assassins and Batman, who was used to putting his feelings at bay if even having any.

And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

It was impossible for someone as perceptive as Robin himself to miss her paleness and sadness. At least whenever he was near. 

And avoiding him at any cost.

And – as it usually happens – the teachers were completely oblivious to the situation and that was about to be the source of a hell of a problem for both Damian and Y/N.

“Pairs? What do you mean we’ll be working in pairs?!” she exclaimed at one history lesson upon hearing the great idea of their tutor.

“Is that such a horror for you, Y/N?” the teacher smiled through the glasses and in any other situation it would be almost benevolent but not this time.

“Yes!”

“Well I am afraid the class has already divided so you just have to comply.”

“But—”  she spun around and groaned both internally and externally upon realizing that her little outburst only left her one person to work with. “Fucking great…” she muttered noticing Damian swinging casually on his seat, not having a single care in the world.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

“I’m not working with him!”

“Getting scared, Y/L/N?” Damian smirked, knowing well how to use the opportunity. He’s been trying to talk to her for the last two weeks since that little beating in the hallway but she was surprisingly skilled in disappearing in thin air. And since he was also a teenage boy, mocking and teasing seemed the only way to reach his goal.

“Pff!” she scoffed, crossing arms over his chest. The need to prove herself superior to him was fighting with an iron resolve to forget his existence.

“Y/N, sit down now and do not make a scene. I do not understand what’s been happening to you lately.” The teacher instructed, clearly losing patience with one of the best students.

“Fine…” she muttered, plumping on the chair as far from Damian as possible, still grumpy, hardly even listening to the teacher’s instructions on the task.

“Fate definitely has a wicked sense of humor huh, Y/L/N?”

“Can you just shut up?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Yeah, no shit genius.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“Well I am asking so clearly I do.”

“You don’t really strike me as a caring type, Wayne.”

“Maybe not by your definition. Not my fault you are so conceited you mess up care and selfishness.” He mocked.

“What did you say?” Y/N hissed

Damian smirked. This was the exact reaction he was trying to get out of her.

“You call me selfish, you little prick?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “You piece of shit. You look down on everybody because you are fucking Wayne and you dare reflect all your fucking traits onto me!?”

The girl didn’t even notice how her voice got louder and how she was suddenly standing instead of sitting and quietly working on the task. She missed the fact that she was making a scene for the whole class to see, once again dragging all the attention to herself. And once again the reason for her emotional outburst was Damian Wayne. Who she hated with all her heart. Who made her act like a fool and clearly – bring out the worst of the good girl she always considered herself to be.

“Who do you think you fucking are?!” Her self-control was now completely gone “You think you can just do whatever you fucking want and have zero consequences coming from it!?”

Thank god the phones were not allowed in classes cause at this moment she would definitely end up being a meme on social media.

“Y/N!” the teacher finally woke up from the shock that her transformation brought upon everyone. “Enough! Principal’s office. Now. In fact – “ he looked around, his gaze landing on Damian. “Both of you.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. There is no basis for me to go –” Damian stated with the most cold voice he could produce.

“I don’t care!” the teacher seemed to finally lose his cool “you two are trouble and I’m not having either in my class. Now off you go. Out!” he pointed to the doors and with exchanged hateful glances Y/N and Damian decided to obey. Part of the reason was also the fact that they both knew they were in full capacity to drive the principal crazy just by showing up on the doorstep to his den.

***

“The hell is wrong with you?” he muttered as soon as they were out the door and on the empty hallway.

“Oh, me? You are the one who seems to be constantly looking for my attention.”

“And why do you think that is?” The sudden change in his tone took her by such a surprise she stopped and dared to do something that did not happen in a few weeks. She looked at him. More precisely, into his eyes. And in them, she saw something she did not like. At all.

Emotions.

Pain.

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Affection!?

“Damian…” she gulped heavily trying to clear her head and calm her rapidly beating heart.

“You are annoying. Unnerving.” He hissed, his eyes fixed on hers “Messed up. I don’t understand you. You are a mystery I cannot crack. And it’s making me angry.”

If he was a normal person he would probably clench his fists right now.

“Then why don’t you just leave me alone?!”

“Stop yelling.” Damian grabbed her hand and dragged her into the nearest empty classroom so that no one would catch them causing disturbances in the hallway. “How come for years we didn’t care about each other and now we can’t seem to be within five feet distance without fighting?”

“Oh please!” she scoffed leaning on the door “Care? Have you been reading a dictionary and learning new words?”

“You are getting on my nerves here Y/L/N.” Damian took a step closer to her trying to look menacing and as much Robin-like as possible.

“Then let me ask you again – why don’t you fucking leave me alone!?”

“Because I can’t!”

There. The armor cracked and even though he barely said anything it felt awful. He exposed himself. Showed his weak points to the enemy.  Lost on his own wish.

For a moment his words seemed to echo from the empty walls of the classroom, the air filled with tension.

“You’re not even trying are you? Damian?” her voice was surprisingly quiet and soft, even to herself.

“No…” he confessed, unable to fight against those e/c eyes fixed on his face “no… no, I am not trying.”

“Damian…”

“Please…” now he was so low as to stoop to begging. And it was humiliating. Downgrading. Scary. “Please don’t run from me, Y/L/N. You are driving me mad.”

All it took was one more look. One more exchange of glances filled with mixed emotions.

And they were back to that gala night.

The classroom was gone, the school forgotten and all that mattered was holding her close, preventing her from running away and that strange, strange, unknown feeling in his chest.

Everything important in this moment came down to the feeling of his arms around her, hearing his heartbeat against her ear and calming the storm of the emotions neither of them understood.

For some reason, simply holding onto each other felt like a peace amongst the storm. Like a lighthouse guiding them to safe haven amongst the families feud and last-names competition.

“What are we gonna do-?” he was the one to cut the silence, the weight of questions pressing onto his shoulders making him speak before he could think about the consequences of his doubts.

“I don’t know-“ said implications took form of her pulling back from him “I don’t know Damian-“

“Don’t go-“ with the reflex of a vigilante Damian gripped her arm causing her to whimper in pain. “Y/l/n? You good? What happened?” The strength he used was definitely not enough to make her react like this.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing!” she responded quickly trying to wriggle away. Too quickly. Quickly enough to make him suspicious and ignoring her protest to push him to roll her sleeve a little.

“What--?” the words died in his throat as he noticed the purple bruise on her forearm.

“It’s nothing!” she yanked free “you had no right!”

“I’m –” Damian stuttered. He messed up again.

“You’re a prick!”

“I’m sorry! But if we’re about to do- this-“ it was impossible to use the word concerning possible relationship or anything of sort – “you need to tell me. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, torn between a lot of mixed things. Could she tell him? Could she not tell him? Every move came with the consequences, almost like she was reduced to a figure on the chessboard, constantly moved by someone else. Without any power to control her own life.

But one thing was certain.

Some things and some feelings were worth protecting.

And that’s why she had only one way of surviving.

“I can’t.” she whispered with a sad, apologetic smile. “I can’t, Damian.” Without missing a beat she leaned forward, kissing him as if trying to sweeten the bitter words. Pulling everything she had into the brief contact of lips on lips, like a silent apology of putting him through the mess.

Before Damian realized what was happening he was kissing her back, pulling her close, caressing her back, in his own way trying to show her he was going to protect her. But what did he know? He was only 17 with zero power to shape reality. And when he felt her slip from his grasp and losing her warmth against him that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

But it didn’t mean he was going to give up.

Not now. Not ever. Not until she explicitly told him she didn’t want him.

***

 “How was school today?” her father asked her as soon as she stepped over the door to home. There was no denying Mr Y/L/N became very interested in his daughter's progress at school.

“It was normal.” Y/N couldn’t care less about his fake concern, trying to walk past him and get into her room.

“Ah! Not so fast, young lady. Did you do what I asked of you?”

“No.” The girl frowned, putting hands on her hips in a poor attempt at a power pose.

“No?”

“No!”

“Then I suppose we have to have the talk again, don’t we, little girl?”

She was in deep trouble that seemed to have no end….

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae