#for now i Whine via mobile

[songofsaraneth]

germany was great but i was so so so betrayed by a kebab my last night and got food poisoned before my 17 hours of Airports And Planes and i lived an entire lifetime of misery but finally im to CO and and can escape death for a little bit hhhhh

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Don’t Call Him Jealous

—

Time written-6:10 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (I’m on mobile so image is huge, but c’mon it’s Jason. Take him in)

—

“Look at that, babe,” His hot, erotic rumble roared your heart into an irritating, intense drum in your chest, heating up the tips of your ears.

“It’s crying for me, begging me to have a taste.”

Hungry eyes kept an intense focus on the mirror in front of you both, the hardwood floor pooling with your arousal. He held both your legs junction over his propped up knees, keeping you spread open for his viewing pleasure alone.

Your bare chest heaved with sweat, perky nipples heavily flushed from countless pinches in between his thumbs. Repeated begs for him to slow down to give you an ounce of a break fell on deaf ears, a forearm secured between the valley of your tits, grasping you close as he fucked you with his fingers.

Overstimulation became your toxic lover, sparking you up in pain with the promise of pleasure, quickly following eachother in an endless loop.

Bucking away didn’t help, he’d only hook his fingers against your G-spot harder, forcing your ass back against his hard, girthy cock, swollen and throbbing for pussy behind the prison of his red gym shorts.

You were in a dress, at one point. A dress you kept in its protective plastic hanger for weeks. Now, it laid abandoned, torn and neglected scraps on the ground since the second Jason saw you in it.

What was his main concern about it? “Nothing.”

The fabric was a rich, deep silky blue, caressing your body perfectly in every way. His biggest issue was a certain cocky bastard, who’s signature color just so happens to lay in pieces on the ground.

Yes, he’d get calls and texts from the rest once they realize he failed to attend yet another Gala. Yes, they’d most likely realize that it wasn’t you who had planned to miss it in the first place.

The last thing he wanted was said certain cocky Grayson to make even so much as a thought of a snarky comment on such. Knowing him, he would.

It was all Jason; the man who didn’t bother to think of the tux he was supposed to have picked up from the dry cleaners before coming home from the gym.

All he had on hand was you, working up to your fourth climax in front of your bedroom mirror. A beautiful, erotic mess of smeared lipstick and cloudy mascara tears, moaning endlessly on his fingers before working you open on his cock.

Never catch him thinking he wasn’t a giver. It was his second favorite sport.

“Pretty, pretty,” Jason murmurs against your neck, kissing along your flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty girl. Y’know what I want, huh? Give it to me.”

“C-C-Can’t,” you exhale, both your hands clutching his working forearm, needlessly crying out broken words and drawn out cries as the fire in your tense tummy threatened to burst.

“J-Jay, J-J-Jay, I-I can’t! S’too much!!”

“Come on, babygirl. Don’t be like that, give me what I want. Come on, baby. Come on, come on.”

He urges via lustfully hasty words in your right ear, bucking his fingers deeper and faster into your stretched walls, the palm of his calloused hand directly abusing your swollen, rosy little clit.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm, deep enough to add onto his collection of angry scars as liquid heat surges through your veins. A collection of trembling cries erupted from your quivering, rouge smeared lips as his palm grew soaked.

He grunts out a pleased groan in tandem with yours, nearly drowned out by your whimpering as if he was the one that came, forcing every nerve in your body to shiver.

“There we go,” Jason cooes, working his fingers until he picks up on those irritated, little overstimulated whines he recognized by memory, telling him to slow down without use of words.

Only, your body didn’t give him what he wanted. Almost, but not yet.

He listened for now, retreating his fingers, lingering about to pry your soaked lips apart, biting back a deep growl at your soaked, gaping pink hole.

Never more than now did he want to stuff you full, but he was working for something a little more… eye catching.

He enjoyed what he saw right now; maroon lipstick smeared off the edges of your lips, transferred onto his the second he kissed you against your mirror. Pink scratches and dabbled love bites that would morph into rich, wine bruises littering your neck and shoulders.

Red, pure red from your blooming cheeks, aroused skin, sore breasts, and abused pussy.

A dirty, surface drenching show only your body could provide, ignited by his favorite hue of color, by any means necessary. So. why stop at four?

Without a word, Jason dips a finger back inside your cavern, feeling your body nearly wince from the intrusion, a low little whine escaping your deflated lungs.

“Jasooon,” you croak, your rising hips instantly jolted back against his lap by a strong grip on your hip, followed by the click of his tongue. “Please—“

“Not done yet, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing along your neck as his other finger joins in, expertly finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers, determined to go for five.

Blue wasn’t a good color on you anyway.

[monriatitans]

Ta-Da! List: Sunday, June 23rd

The image was made in Canva; check it out at the [referral] link here!

I share my “Ta-Da! List” every day so everyone gets a daily update and I have a reminder of what I’ve accomplished.

To learn more about “Ta-Da! Lists”, and other ADHD life hacks, check out @adhdjesse’s book Extra Focus: The Quick Start Guide to Adult ADHD.

Abbreviations

- O&T: Opinions & Truth Blog - TBR: To Be Read - WGS: The Weekend Game Show - LPS$: Let’s Play Some $#!7 - ASO: Artist Shout-Out - IG: Instagram - BMAC: Buy Me a Coffee - TDL: Ta-Da! List

Ta-Da! List

✧ throughout the day: - kept emails manageable - loaded the dishwasher - filled out today’s TDL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the mobile phone: - Hive: shared today’s ASO - IG/Hive: shared today’s Finished Book, “Current TBR Tower”, and VOD Announcement

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the bedroom setup: - Movies: watched “The Nightmare Before Christmas” - O&T: shared yesterday’s and today’s TDL to the WGS Ko-fi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the office setup: - TBR: finished “The Affinity Between Us” by Melissa Sweeney; moved it to the “Finished Books” section of the “Current TBR Tower”, formerly “Current TBR Stack”, posts on O&T, Tumblr, Medium, and BMAC, added “The Bonds We Share”, “Smut Peddler X”, and “My Monster Girlfriend” to the tower, and then changed the published date of the post to Jun. 23rd for the O&T and Tumblr posts; added a link to the “Current TBR Tower” posts to the O&T, Tumblr, Medium, and BMAC “SITE MAPS” - WGS: gave a human artist, Varsha Vasudevan, a shout-out by sharing it on O&T, Tumblr, and other social media; did an LPS$ Stream, exported it to YouTube, shared it on O&T, Tumblr, Medium, and other social media, and then updated the O&T’s YouTube widgets; shared a VOD Announcement to The Titans’ Discord and other social media; prepared the ASO for tomorrow, June 24th - O&T: shared yesterday’s and today’s TDL to various social media - Branding: in Canva, created an “LPS$ Watermarking” template - Gaming: played “Super Lesbian Animal RPG”

- YouTube: watched and/or listened to: 1. Jim Sterling’s videos “Delayed Reaction”, “A Cautionary Post-Mortem Of Evolve”, “Falling Out With The PS4”, “Pay To Spray: Overwatch And Microtransactions”, “Game Industry Executives Are Fucking Idiots”, “Nintendo Switch Online’s Cloud Save Debacle”, “Nintendo’s Virtual Console Is Trash Garbage”, “Loot n’ Plunder”, “Can Evolve Cut Down The Bullshit Tree?”, “That Whole CSGO Gambling Thing”, “Fur Fucked”, “Weapon Durability, Fanbase Fragility”, “Why Horizon: Zero Dawn’s Success Is Good No Matter Who You Are”, “I Want To Review The Switch But A Dickhead Dev Accused Me Of Violating Trademarks”, “Resident Evil 7 Bravely Defaulted”, “Pokemon Go, The Best Worst Pokemon Game Ever”, “It’s My E3 And I’ll Whine If I Want To”, “What Would Link Do?”, “It’s Just A Game”, “The Slimy Sleaze Of That Apolitical Bobby Kotick”, and “Activision Is Innocent Because Activision Said So” 2. I’m Autistic, Now What?’s video “5 Traits You Think are Autistic (But They’re NOT)” 3. Kupo’s short “TIL: I laugh like a chicken from time to time” 4. BlackBeltBarrister’s video “Get this wrong and you’ll be at fault!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ chores and miscellaneous: - Food: had coffee and water for breakfast; had leftover family dinner for lunch and dinner; had a bowl of cereal - Chores: emptied and took out the trash; swept the kitchen

—

Well, these are all the updates I had for today! Thank you for reading!

May every decision you make be *in the spirit of fairness* and may the rest of your day *NOT go to $#!7*!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[everydayimspeculating]

The Venusaur Speculation Post

Well, I sure hated everything about this weekend.

Enough implications of personal whining, it's time for my first (and, frankly, favorite) fully-evolved starter: Venusaur.

(Lookit my happy flower boyyyyy)

So, if Ivysaur was an intermediate form, here we have a fully matured member of the species. The flower has fully bloomed, and the sauroid it's blooming from has gone from a relatively mobile body plan to a squat, more sedentary one. We have more visible teeth, and they're all sharp, indicating it has specialized even further towards rending meat from large kills.

While Ivysaur was mobile enough to dig a hole to hide itself in, Venusaur would either need to find just the right kinds of soil, or the affliction-based hunting strategy has become even more powerful, allowing it to stun prey from enough of a distance it doesn't need to be fully camouflaged.

While I wouldn't say conserving energy is the end-all be-all for a Venusaur, I can imagine that at some point in old age it'll hit diminishing returns. I'm guessing the flower stays in bloom, rather than forcing the Venusaur to bud and bloom repeatedly, which is...odd. It doesn't seem to function like a normal flower. Then again, it seems to have outsourced multiple plant functions, such as energy production, to the sauroid, leaving the flower to produce seeds and act as... well the main purpose of bright petals is to attract attention so--

Okay, yeah, it's to attract prey. Probably why it's called a Venusaur. Venus fly trap. Purposeful carnivorous plant comparisons. As a selective adaptation, Venusaur with a constant attractant probably fared better than Venusaur who had perennial flowers or other uneven energy consumption.

Thanks to a larger body size and more consistent energy needs, they're likely capable of larger broods. Probably between 5-10 eggs, average eight? But that'd likely mean females function as the singular head of a territory due to the needs of them and their extended clan. Which would explain the overwhelmingly male starters--reducing the males competing for places in these territories peacefully without losing the genetic diversity.

That's about all I have on this particular line for now. Still, I can't get over how toadlike their body plan looks to me. It's odd. It's like they started as amphibians before trading bodies adapted to water for bodies that were more plant-like. But I don't know, I don't like unique variations that are so isolated. For me to say that confidently I'd need examples of other pokemon-adapted symbionts, especially plant-based ones.

And then I realized something!

The doofy little feets! The eye placement! They both hang out in water! And they have evolutions that grow arms and hands!

And they're from the same region as Venusaur too! So, yeah. I'm confident in saying Venusaur and it's earlier stages came from an amphibious species that adapted via symbiosis to be more plantlike than amphibious.

Next time, Charmander!

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 18

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2354

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (fff threesome, pregnancy sex, sex toys, multiple orgasms, vaginal and anal penetration with toys)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 18: Girls’ Time

After talking with the others I decided I’d wait a little while before meeting my mother.  In the end, I felt like I needed to be sure what she was doing was genuine or not before I agreed to see her.  It wasn’t like I didn’t have other things that were more important to think about.  I had the ultrasound coming up to check for abnormalities and where we could find out the sex of the baby.  I had had this feeling that because three of us were pregnant, and because we already had two kids that there wouldn’t be enough excitement to share.  Often with second children people aren’t quite as hyped as the first one, partially because they’re busy with the first one, partially because all those baby things you need to buy you already have, and partially because the other people in your life don’t share your excitement.  With that on top of the fact, there were three people pregnant and I was the least pregnant, I thought by the time I hit all the milestones everyone would have been a little burnt out.

To my surprise, that was not the case.  I don’t know if it was just that there were ten of us and we were all excited about the new family members that we fed off each other to keep that going, if the others were trying to make it up to me from last time, or if the fact that when I was pregnant with the twins so many of them weren’t around and I had nothing to compare it against, but everyone was buzzing.  They’d go from happily feeling Natasha or Wanda’s stomach for kids, to saying how they wished they could feel kicks from the baby I was carrying too.  They’d talk about potential baby names for the three girls and then start speculating what sex the baby I was carrying was so they could name it too.

It felt good.  I loved how buzzed everyone was.  I loved how special they made not just me feel but Wanda and Natasha too.  I couldn’t wait to meet the four new members of our family and I was buzzed to find out what I was having.

Wanda, Natasha, and I all now had crazy cravings too.  Wanda was craving a lot of food she made with her mother.  She was vegetarian now, so she was adapting recipes that included bell peppers stuffed with pork to be vegetarian.  She was also making desserts from puff pastry and quark cheese.  Interestingly, her usual aversion to hot food had gone completely and she was enjoying all these things warm and fresh out of the oven.  Natasha’s were completely different.  She was craving high fat and high salt, which delighted Clint.  Pizza.  Burgers.  French fries.  Natasha was ordering them all hours of the day and night.  Her cravings annoyed her.  She was careful to try and balance them with salad or at least something less processed and she hated that she didn’t have the willpower to ignore them completely.  For me, I was craving sugar and things that were high in iron.  I was drenching spinach in honey mustard dressing and eating every dessert that was offered.

The men were all very keen to take care of us too.  If we had a craving they were rushing to the kitchen or ordering in takeout to cover it.  It wasn’t just food we were craving.  Our sex drives were out of control and with the kids at school we were spending a lot of days dragging people off to bed with us.  Interestingly our sex cravings were all different too.  Wanda was completely off penetration of any kind but if you went down on her she came so hard and so quickly it would make your head spin.  Natasha really, really liked being spooned.  Which was another thing that annoyed her, because she normally liked being so dominant and in control.  That didn’t annoy her nearly as much as she started getting weepy when she climaxed.  And for me?  Well, I was really into anal.  I had no idea where it had come from, but I could climax from anal alone.

The day before my ultrasound, Wanda, Natasha, and I were spending some rare time where it was just the three of us.  We’d dropped the kids off at kindergarten, come home via a nail salon where we’d gotten mani-pedis, and then come home to have a very mismatched lunch that catered to our different cravings.

“Please stop thinking about sex, Elise.  It is very distracting,” Wanda said in a tone that was half scolding and half playful.

“Don’t worry, Wanda,” I teased.  “I’ll take care of you.”

“Elly!”  She squealed and threw a dinner roll at me.

I laughed and caught it, tearing it in half and feeding a piece to each dog.

“Elise,” Natasha scolded.  “Don’t feed the dogs from the table.”

“Why not?”  I protested.  “Clint does.”

“Oh yeah, Clint’s who you want to model your behavior on,” Natasha snarked.  Wanda started giggling and Natasha wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders.  “I bought you a new toy, by the way,” she said.  “I think given your current desires you will like it quite a lot.”

“Natasha,” Wanda whined.  “Why are you teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing you,” Natasha said, nosing at Wanda’s cheek.  “We haven’t had girls time in forever.  Let’s go upstairs.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose and nodded.  “Yes, please.”

Natasha smirked and stood, offering Wanda her hand.  Wanda took it and let Natasha lead her away from the table.  “Elly, are you coming?  I got a nice present for you too.”

I got up as quickly as I could and followed after them, curious about what Natasha had in store for us, and already a little wet knowing it was going to be good.

When we got to the bedroom we helped each other strip off.  It was pretty far from sexy.  We were all different levels of pregnant.  Wanda was huge.  Probably as big now as Natasha would be full term.  She was finding it hard to even get her pants on and off by herself these days without help from someone else or using her powers.  Natasha wasn’t as big, and she was more mobile, but she was still a little awkward and she wasn’t exactly able to pull off a sexy striptease anymore.  I wasn’t quite as big as her, but it was like my body had realized it was pregnant and just gone straight into the third trimester despite the fetus I was growing not being anywhere near ready yet.  So I was not exactly co-ordinated as I got out my maternity sweats.

When we were finally all undressed Wanda and I climbed up onto the bed while Natasha went and gathered the things she had ordered.  She laid out a selection of toys and lotions on the bed before getting up on the bed.

I think that all three of us were having trouble with actually feeling sexy.  It is hard when you feel slightly awkward in your own body.  But the way they looked at me, it was easy to believe I was the most desirable person in the world.

“I think we might need to take turns,” Natasha said. “It’s a little awkward otherwise.”

“Let’s start with Wanda,” I said.  “She’s gonna get off from just us anyway so we should get her before it becomes too much.”

Wanda giggled.  “So thoughtful, El.”

Natasha lay down so she was spooning her.  She took a little vial of gel and squirted a blob onto her index finger before slipping it between Wanda’s folds and rubbing it slowly onto her clit.  I began to kiss Wanda and massaged her tits.  Wanda moaned softly into my lips and held onto me.

“Oh,” Wanda gasped, breaking the kiss.  “That tingles.”

“Mm-hmm…” Natasha hummed taking her hand away and grabbing the vibrator.  It was small and pink with a white cap on the end.  She turned it on and it hummed softly as it buzzed in her hand.  Natasha slipped it between Wanda’s legs and pressed the white end against her clit.  Wanda hummed softly but that didn’t seem to be the reaction Natasha was looking for.  She kept moving the toy, just a little wriggle as she upped the buzz.  “Fuck!”  Wanda gasped and covered her mouth.

“There you go,” Natasha said, holding the vibrator in place. “You foul-mouthed girl.”

I leaned in and started to suck on Wanda’s breasts.  I’d suckle and nip at her nipple until it was hard and then move to the next.  Wanda started panting very quickly and her hips jerked out of her control.

“Nat...Natasha, please,” she begged, her voice soft and needy.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”  Natasha hummed.  “Hitting that exact need, right?”

“Oh god, yes,” Wanda moaned.  Her orgasm was coming on very fast and seemed to be hitting her much more intensely than normal.  Her whole body had begun to jerk and her legs were shaking.  Natasha held her in place and upped the buzz on the vibrator.

Wanda’s body seized up and she cried out as she squirted hard.  Natasha didn’t ease up though, and as Wanda’s orgasm passed, a second hit immediately and her legs kicked out wildly as she moaned loudly.

Natasha pulled the vibrator back and kissed Wanda’s neck.  “You want one more?”

“No, no… I need a break.  That was…”  Wanda babbled.

“Fast.  It got you fast,” Natasha teased.

“Seriously,” I laughed.  “That had to be five minutes and she squirted.  What the hell is that?”

“Satisfyer pro,” Natasha said.  “It has suction.  I got one for each of us.  And you’re next.”

“Oh goody,” I said, as we moved around.  Wanda was moving slower and her eyes looked a little glazed as she moved in front of me.

Natasha handed Wanda a different vibrator that looked just like the one Natasha had used on her and Natasha took another toy and showed me.  “Wanda’s going to use the vibrator while I fuck your ass with this.

The toy in her hand was beautiful.  It was a clear, shimmering glass dildo.  The shaft was wavy and it had a thick round end.  Running right through the center was a blue feathered design so it almost made it look like an icicle.  It looked more like a sculpture than a sex toy.

“Pretty,” I said.  “That’ll be the prettiest thing I ever had in my butt.”

“Elise!”  Wanda scolded and spanked my thigh playfully.

“What?  It’s true,” I laughed.

Wanda took some of the stimulating gel and rubbed it into my clit, obviously trying not to laugh as she did.  The gel was warm and made my clit tingle.  Behind me, Natasha lubed up the toy.  We were pressed closely together.  Wanda’s stomach touched mine, while Natasha’s pressed into the small of my back.  Wanda and I began to kiss and she turned on the toy and pushed it between my folds.  I hummed at the soft buzz and Wanda tilted her head and moved it around and increased the intensity.  When she touched it on my clit, the small device sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrate around it.  I gasped and tense up, digging my fingers into Wanda’s side.

Behind me, Natasha teased the cool glass toy over my asshole.  She was patient, and even as the toy sent pleasure rippling through me, making me muscles clench and spasm, she didn’t start easing the dildo in until I’d relaxed enough to take it.

She began to fuck my ass with the toy as Wanda sucked on my breasts and held the suction vibe on my clit.  My cunt clenched and spasmed, and my toes curled.  I wasn’t going to even last the five minutes Wanda took.  It was intense and every single one of my pleasure centers seemed to be hit at once, with such perfect accuracy.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” I babbled, cursing over and over.   My whole body seized up and I jerked hard between them and came, my clit twitching under the toy.  Neither Wanda nor Natasha eased up though.  If anything Natasha seemed to start to fuck my ass harder.  Wanda turned the toy up and pressed her teeth down on my nipples.

I came again, my toes curling and my hips jerking.  My belly bumped into Wanda’s but even still they didn’t stop.  Wanda turned up the vibe and I screamed - my third orgasm hitting me hard.

They both stopped and kissed me softly as they let that last orgasm shudder through me.  “Natasha’s turn,” Wanda said.

I moved behind Natasha and took a thin g-spot vibrator from the collection.  Wanda took the other suction vibrator and applied the gel to Natasha’s clit as she kissed her deeply.  I kissed Natasha’s neck and lubed up the vibrator.

As Wanda pressed her vibrator between Natasha’s fold, searching for her clit, I sunk the g-spot vibe into Natasha’s cunt.  I fucked her with it as Wanda held the other vibe on Natasha’s clit.  Natasha rutted her hips slowly between us, moaning into Wanda’s lips.  I sped up my pace, angling the toy so it would hit her g-spot and vibrate against it.

The sounds Natasha made kept getting louder and more primal.  She jerked between us and came gushing onto my hand.  We kept going, fucking her with the toys, kissing her neck and breasts.  Her skin became flush and sweat clung to it.  She came again, and even as that orgasm rocked through her a third hit, making her whole body shake.

“Stop, stop…” she begged and Wanda and I took the toys away immediately.  They were both a sticky mess and we put them with the others to clean up.  The three of us lay back.  Wanda and I giggled as Natasha panted between us.

“Shit,” she sighed.  “Why don’t we do girls' time more often?”

“I don’t know,” I said, rolling over and kissing her shoulder.  “But we definitely should.”

// NEXT

[bothsidesofaquestion]

::ooc:: another night of pain, on the scale of 1 to 10 I’m at 12. Why? Because as a person with chronic pain I’m usually around 2 or even 3.

Today I slept through most of it, what a waste of day off but as much as it frustrates me there is not much I can do but wait for it to pass. I’ve tried any possible painkillers we have at the house though and so far, nothing helps much; neither these numbing creams and gels.

Right now it feels a bit better but I’ll mostly chill in mobile. I want to write and rp so, I’m around in discord and we could do quick stuff, I’ll post an inbox call and I’ll answer asks. I don’t know how to trim threads via mobile otherwise I’d reply to stuff :/

Anyway, sorry for whining but this pain has been bothering me for 10 days and today was the worst! If I don’t feel better tomorrow I’ll ask for a shot. I don’t want to but maybe I have to, I don’t want to waste another Sunday in bed. I want to do things, not only here but RL too.

See you around everyone 💙

[garpie64]

Could you do the “Jason Finds a Dragon” one please? Also, just now found out I could change the text on Mobile lmfao!

I see that. What a fancy ask XD. Anyway, here’s a bit of my portion of what is an attempt to co-write with @spartanbunjess

Could the night get any worse?

It started with Bruce getting huffy over some roughed up drug dealers who had been selling to school kids and spent the patrol briefing berating Jason for it. Then Dick, always the golden boy, had to butt in and whine about family and all that crap before getting tangled up in preventing Tim’s early death via Bruce’s hell spawn. Patrol itself had been utter hell with some upstart gang trying to move into his territory and instigating a gang war. Two Face and Black Mask then decided it was ample time to have a falling out over a weapons shipment. Gunfire went wild and there were too many innocent bystanders for Jason to focus solely on the gangs which left him a more open target than usual and of course it decided to fucking rain.

Hidden in a dark alley and wedged behind a dumpster, Jason grit his teeth when he tightened the bandage on his leg. It wouldn’t stop the bleeding, but it would at least slow the blood flow sluggishly pumping from the deep stab wound in his thigh. Pain flared up from his leg causing Jason to fall back against the dirty brick wall to regain his breath. There were more wounds he needed to tend to; a bullet to the shoulder, hip, and calf, a stab wound to his side, multiple slashes across his forearm, a broken wrist and sprained ankle, bruised and possibly broken ribs, and his entire body was riddled with deep bruising.

Red Hood had not had a fun night. At least Bruce wasn’t around to lecture him on everything he did wrong.

The sounds of shouting and running feet meant the thugs were getting close. Getting to his feet took him longer than he should have, but Jason managed to push himself up and was even successful at balancing on his own legs. The shooting pains  made moving difficult and he couldn’t trust himself with swinging across the roof tops with his wrist and shoulder. Plus his ankle wouldn’t take landings well at all. It grounded him to street level and ultimately made him an easier target for the mobs.

Instincts honed by a childhood growing up in Park Row and years spent on the street kicked in. Times like these no amount of Bat or League training mattered. Jason needed to know how to vanish into the labyrinth of rotten buildings of Gotham’s abandoned neighborhoods. Pushing thought aside for a moment, Jason’s body moved on it’s own, wounds screaming in protest as adrenaline fueled his muscles. He weaved through alleyways and cut through old warehouses. Somehow he kept going until he stumbled upon an old abandoned subway station partially collapsed. The entrance laid among rubble from some old building long rotten away. It was the safest choice he had.

Jason had ducked through the gap, shimming when he had to, and trying desperately not to think of a wooden box, dirt, and too little air. He made his way a little deeper into the dark subway before finally giving in and collapsing against a wall. Pulling some glow sticks from his pocket, he cracked them and waited for the green glow to illuminate his immediate surroundings before pulling off his helmet. Sweat stuck his hair to his skin which was an annoyance, but he was soaked and it wasn’t something that needed urgent attention.

It took probably far too long to get his breath. Any inhale too big caused his ribs to throb. The fact he was able to move and breathe seemed to be a negative against broken ribs. He did his best to bandage up his wounds with what medical supplies he had on hand. He could do a better job, but he so felt light headed and a bit woozy. The blood loss hadn’t been too bad, but it seemed to be affecting him and he probably had some sort of concussion from a lucky punch. Either way, Jason was exhausted, hurting, and completely done with the entire night.

The night apparently was not done with him.

The sound of something large shifting drew his attention to the darkness just beyond the green glow. His skin crawled, something buried deep in his primal hind-mind flared awake screaming danger. Then he heard the deep rumbling sound only a large reptilian could make.

“Fuck,” Jason rasped even as the darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. “Night’s already gone to hell and now I’m going to be dinner for Killer Croc.”

His body gave out before he could really react or whatever lurked in the shadows could reveal itself.

Another WIP Game

[sinfulredemptions]

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

ALL BLACK DOWNING BOROUGH RESIDENTS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THE EXTERMINATION HAS BEGUN. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE INNER SANCTUM VIA YOUR DESIGNATED EVACUATION TUNNELS. PROCEED CALMLY. DO NOT PANIC.

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

Not long after the most dreaded sound in all of Hell rang through the upper ring, an announcement was blared on every radio and television, patched through every mobile device with a large danger symbol over the silhouette of an Exterminator head.

The people of the Borough knew the drill, and moved quickly, carefully. Bundling up their children, their families down into the tunnel location that pinged on their map after the alert came through.

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

ALL BLACK DOWNING BOROUGH RESIDENTS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THE EXTERMINATION HAS BEGUN. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE INNER SANCTUM VIA YOUR DESIGNATED EVACUATION TUNNELS. PROCEED CALMLY. DO NOT PANIC.

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

Bently stood on the roof garden, his usual dressy attire put aside for now. His suit coat was gone, as was his hat, his sleeves rolled up and he gave Vivienne a glance as she nudged a cart laden with open glasses filled to the brim with thick iron gall ink...the feline gave him a firm look, Sterling at her side, the two giving a solemn nod before turning to leave him to his work.

The ink demon took a deep breath and let it out, pressing his hands down onto the roof, onto a sigil that had been drawn there, his eyes shifting to a bright golden glow as he did so. This glow seemed to trickle down his arms, flowing down into the ink on the ground and then down the sides of the casino. It spiraled out to the street that surrounded the area and as the spell held....the casino simply...vanished from Divine sight. The angels that had begun their rampage flew over as though there was nothing to be seen there, some pausing now and then to take note of the sinners they could sense traveling under the ground, but they were of no importance. Those caught out and in feeble hiding places were their prey.

======================================================

Charlie gave a shaky whine as the horns sounded over head, gripping herself tightly. A hand rested on her head making her jump and look up at the one who had placed it with bright red, tear filled eyes. “A..Alastor...” The stag looked down at her, almost fondly, the smile curling sharper as he looked through the nearby window at the carnage that was erupting over the street. “Don’t worry your pretty little head too much Charlie dear~ You put out your fliers and of course, we do have plenty of space! It’s up to those piteous sinners if they take your generous offer or not!”  Alastor chimed in his all-too-chipper voice.

Charlie sniffled softly, looking up at him worried. “But...they’re -dying- out there Alastor.” She said hopelessly, looking towards the door as she heard the screams of horror and terror starting to pick up as the Angels began the first hour of their gruesome murderous rampage.

“That does tend to happen during an extermination yes! Why it wouldn’t be one without it my dear!” He laughed, his studio audience echoing his sentiment.

A small teary huff came from her and she made to go for the door when long talons gently caught her elbow and froze her in her tracks. “A-alastor! I can’t just sit here and do nothing!” She protested, fiercely wiping at her eyes trying to pull away from the insistently firm grip on her arm.

“That is -precisely- what you MUST do sweetheart! You my dear are indeed the Princess of Hell! But that does not make you invincible against those hooligans! And if something happened to you, why, who would run the Hotel hm? Who would all those souls seeking redemption turn to?” A raise of his eyebrow as Charlie stared up at him with a small conflicted look on her face.

“Y..you’re right..All...all I can do is just...keep this place open for them.” She let out a soft breath and sighed softly, looking to the unlocked doors. A sign had been placed on the front:

If you need a safe haven, we’re open!

And so, the wheel turned, the slaughter rings in the new year, the streets filling with blood, the air thick with screams and pleas for mercy that fall on the many deaf ears of the Angels.

[sugarfreecapsicle]

bear

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan suggested I take this request, and I can never ever deny myself some Bucky fluff. I’m on mobile so unfortunately I can’t do a read more break - I’ll edit it in later. Hope you enjoy!! @psittagaka

“You’re telling me you’ve never been?”

You couldn’t hide the pink flush to your cheeks. “Never.”

“Then we’re going,” Steve concluded. “And you’re not backing out on this.”

The next day, the Captain himself announced there would be a so-called team building experience with required attendance.

“Team building other than shooting bullets at weird ass aliens?” Sam quipped. “I’m down.”

“And since this is a SHIELD required event,” Steve continued, his intent gaze never leaving you at your spot near the back of the room. “Y/N will be joining us so she can verify the activities were completed.”

The scents of cotton candy and popcorn filled your nose on arrival to the fair - a semi annual event nearby that allowed space to reconnect with your own humanity playing silly games and binging fried, sugary food.

Not to mention the opportunity to reconnect with a certain super soldier.

You kept to yourself on the trip over, but once you entered through the brightly colored banner, you had Natasha and Bucky at your side.

“So Barnes seems to think he’s going to win you a giant stuffed teddy bear, but I think he’s full of shit,” Natasha smirked. “I’m winning you a giant stuffed teddy bear.”

“Like hell you are.” Bucky challenged, tugging at you where he had threaded his prosthetic arm with your soft one.

Natasha extended her stride, releasing her hold on you while strutting in front of the two of you. “You’ll have to beat me to the balloon stall, then.”

Bucky’s smirk grew into a full grin before turning to you. He leaned in close, breath hot against your ear. “That bear is yours, darlin’, and I’m gonna get it for you.”

He had rushed off in pursuit and left you to deal with the overwhelming sensations of more than just your chaotic environment. You intended on telling Bucky about your feelings for him eventually when you felt the time was right, and Steve had been obsessed with finding the right moment for you once he had discovered your affection via misplaced text messages.

“I took the liberty of getting you refreshments,” Steve smiled, offering a tall, tie-dyed plastic cup as long as your forearm. By the scent of it, it had to be a pina colada. “No alcohol, of course. This isn’t too much all at once, is it?”

You shook your head as you took a sip from the oversized bendy straw. “No, I’m fine. It’s a lot to take in.”

Sure, you’d been to a fair before but never one as large as this one. It could’ve been a theme park on its own. People packed in lines, tossing change at vendors for another round of wooden horse races and refills on Italian ice. Music blared through old speakers, often drowning out the sellers trying to vie for potential consumers’ attention.

Your curious gaze began to drop as you noticed a group of men leering at you and laughing amongst themselves. It was irrational, you wagered once the hurt set in, that they would be talking about you. Being plus sized did draw some amount of attention especially at a venue where food was involved, but that didn’t mean they were mocking you. You shook it off and gulped down more of the frozen drink.

“Have you told him yet?”

“Steve, we just got here,” you whined. “Besides he ran off with Nat to the shooting gallery.”

“So what are we doing here? C’mon, I want to see this,” he laughed, placing a hand at the small of your back to urge you along the right path. You both weaves through the crowd with minimal obstacles until a woman shoulder-checked you roughly. She scoffed, rolled her eyes and muttered something ugly as she shuffled away with her two children.

“Manners,” you said gently to Steve whose fist had balled where his hand rested against you. “She’s probably just overheated and exhausted. Her kids look like they might have another few hours of a sugar rush left in them.”

“Doesn’t make it okay to treat anybody like that,” he countered, glaring behind the two of you over his shoulder. “We’re almost there anyway.”

A crowd had gathered at the red and white striped booth where Natasha and Bucky had nearly exhausted the vendor’s nerves. By the looks of the poor duck paddles, they’d already done some damage to his game.

The audience didn’t seem to mind the show between the two assassins. Both earned cheers for every victory, and the children watching were picking their favorite of the two based on who passed the winning prizes (that definitely were not the large bear hanging from the far corner of the booth) to them.

After the current round, people were chattering about who had the best shot of the match when Bucky looked over his shoulder and smiled upon seeing you. He gave you a wink then passed on a few quarters for another round.

“Alright, winner takes all: last round,” the lean man called, resetting the targets. Everyone counted down from three before Natasha and Bucky began shooting as soon as objects appeared in their field of vision. It all happened so fast you almost didn’t realize the match had ended.

The vendor assessed the shots, then turned to proclaim the winner.

“Congratulations, sir, on your life sized teddy bear,” he called out, eating up the mixed reaction from the crowd. “That was the most impressive competition I’ve ever seen.”

“I handed that to you, Barnes,” Natasha teased, lightly punching his shoulder. “He needs to repaint that hunter so he doesn’t look so duckish.”

Bucky smiled wide and tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, Natasha.”

You couldn’t help but grin - it’d been too long since you’d seen him so relaxed and happy, if you ever had. He deserved this, the whole team did.

“Darlin’!” Bucky called, jogging over through the crowd to you. “Told you I’d get you the bear.”

“You most definitely did,” you laughed, piling the soft monstrosity onto your shoulder and hips. Someone nearby, you couldn’t place who, commented a little too loudly that the bear was almost as big as you and chipped at your smile.

You did want to tell Bucky. You really did. But what if he didn’t feel the same way?

“Come on,” he said, a hand at the curve of your waist, “I want to take a victory lap around this place with you.”

You obliged, all too happy for the distraction. The two of you paired off from your friends, matching your pace and strides together.

“Buck, could...can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezed at your hip, and you wanted to run away from the retching pull in your stomach.

“I really appreciate the bear and all, but I have a confession to make.” He didn’t respond more than an expectant look, so you continued. “I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, and I feel like I’m going to pass out or puke or maybe both if I don’t tell you, and-“

“I know,” he grins, almost laughing. “If I didn’t feel the same way, do you think I’d have bet Nat I could get that bear for you? I mean, the kids were cute, but I have my priorities.”

[curiositydooropened]

Self-Isolating Together

“No.” It was a good thing Steve had the reflex to catch the door before Robin slammed it in his face. “No way, shitbird. It’s called self-isolating for a reason, and it’s the same reason I got a one bedroom apartment without you. This isn’t happening.” 

“Come on, Rob,” Steve whined, sneakered foot trapped between door and jam, fingers wrapped tightly at eye level. She grimaced at his touch. “Work booted me for two weeks, and you know I can’t be alone that long.” 

“Go back to Hawkins then.” 

“It’s like a ten hour drive by myself, and my parents are stuck in Europe.” 

“Shit. Are they okay?” The sudden sympathetic switch to her voice signaled her surrender, and Robin stepped backwards into her apartment.

Steve shrugged, pushing the door open to let himself in. “As of eighteen hours ago, Mom sent a text and said they’re fine. Just stuck.” 

“Jesus.” Robbin hugged her upper half, chewing on her plump bottom lip to weigh her options. He was in now. Not like she had the strength or willpower to kick him out. Well, she could, but he knew she wouldn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“I love you, best friend.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She scoffed. “Just don’t touch anything until you wash you hands. Dump your bag by the door.” 

He did as instructed, dramatically holding his hands upward and avoiding obstacles on his path to the kitchen sink like a surgeon between sanitation and the Operating Room. He washed with soap and water, loudly humming Happy Birthday to appease his new roommate.

“Ha ha,” she spoke dryly, leaning against the counter beside him. “You aren’t staying for two weeks, you know. I’ll murder you before then.” 

“As soon as I’m a nuisance, I’m out,” he agreed, rinsing suds down the drain with nearly scalding water.

“Okay. Get out.”

He flicked water at her as it dripped from his fingers, and she squawked, snapping the hand towel to his arm. He yanked it from her, drying his knuckles before tossing it aside and leaning beside her. He’d let a little spill over the sink and he felt the water slowly dampen the waistband of his jeans. He sighed. “So, what do you wanna do, roomie?”

“I actually can’t stand you.” She groaned, bumping his elbow with her own.

— — —

They’d settled on an Alien franchise marathon, which Steve would have never agreed to without Robin’s coaxing. And yet halfway through Aliens, he was nodding off at one end of the couch and Robin was texting on the other. He nudged her with his toe.

“You going to spend time with your houseguest or what?”

“Hm?” She continued to stare at her screen, tapping away, the soft blue light illuminating her freckled face. 

“Earth to Robin,” Steve toed her again. “I need attention.” 

“You need a girlfriend.” 

“I have you.” 

“You need a real one. One who likes boys.” 

“Yeah?” He sighed, puffing up the pillow under his head. “And where am I going to find one of those?” It seemed to be Robin’s life purpose to try to set him up with someone. Maybe she thought he was still attracted to her and needed a distraction, but any semblance of a crush faded the day he saw her wolf down fifteen hot dogs in a competition and immediately vomit them back into the tin bucket beside her.

“The inter, I’ve told you a million times.”

He groaned. “You know I hate those dating apps. It feels so objectifying.”

As much as the woman race appreciates your fall from grace as Slimeball of the Century, you have to suck it up and get yourself back out there. Because this pathetic, whiny Steve wouldn’t exist if you finally got laid.”

“Well unless you’re offering, we’re supposed to be self-distancing. So I don’t see that happening for at least two weeks.” 

Robin shot him a sly grin, wagging her phone in his direction. “There are other ways, my dude. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bed.” She leaned forward and turned up the volume on the television.

“You’re disgusting!” He yelled in her general direction, chucking a throw pillow at her. It hit her bedroom door where her smug face had been.

He rolled over and pulled out his own mobile device. Maybe she was right. His thumb hovered over the Tinder logo. He had several matches in the city, and a few DMs he hadn’t replied to. It just felt icky, for lack of a better term, like he wasn’t really trying to get to know these women. They definitely weren’t trying to get to know him. No one actually cares what his favorite cereal is. They’re just trying to figure out what to stock for the morning after. 

His brain overrode his finger and he ended up on TikTok instead, scrolling through endless videos of the nerds dancing with their siblings and trying to keep entertained during their own quarantines. Dustin posted a video an hour, documenting his day in a night vision filter, like a data log in a found footage film. Only he hadn’t done anything more interesting than eat four Snack Packs. So it was a typical Friday for him.

Steve checked Snapchat next, an app next to no one used, but the familiar notification from Nancy sent a familiar little flutter to his stomach. She’d sent a selfie in a face mask filter. It gave her thick, black eyeliner above a black leather mask, very much the contrast from her bubblegum pastel aesthetic. 

He smiled, using the same filter to respond. He retook it a few times, getting the right angle to illuminate his face from the glow of the television. bitchin’

He typed El’s new favorite phrase. She’d recently discovered the punk subculture of the 90s and used phrases like “bitchin’” and “gnarly” on every Insta story and TikTok caption.

He was shocked at the immediacy of Nancy’s response. Her next photo was dark, her soft features lit only from her phone screen. She lay on a fluffy pillow, curls tickling her cheekbones. A concerned look furrowed her brows and puckered her lips. Are you at home?

He snapped a photo of Robin’s television. nah. convinced rob to take me in.

Again, she responded quickly. This time, she was smiling. Good. Glad you aren’t alone.

His heart swelled. He knew it shouldn’t, knew he should be over her by now. It had been two years, and she was with Jonathan, and they were happy. 

He sent a photo of the dark room around him. me too. nite nance.

Nancy’s eyes were closed, nose scrunched around a smile. Night, Steve. Miss you. xx

He shut off his phone and rolled over, letting the sounds of flame throwers and machine guns drown out the dull ache and gaping voice in his chest.

— — —

Steve didn’t anticipate accidentally starting a fight on the first full day, but there he was, gangly legs tucked under him on the couch, mindlessly scrolling when Robin went in on him. All he’d done was offer to PostMate Mediterranean from their favorite place down the street, half-jokingly. Robin did not find him humorous, and he jumped at the slamming of her refrigerator door.

“No, dingus, we cannot just ask a random stranger to handle our food in his disgusting car two blocks just so we can eat.” 

“Great, so we’ll go pick it up.” 

“What is wrong with you? Can you take nothing seriously ever in your entire life?” Her tone, though always vaguely insulting, held no such understanding or humor. Instead her words felt cold, piercing.

He turned to look at her, nostrils flared and fists clenched on the edge of the linoleum countertop. “Whoa, Jesus, Rob, I was joking. Thought I’d lighten the mood. What’s your deal?”

“My deal? My deal, Harrington, is that I’ve somehow managed to confine myself to this tiny shithole with someone like you, who is constantly trying to ‘lighten the mood’ when the rest of the Goddamn world is going through something traumatic.” 

Steve fought back an eye roll. Robin Buckley, ladies and gentlemen, drama queen, people’s rights activist, extraordinaire. He really should have anticipated this. Instead, he stood from his crumpled position on the couch and stretched his limbs over his head. “Alright, alright. If it’s bothering you that much, I’ll leave.”

Robin harrumphed, hands on hips, bare foot tapping against beige tile. She didn’t respond, or stop him as he shut his laptop lid and shoved it into his bag by the door. He pretended to ignore her as she let out a dramatic sigh and crossed to her pantry cupboard.

“We have pita and hummus. Is that going to be enough for you, princess?” She scoffed.

“Ooh,” he shrugged. “I was hoping for falafel.” 

She reached into the cupboard and extracted a can of chickpeas before tossing it across the room. “Start blending.” 

He caught it and joined her in the kitchen to help place vegetables and pita on a serving platter for the both of them. Four carrots in, he bumped her with his hips. “Is everything okay though? End of the world aside?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” She avoided eye contact.

“Robin. It’s me, Steve, your best friend.” 

She sighed and shrugged under his knowing gaze, and she shot a displeased look at her phone charging near her keys and wallet on the counter. “Francesca’s pissed at me.” 

“Ah,” Steve nodded, slapping a hefty dollop of hummus onto her pita and then his own. “And Francesca is...?”

“The girl I’m... I don’t know. Seeing, I guess. Texting, calling, FaceTiming.” Robin threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect. He supposed you could take the girl out of drama club, but it never really left the girl, did it?

“Why is she pissed?”

“Because,” Robin spoke through a mouthful of pita. “She saw you being an idiot on my Insta story earlier.”

“And?”

“And I’ve barricaded myself from the world with you and I have committed to only communicating with her via the internet, dingus.” 

Steve picked carrot out of his molars with his tongue, contemplating her predicament and ways to fix it. He supposed he would also be pissed if let’s say Nancy was dating him but decided to hole up with Byers, before they were dating, of course. But that was a totally different ball game. “She knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yes, Steve, she knows I’m gay, but like... it doesn’t look great on my part to tell her countless times it’s safer to stay indoors and then let you waltz in like you own the place.” 

“Okay, well, do you even like her?”

“Yes!” Robin sighed, dipping her half eaten pita directly into the hummus. So much for the spread of germs. “I do, I really like her. Like, really, really like her.” 

“So invite her over now.”

“No, God no. Jesus, no wonder you’re single for life.” 

“Hey!”

“I just mean, if I invite her over now, she’ll think it’s just because she wants me to, and it won’t feel genuine. And I’m really not prepared for her to meet you. I can’t scare her away.” 

“Okay, unfair,” Steve prodded her hand with his carrot. She swatted him away. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Robin stared at her plate, shaking her head like a guilty five-year-old asked to apologize to a classmate. 

“That’d probably be a good start.” 

“Yeah? And who are you to give me relationship advice, Harrington? I saw you Snapping Nancy shirtless pictures this morning.” 

Steve had been caught in the act. He tried to played it off so smoothly too, also posting fresh-out-of-the-shower thirst traps on his Instagram to make sure Nancy wasn’t suspicious of his lack of wardrobe. His snaps to her were all smiles and dribbled toothpaste, relatable and modest, asking her how quarantine was going and if she had any book recommendations for the long haul.

She did, Don Quixote. And she shared her suggestions in a perfect powder blue camisole, makeup free, with her hair clipped up on the sides and out of her face.

“Steve,” Robin scolded. “You’ve got to get over it. Nancy’s happy, and she’s far too nice of a person to cut the cord and break your heart. So you’re going to have to be the one to stop contact.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled into his hummus.

— — —

After a long day of mutual sulking and watching various garbage content on their separate devices, Steve and Robin decided to open the bottle of Stoli at the back of Robin’s cupboard. She had some cranberry juice in her fridge left over from her last UTI (“TMI, Rob!”), and they decided to pour a couple of glasses and toast to Mother Russia.

It was a habit they’d been out of for a couple of months, trying to separate Hawkins life from life in the city. The vodka was reserved for particularly bad nights, long car rides, and the middle of cattle pastures. The night of Billy Hargrove’s funeral was one of those nights. Seeing Max that beat up over her dick of a brother was hard for all of them to watch. Knowing they’d had a hand in it was somehow more difficult to deal with.

Now though, they seemed to be celebrating the end of the world and being bad at girls and things, Steve couldn’t really remember. His head felt fuzzy, and his entire body was warm enough to strip off his sweatshirt by the collar.

“Why are you always naked, Harrington?” Robin cackled, tossing a tv remote in his direction. 

It bounced from his chest and thudded against the concrete floors, and the two of them howled in laughter. 

“Okay, okay,” Robin breathed, clutching at the stitch in her side. They’d gone drink for drink, and she was easily further gone than Steve, lacking experience and body mass. “Truth or dare.” 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He shrugged. “Are we five?”

“Truth or dare, dingus!” 

He laughed with her. He couldn’t help it. She was infectious, hyper and annoying, but endearingly so. “Fine, truth.” 

“Are you... still in love with me?”

It was her control question, like in a lie detector test. He thought she used it to see his mood, to gauge whether or not he was really going to play the game. 

“No, freak,” he responded, toeing at her exposed thigh across the couch. “I’m not still in love with you.” 

“Fine,” she threw a dramatic hand to her brow, giggling to break the fourth wall. “Your turn.” 

He sighed. “Alright, truth or dare.” 

“Dare.” She shot him a look with that fire in her eye, the one he’d seen time and time again in the face of real danger. Only now, the only danger was the world outside those four walls, a world without toilet paper.

“Okay, I dare you...” He looked around the apartment for something she could do that would feel mildly entertaining at this point in time. 

“I dare you to let me infiltrate your Tinder.” Robin cut him off, grasping his direction with tired movements.

Steve snorted through an eye roll, pulling his phone from between the creases of his legs for her to use. He supposed there wasn’t too much harm. He’d never speak to those women again, best case scenario, and worst case, she’d say something awful and he’d have a girl at a waitress if this self-distancing thing ever let up. Robin wouldn’t say anything awful anyway, being hyper-aware, hyper-“woke”, as they say.

“Yes!” Robin cheered, crawling closer so he could see over her shoulder. He’d gotten yelled at about proximity earlier, but apparently drunk Robin was blissfully unaware enough. He was just happy he didn’t have to think of a dare.

She spent a few seconds swiping, matching a handful of times, but she quickly grew bored of scoffing at girls she didn’t seem fit for her dingus. She switched over to the messaging function.

“Oh my God!” She squawked upon entry.

“What?” Steve laughed, picking apart the names to see what had her so shaken. None of the names sounded familiar or at all remarkable, just a lot of Jens and Jessicas and Stephanies.

“You haven’t responded to any of these women, dingus!” With a sigh of disapproval, she started her journey to find Steve Harrington love, like a virtual set of the Bachelor. 

“It looks like you had some rapport with Dana a couple of weeks ago. What was wrong with her?”

Robin scrolled through Dana’s profile. She was hot, curvy, short hair, kind of a badass. She was a hairstylist, it looked like. Her opening line was even about how great Steve’s hair was. He shrugged. “Nothing, I guess.” He wracked his brain to remember their interaction. He supposed it was during a particular Snapchat dry spell. Was it Valentine’s Day? That was a busy Tinder weekend for him.

“Well, I’m messaging her again.” 

And it went like that for a half hour, Robin scolding him at poor love life decisions and quickly trying to patch up broken contact with strangers. He was shocked to have received a few responses. People must really be bored. 

A few of the women responded “Hey, ghost”, which prompted Robin into drunken lectures about why Steve needs to be kinder to the women he communicates with. He agreed. It’s shitty to ghost people, but he knew Robin would be just as disappointed if he told every woman on the app he wasn’t interested because his heart was still wrapped up in his high school sweetheart, the love of his life.

Finally, Robin had connected with a girl named Roxanne, who owned a parakeet and happened to follow Steve on Insta after their last encounter around Christmas. Roxanne was still single, appreciated his (Robin’s) apology, and was happy to chat about life through the messaging function on Insta. Robin tutted Steve’s head with her hand and sent herself to bed, hiccuping. Her job was done.

— — —

Robin woke him up at 6AM because he was screaming in his sleep. He didn’t remember his dream, though nightmares usually rotated between five set situations. He was either with Byers and Nancy and the lights, or his pool, or the junkyard, or the secret base, or the mall. According to Robin, he was screaming for “Hargrove” to “watch out”. Ah, the mall then.

He was dripping with sweat, and Robin fetched him a large glass of water while he traipsed to the bathroom to towel off. He didn’t look hot, pale skin slightly green, normally lustrous hair clinging to his forehead like rats fighting their way out of the sewer. He splashed cold water over his face, ignoring the lingering doom that tickled at his spine and hung out just over his shoulder. 

“There’s pain meds in the cabinet,” Robin called softly.

He swung the mirror toward himself, ducking in the cramped bathroom. The generic brand bottle sat on the lowest shelf. It rattled it his hands as he removed the child-lock lid.

“Grab me some, will ya?” She groaned.

He popped two in his mouth, palming two more to meet Robin on his makeshift bed, covers tangled and strewn on the floor. They traded pills for water, and the cool condensation of the glass felt nice in his hand.

He collapsed in the spot next to her.

“You okay?”

He shrugged, staring blankly at the various liberal paraphernalia on the wall behind her television. “I guess. I don’t really remember my dream.” 

“I didn’t know you were still having them.” 

“I’m not, really. Just when I like... drink. I think that might be the trigger.” 

“Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he kicked at her ankle. “I’m the one that pulled it out of the cupboard.” 

After a long silence, Robin spoke with the least conviction he’d heard from her... ever. “You know you couldn’t have done anything, right?” 

Steve turned to her with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what the hell she was going for here.

“With Billy.” Her voice broke on the boy’s name. “He was long gone. I mean, the shit that was in his system. He wouldn’t have made it anyway.” 

Steve felt his face flush, and he ducked his head. He supposed they’d never really talked about it, about Billy, even on their most open of nights. They talked about being tortured, drugged, barely skating back with their lives or at least minimal brain damage. Robin never knew the extent of guilt that Steve harbored for his high school rival, how responsible he felt for the kid’s death. If only they had more fireworks, if only they closed the gate faster, if only he’d hit his car a little harder.

“I know, Rob. It’s just weird. I’ve never seen anyone die before, and I knew him. You know? We partied together. He kicked my ass once. Like, we had lockers next to each other in the locker room.” 

“Okay, we might need to unpack that one later.” Her tone was teasing, but soft, gentle with him. 

Steve snorted and shook his head.

Robin reached across and pulled his hand into her own. It reminded him of that time on the roof in the rain, before all of the trouble unfolded. 

“I love you, dingus.” 

“Love you too.” 

— — —

Work started the next morning, leaving the two of them propped against the countertop, staring at their laptop screens and sipping matcha from handmade mugs. Steve had been “fortunate” enough to work customer service for his dad, which typically involve emailing people about their various issues with finances. Last week’s stock market plummet had been a fun one. Steve felt overjoyed when Mom convinced Dad to force him to work remotely in order to avoid getting sick. 

Robin was a sort of jack of all trades. She did a lot of translation online, transcriptions and whatnot, headphones heavy and covering both ears. She couldn’t hear Steve talking to himself. He might as well have been alone. Occasionally, during the week, she’d hop into her bedroom to Skype her students. She taught private lessons for kids with various woodwind instruments. That alone made her pretty decent money.

Steve found himself drained within the first few days, unable to concentrate and needing an out. Luckily, Robin made up a grocery list and sent him out. She told him to be very careful and only touch the essentials. And that she’d be waiting by the door with soap and water upon his return. 

So, he shoved a beanie over his mess of hair and went out. It was cold, for March, and he didn’t appreciate the chill of frost pulling at his nostril hair and giving him the sniffles. One little inhale was enough to send a woman gasping with terror as she crossed the road. 

He made it to the corner store and soon realized he’d have to abandon his list. The shelves low of stock, and by the looks of it, they’d be wiping their asses with their hands in a few short days. He got what he could, piling it into Robin’s reusable bag, only touching the essentials. And he made sure to use the self check out on his way out. 

He made it back out the cold streets, bags slumped over each shoulder, and his phone started ringing from the buds in his ears. Hands full and incapable of reaching his phone in his back pocket, he struggled to press the tiny headphone in his ear. “Hello?”

‘“Steve? Hey.” Came the soft response of a voice he’d never forget. 

“Nancy?”

“Yeah, sorry, is this a bad time? Are you working?”

“No, no, no, no. This is fine. I’m just uh... getting groceries.” A bag slipped down the crook of his arm and he wondered how the hell women carried purses on a daily basis. 

“How was the grocery store?”

“Practically a wasteland.”

His heart did a backflip at her chuckle. Nancy’s voice was like a breath of fresh air in the stale, eery climate of a city under quarantine. It was like, as soon as she started talking, he could smell flowers blossoming in the park, feel the spring breeze roll by. She lifted the bitter cold.

“Have you been keeping yourself busy?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve hunkered down with Robin, so we’ve just been watching old movies from the 80s and eating a lot of hummus. How about you?”

“Also 80 movies marathons. What a coincidence.” 

“Anything good?”

“Jonathan forced me to watch The Evil Dead finally, and it actually wasn’t bad.” 

Steve scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t sure if it was to block the wind or the scent of Jonathan’s name lingering in the air between them. “You turning into a big horror fan then?”

“God, no,” she cackled on her line. “I still prefer staring out the window looking longingly at empty streets. Feels like the end of the world, doesn’t it?” She snickered.

“A little bit, yeah.” He chuckled. “But, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” 

She went quiet then, well, quieter. A knowing...something passed between them. She thought of Barb, he knew, and he thought of her, back to him, arm outstretched with a gun. A pitter of panic surged through him.

“Steve,” she barely spoke.

“Yeah, Nance?” He hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking. He picked up his pace again.

“Do you think this has anything to do with...?” She didn’t need to finish her thought.

“No,” he spat out before he had a proper answer. It terrified him, the idea that people were trapped in their homes, waiting for the world to crumble in vines and flower-mouthed faces. He glanced across the road at a woman delivering groceries to her neighbor. “No, Nance, I don’t.” The two women turned to smile and wave. He feebly attempted to wave back.

“How can you be so sure?” There was the stubborn Nancy he knew and loved.

“Because,” he smiled softly to himself. “If he was taking over, we’d be alone, isolated, sure. But something about this feels like it’s pulling us all together. Don’t you think? I mean, people are bringing their neighbors groceries. Have you seen the amount of instagram lives this week? Dozens. And did you watch that video of Italians singing from their balconies?”

Nancy chuckled. “Yeah, I did.” 

“See? If the world was ending, we wouldn’t be so supportive of each other.”

She paused for a moment, soaking it all in before her soft response. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” 

He grinned, struggling to lift his arm enough to push the button for entry into the apartment building. Robin buzzed him in without question. “Well, I’m back, and I’ve got to put the groceries away.” He climbed the stairs a few at a time. 

“Okay. Stay safe. I’ll snap you later.”

“Please do. Thanks for calling.” He wrapped his knuckles on Robin’s front door. 

“Tell Robin hi!”

“Tell Byers hi.”

Robin shot him a confused look, giving him a wide berth to dump the bags on the counter and wash his hands. With hurried goodbyes, Nancy clicked off the phone. 

“Longer than that!” Robin scolded when he turned off the faucet. 

Smiling to himself, he turned the water back to hot and scrubbed for a second time, loudly singing the chorus to Toto’s Africa. 

“I hate you.” Robin grinned, unloading the groceries into the pantry. 

Steve sprinkled her with water from his fingertips and dried his knuckles with the towel. 

---

First, I'd like to preface this by saying my heart goes out to those effected by the CoronaVirus/COVID-19. This fic is in no way making light of this week, I just wanted to write the story stuck in my head. If you would like to learn more about the virus and dealing with quarantine, please head over to my post, where I will drop several links with information including how to sew masks for health care professionals and where to send them in. Thank you and please enjoy!

[smrwine]

For the fourth time within the hour, Louis found himself dodging the sight of his flatmate's prick that always seemed to invade his personal space. For as long as Louis had known him, Harry has lounged around their flat bare chest and pantless with only a loose pair of trackies to keep himself decent. He walked into every room cock first and adjusted himself in his jeans frequently. He wasn’t shy about regularly mentioning his size or mentioning that he knew what to do with it either. Whether it be a joke or a humble brag, Harry was seemingly always determined to always remind Louis of his thick, daunting, length, and Louis didn’t mind one bit

“Come on, Lou, just try it.”

Harry had his whipped cream coated fingertip held out towards Louis’ lips, and his sweatpant covered cock not too far away. Louis leaned further back into the sofa, as far as he could without being swallowed.

“Get away. It’s on your finger, it’s going to taste like you.”

“I washed my hands before this, babe. Come on, it won’t be so bad - there’s cinnamon in it! I haven’t made this kind for you to try yet.”

Louis’ stomach tingled. The thought of Harry frequently baking for him, and him alone, always did his head in. It was an endlessly thoughtful gesture. Louis couldn’t pinpoint exactly the first time Harry filled him up with sweets, but he hasn’t stopped since, and every weekend began with a new sugary treat.

Harry lifted his finger towards Louis’ lips once more, encouraging him to have a taste of the cinnamon whipped cream. Louis figured it was the least he could do. Tasting his sweets was all Harry ever asked of him and he never expected anything more. It would be quick and simple, really, but his unearthly crush and desire to suck his cock made him reconsider.

If he took Harry’s finger into his mouth he just might choke on it. The only thing comparable to the size of Harry’s cock was the size of his hands, and Louis has wanted to suck on both of them, more than a dozen times. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to quit. Just one taste surely wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the thirst he so desperately contained within, but he wanted it.

Without actually thinking, Louis dropped his mouth wide open, letting his eager tongue catch the very tip of Harry’s finger.

“How is it?”

The cinnamon whipped cream was rich, airy, and sweet, but the way Harry pushed his finger in further, deeper, was sweeter. Louis’ lips wrapped around the warm digit for a moment too long before his tongue licked him clean. There was no mistaking he had gone too far, and he realized that as he pulled off with a slurp. But seeing Harry’s cock twitch in the fabric of his trackies almost made his overindulgence worthwhile.

“It’s sweet,”

Louis caught sight of Harry’s dick jumping again only this time Harry adjusted himself rudely, right before Louis’ eyes with the entire palm of his hand. No apology followed.

“It’s—it’s alright. Good enough for me.”

“Only, good enough?” he smirked. “I can do better than that for you. Stay right there.”

Louis watched as Harry walked back towards their kitchenette, cock bobbing beneath his trackies. His chest swelled with heat and desire as he soon felt his own pleasurable throb between his legs.

Harry would feel so nice inside of him, he thought. His cock would be just thick enough to burn as he split Louis open, and his length was surely ample enough to deeply penetrate and satisfy. Louis knew he’d be a meticulous lover too. Always gentle when necessary and otherwise rough where Louis needed it.

A crushing weight draped across his shoulders as rational thinking reminded him of their status. Harry was his flatmate who paid bills on time and cleaned up after himself. He was too perfect. Louis couldn’t risk losing that over a hard on and a thirst for his cock.

It was about time he got laid and got Harry out of his system.

—

Swiping through profiles turned out to be awful.

Louis was seeking something a bit more straightforward than what men on a dating app had to offer. Dinner and a film would be nice any other night, but he was gagging to be fucked senseless with no strings attached, and minimal courting. Bars and clubs were out of the question as well. Louis was far too shy to put himself out there physically and sneak someone back with him while Harry was still home, and still awake.

There was only one option he had left that he’d been avoiding relentlessly. The infamous hookup app. Straightforward. Discreet. Everything Louis needed.

He was hesitant about its nature, however. Meeting a stranger in such a way surely had its drawbacks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to trust someone with mere screen to screen communication. There would have to be firm rules set in place if he was to go through with this. One being to meet the other person in a public space beforehand, and two for them to be absolutely hung.

Louis bit the bullet, uploading a profile picture that highlighted his best assets, and kept his real name and location hidden. Straightforward enough.

Nerves bubbled to the surface as the home page loaded and dozens upon dozens of profiles popped up. If he was ever going to shake the crush on his flatmate, now was the time, and as he scrolled through the endless sea of dick prints and faces, he tried not to think about him.

—

“So you’re meeting him here then?”

Louis couldn’t focus. The message sent to him via the notorious app played on a loop in his mind, and kept him planted in reality. Be there in a bit x, read the text. Louis hadn’t even asked for the lads name, or even seen his face, yet he was ready and willing to meet up with him at his best mates pub. All for a shag.

He had never done anything risky like this. It was absolutely mad. As soon as Louis scrolled past the lads profile - dick print clear in his grey trackies as his picture - Louis knew he found the one.

Please ruin my life

I’ll ruin more than just that. x

The back and forth carried on filthily. Louis admitted to his desire of a thorough dicking that was also short term and discreet, and the lad on the other side was into the idea as well. Louis figured the overtly slutty language he used helped convince him.

“Louis!” Liam, his mate, hollered from the opposite side of the counter.

“Christ—what?”

“You didn’t answer me, are you meeting him here, or did you just come here for a humble brag?”

“I’m meeting him here, Liam. Believe it or not I trust your judgement and if you think I’m about to get into bed with a massive slag, I’d like for you to stop me.”

Liam gave him a puzzled look and paused before seriously answering him.

“Do you hear yourself right now? Like, genuinely, do you hear what you’re asking of me?”

Louis chose to ignore him in favor of watching the digital clock tick away on his phone. His palms calmed up as he scrolled through day old notifications and noticed a new one that simply read, here. It was sent a minute ago, and Louis suddenly felt intense, awful, palpitations in his chest. Overwhelming regret.

His mouth went dry, his stomach sloshed around with a heavy feeling of dread, and he couldn’t escape the guilty ringing in his ears. All of this effort just to rid a crush wouldn’t work, and he knew that. Harry wasn’t just someone he could forget about with an anonymous shag.

Louis considered bolting.

“Lou?”

Behind him came a familiar honey voice. The same one that sent shivers down his spine on the daily.

“Harry?” he turned, feeling even more mortified than before. “What are you doing here, love?”

Harry crowded into his space, taking Louis into his arms and pressing him firmly into his chest. It was quick and fleeting, and didn’t last nearly as long as Louis needed.

“I’m...uh, I’m here to meet someone. I’m trying something new, sort of.”

“Oh…”

Louis’ heart sank all together again.

“Harry?” Liam cut in from behind the bar. “The chivalrous flatmate Louis can’t stop chatting about?”

“Yeah, I believe that’s me. I hope it is.”

“I’m Liam. Nice to finally meet you, mate. I’ve heard loads of great things from this one over here.”

Louis was in pain. His face burned with pin pricks and tingles, and his stomach rumbled with embarrassment. Liam certainly knew how to make matters far worse without being asked.

“S’good to meet you too.” Harry responded politely. “What are you doing here then, Lou? Are you alone?”

Louis swallowed hard as Harry moved in closer and cornered him against the bar. His clean, musky, scent encompassed the small space between them, and Louis had to bury down a whine.

“Yeah, I’m actually meeting someone here too. I figured Liam’s pub was a safe enough space but I think I’m getting cold feet or summat, I don’t know.”

Louis overshared and let his guilt get the best of him. Even though Harry made it clear he was here for the same reason, Louis felt like he was betraying him in a way.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Louis pulled out his phone and opened the app as Harry distanced himself by a foot. Part of Louis just wanted to leave without warning, but the other part knew he owed it to whoever it was to tell him he was leaving.

It hurt to type out his cancellation. His ego and embarrassment nearly swallowed him whole, but he followed through and sent it off anyway. It was a foolish idea to begin with.

Just as Louis pocketed his mobile, Harry’s own pinged with a notification, and Liam giggled from the other side of the counter.

“What?” Louis asked sharply.

“You’re idiots.” he shook his head. “Both of you.”

Louis watched him walk off into the back area until he disappeared around a corner, then slowly looked back at Harry. His face was painted pale and shaken like he’d seen a ghost or received a hard truth. His shoulders were rigid and his mouth was dropped in disbelief.

Louis gawked, weak in the knees.

“You?” he asked a bit breathy. “Is it you?”

Harry nodded, turning his mobile to show Louis’ words repeated back to him.

“What—you hid your name! You didn’t even have a picture up of your face—“

“Neither did you! You even had your location hidden and didn’t answer me when I asked for your name—”

“I was trying to keep all of that private, Harry! Christ. Were you planning on bringing the person in those messages back to ours?”

“Were you?”

Louis clasped his hands to his chest. The sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Well...no,” he answered. “I-I really didn’t expect to even go through with this. I just sort of went through the motions until I felt guilty enough to stop it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I didn’t want you to know about this either.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Why did you?”

Louis groaned. Everything he was questioning, Harry could ask the same, and the entire mess of a situation couldn’t be pinned to either one of them.

“I wanted to get you out of my system.” Louis answered, letting the uncomfortable truth consume him. “You quite literally walk around the flat with your cock out, and you bake for me, and you’re sweet, and I knew I’d never be able to just have you once, so I figured I’d get a shag in and be done with it. I didn’t want to be that flatmate, but. M’sorry.”

“Louis,” Harry laughed, slightly defeated. “D’you know why I do all of that? Why I purposely drive you mad daily?”

“...no.”

“The first time we ever met, before moving in, you told me you had a massive sweet tooth. A rotten one, really. You said you loved your cakes and fruit tarts, but simple chocolate biscuits were your favourite. Do you remember that?”

“I—vaguely, yeah.”

“I went home that night and taught myself how to bake chocolate biscuits. I never baked before that, but after your initial reaction, I didn’t want to stop.”

Louis couldn’t help his growing smile even as he attempted to smother it. His own embarrassment still sat heavy in his chest, but Harry soothed it with his kind words and adorably honest truth. Louis could barely look up through the flattery.

“And then when we moved in together, you described your ideal partner as nice, fit, and hung, and I always did my best to remind you, that I am in fact, all three.”

Louis snickered as he stepped forward.

“You’re always so sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“You said you like them a bit cocky too.”

“Goodness, Harry. Do you pay that close attention to everything I say?”

“I do,” he pulled Louis in closer to mumble in his ear, hand on his hip. “especially all the naughty things you sent to me last night. Had I known it was you, I would’ve had you right there on the sofa.”

Louis bit his lip as Harry circled his hips with his hands, slowly caressing up and under his shirt. It felt nice. Every last tingle.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he rushed out. “This was a stupid idea. So stupid, I—”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t want anyone else either. I don’t want to ruin this again.”

“Let’s go home and get it right then.”

—

Clothes ridden and desire turned frantic, Louis sank to his knees at the foot of his bed, kissing his way down Harry’s naked torso. He nibbled just above his waistline. Nuzzled his face against his thighs. His senses were overwhelmed in musk and lust as he nosed over Harry’s hard cock and kissed his underside selfishly.

Harry groaned out a tortured sigh as he continued kiss after kiss. Louis was already lost in it. For months, he dreamed of feeling the warmth and smoothness of his cock on his lips, and feeling Harry grow hard beneath them. He had to touch himself to keep him tethered.

Louis felt a hand comb through his hair, then a gentle tug. He moaned around the pain. Harry was watching him with amorous eyes and a hand wrapped around his prick.

“You love this,” he teased. “You’ve wanted my big cock for so long.”

Louis whimpered as Harry traced his tip over his lips and shoved it in ever so slightly. As Louis greedily went to suck, Harry pulled out, and drew another helpless whine from from the boy before him. Louis dropped his mouth open, hoping Harry would give him what he wanted, but instead, he traced around his lips again, then to his chin, then to his cheeks. Louis desperately chased with his tongue, hoping to get a taste as Harry rubbed along his face. At most, he earned a lick here and a kiss there yet the arousal between his legs only grew.

“Gorgeous.”

Harry slid the hand in Louis’ hair down to his jaw and hinged open his mouth with careful fingers. Louis stuck his tongue out, red lips eager, eyes open and waiting. He shivered as Harry tapped his tip repeatedly against his tongue and slid his wet slit against it.

Bitter and warm. Salty and desirable. Louis was steadily engulfed in his flavor and driven mad by his own thirst for it.

“God, just use me,” he moaned sinfully as he swirled his tongue around for more. “Fucking—Christ. Just fuck my throat, please.”

“Shh.”

Harry hushed him and instead bent down for a kiss. The motion of their lips was languid and Harry carefully caressed the flushed skin of Louis’ chest. The kiss was grounding and sweet, and sensual without being invasive. Harry’s careful touches steadied Louis’ breathing and brought him back down to a sense of calm. He didn’t realize he was shaking until Harry soothed him.

“Just suck me for a bit. Yeah?”

With kiss wet lips, Louis listened. His hands wrapped where his throat couldn’t reach and he bobbed and twisted slowly with ease. The length of Harry’s cock slid against his tongue and filled his mouth with hulky warmth that throbbed with precome. Louis swallowed hard around him and hollowed out his cheeks expertly. He moved his hands to fondle Harry’s balls, hoping that he would fall forward and give his mouth a proper fucking.

Harry indulged a few times. The stutter of his hips teased the back of Louis’ throat, but never went far enough to choke. Louis wished he would. He supposed he would have to work harder.

“Fuck, Lou. So good.”

Harry swore under his breath repeatedly as he grabbed a fistful of Louis hair and tugged ever so slightly.

Louis purposely moaned around him, wanting to get Harry off as he kept bobbing his head and curled his lips tighter. He watched as Harry’s knees buckled and was anticipating a mouthful of pleasure, or a hip thrust to his throat, but was suddenly swept up as Harry pulled out and lifted Louis off his knees.

“Bed.”

Harry pulled him by the wrist over towards the sheets and laid Louis flat out on his back. Before he could even react, a pillow was shoved beneath his hips and a hand was carefully wrapped around his neck. Harry’s thumb caressed Louis’ jaw and his gaze was nothing short of adoring. Louis breathed as deeply and evenly as he could with Harry splayed over him .

“You were so good, sucking me off. But I’d rather come inside you, babe.” he said in a whisper. “I want to watch those pretty blue eyes roll back as I split you open. Yeah? Would you like that? D’you want to come apart on my cock alone?”

“Please, Harry.”

“No, no. Answer me, angel—“

“Yes! God, yes, I’ve waited too long for your prick. Give it to me.”

Harry laughed under his breath at Louis’ impatience and kissed him firm on the lips. Louis spread his legs open as Harry coated his fingers - hooking one of his legs over his shoulder. He kissed against Louis’ shin, then his calve, all the way down to the side of his knee.

The way his lips dotted his skin tickled just enough to distract Louis from the slick pressure that thrust its way past his entrance. Harry kissed down further, sinking his teeth into his supple thigh. Their eye contact remained unbroken.

Louis moaned around a bitten lip as Harry pushed inward and out. His second finger teased around the first.

“Get your cock in me,” Louis begged. “I want it now, please. Need to feel you.”

Harry ignored him and kept his stare hard. A second finger thrust into Louis’ hole and his big eager eyes finally rolled to a close. Harry snickered, pleased with himself, and kept up the unrelenting pace that made Louis squirm.

“You sure about that? Looks like you can barely handle two.”

Louis wiggled frantically beneath him and thrust himself down onto Harry’s fingers. The burn of the stretch was mildly present but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the waves of pleasure it brought on. Harry stroked his walls carefully and pressed the sensitive angle inside of him all whilst smirking against Louis’ leg. Louis silently clenched around Harry’s fingers, mouth hung open in pure arousal.

Harry didn’t budge on taking his time. Louis begged, whimpered, and withered into the rustled sheets until his belly was soaked with precome and his legs shook with need. Harry made sure his fingers slid in with ease and just for a brief, teasing, second, let his eager tongue fit alongside them.

The head of his protected cock pressed slowly into Louis - unsurprisingly more of a stretch than his fingers. Louis took it in deep breaths. He moaned around already full feeling and tensed his whole body as Harry sank further.

“You’re doing great—“ Harry panted. “You feel so good like this, fuck. So tight. M’not likely to last.”

“Shut up, shut up, just fuck me. Please.”

“So eager,” Harry spoke breathlessly. Winded. “I’ve wanted this just as long as you have, baby. Let me get it right for you.”

Louis thought to respond but was muffled by Harry’s slick lips as he slowly but steadily slipped all the way in. Hips to bum and a deafening groan from the two of them. Louis mostly laid there stiff, attempting to catch his breath. Harry soothed him in form of forehead kisses and soft encouragements. He reminded Louis to inhale deeply and exhale through his mouth.

Harry was just so big and thick, it was hard for him to do anything but whine and strain. Louis had never been as full and stretched as he was right then.

“S-so bi—move a bit, please.”

With careful motions and a watchful eye, Harry pulled back and gently thrust back forward. The movement alone was enough for Louis to see stars and become one with his pleasure. As he encouraged Harry to continue, the thrusts grew harder and the pounding eased into faster. Louis nearly missed out on Harry tossing his other leg over his shoulder until he was genuinely folded in half. His thighs squeezed tight around Harry until both were coming and both were panting uncontrollably into each other’s mouths.

They came down eventually, breath steady, and thoughts less clouded in a sex haze. Harry pulled out with all the tender ease and gathered Louis in his arms.

“I want you and only you. I want this for us.”

“Mmm, I want that too.” Harry moaned as he wrapped Louis tighter. “No more hookup apps for you and me.”

[1000roughdrafts]

Movie Monsters Pt. 1

Summary: you’re teamed up with Dean to figure out the path of a new monster. And of course, things don’t go as planned.

A/N: written for @spndeanbingo and is part 1 of 2 (hopefully the keep reading insert works I’m on mobile - if it doesn’t I’ll fix it when I get to work tonight)

Warnings: spn style banter, some language and angst

Square Filled: enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2,047

••••

You were never really one for movies, solely because you itched to stand up, walk around, move your limbs. Sitting for an hour or more was never appealing to you. You preferred reading, where you could submerge yourself in the story and close the pages when you needed a moment to yourself. You could always open up the book after your coffee break, or a shower and pick up where you left off.

People had said you could do the same with movies, but it just never had the same appeal. You are a controlling type, so perhaps the distaste in movies and love for books is because you can picture the story more Y/N-styled via book. Reading was easier as a hunter, as well, given that you could always carry a book or two with you anywhere you find yourself.

Lately, a new monster has hit the world - so new in fact that the only name it’s been given so far is Movie Monster. The thing is eerily similar to a Djinn, but you found out from visiting the roadhouse that they have one distinct difference; instead of the victim being placed in a dream, they are put into the world of a horror films, a lifetime of running for their lives.

Stumped, you drive to Bobby’s for a research session. He suggests you team up with the movie-loving Winchester. That arrogant smirk of his forms behind your eyes and you cringe at the sight of it.

“No way, Bobby,” you hold your hands up and shake your head. “There is no way I’m working with that prick! I’m sorry,” you say.

“You want someone who knows movies and can help you gank this sunnova bitch, or do you wanna wait till it kills more?” He shouts in his dad voice. “Besides, you’ve never even met the kid!”

“Yes I have. Don’t you remember when I was huntin that rougaru, only for Dean to come in with his sexist, ‘I’ll take it from here’ attitude?” Bobby only gives you a nagging glance. Rolling your eyes, you decide he’s right. You cross your arms, “fine, what’s this assholes number then?”

“No need for that,” he says absentmindedly. He peaks through the blinds, letting in a soft ray of sunshine as the sound of tires and the hum of an engine purrs outside. “He’s here now.”

Following behind him to the front door, you stand off to the side as two statuesque beauties make their way in offering hugs all around. The three men are offering niceties as if it’d been a long while since seeing each other.

After an uncomfortable silence, Bobby clears his throat and puts a hand on your back, “uh, Dean, Sam - this is Y/N, the girl I was telling you about.”

Dean, you remember, puts his hand out to you with a simper smile, “I believe we’ve met. It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”

“Wish I could say the same to you,” you murmur, only to be swatted by Bobby. You offer him a shrug before crossing your arms.

Sam nods at you, repeating the pleasantry. You at give him a pitiful smile, at least he’s never derailed one of your cases only to overtake it completely like Dean has.

You lead the way into Bobby’s office, plopping down into your chair, watching Dean as he saunters in, eyes scanning for a resource he’s surely not going to read and rubbing his hands together in preparation.

Slouching forward in your chair, you prop your elbows on your knees, “researching is a lost cause, guys. There’s not going to be anything in the lore given how new this creature is.”

Sam's head tilts to the side as he runs a finger along the spines of Bobby’s books, without turning to you, he replies, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We could look into a resurfacing monster that went dormant for years, or - or perhaps something similar to a Djinn that just,” he holds onto his tongue, in search of the phrasing, “transformed or morphed into something else.”

Pulling a book down, he quickly opens it and fans through the pages. Dean coasts over to the chair next to you, falling onto it and clapping his hands together. “Well, if we can’t find anything here, I say we do some hands on learning,” he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, standing up from the chair and walking over the creaking boards to Bobby’s side.

“How ‘bout we split up,” Bobby suggests, pointing to Dean, “you and Y/N do the hands on, and me and Sam will crack open the books. We’ll keep each other posted on our findings and Hell, maybe when all this is over we can create the first book about this Movie Monster.”

“What?” You screech, directing your attention onto Bobby, “first of all, you know how I feel about that jerk, and secondly, I’m not into movies, remember!”

“Little girl you listen to me, and you listen good,” He flags a finger at you, gripping the attention of the brothers. They know this lecture all too well and exchange glances of gratification that they are not the only ones to deal with Bobby’s fatherly lessons. You cower only slightly. You admire Bobby, always have. Ever since your parents were murdered by a demon, he’s all you had.

“If you think for one second that I’m changin’ my mind, you can guess again. You better drop that attitude, little lady. We have no room for that huffin’ and puffin’ so you can take it or leave it,” He scolds.

You cross your arms, looking between the brothers as they quickly turn their heads away. “I’ll stay,” you mutter.

“Good,” Bobby sighs. He glances at the Winchester’s before looking back at you more affectionately, “now I hate gettin’ on you guys, but sometimes you really get on my nerves with your whining,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Now, can we agree on the teams?”

“Yes sir,” the three of you say in union.

“You two better scurry off if you wanna save daylight,” Bobby says, pointing to you and Dean, “sunsets bout to come in and we don’t know when or where this thing is gonna hit next.”

“Not to sound silly, but how do we know where to go next?” You ask.

“Have you forgotten how to do your damn job?” Bobby taunts. “Last attack was in Wisconsin, right? Go there, interview the victim’s families, check out the autopsies - the usual stuff,” he shrugs.

“That’s almost a seven hour drive!” You blurt out before you can cover your mouth. All eyes land on you, Sam with his head tilt and Bobby with his father frown.

Dean stands smugly, wagging a hand and arrogantly speaking out, “five and a half if I’m driving,” he winks. You groan, pushing past the men to pack up a bag.

Once you have everything you could imagine you’d need, you run your hands across the empty notebook your mother had gifted you merely weeks before she died. You never considered yourself to be a writer or a daily journal type of gal, but if this monster was one for the books, you know that you need to be the person to write that.

You slip the notebook and a few pens into your bag and rush back down the hallway, giving Bobby a kiss on the cheek and a small apology before heading out.

Jumping into the passenger side of the Impala, you slam the door shut behind you. Dean winces, glancing over at you, remaining quiet but keeping a frown.

“What?” You snap, whipping the seat belt over your lap and clicking it together.

“Hey!” He shouts, holding his palms out to you, “go easy on her! Do you have to be so aggressive with everything?” He rolls his eyes, clicking the key into driving and delicately rotating the ignition on - eliciting the soft purr of her engine.

“Do you have to be so bossy?” You retort, leaning back against the seat.

For the rest of the drive you speak no words, only listen to the wear of the tires on the road and the soft rock that plays from the speakers. Dean slowly pulls up in front of a motel, putting the car to a stop and jumping out without saying a word to you.

He returns shortly, letting out a huff as he falls into the seat with one key, “so, they only have one room left-“

“What?” You say, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

“There’s a bright side - there’s two beds in this room,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

You sigh in relief, “okay. That’s… better, I guess.”

Lugging in your bag, you take the bed by the bathroom after arguing with Dean about the one by the door. He says since he’s the man and he should be the one to protect the two of you should someone break in. You were in no mood to spend the night arguing, so you settled on the other bed with a request that he let you take the lead in the morning.

You wake up to the earthy and spicy aroma of freshly brewed coffee, following your nose to a cup planted on the nightstand by your bed. Chugging nearly half of it before you open your eyes, you hear a low chuckle off to the corner.

You squint your eyes in his direction, at his freshly showered and shaven face as you swallow down the hot liquid.

“Not a morning person I take it,” he quips before taking a sip of his own. Judging from his chipper voice, it’s certainly not the first cup he’s had for the day.

“Yeah, and you are?” You sass, hurling the blankets to the side and throwing your legs off of the bed. Grabbing your bag you ignore his response, pushing right past him and into the bathroom.

You rummage through the small bag, looking for the professional attire you find yourself wearing less and less. Displeased at the small hairs scattered in the sink and the splashes of water beside it, you grab a towel from the stand and place it on top of the counter to put your clothes safely onto. You reach into your bag again, pulling out a small bag of your makeup and toothbrush.

Before stripping off your clothes, you make sure to lock the bathroom again, hopping in the shower and getting ready as quickly as you can.

•••

Surprisingly, Dean held up to his promise - or bet, or whatever the Hell you would call the argument over who got the bed - and let you lead the conversation with the victim’s families. It went extremely well, you’d say. The families gave you some good information and you expressed your condolences, but you were ultimately sent back to the drawing board.

Both of you sighing out as you get into the Impala, Dean starts the conversation. “So, morgue?”

“Yep,” you say, slouching down in your seat, throwing a hand on your forehead.

He reaches over to the glove box, and you only notice that he’s so near to you when you hear the box pop open and his arm brushes against yours. You pull your hand from your face and lean back in time to see him holding a bottle of ibuprofen. Only then did you realize that there’s a throbbing against your temples, and a pulsing behind your eyes.

You groan, forcing a smile and taking the bottle from his hands. He twists around to reach into the back seat for some kind of liquid, only finding a can of beer.

“Thanks, Dean,” you chuckle, the throbbing intensifying at the vocalization. “I’ll just take it dry,” you whisper, opening up the bottle and popping two of the astringent capsules into your mouth. You cringe, shaking your head as they go down.

Dean laughs as he puts the car into gear, “I’ll take the morgue,” he says softly. “Not because I don’t think you can handle it, but-“

“Headache, no talking, got it,” you say with a hand covering your face, holding a thumbs up at him.

Part 2

Forever tags

@waywardblueshun @fangirl490

[early-sxnsets]

"Only bought this dress so you could take it off" and "flash back to my mistakes my rebounds my earthquakes even in my worst lies you saw the truth in me" - Dress by taylor Swift (aka Jesus) prompt thing

(ok i’m gonna break this down into two ficlets because, while on one hand i wanna write baz in a dress, i also really wanna write a bit of penny/micah because they deserve love and recognition as much as everyone else)

-

“I thought you said his plane should be landing soon?” Simon complains, stretching across one of the seats next to the baggage claim carousel. He’s got his legs propped up on a clearly-much-more-enthralled-with-what’s-on-his-mobile Baz, and he’s probably only complaining because I made him skip lunch.

I’m fidgeting. I nearly never fidget. It’s a rarity for me to fidget, but yet here I am. Fidgeting.

Yes, his plane was expected to land maybe, what, ten minutes ago? Twenty, tops? I doubt there was much of an issue (and even if there was, part of me feels like he wouldn’t let there be an issue) (okay, yes, it’s immoral to use magick that way, but he’s powerful enough to save a multi-ton tube of steel and a good handful of lives). Hell, maybe it was just a delayed landing or take off. Although, he would have texted me. Did he text me?

I check my mobile, and nothing new pops up. His last message was on the plane (via the wifi he complained about buying, yet used as much as he could), DMing me and saying he’s excited to sleep. Which, albeit, is reasonable, given he took off around 11 and it’s an hour past noon here, now. And, because he can be a little too excitable, he wasn’t able to sleep.

Of course.

I sigh, closing off my screen and peering over at the escalator. No crowds. A trickle of a person here or there, but the last flight that came in through was from Greece.

Nervously, and with a good amount of pacing involved, I keep smoothing my dress over and over again. It’s one that Micah helped pick out himself (well, sort of–as in I sent him patterns and he said he liked this one the most). Merlin, I even did my hair and makeup to see him, as rare as an occurrence that is.

Simon must notice my insufferable impatience, because he’s frowning at me and sighing. “Penn…”

I don’t answer.

“Penn,” he says a bit stronger, getting me to look as I shift back and forth. Back and forth… “Penny, he’s fine.”

“I know that,” I say, swallowing before sighing again. “I can’t help but worry about him. It keeps me sane.”

Baz has got some input into that, given that he just chuckles and keeps scrolling.

“Can you pinch him for me?”

Simon leans over, and Baz yelps when his arm is pinched, giving me a nasty look. They’re still basically twelve year olds, I swear.

“You two, I swear…”

“Yeah, the two of ‘em,” says an approaching, warmly familiar voice. I practically jump, spinning around to see Micah towering over me. He grins, dark, tired eyes and outstretched arms, waiting for a hug.

I slam into him, making him tumble as I breathe in the comforting scent of his hoodie. It’s his cologne, and the same laundry detergent he’s been using since I met him. It’s one of my favorite smells.

He laughs, a hand settling onto my hair as I refuse to let go, holding him practically to my chest. “Hi, my love,” he whispers down.

I frown, mumbling, “Hey, you big sap.” He’s still laughing, trying to free himself while Simon and Baz come to our sides.

I give up after a minute, standing aside as they catch up (of course I filled him in, but it’s clearly a visual shock, given the last time he’d seen them they were trying to tear each other limb-for-limb). The baggage claim takes a short bit, and eventually we’re finally out the door and piling into Baz’s car. He and Micah talk a bit about engines, or something, as Simon begrudgingly sits in the front.

Which, thankfully, gives us a moment alone as Simon complains to the only person who’s willing to put up with it, at the moment.

I reach up, rubbing Micah’s chin. “You shaved.”

He nods, smiling. “Grows in weird. Don’t know if it fits my face, too.”

I nod along with him, quickly pecking his cheek. “Like the dress?”

He grins and nods again.

“Good, because you’ll be taking it off me.”

-

“You’re making the face again!”

“What face, Snow?”

“That face,” I prod at his cheek, completely aware that I’m ruining the moment. Still, he stays on top of me on all fours, hovering above me as my left hand slowly traces up and down his side. “That ‘I’m going to kill you’ face.”

He blinks at me, then looks a bit amused. “My what?”

I shrug, slipping my hand back under his shirt. “You know, that face you get when you think about how much you hate me. You used to get it all the time.”

He slowly stands up on his knees, looking down at me curiously and carefully analyzing the situation. “You mean… you think I’m thinking about, I don’t know, punching you?”

“I mean, I really doubt you would now, but yeah, looks like it.”

He lowers back, heels hitting his bum as he stares. “Well, fuck.”

Now I’m really confused. “Why’d you get off?”

“It’s not–don’t worry about it. I just need a second.”

“Why’s that?”

He stares off before rubbing his face, then laughing a quiet giggle into his hands. “Crowley.”

“What? What is it?”

“Nono, don’t…” He exhales, then smiles at me all soft. It makes me feel uneasy.

“Baz…”

He leans back in and kisses my cheek. “That’s how I look when I’m thinking about kissing you,” he whispers, nose scrunching as it sort of all dawns on me.

After all these years. Since before I knew. Since we didn’t know what we were doing, he’s looked at me like that. I think about all the times I saw him, worrying about how he might try to come after me next, but it never hit me that he was… fuck. “Merlin, Baz,” I whisper, pulling his face in and kissing his cheek.

“I told you to not worry.”

“No, no now I feel bad,” I whine, rubbing his cheeks. “I’d always–god. Maybe I am a bit dim.”

He laughs, nose brushing mine as his head tips forward. “Only a bit.”

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Have some proper content from me lmao ( AO3 )

It’s been a long one…  He’d already been tired for the briefings and whatnot in the morning, which was followed by a day spent on retrieving smuggled support items with the League. It was fun, he supposes… the sneaky mission impossible thing. Much more enjoyable than lying through his teeth, at the very least. Then it turned out that the loot included some extra booze in courtesy of Giran, leading to this impromptu celebration that’s been going on for hours. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the fact that it’s past 11pm already and he needs some goddamn rest. An all-nighter before illegal activities? Never again.

Whatever high quality drink there was in the two bottles draped in Cyrillic text sure packed a punch, though. Tomura was worryingly unaffected and Sako was keeping himself together, but a lick of the stuff knocked Jin and Himiko the fuck out and had Spinner in the corner humming off-tune to whatever came on the radio. Doesn’t stop him from chugging down what’s left in one go, though.

All in all, on top of wistfully thinking of his bed, Hawks would be lying if he wasn’t rather buzzed, too.

But even that’s no excuse for this.

“I’m not sure what I should be more upset about,” he mumbles with half a pout on his face, breaking the quite possibly hour-long silence. “The fact that I’m spending my last few hours off on a Saturday night slow dancing with a dude in a dump, that it’s you of all people, or… that I’m actually enjoying it.” He’s being slowly but surely lulled into sleep, in fact. Concentrate, man. Shake off the warm coziness and concentrate.

There’s a short, easy-to-miss hum that has an almost content ring to it. “You were the one to scrape me up from the floor, remember? Any and all complaints are on you, feather duster.”

That’s fair; a smile ghosts his lips, but he doesn’t bother with an answer. One of Dabi’s cool hands gets bored of tugging at the cluster of feathers on the small of his back since forever, so it digs into them, earning a pleased sigh from Hawks as he snuggles a little closer. The asshole doesn’t even smell that bad for someone who barely showers… a little pungent, a little burnt. Must be his quirk’s doing. It sterilizes everything.

“… you sure have become comfortable around me,” the villain notes as he plays with the red plumage, slowing the hardly-dance (that started as another hardly-dance with a bouncy idiot dragging his even more drunk ass around, making him almost throw the fuck up in the process) down until they come to a halt. There’s a thoughtful look on his face. “Especially for what a nervous, jumpy wreck you are.”

Hawks lifts his head from the shoulder in a moment of vague clarity; he’s… right. For starters, he wouldn’t be clinging to Dabi like this if he was even remotely sane, the guy could grill him on the spot without effort if he wanted to.

Could. But he also knows… that he won’t.

“Well… your own damn fault for making me feel safe,” he sighs eventually after the spark of common sense slips away, and leans his chin back down. Fuck, he really needs to crawl into bed asap. But first he’ll have to, well… wake up. Then pocket the rest of his feathers so he can take the midnight train relatively incognito… then either take the elevator that he hates up to his apartment, or take the currently inhuman effort and get all of his feathers from both the bag and his room to zoom up. And hopefully not hit the one closed window. Ugh.

“Oho, and I almost blamed it on the booze. Thought you didn’t trust me?”

He moans in annoyance; there’s a mocking smirk hidden in Dabi’s voice. “Hell yeah, I don’t. But, like… you never made any remotely suspicious moves. What am I supposed to do right now? Kick you in the nuts, for which this is a golden opportunity for, by the way… maybe headbutt your face, earning a number of piercing imprints? Or just, like… scream? Oh nooo~, big bad criminal has me in his clutchesss~”

The overdramatic damsel whines earn a breathless laugh from the other, who then pulls away. “Okay, okay… show your face, midget. Look at me, you hear?”

“Anyway, I just ‘ave no energy for that shit,” Hawks continues unperturbed and motionless in not wanting to let go as the logorrhea wave goes on. He already misses being warm. Bummer. “Hell, you don’t trust me and just gave me the back scratching of the decade! What’s the deal with that, huh?” Two cold, rugged hands, which are pretty much the polar opposites of Dabi’s heated torso, come up to cup his face and tilt it upward.

“See?” SEE?! There he goes again. Still, being touched this gently is really… nice. It’s not something he’s used to… nor something he would have thought Dabi capable of being, to be frank. He can barely keep his eyes from closing. “This is what I’m talking about. My shit is safe. About-to-fall-asleep safe, with that big fucking payload of safety that you dropped on me. I’m gonna sleep pretty damn sound tonight, if I say so. Huggin’ my pillow and shit, like a bear… full of honey. At hibernation station.” Wow. Nothing he says makes fucking sense anymore. Thinking before opening his mouth is everything but an option right now. Oh, one more thing: “ … and I’m no midget,” he adds while lifting both pointing fingers.

“Mhmm, mhmm,” nods Dabi after every other line, observing the hero’s pink-tainted face. “… I’ve suspected as much, but you really are more than just a little tipsy,” he concludes then as a matter-of-fact. He taps Hawks’ face a few times with a hand. “I’m warning you that there are no pillows to brood on around here if you dare fall asleep on me, chicken.”

“Hrmm… Whatever. Your bony ass will do. Is warm.” … okay, whoopsy-daisy, he definitely should not have said that. Even if he finds all this touching enjoyable beyond words… and admittance. Speaking of which, the hell is even Dabi’s game? This shit could be taken as interest.

… wait. Wait, fuck…  what if he is being flirty!? Abort, ABORT.

The adrenaline rush that comes with the thought dissipates like half of his exhaustion; Hawks peels his eyes open to take a good look at the villain. But his first reaction is to squint. Then squint even harder.

“Waiiita’seeec… are you… sober? Already?” His voice hitches high with disbelief and wings flare in a hiccup of scorn. “How the fuck, you downed like half a bottle of that shit! You were a mess— no, a disaster!!” he continues in an accusatory tone, with puffed wings of indignance and air karate chops, as if being the bigger mess at the moment was supposed to be a jab specifically at him. It’s Hawks who’s supposed to be the sane and rational one around these parts…! It’s him!!

“My body’s long burned through that shit, birdy,” Dabi informs him, his face infuriatingly and inexplicably neutral while sporting the smuggest barely-smile on his face.

The comment itself, on the other hand, rouses a goofy snort-giggle from Hawks, which reminds him of the fact that he is, in fact, everything but sober. ‘Burned through it…’ fucking hell.

Unimpressed head shake; Dabi lets go of his face and takes two steps back while putting his hands on the hips instead to have a good, condescending look at the other. Hawks is trying his best to suppress the giggles, and is leaning to wherever gravity takes him before his wings, relatively small as they are now, do their damnest to correct his balance while on autopilot.

He finishes his checkup with a deep sigh. “Yep… as wasted as they come.

“ You,” the hero points at him, tip of his finger as eerily rigid on target like a chicken’s head while he sways around lightly, “were near passed-out on the floor, young man.” The corner of his mouth is still twitching as his face is getting redder.

“Not anymore. You are about to kip over, though,” he states, tilting his head. “And damn if I’m not gonna watch you try not to.” Having said that, he steps forward with a hint of an amused smirk to give a tentative shove himself.

Hawks leans back fast and far enough from the impending hand of doom that it would indeed make him stumble backwards, if not for grabbing onto Dabi’s jacket. The villain connects with his target meanwhile- via finger flick to his temples.

His wings reflexively flap once as he’s yet to retain balance of any kind, and Hawks feels the redness creep up to his ears in embarrassment, then he peeks downwards… but the stars just aren’t aligned to put the returning idea into motion. Not if he wants to avoid falling ass backwards, that is. He sticks his lower lip out a bit, still staring. “… should ‘ave kicked you in the groin while I had the chance.”

“Too little, too late. Face is up here, bird brain.” He pulls the hero back onto his wobbly legs by the collar. “Get your wings flapping and your ass home… you are a hilarious mess.”

“Good enough for a joke… But, an absolutely ill-advised suggesshon. Drunk,” he says, pointing at himself with his free hand (as the other has yet to let go of Dabi), then back at his wings; “as small as they get while rede— reartaning… retaining funky– fuck it, they are… just big enough to lift me. When I’m not fucking like this. There.” Damn, if he’s stuttering, all hope is lost. Next time he’s packing snacks to drown out the booze before it drowns him. He wouldn’t risk flying like this either way, but damn it all, if Dabi really is fully sober… god, he’ll never let him live this down, will he.

“‘Flapping’ around like this would actually end up about as well as that horrendous mobile game did for any of us,” Hawks moans then. “Which you would pay to see, I know. Anyway, what I’m saying is… that the only way I’m flying right now… is if you chuck me, pal. And that ain’t gonna get me anywhere.” Even getting to the nearest train station would be a hassle by flight. Actually… it will be a hassle, no matter what, his legs are not exactly—

“WoAH…!” is the single most natural reaction he has to… well, being lifted off the motherfucking ground like a toddler. “The hell are you doing?!”

This is not something that just happens to the one guy on the block with functional wings, you know? When Hawks wants to leave planet Earth, it’s out of his own volition. It’s also him who divebombs villains or snatches various people off the ground, or from the air, it’s never the other way around. This? This is weird, this is unnatural, hell… literally unheard of, actually?

Because he can’t, for the life of him, remember anyone, ever carrying him. Not even as a child.

Not this way, at the very least… he has been on a stretcher a couple of times, but that’s never a good experience… you don’t land on one without a good, all kinds of painful reason. It feels nothing like this. This… this actually feels…

“Giddy up, then, because I’m taking you to the station. I sure as hell don’t feel like dealing with you in the morning,” Dabi huffs, interrupting the other’s epiphany. A drunk Hawks, he can deal with; he’s tolerable, if not, dare say, adorable, but hungover Hawks?! That just sounds like a living nightmare. He’ll have to deal with his own headache in a few hours. He’ll pass on this, hard.

“… you’re unnecessarily heavy for a half-pint canary,” he mumbles after a few steps; the bird has some muscle to his name, but is no body builder. And a shorty. He’d be impressed if said weight wasn’t literally on his shoulders. Also… he’s a little worried about the hero’s sudden silence. He’s got enough presence to hold onto him, though, so the guy can’t be that far gone.

“… Well,” Hawks drawls after a pause, “fun fact, Dabi… when at peak condition, my wings add up to roughly fifty per cent of my body weight. We’re being hella easy on you.” He gives a tentative swing with them, barely missing the villain’s head with his right one.

“Do that again, and I’ll make sure that you won’t be able to fly for a month.”

He lets out a soft laugh at that. The warm, alcohol-induced tingles still dancing at his fingertips may be a factor to consider, but he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

Not him being the one to fly just to get his head over the sea of people, gasping for air, even without the crowds being present… is an experience for sure. And being so much taller while still rooted to the ground one way or another, and able to see everything there is to see on an empty street at night feels straight-up sublime, and the wind that the freight train passing them carries with itself is blowing through his hair as the ka-chak, ka-chak of it quickly fades into the abyss, and, and…

… this is nice. Holy shit, is this nice.

He closes his eyes for a moment… which, of course, ends up not being just a moment, but the rest of the trip. He doesn’t even notice Dabi stopping until he speaks up.

“Your stop, Tweety. Wake the fuck up, man, I’m not your perch.”

“… ah.” The disappointment slipped through that one… oh well. The fact that he gets dropped about as gently as a sack of potatoes doesn’t help, either. He actually fell asleep there, didn’t he.

He takes a look around; they stopped at the end of the alley almost opposite the station. That’s good… he has yet to put on a shitty disguise. AND has his feathers attached, that one won’t do at all, into the bag they go, and out of the bag the strack suit comes. While he’s waking up and doing his thing, Dabi’s already sneaked over the fences of the next two houses and struts up to the platform from the street corner one over. With a head scratch and a sigh, he trods towards the entrance a minute later, too, attempting to look like someone who’s on villain trail.

The doors of the train slide open, and he collapses opposite Dabi, who’s fiddling with his phone. A few seconds later he pushes the button to slip back out. There’s a fresh note folded to as small as humanly possible left on the seat, lost next to baked good crumbs on the left, a piece of chocolate wrap just past that, and a lone piece of gum that looks as if it had been there for a while.

“‘He’ better send a message so I know he wasn’t murdered, kidnapped, or arrested on the way home,” Dabi says as the doors close, muffling the last bit. He turns around.

Hawks lifts a hand as a sign of understanding. The villain nods and swings his own arm in a half-hearted wave as he leaves. He takes a look around the outer walls before slinking back out and heading off to the opposite direction they had come from.

Hawks is left alone with his thoughts in the empty car. Eventually he remembers that he has a KFC cap at the bottom of the otherwise empty bag, too, along with… two leftover nuggets from yesterday that he forgot about. Cold and probably stale, but shit, that’s a godsent right now. As the train leaves the platform and he bites into his surprise reserves, he starts pondering.

Somehow… he’ll need to make him do that again.

[lefae]

//Just a quick note to anyone I’ve not replied to yet via chats - I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not in an overly social mood right now thanks to holiday stress.

Because, y’know, when your racist, sexist, homophobic bigots of a family are all whining about the t.rum.p im.peach.ment, it’s just so easy to force yourself to put on the customer service smile and pretend to have even an inkling of holiday spirit. Plus the fun that is being back in the closet irl for safety reasons...

I’m also coming down with something, which may or may not prove enough to be able to get out of any of their perceived ‘family obligations’ for holiday gatherings, even though they couldn’t care less any of the rest of the year. Or any of the previous years when I was 1200 miles away and couldn’t even be bothered to send a text, much less a card or anything. 

But no, now that I’m back here - rather against my will because I had nowhere else to go - I’m ‘expected’ to be there. It’s not even truly invitations to come. Nevermind that I can barely walk, that I don’t have the mobility aids I’m supposed to have (I only have a cane, which honestly isn’t enough most days), or that I can seem fine one moment and be deathly ill the next.

Or, y’know, the simple fact that I’m 34 years old and just don’t fucking want to go. Gods forbid I be allowed any autonomy in the matter, even though I know that if I force myself to endure the gatherings (yes, plural), I’ll be sick for days, likely bedridden, and in so much pain that my mental health will suffer as well.

[v-hope]

Worldwide Intelligent

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff and slight angst

Word Count: 1.2k

Request: “Hi! I’m going to request Jin comforting y/n because she hasn’t done as well as she had hoped on exams. She was striving for perfection but just didn’t get there. And so she’s been really hard on herself and distant.. and Jin confronts her, asking her finally whats wrong”

A/N: Requests are open! If you want to request anything, please read this post first.

The moment one of your classmates announced on the chat group that one of your final’s grades had just been sent via email, you rushed to check yours. You were positive you had done good, how could you not with the amount of time you had invested in studying? However, the moment you saw your grade, you had to do a double take to make sure it was in fact yours.

Locking your phone and throwing it away once you realised it was indeed your grade, you felt all the energy from your body drain out. You had passed. It was not that bad of a grade itself – some of your classmates were even aiming for that one so they could pass the class. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a good grade either, and you couldn’t help but feel like all your hard work, all your sleepless nights and days of not going out so you could study were not paying off.

It was after nearly half an hour of you lying down in your bed spacing out while looking at the ceiling, that your phone started buzzing. You somehow brought yourself to pick it up, not really wanting to check your mobile for a while. Looking at it anyway, you noticed it was a text from your boyfriend, asking if you wanted to go out that night. Any other time you would’ve jumped in excitement at the idea, but right now you just wanted to be alone and sulk in your own misery, which is why you sent him a quick text making up an excuse to stay home. His reply came faster than expected, asking if anything was wrong and you wanted him to go there so the two of you could stay in instead. Again, your answer was negative.

Jin understood there were times you only wanted to be left alone, so he let you have just that for that day, hoping everything would be okay the next day.

That was not the case.

After the third day of you being distant, turning him down whenever he tried to make plans and barely even texting him, not once answering his calls, he decided he had enough. You had been more than three weeks locked in your apartment claiming you had to prepare for your finals and, now that your finals were finally over, you were still not going out or even letting him go see you? He tried to give you your space but he was not having it anymore. There were only a few more weeks left before he had to go on tour and he wanted to be with his girlfriend while he still had the opportunity.

Getting to your front door, he went against using the spare key you had given him a while ago and, instead, knocking on the door so he wouldn’t completely barge into your home without your consent.

It was when you opened the door for him, munching on a doughnut and a corny as hell movie playing in your living room’s TV, that he didn’t know if he should be mad at you for pushing him away those past days or worried about you, because goodies and cheesy movies only meant one thing: you were not feeling alright.

“You could’ve told me what’s been bothering you so much, you know?” Jin’s steady voice for some reason brought you comfort.

You just shrugged at his words as you finished your snack, not being able to bring yourself to look at him in the eye. He took a step inside your place and grabbed your arm to pull you towards him, engulfing you in a tight hug you didn’t know you needed so much until then. The mere feel of his heartbeat against your face making you feel at ease.

He kissed the top of your head before he started playfully swaying your bodies, earning a giggle from your end.

The two of you went to your sofa, where you once again hugged him, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped one of his arms around your figure and ran his fingers through your hair. Neither of you said anything for a while, each other’s company being enough. You internally scolded yourself for having shut yourself off, knowing Jin was the one person who could make you feel better no matter what. He was always there for you and you needed to start counting on that.

“So?” he finally spoke, making you raise your head so you could look at him, “Are you telling me what made you so upset?”

You shrugged once again. “I didn’t get a good grade in one of my finals” saying that was harder than you had thought, only then realising you were not completely over it yet.

He sighed, hugging you even more to his body. “I’m sorry, love” his words made you pout. “But you shouldn’t let this bring you down, I’m sure you did the best you could. I mean, you studied so hard–”

“Exactly” you sat up straight so you could properly stare at him. “I really did the best I could and now I can’t help but think that I am not good enough, maybe I am not as smart as I thought. And–”

“Okay, no. I am stopping you right there” it was his time to interrupt your ramble. Sitting up straight as well, he cupped your face in his hands. “You are the most intelligent person I know. And not only that but you are so hard working too, always putting your studies first; and it honestly makes me so proud just seeing how much effort you put into it” his piercing gaze made sure you believed every single word that was leaving his mouth. “One grade does not define you, you are so much more than that. Don’t you ever put yourself down like that again”.

You softly nodded, whispering a simple “okay” as you didn’t really know what to respond to his words and show how much they meant to you, especially coming from him. He smiled, bringing your face closer to his and planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before pulling you towards him once more, this time wrapping his arms and legs around you like a koala.

The wholehearted laugh that escaped your lips as your bodies hit the sofa made his heart speed up, knowing he had succeeded at making his girl cheer up.

“Thank you” you mumbled against the crook of his neck. He nodded. “I love you” you said, later moving your face up so you could lock your eyes with his – the sight of his smile alone making you wonder why hadn’t you gone to him looking for comfort sooner.

“I love you too, my precious Worldwide Intelligent” he briefly kissed your lips.

You shook your head, biting your lower lip on a failed attempt at hiding your huge smile. “You did not just call me that”.

“Worldwide Studious?” he tried again, only earning a slap to his chest from you, not only failing at hiding your smile now but also your laugh as a loud whine escaped his lips.

How could you ever be down when you had Kim Seokjin by your side?