#gonna try to keep these all under 2000 but time will tell

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part four)

Leon Kennedy x female reader Part one. Part two. Part three.

The time for Leon’s next perimeter check comes and goes, yet he remains in place on the sofa, you cuddling into his chest. He knows he could try and shuffle along a little bit, get you to lie down, but he doesn’t.

You must be exhausted, both physically and mentally, to have fallen asleep on him after all. He doesn’t want to risk waking you up when it’s the first time he’s seen you properly relaxed in the last 24 hours. It’d be more awkward if he did try to move and woke you up, too. Plus, if he did successfully pull it off, it’s not the widest of sofas either - what if you rolled off when he was outside and damaged your shoulder even more? You’re already bruised and battered from your encounter with the Lickers and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let you get hurt again under his watch.

It’s everything to do with that and nothing to do with the fact that he can’t remember when he last held a woman like this, content in his embrace. He’s not a big one-night stand guy – won’t deny he’s had them, but they’re not a preference - so intimate moments like this are few and far between. Besides, you’d asked him for a hug, you’d fell asleep in his arms. It might not be proper, but he’s not overstepped professional boundaries by reassuring a victim in their moment of need.

Just like he totally hadn’t overstepped when he helped you undress last night.

God, when you’d asked for his help with your bra… Memories of awkward fumbles with girlfriends under covers had flashed through his mind, still isn’t sure how he pulled it off one-handed.  

Leon swallows as you unconsciously nuzzle your cheek up against his chest, bringing him back to the present moment. He chides himself for the distraction, shouldn’t be thinking about that when he should be thinking about the job at hand. There’s been no reply from Hunnigan, though he wasn’t expecting one unless there was any sort of development. She’s probably waiting for his full report before she’ll give him a crumb of anything in return.

He looks at the laptop sat open on the coffee table, though it’s long gone to sleep. He was maybe a little ambitious with his timeframe of having it in her inbox by 2000, as now he’s going to have to type it up, listening to the audio, all in the same room as you as he does.

Problem for later, he decides, as is you being asleep on his chest preventing him from doing his perimeter check. His hand remains on the small of your back - keeps you steady against him, whilst he compromises for scrolling round the camera feeds a few times one-handed.

There’s nothing to note visually from his last outing - though he definitely wants to be able to double-check with his own eyes rather than put his full trust in pixels on a 3.5-inch screen. There’s been no motion detected either, so it’ll do.

It’s turning into a nice evening, he muses, warm enough to be out without a jacket. It’s a shame he can’t take you outside for some fresh air, stretch your legs with a walk around the perimeter – after he’d checked it first, of course – and maybe make you feel less like a prisoner. Knows from experience that it won’t be long until the frustration of being restricted to three rooms is going to surface. Always does. You’ve already shown some over the medication being locked up last night.

He also knows how much the restrictions and protocols seem overkill, but if anything were to go wrong on this mission, all his actions are going to be scrutinized under a microscope, discussed at length by a panel who will either sign him off for active duty or accuse him of being a traitor to the good old US of A.

You jerk almost violently on his chest then, nearly clocking him in the chin, your good hand scrunched up in the fabric of his shirt – all tell-tale signs of a bad dream. Leon begins to rub slow circles with his hand on the small of your back, hoping it’ll be soothing enough to stop the dream progressing, perhaps enough to draw you out of that REM state but not enough to wake you up entirely.

He slips his phone back in his pocket as he continues to rub large circles on your back, can’t help but smile as he watches you settle, your face relaxing once more.

Leon closes his eyes, then, relishing the weight of you on his chest. It’s not selfish, he reasons, no, because although those sleeping pills work wonders, they can never replace a true night’s sleep – again, he knows that from bitter experience. It’s enough to shut your brain down for a solid eight hours, but it’s never going to be a restful sleep when it’s synthetic.

Not in the way you’re napping right now, safe in his arms.

God, Kennedy, pull it together – you just met the girl.

Still, doesn’t open his eyes though.

He’s about to drift off himself when you whimper and he swears it breaks his heart. Your grip tightens on his shirt, face twitching once more, now alongside furrowed brows and hitched breaths as you face invisible demons. He strokes your hair with one hand, still rubbing circles on your back with his other but it doesn’t have the same effect this time as your restlessness continues.

“No…” You whimper again, nails digging in his chest from your grip and he admits defeat. He sits up slowly, stills his hand on your back and moves his other to rest lightly on your arm to give the most gentle shake.

“Dove, it’s okay.” Leon says, softly. “You’re all right. It was just a dream.” He moves his head down, in dangerous territory of being headbutted, speaks a little louder in the hopes the movement and his voice will break through your slumber. “I’m here, Dove. You’re safe with me, okay?” Your eyes shoot open and you lift your head off his chest but his reflexes don’t fail him as he moves his head back from the collision. You emit a sharp gasp from your mouth, catching your breath and look at him briefly in alarm, feeling entirely disorientated and confused, heart pounding.

“Hey.” He smiles.

It takes a beat for you to properly gather your bearings – never been a fan of napping during the day, always made you feel worse more than anything. You’re in the safe house, in the living room, with Leon – the kind DSO agent who made you oatmeal and sandwiches for lunch – whose warm palm still is pressed solidly against the small of your back…

“You fell asleep. I… It seemed like you were having a bad dream, so…”

You remembered asking him for a hug, how nice it had felt in his embrace, how you thought it would be fine to close your eyes for just a moment. Afterall, they were so dry and tired from all that silly crying and how nice and warm Leon felt, with your cheek pressed up against his chest.

Yes, you were just going to savour all that for a couple more minutes and then you’d sit up.

But it hadn’t happened that way, waking up whoever knows how long later, holding onto him for dear life.

“I fell asleep… on you.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

His smile turns somewhat bashful. “Yeah.”

You realise then that your hand is flat on his chest, right over his heart – you can feel it pound underneath your fingertips and you snatch it back into your own chest, sitting up poker straight, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dove. I can add emergency pillow next to the first aid qualification.” He teases, relieved it seems to make you relax a little by the way your shoulders drop. You smile, placing your good hand back on the sofa for balance to shuffle back along. A little reluctantly, Leon brings his hand back to rest on his thigh.

“Do you, er, want to talk about it?”

“Not much to tell.” You shuffle in place again, trying to get comfortable as your injuries begin to ache. “I was being chased… But that’s all I can remember.” You shake your head as if you could shake the uneasy feeling out of it. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.” Leon shrugs, though he knows exactly how long it was. Doesn’t want to say he let you sleep on him for over 90 minutes because he liked the human contact.

You look up at the TV, not knowing what to say, and see it’s still on at a low volume – the channel unchanged and the house renovation show ongoing. Must be some sort of afternoon marathon.  

“So, I need to do my, er, perimeter check. I won’t be long, but can I get you anything before I go?”

“Can I have the next dose of painkillers?”

Leon checks his watch and frowns - you’re over an hour away from the next dose. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you sleep in that position after all, torso twisted to lie across his chest – the fall down the stairs had to have a done a number of your ribs. “I’m afraid not for another hour or so, Dove. Is the pain really bad?”

“No, I’m just starting to ache a bit. I’ll be all right.”

“We can arrange a call with a medic if the painkillers aren’t bearing up, see if we can get you on something stronger.” He offers, getting to his feet.

Your stomach flips. There it is, that horrible niggle of doubt in the depths. Leon seems sincere enough in his offer – hell, this is the man who prepped your toothbrush for you this morning, made breakfast and lunch, let you sob and then nap all over him. That’s surely not how a government agent who suspects you’re a bioterrorist is going to treat you, yet you can’t bring yourself to fully relax around him, painfully aware that he might be feeding back everything you say or even do to superiors.  

Is this a trick or a test, to see if you’ll take up stronger pain medication after you insisted yesterday that what you were given had been adequate? Oh, you lied about that, did you? Did you lie about your whole statement too, Dove?

“No, that’s not necessary.” You’ve taken too long to reply, so time to try and deflect. “I’m just being a baby.”

“No, you’re not.” He replies, firmly. “Have a think about it, okay? You’ll have been running off adrenaline for a while, might have numbed the real extent of the pain when you were being assessed. Been there a few times myself.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say, still feeling a little awkward in the way you’d woken up.

“Okay, I’m heading outside. See you soon.”

You lean forward and grab the remote control. “Take care.” It comes out before you even think about what you’re saying and you turn up the volume on the TV, as if it could drown out what you’d already said.

Leon smiles as he picks up his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder – he’s locking it in the garage on his way out. If you’ve noticed he keeps it in his line of sight at all times -besides the time it was behind him but you had been very snug in his arms - you’ve been polite enough not to mention it, or maybe you just don’t want to hear the answer. He wishes he could make the call, but until those above him officially deem you as a victim who needs protection and not a suspect under surveillance instead of the hybrid moniker you’re under, he needs to keep you and the weapons separate.

Like you could do any damage to him with your arm in a sling, bruised, grazed and sore, all whilst on sleeping pills and painkillers for God’s sake. If you were faking all of that, call the Academy cos there’s a new Best Actress in town.

---

Part five.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[whoahoney]

Hello sweet Honey!! Congratulations on hitting 2000 followers! You deserve it and so much more! 💛💛💛

Here’s my request for the celebration:

Eddie Munson 🖤

Smutty prompt #9

Modern au

#9. “You take me so well.”

Modern!Eddie Munson x shy!reader

A/N: This took longer than it should’ve to write but I hope at the least my girl likes it 😩🫶🏻 thank you for sending this in and being so freakin supportive of everything I do!! I like to call this one… Birthday Girl

CW: Mature!!! (Tumbly won’t let me mark it) fem/afab!reader, alcohol consumption, slight jealousy/angst, smut minors DNI, protected p in v, oral f & m receiving, fingering, nipple play, pet names, readers drunk but everything is consented and Eddie checks in multiple times

Join the Celebration

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When your friend Robin told you her friend Eddie was currently single, you couldn’t have been more surprised. As long as you’d known him, he always had someone under his arm—his flavor of the month, as Steve liked to say.

“All you have to do is talk to him, I’m sure he’ll ask you out in a heartbeat!” She urges and you sigh from your place at the counter.

“I dunno, I just—I don’t think I’m his type.” You shrug.

Robin groans, “Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me he doesn’t give you fuck me eyes every time you speak!”

“I dunno what fuck me eyes are! He has eyes! They’re… really pretty.” You almost whine and Robin groans again.

“Jesus Christ, I won’t sit by and allow you to dawn over someone you won’t even let yourself have a chance with!” She gets a sudden look of an idea behind her eyes before she speaks again, “So maybe you just need a little tryst to jumpstart your confidence!”

“I dunno, Rob, I’m not exactly good at talking to people I don’t know…”

“C’mon, you’ll have some drinks, meet a guy that wants to treat the birthday girl—one night stands can be so fun!” She said.

“I dunno, I’m gonna be drunk, what if I choose someone I regret??” You asked at her kitchen counter.

Robin rolled her eyes, “That’s why I’m the witness, I’m going to witness you—“

“Absolutely not, you’re not watching—“

“No! Gross! Hetero sex isn’t my thing, you know that!” She opens up her notebook and plops it on the countertop before clicking a pen a few times. “I’m going to sign off on who you take home!” She said as if it were that simple.

“A permission slip?” You ask through a scoff.

“If you hate it, don’t sign!” She says as she finishes writing up the agreement and signing her name on the witness line.

You bite your lip for a moment before you take the pen and sign away.

“And if you decide to use it on Eddie…”

“‘M not using it on Eddie!” You insist and shove the paper wad into your pocket, “Besides, I’m willing to bet he shows up with ‘Boobs McGee’ on his arm.

You’d met Eddie when Robin invited you along last year at the start of classes, instantly hitting it off much to his date’s displeasure. Eddie had complimented your ear piercings and in return you complimented his, then his date tugged him by the hand to the dance floor with a warning look thrown over her shoulder.

“Ooh! Rrrowrrr” Robin giggled behind her straw as the girl began running her hands down her body and grinding against Eddie’s front to a song with no substance whatsoever.

You chuckle and turn to Robin, “Is that his… girlfriend, or something?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, “Or something. Eddie doesn’t really do girlfriends.” She shrugs and you match it with your own. “He brings a new girl along all the time, I bet she’ll be gone in the next couple weeks.” She chuckled and you did too.

Of course he didn’t keep a girlfriend, he was too pretty! Why would he?? Anyway, it didn’t matter at the time because you were still trying long distance with your boyfriend, Dylan, back home.

It never failed, week after week, he’d come to the bar with a girl in tow. The times he’d brought the same girl more than once were small—the most you’d seen of one of them was twice.

Though there were plenty of nights he found the time to talk to you, whether it was when you were out and about with friends or messaging outside of the group chat—whispering as Eddie liked to put it.

Eddie: Waitwaitwait, it’s your birthday on Friday?!

You giggle and curl up under your blanket at the notification. You were currently watching the group chat pop off as Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Argyle made suggestions for the bar crawl.

You: it is! Are you gonna be able to make it?

Before you can respond to Robin’s gif with one of your own, Eddie’s already replied.

Eddie: Uh, duh! Wouldn’t miss it for anything! Your drinks are on me. 🤘🏻

You bite your lip and the butterflies surge like they always do when it comes to him. Your cheeks are flushed and he isn’t even in the room.

But he is buying your drinks on your birthday.

He’d bought you a couple drinks before but only when he’d bought rounds for the whole group—and his dates.

You: Aw, thanks! I really appreciate it! I hope your pockets are prepared 😮‍💨🫶🏻

He responded with a laugh react, his bubbles bouncing and disappearing a few times before there was nothing at all. You set your phone on your chest and sigh at the ceiling. You’d spent two birthdays with your boyfriend and he never did anything thoughtful for you. You’d never really asked for much, but buying you a drink just once would’ve been nice. One of the many reasons you broke it off with him at the end of last year.

You’d kept it quiet, only mentioning it to Robin when she asked about Dylan a month after.

Since then it’s been aimless attempts at getting you laid, always ending with her trying to download dating apps on your phone and make a profile despite your protests. You weren’t really interested in anyone, though you couldn’t deny how lonely it could get.

The icon on your Home Screen tempted you every once in a while when you had too much wine, but for the most part you stayed off it.

The thought tempted you tonight though, only at the idea of Eddie bringing some other nameless broad along to your birthday celebration.

You close your phone and look at the ceiling, silently counting the days til your birthday, when you could drink yourself into oblivion on Eddie’s dime.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you arrived at the bar, Robin and Steve were already present, giving you approving looks when noticing your birthday outfit, a dress and heels complete with a sweet little cardigan.

“Look at youuu!” Robin chirped and spun you around before Steve handed you a shot.

“Happy Birthday!” Nancy shouts before wrapping her arms around you in a big hug, and Argyle blows a noise maker right next to your ear. You giggle and your heart fills with the joy of being known as someone, probably Steve, places a birthday crown on your head.

“Thank you!” You say as she pulls away, and someone hands you another shot.

“Are you ready to dance??” Robin asks over the thumping music, to which you nod eagerly and follow her out. “Take this off, what is this a library??” She unbuttons your sweater and helps you out of it before tossing it over Steve’s head and pulling you further into the crowd.

Its not long after your third shot and second dance of the evening that Eddie shows up to the bar—alone for once. Steve notes it as they shake hands and hug, “Where’s your date?”

Eddie only shrugs in return, “What date?”

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you got stood up.”

Eddie shakes his head, “Nah, just thought I’d hang with my friends tonight. Is Y/n here yet?”

Steve nods and sips his drink while Eddie scans the floor for any sight of her—and her boyfriend.

“Why doesn’t he ever come to stuff?” Eddie asks Steve, who sends him a questioning look before answering, “Who??”

“Her boyfriend, dingus.” Eddie rolled his eyes and went back to his search. Steve chuckles and nudges Eddie’s shoulder, “What boyfriend??”

“Derek? Dayton? Whatever his name is.”

“Oh! Dylan—“

Before he can fill Eddie in any further, you spot him from across the dance floor, and your drunken self couldn’t be more excited, “Eddie!!!” You stumble over to him, too busy keeping your eyes on the floor to notice his blooming smile.

“Hey, birthday girl!” He greets before pulling you into a hug. You breathe in his scent and exhale, letting a soft moan slip from your careless lips before you step back and let him go.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” You smiled up at him, and he smiles at your crooked birthday crown before fixing it.

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” He chuckles and trails his hands down your arms as you unravel yourself from the embrace. “Should I ask if I can buy you a drink? Looks like someone else already beat me to it.” He appraises your face again, analyzing every detail.

You chuckle and pull him to the bar, “I’d love another! Besides, you need to catch up!” You say as you plop onto a stool and he follows soon after.

“Two waters please.” He tells the barkeep and you push his knee playfully, “Buzzkill.” You mutter and he laughs yet again. You put your little purse on the counter as Steve and Jonathon approach and order more drinks. You check your phone and scroll check your apps, reading all the happy birthdays from old friends and estranged family on social media.

“Isn’t that right, birthday girl?” Jonathon asked with a mischievous smile. You set your phone down on the bar and look up without a clue in the world, “Hmm?”

The boys chuckle and Eddie sips a beer he didn’t have five minutes ago, “Your permission slip!”

‘Sober you’ would’ve balked, but ‘drunk you’ dug around in your purse to procure the wrinkled piece of notebook paper shoved inside. You take your time smoothing its creases by using the edge of the counter and then held it out.

“Good for one drunk fuck on my birthday!”

Signed and dated by you and witnessed by Robin Buckley herself, a few days ago when she had the bright idea to write it all up. In Robin’s opinion it had been ‘high time for you to find some dick to ride’. as she’d written it across the bottom of the page.

They guffaw while you tuck it away and a blush overtakes your cheeks as you see Eddie’s jaw feather before he took another drink of his beer. He cranes his neck to glance at the patrons approaching you and wants to spit out the bitter beer as Steve and Jonathon grab their drinks and walk away.

Since when were you looking?? When did this happen??

“You okay?” You ask before sipping your water.

“Yeah! I just—uh, didn’t know—“

“Hey, pretty girl! Is it your birthday?” A gorgeous man purred next to your ear. You blush madly and nod, turning to him as he wishes you a happy birthday and offers to buy you a drink. You’re polite in the interaction, and slow to turn him away with the way he was looking at you—it felt good.

Not to mention it being in front of Eddie may have fueled your main character complex a bit.

“—Are you sure? I’d be happy to put yours on my tab.” He points over his shoulder at the bartender.

“Oh, that’s—“

“I got ‘em, thanks, man.” Eddie rushed and put his hand on your shoulder almost territorially before pulling you closer. “Have a nice night.” He says in a way that makes you believe he wishes the opposite for the pretty boy trying to chat you up.

The guy backs away with raised hands before turning to his friends without another word. You look to Eddie with an arched brow and he has the audacity to ask, “What?”

“What was that?” You ask with a smirk. “You totally just cock blocked me!”

He shrugs, “What do you mean? Didn’t you get like, total creeper vibes from him?” He looks over your shoulder and puts a hand on the back of your chair, “Y’know you should’ve told me you weren’t with your boyfriend anymore.”

You nod, “Oh! Yeah, long distance wasn’t working out.” You shrug carelessly, one that said ‘I’m totally over him and ready to be under you’

Eddie nods, his shoulders feeling lighter, “Oh! Well, uh, I’m-I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart.”

“—That’s okay! I broke it off, actually.” You shrug again and he nods.

“Right, well—“

Ping!

You both glance at your phone and see a new notification from the dating app appear. Eddie looks at you with a lupine grin and you blush and retreat inside of yourself, “What??” You giggle and drink again.

Eddie smirks and leans closer, “So you’re telling me, you’ve been single this whole time, and you haven’t even hit on me?? C’mon I’m like the resident single guy.” He takes a drink, himself.

You have at him in surprise and feel your cheeks heat deeper. “I dunno what you mean—you’re never single.” You shrug.

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Do me a favor and rip up that permission slip, none of these losers deserve to take you home.” He cocks a brow at you and you shy away as he leans forward on his knees.

Your lips open and close a couple times with the will to answer but no words to speak.

“Don’t be shy, birthday girl.” He almost purrs.

“I’m not.” You smile bashfully and bite the inside of your lip.

He tsks at you and says, “If you need a good drunk fuck, you can always come to me, okay? Don’t let some rando do it, let me.” He urges quietly as he pushes a lock of hair away from your face and behind your ear.

You turn to him with wide eyes, unsure if you were just drunk or if he was actually offering to fuck you.

“Are you-Are you serious? What about—where’s your date???” You scan the room quickly for any angry hot girls stomping your way, but you find none.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, “I decided to fly solo tonight.”

You scoff, “That’s a first.” You take a drink and he looks at you in surprise before he answers with a shrug. “Would’ve been sooner if I knew you were single this whole time.”

“What do you mean??” You turn to him in shock.

“I mean, I just found out you aren’t with Dalton anymore—“

“—Dylan.”

“It’s doesn’t matter, he’s history now—” He shrugged and looked between your eyes. “So, uh, what do you think huh? am I misreading things? Do you… not.. find me..” he presses a hand to his chest and pulls a sad face, “.. attractive???” He whimpers and makes you laugh harder than normal.

“No! No—I mean of course I do!!!”

His sad facade melts away and his smile comes shining through again. He leans forward and gets close to your ear and he whispers, “Then let me take you into the bathroom, give you the most mind blowing birthday present of your life, take you back to mine, fuck you senseless, and then we’ll do breakfast in the morning and maybe you’ll see how serious I am about you.”

“What?” Your mouth gapes and you look him over as if he’ll say, ‘haha, just kidding!’

“Or we can act like this never happened, up to you.” He shrugs cooly, looking away incase you reject him.

You gather your bearings and take a breath. This is exactly what you’ve been wanting, this very opportunity. You find your hand sliding up his thigh and his gaze snaps to your hand and then up to your eyes in shock. You can only nod as that feral smile creeps up his cheeks.

He traces your lip with his thumb, “you’re cute, you know that? I remember the first time I saw you and the first thing I thought was, ‘damn I chose the wrong night to bring a date.’“ he chuckles as you do, blushing at his blatant affection.

“I don’t believe you.” You giggle and his hand makes its home at your cheek, rubbing light circles in your hair.

“I told Steve I was gonna ask you out but he’s the one that filled me in on your boyfriend situation…” he blew out a puff of air, “…and then never updated me again, the asshole!” He grumbled and leaned closer to talk directly in your ear, “I should kick his ass, don’t you think?” He pressed a kiss to your temple and you had the audacity to shudder. It was all too much for his ego. “Keepin us apart like that?”

He begins rubbing circles on your thigh with his other hand. “What do you wanna do, Princess? Feel like sneakin off with me?”

Your breath hitches and you nod eagerly. In answer, he gulps the remainder of his drink down and stands with a waiting hand. You take it in yours and you try to contain your smile as you follow him through the hoard of dancing bodies.

When you arrive at the bathrooms, there’s no line. Your heart pounds at the idea, that just beyond those doors you’d have one of the most memorable fucks of your life. Eddie looks back at you with an easy smile, a hand on the knob before he says, “Are you sure about this? You wanna let me see your permission slip one last time?” He pulls you close and speaks in your ear before pressing a kiss on your jaw just below it.

You nod again, “Yeah, I want this—wanted it for so long…” you let it slip and he makes a note to revisit that later. Instead of questioning you further he pulls you into the bathroom and presses you up against the door. He locks it without taking his eyes off you, looming over you predatorily and stripping off his jacket.

“You look so pretty tonight.” He smiles and pushes your hair over your shoulder, swiftly leaning in and pressing open mouthed kisses on your exposed neck. You lean your head to the side and revel in his affection, a breathy moan sliding from your lips.

He smiles and brings his mouth back up to your ear for a nibble before speaking, “I’m gonna keep this short and sweet, but if I do this, you’re gonna let me play boyfriend tonight and take you home—with me, okay? I was serious about that breakfast.”

You giggle and nod, “Yeah, that’s what I want, that’s exactly what I wished for.”

“Wait, they already did cake?” He questioned before you laugh and kiss him on the lips gently. It was a soft peck, evoking a spark in your chest, and then another, and then it sizzled and simmered into something decadent.

“You taste like pineapple.” He chuckled without pulling away from you. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you whine for him as he moans at the taste of you. “I bet you’re just as sweet down here, aren’t you?” He mumbled and shoved his knee between your thighs, his hand following soon after to rub you through your dress.

You give a sharp inhale at the sensation and the sight of him above you. His curls framed his face and shifted with every move he made on your body. You saw the perspiration gathered at his hairline and could smell the combination of his cologne with his shampoo and his musk that sent your throat tingling whenever you got too close.

“Gonna be good for me and lift this up?” He pushes it up your thighs and makes a move to kneel before you and you oblige him by gathering it in your hands.

He smiles, “Thank you, sweet girl.” He says from the ground before he levels his gaze at your panties and the smugness falls from his face at the sight. “These are nice.” He runs his thumb over the lace that clothed your cunt and your body flinches. He chuckles to himself and rubs you right at the top of that crease for a minute, watching you unwind and relax into his touch.

“That’s it, that’s what I wanna see…” he smiles and leans in faster than you can question it and suddenly his mouth is working over your panties, tasting you through the purple lace before he pulled them to the side and slipped two fingers into your sopping cunt.

“Oh my god, Eddie—“

“Just wait til it’s my dick in you, sweetheart, you won’t even remember my name—“ He says only a couple inches from your heat as he pulls your panties down properly and manually spreads your legs with firm hands, “But for now, just let me eat.” He says before licking a stripe up your center.

You cry out and grow pliant beneath his touch, your head falling back against the door as he pulls your legs over his shoulders.

He ate and ate and hummed and nibbled away at your core, as if he hadn’t seen pussy in years, which you well knew was not the case. Was he this eager with everyone?

Right as you felt the familiar high building in your belly, someone was pounding their first against the door. “Come ON!!!” The stranger’s voice rang out.

Eddie doesn’t hear it at first thanks to your thighs snug around his ears. He nodded his head against your core and licked your entrance like ice cream on a hot day.

“Eddie! Eddie…” you tap his head and open your legs wider until his attention is on you and he’s helping you down, concern in his eyes until the next set of banging knocks on the door had him flinching like the cops showed up.

He tugs your panties back up and fixes your skirt before wiping his face on his jacket and holding his hand out for you, “I’m sorry, sweetness.” He says dejectedly before unlocking the door and pulling you out without a glance in the angry patrons direction.

He doesn’t stop til you run into Steve, who was very concerned about your whereabouts, “Everyone’s ready to do cake! Where the hell have you been??” He looked between you two and before Eddie can answer you say, “The line for the bathroom was killer!”

Eddie looks over at you with amusement and laughs heartily while Steve cocks his head but doesn’t question it. “Well c’mon!” He waves you to follow him, and with Eddie’s hand sliding into yours, you do.

He sat next to you while everyone sang happy birthday, a hand on your thigh and starry eyes focused on you. The cake was white with chocolate drizzled over the top and five sparkler candles blazing on top, your name written across in red icing. With the conclusion of the song, you took a deep breath, and blew out the candles, wishing for Eddie Munson to make you his.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After you shared a slice of cake, Eddie was back in your ear purring like a jungle cat, “How you feelin, huh?”

“Like you should tell Robin and Steve you’re taking me home.” You giggle and press a kiss to his jaw just as he has done earlier.

He let out a seething sigh and clenched his jaw despite his smile, “I like how you think.” He nods and gets up from the booth, waiting for you to follow his lead. His eyes search for anyone in the party, finding Nancy first. “I’m gonna take her home okay?” Is all you heard before Nancy’s concerned look found your eyes around Eddie’s shoulder, but then also found your hand in his. A smile spread on her face and she nods at him before patting his shoulder and waving at you.

“Happy birthday! Stay safe!” She calls, and the both of you laugh as Eddie says, “No promises!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie sped the whole way home, keeping a hand on you the entire drive. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to have you in his bed, to have you at all. He snuck glances and licked his lips at your cleavage on display in that dress and now that he knows what he knows about your little crush on him he can’t help but wonder if you chose it with him in mind.

Now, he’s got you back against a door, just like at the club. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are heavy but all you can think about is the way Eddie was looking at you. The way he was touching you.

“Got you all to myself, now, birthday girl.” He trails a finger down your neck and sternum, til it hit that beautiful crease he wanted to bury his nose in. You nod at him and smile before tilting your chin up to meet his lips.

He deepens the kiss, trapping you against him with his hands on your face, delicately clinging to you as if you’d leave. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He whispered as if you were now his to take care of.

You sigh and nod again, letting your eyes fall closed as his kisses trail down your neck. Before you know it he’s slipping off the straps of your dress and kissing at your cleavage. “Can I take this off?” He asks softly.

You don’t answer, only reach back and unzip it before peeling it off your body, with a little difficulty that had Eddie chuckling in adoration before helping you out of it.

“Look at you…” he whispered as he appraised your body. He was aching almost as badly as you were to get rid of that bra. And no matter how much he loved the way your panties clung to your curves, he wanted you bare and beneath him.

“I promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You giggle, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

He grins, “Why is that?”

You shrug, “Do I need to go over the list of girls you’ve brought around since I’ve known you?”

He scoffs through a smile, “Yeah, well, I had to keep myself busy waiting around on you, didn’t I?”

You scoff this time, looping your arms over his shoulders, oddly comfortable being so exposed in front of him. “That’s a lie.”

“I never met anyone I was interested in dating until I met you. But you had a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, well, you always had a girlfriend.”

He tsks, “Looks like it’s now or never.”

You smile widely and he leans down to kiss you, sweeping his tongue over your lip to pull an open mouthed moan from you, and licking into your mouth like he had your pussy earlier.

“Come lay down with me,” He said between kisses, “Let’s get you all comfy.”

Sparks erupted in your stomach and you nod as he takes you in his arms and swiftly steers you towards his room in hurried steps.

He pushes open his door so harshly it hits the wall, opening in time for you to step through before he’s knocking it shut with his foot. He gently nudges you down onto the bed, urging your shoulders to lay all the way down as he worked his knee between your thighs again.

“There we go,” His hands trail over your tits and stomach, pausing at the cups and tugging lightly as if he were going to pull it down but he left it up to you.

You unhook it and toss it off the bed, laying back down in your tipsy haze, your body buzzing and warm—drunk on booze and Eddie’s hungry gaze.

“Your turn.” You say breathily as you get comfortable against his soft blankets. His mouth is gaping as he pours over you, his hands poised to reach out and squeeze before you cover your chest with your arms and giggle for him.

He unfolds to his full height, revealing the thick imprint in the front of this jeans, showing you just how badly he needs to free himself. “A demand from the birthday girl?” He chuckles lowly and strips off his shirt, the swift movement sending his sweet and heady scent washing over your face.

His taught torso and arms were swirled with different art pieces, some were patchworks and others so dark and solid you can’t imagine how long they took. You’d always wanted to know how many he had, and maybe tonight you’d find out.

He’s pleased with the way you’re gazing up at him, as if he were the art and not his tattoos. “You like ‘em?” He asks before putting his hands on the pillow on either side of your head, hiding any shred of self doubt away as you nod.

If he got to have you for just tonight, he could be happy.

He waited a year before he found out he could’ve had you sooner, so tonight he’d take his sweet time and pull the most earth shattering orgasm from your body in order to help his chances of doing it again and again.

And maybe you’ll delete that stupid app.

Your hips writhe in search of his, your hands slipping away, dissolving the last thread of modesty you were trying to keep. He returns his attention to your chest and suddenly he’s lost half his power.

“What?” You giggle and before he decides to answer he drops his lips to the middle of them to press a lingering kiss.

“I love your boobies…” he whispers reverently before you throw your head backwards and laugh heartily, your hands draping comfortably on his shoulder and head as he smiles and presses wet kisses around the bottom curve of your breasts.

“Don’t call them boobies, you’re a grown man!” You softly scold and try to ignore the warm buzzing he was shrouding your body in with each kiss.

“They’re the best boobies.” He mumbles against your skin before the kisses intensify and he starts finding places to sweep his tongue over and suck, pulling an open mouthed whine from your unsuspecting lips. “I knew you’d like that.” He chuckles again, and leans over to delicately lick your pebbled nipple and suck it into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Your hold on him tightens, much to his satisfaction, and he begins rutting himself against your naked center. “Take—take these off—“ you manage as you feel his hand on your other tit and your brain starts melting when he massages it tenderly.

Without a word, he releases your nipple with a sonorous pop, and gets up from the bed to strip off his pants and boxers. The jingling of his chain and belt excites you, but not as much as the sight of his hard and leaking cock springing up against his stomach as he did so. You didn’t hear yourself gasp but you knew he did with the look he sent you as he stroked himself at the end of his bed.

“I dunno about you, but it feels more like my birthday, tonight.” He says as he steps around to the nightstand and procures a condom, keeping one hand on his manhood as if he were shy.

You smirk as he releases his hold on his member to open the package, to which you roll over on your stomach and crawl over to him. He looks at you with confused amusement and then he freezes when he feels your tongue on the head of his dick. “Oh, shit!”

“Happy birthday.” You giggle before taking his whole tip in your mouth and sucking it rhythmically to drive him mad. You gently caress his hips and in the next moment his hands are on your head, barely and pressure behind his touch.

“Oh, baby, you don’t—you don’t have to do this—“ he sighs out as the euphoria builds inside of him.

“I know—been wanting to.” You mumble before pushing his shaft up against his stomach and licking a wet stripe from sack to tip, but before you could pull it back into your mouth, he was flipping you onto your back again and rolling on the condom.

“You can do that any time you want,” he cuts himself off with a tender kiss to your lips, “Right now I just need to be in you.” He says in a whisper against your lips as he swipes the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Wanna feel you too, Eddie.” You sigh as he kisses down your chest again, “Please, please, please, don’t make me wait anymore.” You whine as he thrusts his shaft between your folds teasingly, “—It’s my birthday!!”

He laughs as he reaches your stomach and plants one last kiss above your belly button. “Since you asked so nicely.” He looks down between you, the ends of his hair tickling your chest as he notches himself right where you need him the most.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He mumbles before pushing the rest of the way inside, his lips connecting with yours in a needy kiss.

“Oh my go—you do too.” You’re quick to assure him. “Fuck me, Eddie, c’mon,” you urge him with your hips, desperate for his friction. He looses a breath, a moan threatening to escape along with it as he starts his slow movements in and out with tender care.

He’d always admired your gentleness, your soft spoken nature. He was sure if he fucked you too hard you’d break, whether it be physically or emotionally he wasn’t sure. So when you wrapped your legs around his waist and opened your mouth to say, “Harder, fuck me harder!” —He was shocked.

He gently pushes your legs back towards you, finding purchase on the back of your thighs and squeezing appreciatively. “You sure?” He asks with a playful lip between his teeth and a gleam in his eye you wanted to see again and again.

“Mhm..” you nod pathetically and he grins wider than the Cheshire Cat. He leans down, pressing himself into you as far as he can, and kisses you on the lips, “We have plenty of time for me to fuck you slowly, yeah?” He asks before withdrawing himself and slamming inside again,

“Oh, fuck, you take me so well.” He says into your neck and sets a brutal pace that renders you thoughtless. “You’re so—you’re so good—shit!” He pants against your skin. The feeling of his weight on top of yours makes you feel so small in his grasp, folded up at his will like a plaything.

His plaything.

“You—ugh! You’re so good..” is all you can think to say, but it’s enough to make him nuzzle against your breast before sealing his mouth against your skin and kissing and nibbling and sucking his way over to your nipple, his thumb working your clit as he pounds you mercilessly, “Cum f’me—“ he mumbles against you.

And at his command, you come undone all over his cock and fingers. The humming, all consuming pleasure washed over you, and your body nearly goes limp.

Your unbridled cries of ecstasy were almost enough to send him over the edge of pleasure, though it sped up the steep climb right before he’d free-fall to the sound of your orgasm and hurtle into his. He speeds up his thrusts, eagerly chasing his high and enhancing yours as he groans roughly into your chest, “Christ!”

“Oh, yes, Eddie!” You whine as your body lurches back into that white hot urge to fuck and feel, just knowing you’re the reason he’s getting off making you clench around him as he spills into the condom and fucks you through his high.

You feel his cock throb inside of you as he collapses on top of you, getting a face full of titties and groaning in satisfaction.

You fall limp against the bed and pillows, his large frame making no move to release you. You can’t help the giggle slipping from your lips, and his head perks up at the sound, his round brown eyes on yours as his own smile builds. “What?” He asks with a kiss to your sternum.

You shake your head and run your fingers through his hair and fix his bangs, “I just… can’t believe this just happened.” You chuckle.

He chuckles too and gives you three more kisses leading up to your neck. He pauses at your lips with a smile, “Me either.” He pecks your lips sweetly before he pulls out of you and strips off the condom to toss in the nearby wastebasket.

He flops down next to you, pulling the sheets over you both as he catches his breath—his chest rising and falling with deep breaths beneath his necklace. He looks over at you and smiles again, his hair tousled from where your hands had played with it as he uncovers a leg and uses the linen to fan himself, “Jesus Christ it got hot—“ he chuckles again and looks back to you.

Your cheeks flush and you pull the sheet over your chest before you turn to face him, “Yeah, it was.” You chuckle nervously.

He turns on his side and looks at you intently, gathering words he’d been keeping at the back of his mind for as long as he’d known you. “I wanna do it again sometime.” He whispered and reached a hand over to cradle your cheek and caress your shoulder down to tangle his fingers into yours.

You smile softly and can’t help your heart sinking in your chest at the idea of being one of the girls he entertained for a few weeks before he never spoke of them again. You’d rather go back to normal than end up that way.

He senses your hesitance and squeezes your hand, “We don’t have to—I didn’t mean—this can totally be a on off, you know?”

You nod dejectedly and squeeze his hand, “If that’s what you want, yeah, for sure.” You say only half convincingly.

He scoots closer and wraps his arms around you, “That’s not what I want—not even close.” He whispers, lightly trailing his fingers down your exposed spine. Your eyes widen and you can’t help but arch into his touch.

“What do you want?” You whisper, finding your hands sliding up his smooth chest.

A smirk pulls at his lips before he kisses your nose, “I want… you.” He chuckles easily at your surprise, “I want to… delete the stupid app off your phone and I want your permission slip framed on my wall.” He giggles as your blush stains your cheeks.

“Is that all?” You chuckle as he kisses your neck, getting progressively more excessive just to make you laugh more, “Are you gonna delete the app off your phone??” You question.

Without an answer Eddie lurches up from the bed, stark naked, and searches through his pants and jacket til he procures his phone and flops back down next to you.

He hopes you watch as he unlocks it and deletes all the hookup apps from his screen. He puts it on the table and rolls over to you again, taking you in his arms as if you belong there now. “I’ll delete allll the unnecessary numbers at breakfast in the morning, yeah?” He kisses your cheek and you smile madly before wrapping your arms around him and pulling his lips to yours. You can’t help but smile into the kiss as he deepens it. “Wanna fuck you like this every birthday.” His voice is muffled by your skin as he continues his kisses down your neck, the fire between you igniting again.

“So when’s your birthday, huh?” You ask in a sultry tone as his cock hardens and he rocks against you with a frustrated groan. He sighs as your hand closes around it and tugs at it playfully a couple times before he’s devouring your neck again.

-

-

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Hallooooooo I'm just here again to tell you how much I love your writing and the way you portray Bucky as one whiny bitch has got me gripping my sheets NGHGGGGG Absolutely fucking love him in Here Kitty Kitty!!!!!

But I've been suddenly hit by a massive Subby!Steve beam and he's an even bigger whiny bitch than Bucky soooo

I present to you- Haunted Steve Rogers :>

Here me out!!! I read a post about ghost fucking and I can't stop thinking about Fresh faced Steve in the twenty first century with Ghost!Bucky Barnes who died in the early 2000s. They never met as children and Steve is mortified to find himself being haunted by a particularly perverted and thirsty AF ghost

Just imagine Steve out in Public, maybe in a mall or inside a packed train and he's just minding his own business until he feels cold wispy hands start groping him. Shivers breaks out of his skin at the cold touch and his complaints dies a quiet death when said cold touches slip down his nether regions.

Just Steve Rogers trying to keep quiet while Bucky molests him, squeezing and stroking his cock while he shakes with pleasure, barely standing and absolutely sweating under his clothing. He's pleading quietly, curling into himself and straining at the effort to not make a noise because Buck! We're in public! Not here please-

Just Steve Rogers trying to listen to a conversation happening in front of him while there's fingers stuck up his ass, cold and opening him roughly. The way his voice would hitch and a gasp leaves him once in while and him shakily telling the person in front of him that he's alright and that he's totally listening as if his prostate isn't being abused.

Just Steve Rogers in a meeting, continuously shifting in his seat. To other people, he's too pent up to sit still properly. The truth? He's got ghost! Bucky's dick buried in his ass, grinding into him and filling him up to the point he thinks he might choke on it. Steve can't beg, can't moan, can't even move because how the fuck is he gonna explain that he's being fucked by a ghostly being in the middle of a meeting?

The risk of being caught riles him up as much as Ghost!Bucky whispering filthy things in his ears like yeah you like that? Look at you, filthy as fuck and taking this dick up your tight ass- You're that desperate Stevie? That you'll have a ghost fucking you everywhere and anytime you want? Come on, open your eyes and look at all of these people in front of you, not knowing that Captain America's gagging for some ghost dick to screw him 24/7! How would they react knowing you're getting filled right now huh, practically a slut for it-

Imagine the mess on Steve's side, how he can go so many times even after coming!!! Just Bucky wringing one orgasm after another while he desperately fights for composure, barely standing and not making a sound, boxers absolutely drenched with his own release-

Or how easy just Bucky slips into him (magical ghost powers Ajdheje), accosting him and groping him wherever whenever he likes, leaching off Steve's warmth and life!! ACKKKKKK AIDHSIRJEORJFJ HEEHEHEHEHEH

-🫠🫠

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty"

I'm glad you enjoyed whiny Bucky, lmao. He's a favorite for suuure 😏

And as for the idea of ghost!Bucky with freshly thawed Steve, I--

Holy fuck, I have seen some ghost-fucker content here and there (much with public stuff which is fun 🥴) but I haven't ever considered that with stucky and... I'm obsessed (possessed perhaps, lmao).

I'm especially obsessed with thrill seeker ghost!Bucky and stuttering, subby Steve, though. Goddamn.

I am enthralled with what you wrote! I have to say, though, my immediate thought--my immediate mental image, really--with this pairing was Steve with his leanly muscular, fawn-clumsy legs spread wide on his bed in the middle of the night, hips up, back arched, seemingly all alone and exposed. Moonbeams slip through his curtains into the room, lighting him up, dragging across his flushed, pale skin like a spotlight. His bare, shaven face is pressed hard into his white sheets--contrasting gorgeously, blank sheets, and the blood-hot flush painted with so much pigment, thick and wet, across his face. He's blushing from high on his cheeks all the way up to the hot shells of his ears. And for the most part, other than his quivering, open mouth and his heaving chest--face down, ass up--he's perfectly still. Debauched and statuesque in the middle of the night.

He should be chilled with the night air caressing his skin, but he isn't. He's burning up. The phantom hands on his skin are freezing but he's alive with flames, they're licking and scorching his skin, leaving him gasping, his hands scrunching the sheets into a wrinkled mess, fisting the fabric right by his head, both trying to hide the dirty ecstasy written over his pretty face in vain as Bucky's fucks him and just trying to have something, anything, to hold onto as his world is torn apart from overwhelming, crashing waves of pleasure.

Too much. Too good.

He can't see Bucky, but, oh, god, can he feel him.

Touching him. Fucking him. Groping him. Making handprints and bruises and bite marks appear on his warm, pink skin out of thin air.

He can hear him, too, whispering to him, fuck, he can almost feel it on the back of his neck, but he can't really. Of course not. Bucky isn't breathing down on him. He can't. He's just playing with him, drawing his pleasure out, pushing his nerves to the brink--Steve doesn't know what's hot and what's cold is anymore, Steve doesn't know what's real and what isn't, Steve doesn't know anything but pleasure like he's never felt before, given to him in the middle of the night when he's alone save for Bucky who makes him feel more alive than anyone else with a beating heart in their solid chest could.

(If anyone else were to walk in, though, god, it'd be a show. Steve writhing on his sheets without any influence. Completely stripped bare, exposed, and untouched..? Except, anyone can see the fingertip indents in his thighs as Bucky gropes him, anyone can see the wet, hot, open gape of his hole as Bucky fucks him, taking him from behind, anyone can see the tremble in his muscles as he crumbles under the influence of the unseen, anyone can see sweat glistening on his skin, anyone can see his fever, pink all over, anyone can see how much he loves it, his face twisted up in pleasure, lips hanging open, taking it like a good little slut. So desperate for dick he'll get it anywhere, anytime. He can't live without dick.)

Anyway--

I fucking love your idea. I love the thought of public ghost play, too!! I was just immediately on the bewitching hour, haunting ghost fucking vibe, lol.

I can just imagine Bucky always messing with Steve at the worst times, and when Steve tries to talk sense into Bucky behind closed doors, well, he just ends up a pile of mush as Bucky continues so there's not really any talking. What? They're in private now, isn't this what Steve wants? Isn't this what he was asking for?

Jesus.

They're trouble. They're both so hungry for touch, and they find it so easily in each other that no one else understands. It's kinky as fuck and it's sweet as fuck. I love it!!

Thank you for this! 😘

[cult-of-the-eye]

Ok I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna make the new hyperfixation post:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

I started watching it cause I was on the internet during the Dr Reid thirst trap era and let's just say a scrawny motherfucker with autism is the surefire way to get me to watch something

Especially when everyone is going through the horrors

I am in love with the format of the show, with the whole quotes and then different characters saying the quotes and the isolated cases with the slight hints of more background for each of the characters it's really keeping me going

I'm not great with gore and shit but like it's got shitty 2000s CGI so like it's easy to tell myself it's just actors with fake blood

Also listen I had to tap into my 9 yr old undiagnosed autistic obsessed with psychopaths phase at some point

It just tickles the right parts of my brain

Anyway the characters are why I stuck around

Gideon <3333 I love that strange walrus looking man I love how he's simultaneously such an emotional rock for everyone in the BAU but also dealing with his own things, he goes into each of the crimes with such calmness and compassion and I just love that weird old man especially when he introduced himself as Jason to the little girl he was saving in that one episode, i was like HE'S MAKING HIMSELF SEEM LIKE LESS OF A THREAT BY INTRODUCING HIMSELF WITH HIS FIRST NAMEEEE, HE'S TRYING TO PUT HER AT EASE

Hotch oh man it was one scene specifically that literally started my brainrot for this guy, I wasn't that into him in the first couple of episodes and then it was revealed that he was horrifically abused by his dad and actively chose to go into a pathway that would catch people like that and people who get abused and then go on to abuse others and I just. AH. i am such a sucker for any character who has endured things that no one ever should endure at the hands of another human being and then instead of becoming completely bitter and taking the eye for an eye mindset, they vow to make sure the cycle stops with them and they may not be all sunshine and daisies and instead rough a lot of the times but they do it and they do it realistically

He's got a wife and a kid!!! He did it!! He made a better life for himself and it makes me feel like I could too, he's so strong and I feel like my strength can one day be used for more than just survival

Elle!!!! God I love her I feel like she's so realistic for a woman in her field, she's smart and strong and capable and she acknowledges all the things she has going against her, she's compassionate to the female rape victims, she gets furious at the people targeting women in particular what i would do to be this woman's friend

Reid. Oh lord. Listen I'm not on the thirst trap train but I do understand the love for this guy. My love for him however stems from the autism. The whole wanting to be useful and only knowing how to through interests and hyperfixations and feeling like he's missing out on some things cause he's different

It was the hostage situation on the train that got to me he was just so REAL and it's so awesome to see autistic people succeed in stuff like this

It's also nice to see him accepted by the team for who he is

I do also like him cause he's cool but it's easier to explain the autism stuff

Garcia - wonderful amazing spectacular I love me a confident woman in stem

Morgan - i like how he's sort of the "cool guy" archetype but his whole thing is getting into the mind of the UnSub I feel like it gives him more depth

JJ - god she's so cool and calm under pressure I love her

So yeah. The BAU is my new comfort character crew I'm taking Elle with me everywhere

But also do I have major issues with the idea of behavioural analysis in crime? Absolutely. It is so insanely subjective the way they're going off of probability, the way their precedent probably lacks temporal validity and also population validity with both the androcentrism and ethnocentrism it does feel wrong to be coming to such a conclusion about the UnSub so quickly and decisively, even though I understand their whole thing is getting there quickly. I just know that categorising human behaviour is never as simple as it seems.

Do I think they tackle some of these issues in the show? Sort of. Am I also aware this is a fictional drama TV show and it may not be that deep? Yes.

Anyway

[irish-urn]

Hey, I just found out that there was a mini lfd fandom on here and I immediately binged all your fanfic! I've seen you mention stuff about the costume dept that worked on the show maybe playing into Dasey, could you maybe expand on that because I'd love to hear your thoughts. <3

HIIIII. Welcome to our little corner of the internet! We are indeed active and (if you're a dasey shipper), we even have a discord where we yammer at each other, so, uh let me know if you're interested in that so I can direct you to the appropriate inviting parties.

(also, if you ever wanna talk about my stories, I am a needy gremlin)

First of all, this is probably gonna be long because despite my English degree, I am a rambler of the highest order (you can tell because my fics are all suuuuuper long). Secondly, I don't have any screenshots to share, so I'll try to be as descriptive as possible, because I genuinely don't have the time to go back and get screenshots (sorry y'all). Thirdly, I AM still in the midst of re-watching the showing all the way through, so all my examples are gonna be from the first half -- BUT DON'T WORRY, I'LL KEEP NOTICING THEM AS I GO -- and fourthly: I wanna talk a little bit about WHY I notice costume choices.

So, I am not a fashion guru or someone who keeps up on trends BUT I am someone who was taught that, as a writer, showing is better than telling. How does a TV show or movie show us things about a character? Costumes are a major part; and I've watched enough behind-the-scenes and read some ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING costume meta from other fandoms, that I think it's fair to say that costumes are speaking VOLUMES. There are whole posts (from, again, other fandoms) on colour theory and I'll touch on that a fair bit; or we could simply talk about how well the clothes sit on the person probably says a lot about how they either view themselves OR want others to view them.

For instance: as a general rule, Casey's clothes are (1) far more form-fitting than Derek's; and (2) overall far more 'put together as a whole' than Derek's. Now, we can be cynical and attribute that to capitalism and sex selling (although Michael Seater is an attractive dude and I wouldn't have been put off by a shirt showing off his arms); OR we could look at it and say: What does this say about Casey and Derek?

Well, we COULD say that it means that Casey is far more comfortable with herself than Derek is. Derek's clothes are far looser, and he often wears layers (jackets over shirts or one shirt over another shirt). Now, partially this was the fashion of the time, but ignore that for a second: this means that Derek is HIDING parts of himself from the world. He's covering himself in literal and figurative layers so that people don't see him naked and vulnerable. Casey, for all that she's clumsy and a nerd and sees herself as not being popular, is also very clearly HERSELF. She loudly proclaims injustices; she runs for class president; she goes up against a bully to protect her stepbrother even though her boyfriend asks her not to... You see where I'm going with this? Derek pretends he doesn't have feelings and bottles them all inside, when we know from watching him in his private moments, that he actually has BIG feelings and a soft, gooey heart.

Take this one step further: what does this mean about how they want to be perceived by others: Casey wants people to believe that she has everything under control. Her hair is done (always way better than anything I did in high school), her outfits match, her nails are done: she might be a keener and a nerd, but she's an EFFECTIVE and PREPARED nerd. Maybe her personality is a turn-off for some, but she can still give a good first impression. Now, for Derek, let's spin back around to my first point: layers were in fashion in the mid-2000s. Derek dresses according to the current trends because he wants to be popular. He also has a certain reputation of being cool, calm, in control, not working too hard, being chill, everything's all good with the V-man. So he dresses 'casually', with his clothes often looking like he just pulled them on. No ironing for Derek!

Also, on another character note before we get into Dasey — Casey dresses very feminine. She wears a lot of skirts and dresses, and when she doesn't, her jeans are often low-rise (again, the style at that time) and her shirts are form-fitting but not too sexy. She's conservative, but still fun underneath the ironed clothes. Casey also wears layers, but those are a lot less noticeable than Derek's, and not quite as often -- that's because Casey is ALSO hiding things; our girl is big on denial. However, because she's our narrator, it's not something they like to draw attention to. She's supposed to be reliable.

(she's not a reliable narrator, fyi).

SO LET'S TALK ABOUT DASEY.

(if this isn't what you wanted, I'm so so sorry)

The first and most consistent impression we get of Derek and Casey is from the theme song and the Genora wedding pictures -- and their outfits demonstrate what I'm talking about above almost perfectly. Casey is wearing a pink dress, very feminine; Derek is wearing a black blazer and a blue dress shirt. (Casey wears a LOT of pink in the show, btw; just a comment on her character). This establishes their characters: see everything I said above -- Derek doesn't wear a tie because he's LOOSE, ya see? -- but also has them in opposite BUT COMPLIMENTARY colours. We see pink vs black and blue and think, Ah, okay, these two are opposites. They're probably gonna fight. And that's true! But they also look really good next to each other! Lots of people, for a good WOW factor, will match pink with black, or blues with pinks. Also to note: Derek's blue shirt is very bright -- it would be easy for them to have him all in dark colours to give us the impression that they are VERY opposite; but they don't. They give him a bright colour TO MATCH her bright colour.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

I've also been noticing things like Casey dressing very similarly to girls Derek declares as "hot" -- see Sandra in Marti the Monster -- and in Venturian Candidate, Derek imagines Casey as a sexy personal assistant. She also is a cheerleader at some point -- and we know that that would drive Derek insane.

Let's also take a moment and return to that pink dress Casey wore to Genora's wedding; when do we see it in the show? When she loans it to Vicki. What happens when Vicki is wearing that dress? Derek makes out with her.

THEY DID NOT HAVE TO DO THIS. Derek could have made out with Vicki when she was wearing ANYTHING else (like the black and white dress she originally has for the wedding and would be a way to show how DIFFERENT she really is from Casey). But they purposely point out that Vicki looks like Casey, Derek calls her a "total babe", and then when Casey very pointedly states aloud that she can loan Vicki a dress, the ONLY time we see Vicki wearing it is when her mouth is attached to Derek's.

FURTHERMORE: why does Casey insist they DRESS up for their presentation on Percy and Mary Shelley (who are married!!! who. are. MARRIED)??? Sometimes they have Derek and Casey wearing similar styles; I think there was an episode where they were both wearing stripes, but in different directions? But, still: there are HUNDREDS of shirts they could have chosen!!! But they keep finding ones that say: "See!! We're opposites, but connected!"

For a final note, I did find this image:

The famed "same difference" scene.

Please note that Derek and Casey are wearing green and purple respectively. Now, green and purple are considered complementary colours (gasp!), because they are on opposite sides of the colour wheel (gasp!!). But, depending on the shades of green and purple and how they're placed together, green and purple work really really well aesthetically. (Also, interestingly enough when I looked at colour theory, green is supposed to be a healing, stabilizing colour while purple is ambitious and creative. Not really important for this moment, but I think says volumes about the characters themselves.)

Also: they are both in a single layer. Derek has his sleeves rolled up -- actually showing skin!! He's being vulnerable purposely!! Casey has her hair tied back but it's falling out and around her face -- she's very casual and herself in this scene BUT ALSO this lets her hide behind some of her hair if she needs to. Metaphorically, she does. It's not a lot of hair, and Derek sees right through her, but it's enough of a barrier to make a point, and a few seconds after this image above, Derek backs off and retreats into himself.

I could go on, but this is long enough and I'm sure as I continue my (very slow) re-watch of the show, I'll find more things that make me scream. But yeah: the costume department knew what they were doing. There's a reason a lot of us ship Dasey.

[cometcrystal]

okay i have to tell you guys about the absolute piece of shit day i've had. buckle in. or don't. you probably have better shit to do than read this. i've color coded it for your convenience

so to start with, there have been consistent issues about the other two tellers not greeting customers/doing as much as me. i consistently had hundreds more transactions than both of them and i was the only one trying to push the promotion shit. so there was a meeting on tuesday telling them that they need to start putting in the effort. my manager was PISSED

so That c*worker either does not absorb this information, or her lack of a filter just starts working against her. because we had a situation the very next day where she didn't greet a customer when they came in, and made a comment under her breath about it. like "manager was doing this other thing, that's why she didn't hear me greet them" and i snitched on her because im a rat who hates her and my manager was like that's it i'm moving you guys around. (because part of the issue is that my window is the first one people see when they walk in due to how the building is, and the other teller's is like. in a corner)

so we get a message from the manager in the group gmail chat this morning saying dott and other teller will be swapping desks this evening at 4pm.

MEANWHILE. the closest branch to us has been down for more than a day now. they are not able to operate at all. so they sent their tellers to the branches closest to their houses to work at today so they're not just sitting around. the one that is sent to our branch is someone who NONE of us like. like my manager had an argument with HER boss earlier because she was like we don't fucking want her here with her piss-poor attitude.

so the whole day all she does is COMPLAIN. as soon as she gets here, she complains about getting put in the drive thru (when its literally the ONLY open teller box we had). she complains about not having the pink finger stuff. etc etc. she's just a miserable person to be around.

and another annoying thing is that she was at a third, DIFFERENT branch for well over a decade that closed down recently, whose customers we received at our branch. and they all recognized her from THAT branch and were like OHH LOOK ITS (NAME) WE LOVE YOU (NAME) ARE YOU HERE PERMANENTLY NOW??? so that's just fucking obnoxious to hear all day

these two issues come to a head at 4pm. i begin trying to wrangle That c*worker into swapping our boxes because it's a really fucking annoying process. and idk how to explain to you guys what it's like to work with her. but she doesn't fucking listen to anything. and she has no filter. and she just keeps talking.

so i count into her box and she's out of balance, over $1000. the guest teller does a trial balance, and she's SHORT $1000. so the two of them start chattering about how to fix it. and im like OKAY LETS JUST COUNT MY BOX AND MAKE SURE I'M GOOD AND WE'LL GO FROM THERE. i have to try this 3 times.

so they try and fix it, and they do it wrong, and now theyre both $2000 out of balance in opposite directions. at this point my manager comes out to try and help. she has asked That c*worker MULTIPLE TIMES to stop talking so she can think it through. because when u fix a buy/sell, it's always the opposite way of what you think it is. so she pulls me aside for us to try and talk it through before we process anything else on the system. That c*worker tries to talk to her again and my manager makes a loud buzzing AH-AH noise at her. which i loved.

it takes us 45 minutes to get our boxes swapped. this whole time, the guest teller asks multiple times, visibly annoyed, "can i get some help over here?" "is someone gonna help me?" WHEN THE 3RD NORMAL TELLER IS LITERALLY BUSTING HER ASS

did i mention we are FUCKING BUSY?????? we're getting the down branch's customers in addition to our own so we've got people in the lobby and people wrapped around the building in the drive thru. but everyone is doing ALL THEY CAN. if she would just shut her fucking mouth and DO THE TRANSACTIONS she could have made a dent in the crowd easier while me and That c*worker were tied up.

and THEN guest teller says "this probably should have been done on a monday morning or something" and i said "well you'll have to take it up with (manager)". i report this comment to my manager once everyone else had left for the day and i think it made her snap because she immediately started saying cusses and swears and went to her computer to write an email.

today was very dense.

[starset21]

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower

A/N: This story is heavily inspired by the hallmark movie of the same title and is very self-indulgent. I'm also trying a different format than I'm used to using so it may change in the future chapters. Hope everyone is having good winter holidays!

Looking for the other chapters? U.S.S. Christmas Masterlist 

Summary:  Kate and Jake take on New York City

Chapter 5: New York

“Oh! Look at this! Oh, I can't wait to see the rockettes and the the rockefeller Christmas tree, the decorations on fifth Avenue, but first, we gotta get New York pizza!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Okay, she's gonna wear me out. Now, the ship leaves at 8 P.M. on the dot. Don't be late,” Jackson reminded them.

“2000 hours. Roger that. I think the historical building is right up here,” Jake told Kate, taking her hand in his.

“Do you keep records of all the performances?” Kate asked the lady at the front desk.

“We sure do. The older ones haven't been transferred to the computer, though. We've had all kinds of personalities to perform for the troops. You said 1965?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jake nodded.

“The Polaris, right?” she asked again and Kate nodded.

“Do you see a Dorothy in there?” she asked.

“Oh! Here it is. It looks like Dorothy Milne. It lists her employment as a dance instructor,” the lady told them.

“Just like the journal says,” Kate whispered to Jake.

“She actually worked at the ovation dance studio right here in the city,” the lady told them.

“I could hug you right now,” Kate grinned and they headed out.

“We might just solve this Christmas mystery after all,” Jake told her, nudging her shoulder. 

“I can't believe it! The ovation dance studio is actually still around! Wonder if Jonah tracked her down there. I remember the last passage in his journal said…” 

"I saw Dorothy perform last night with the uso. She's breathtaking. It was like she was floating on air. I got to talk to her again after the show, and she's truly everything I imagined. Sweet, smart… But when I went to find her this morning, her brother said Dorothy left on the cargo plane. It's crazy, but I feel like I've known her forever. I have to find her after we dock in Norfolk."

“We might just solve this Christmas mystery after all,” Jake told her, nudging her shoulder as they headed into the dance studio. There were little ballerina’s dancing around the room.

“They are so sweet,” Kate couldn’t help commenting.

“Aren't they? Today's the dress rehearsal for our big Christmas show. Can I help you with something?” the instructor asked.

“Yes. Hi, I'm Kayleigh Wells of the Norfolk register newspaper. This is Lieutenant Seresin,” Kate introduced.

“Nice to meet you both. What's this about?” she asked.

“We're looking for a woman who might be a military spouse. Her name is Dorothy Milne. Apparently she worked here years ago,” Kate told her.

“Yes. Dorothy was my teacher as a girl. I eventually bought the studio from the owner,” she crossed her arms.

“Could you tell us more about her?” Kate asked.

“She, uh, moved to New York to be a rockette, but her dreams never quite panned out, so she worked here instead, and would sometimes perform for the troops with the USO,” the woman told them.

“Any idea where she was from?” Kate asked.

“Kansas City, I believe,” she told them.

“Do you have any idea if she was married to a pilot named Jonah?” Jake asked.

“I remember there was a pilot she met on an aircraft carrier. He came to find her after the ship docked. Surprised her with roses right here in the studio in the middle of class! But she had a boyfriend at the time who she said was planning to propose, so I'm not sure who she ended up with,” she told them.

“Any idea what Jonah’s last name is?” Kate asked.

“It was so long ago. After that Christmas, we were told Dorothy moved to California. But that's all I know. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help.”

“Thank you,” Kate gave her an appreciative smile.

“I think we could use a snack right now, have you ever had roasted chestnuts?” Kate asked Jake.

“No, actually,” Jake told her. Kate smiled and went up to a cart selling them.

“We'll take two,” she told the man and went to pull out some money.

“I got this,” Jake told her, handing the man money.

“Thank you. All right. Let's see what this is,” Jake said as they began their walk again.

“Mmm! Lot sweeter than I thought,” he told her after having one.

“Hmm. Kinda how I feel about you,” Kate teased.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Jake laughed.

“So, have you ever been to New York before?” Kate asked him.

“When I was six my parents brought me here for Christmas,” he told her.

“Before the divorce?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. It was our last Christmas as a family together,” he bit his lip and looked down.

“That's bittersweet.” Jake nodded.

“Yeah, but it was the best Christmas I ever had,” he looked at her.

“Well, I think it's nice that you have those memories. Whenever my dad would be home for Christmas, we'd always go to Picasso’s diner and we would get semi crispy bacon. It was kind of our thing. Semi crispy is the only way to go,” Kate told him.

“I know, right?” Jake asked and Kate laughed.

“That looks really familiar. New York model train museum annual Christmas show! I went there when I was here with my dad,” Jake pointed out.

“Yeah? Come on, you wanna go? It'd be fun!” Kate exclaimed.

“Uhh... I don't know…” he trailed off.

“Oh, come on! You said it yourself, best Christmas you ever had,” Kate taunted.

“All right, yeah. Let's do it,” Jake smiled.

“Okay. Perfect,” Kate smiles, taking his hand and pulling him along. 

“This really brings me back,” Jake says as they wander through the train exhibits. “You okay?” Kate asks.

“Yeah, it's just, uh… I remember my dad taught me how trains worked when we were here. And after the divorce, that's pretty much all we talked about trains, planes… Pretty much anything with a motor. You know, we never went too deep. Stiff upper lip, you know?”

Kate nodded. “My mom was the complete opposite. I think after my dad died she was just so heartbroken all she wanted to do was talk about him, but… I couldn't do it,” she told him.

“Why not?” he asked.

“It was too painful,” Kate shrugged.

“I'm sorry. He died from an accident, right?” Jake asked and Kate nodded.

“I was 16… The day everything changed,” she told him.

“My dad says he was a great man,” he told her.

“He was. And he loved us very, very much. So all the times he invited me to go on the Christmas tiger cruise, I should have,” Kate sighed.

“Well, I'm sure he understood. It's not easy being a Navy brat,” Jake tells her.

“Yeah, well, it's something I still regret to this day.”

“Look, don't beat yourself up over it. Believe me, I get it. All the moving around, the uncertainty… Our dads were gone for months at a time,” Jake told her, nudging her shoulder.

“Well, you're lucky yours is still around. You should cherish that,” Kate told him.

“I do. You know, he… He bought me this little red train…” Jake trailed off.

“Yeah?”

“At the gift shop here. Ahh. I drove that thing around on every surface of our house until the wheels fell off,” he told her.

“That's really sweet,” Kate smiled.

“I'll never forget that moment we picked it out together. Cost five dollars, but… Nothin' meant more to me than that train.”

Kate paused at one of the displays. “Do you still have it?” she asked.

“Got lost in one of the moves,” Jake shrugged.

“I'm sorry,” Kate apologized, she knew the feeling of losing something in a move fairly well.

“It's the memory that matters, right?” Jake asked. Kate nodded.

“Hey. Let's go check out the north pole train!” Jake exclaimed.

“You know what? I'm gonna get us some hot chocolate, but I'll meet you over there?” Kate asked.

“All right,” he smiled and headed over to the display. 

“This is flight 747 to JFK tower, comin' in for a landing,” a little boy is flying a toy plane around.

“Copy, flight 747. Proceed to runway one-zero-niner and wait for clearance. Psst!” Jake pretended like he was a tower operator.

“Psst! Copy,” the little boy responded.

“I brought Teddy here for the trains, but he's obsessed with flying,” the dad laughed.

“Smart kid. You know, Jake is actually a fighter pilot in the Navy,” Kate told them, walking up with two hot chocolates.

“Whoa,” the kid marveled.

“At your service,” Jake tipped his imaginary hat.

“Do you fly off aircraft carriers?” the boy asked.

“Sure do. But flying off the carrier is the easy part. Landing, that's the hard part,” Jake told him.

“That's so cool! I want to be a Navy pilot!” the kid exclaimed.

“Well, you certainly can if you put the work in. Here. This…” He pulls out a pair of wings that they give to the kids on the cruises from his pocket. “Is for you, eh?” he offered with a smile.

“Whoa! No take-backs?” the kid asked.

“No take-backs, buddy. Promise,” Jake smiled.

“You just made his Christmas. Thank you so much. Have a great holiday,” the dad told him.

“Merry Christmas,” Jake told them as they walked away.

“You know, you were really good with him. And did I just hear you say, "merry Christmas"?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, well, don't tell my shipmates,” Jake told her.

“Oh, no, they'd never believe me. Hey, we should probably go get something to eat, and I know a place that's gonna actually change the way you see Christmas forever,” Kate grinned.

“Mind games, huh?” Jake asked.

“It'll definitely mess with your brain. Come on,” Kate laughed and took his hand in hers. 

Christmas music played quietly in the background.

“Brain freeze!” Jake groaned.

“They don't call it the colossal Christmas cocoa for nothing,” Kate laughed.

“We don't mess around here. We take Christmas very seriously. Two burgers coming up,” the waitress told them.

“Thank you. I feel like I don't have a care in the world right now. Honestly, that's not happened very often,” she told Jake.

“That's how I feel when I'm flying my jet over the ocean, those moments when I'm at total peace. Until I realize I have to land on a ship that feels like it's the size of a postage stamp,” Jake laughed.

“Does that ever scare you?” Kate asked and Jake shook his head.

“I love every second of what I do. The adrenaline and the rush… I don't think I'm scared of anything,” he told her.

“Not even Christmas?”

Jake raised a brow. “Christmas? Why would I be scared of Christmas?” he asked.

“I'm just sayin', it… Kind of seems like you've been running away from it,” she told him.

“What do you mean?”

“Based on what you told me earlier, it seemed like maybe your parents got divorced shortly after your trip here,” she said simply.

“Yeah, well, after that, it was mostly mom and me at Christmas. Just wasn't the same without my family together. Just couldn't really see the magic in the holiday anymore,” Jake shrugged.

“I'm sorry.”

Jake waved her off.

“And I'm also sorry 'cause I totally judged you,” Kate apologized.

“It's okay. I know I can be a bit of a Christmas curmudgeon,” Jake nodded.

“A bit?” Kate teased.

“Mmhmm,” Jake laughed.

“Well, it's okay. If I wave my merry magic wand, maybe you'd think about embracing some new Christmas memories,” Kate tried.

“Hmm? Like what?” he asked.

“Like, you know, today, we… You made the little boy smile at the train show, right?” Jake hummed in response.

“He met his hero. And we saw the world's most adorable dance troupe, and I wasn't gonna say anything, but it appears that you actually took a bite of your candy cane,” Kate told him.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jake hid the candy cane.

 “I haven't had this much fun in a long time,” he told her.

“Good!” Kate smiled.

“You're amazing.”

Kate tilted her head questioningly.

“The way you made me imagine our day like a living scrapbook. You really have a way with words,” Jake clarified.

“Well, I'm a writer. So…”

“You're much more than that,” Jake told her, and it felt like he was looking into her soul.

Her phone started buzzing and Kate smiled apologetically before reading the text messages.

“It's my mom. Oh, my gosh, we have to go. It's 7:30!” Jake’s eyes widened and then they were both collecting their jackets.

“Uh, sorry! Forget the burgers!” Kate called to the server.

“Sorry. Here you go! Merry Christmas,” Jake added, placing money down on the table.

“Yeah, merry Christmas! Sorry!” The two of them ran out.

“Taxi! Taxi!” Kate yelled and it only took a moment before one pulled up and they got in.

“Pier 90,” Jake told the driver.

“We're almost there,” Kate groaned as they got stuck in traffic with 10 minutes till the ship left.

“We're never gonna make it. Maybe we should run,” Jake suggested.

“Run?!”

“Yeah. We can do it. Come on!”

Jake was handing the driver money and climbing out of the taxi. He took Kate’s hand and they began running.

“Go, go, go, go!” he encouraged.

“You're crazy! Whoa! Excuse us! Sorry!” Kate yelled as they ran by people.

“It's this way! Hi, Santa! Oh, wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Jake had to stop and put some bills in the santa’s bucket.

“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed as they took off running again.

“You barely made it, Lieutenant,” one of the sailors greeted them as they climbed aboard the ship.

“I can't believe we just ran 15 blocks,” Kate panted, trying to catch her breath.

“I know,” Jake laughed.

“Thank you for today. You know, for all the memories. The new ones.”

Kate smiled.

“You're welcome, Jake.”

[gratisdiamanten]

17,34

Send me a weird writing ask!

Going to do 34 first, because 17 is gonna get partially thrown under a cut (apologies for being a complete and total freakazoid "invisible to users with no account" "wiped from search results" blog):

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

In casual and academic writing, necessary. In prosey writing, I really only put a comma where it fits the kind of pause I want to convey. So in stream-of-consciousness type writing, you might see commas missing where they grammatically should be, and in places where they normally aren't!

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I can't do this in a reasonable length of post... and I think I have like 3 active WIPs. But I will take this opportunity to talk about one of like, my dark-dark fics "Go in Fear of the Sun" which spawned off the idea of like. Missing-person cases I read where the family suspected foul play but the police closed it as suicide because of mental health history. Anyway, TW for all kinds of insane bad shit, CSA/SA, SH, suicide, murder, depression, I don't know:

Daniel and Max live on the outskirts of Buffalo, NY, and it's like, mid-late 2000s. Max is a auto mechanic in his early 20s, Daniel is a diner manager, about 30, subbing in for waitstaff because they don't have enough workers. Max gets his lunch there like clockwork, every day, nothing changing, not curious to try anything else.

Daniel flirts with him a little, Max's weird but seems harmless, severe looking face but big soft eyes. Gets Max to try a new dish (which he hates, and then tips Daniel anyway, which he barely has the money to do). Daniel likes him. They talk often. They go to each others apartments, they're friends, Max plays Madden 04 on his PS2 and explains play strategy to Daniel, whose knowledge of football is limited to Fuck The Patriots, But Also The Dolphins Especially. Max is a sweet guy. He shouts at his games and then his face goes soft, he doesn't throw anything. Sometimes his head falls back onto Daniel's knee from where he sits on the floor. Max has pretty hands that are often still black under the nails. They send good morning good night texts.

Daniel is falling in love with him. It scares the shit out of him. And he's increasingly getting this gnawing sense that Max has issues he won't discuss. He rarely talks about his family, except for his sister, who looks like him if Max were round-faced (and he thinks Max looks better the way he does, strong brow and wide cheekbones sloping into a soft pout. I mean, wow, what a contrast). Even of her, he only has a few photos with him, although he looks at them often. His arms, when his long sleeves ride up, are streaked with old chalky marks, pink lines. Brown stitchy scabs, some of them fresh of them enough to have those spots of red-yellow ooze. It feels freaky. He remembers kids like this, in high school. They ended up in the psych ward. Freaky.

Some days, Max is very quiet. He has dark circles under his eyes, and while Daniel feels he always looks like that, bruisey and like everything's been drained out of a tap at the base of his spine, it looks wrong on Max. Max should be bright faced and flushed. Other times, he's frightened. He never wants to talk about it much, but he manages a short "my dad" that he fails to elaborate on. Daniel worries. But these times pass, even if overall they increase in frequency. Max says once his father keeps getting in his business. He says once that his father is a fucking creep. But he almost always softens his tone by the next day about it. Daniel tries to check in with him when it's bad, bookended by, rise and shine Max, sweet dreams, Max a million.

Despite all this, they're getting closer. Max is gentle, they cook together, watch games together even at the expense of Daniel meeting with his other friends. Daniel feels like he won a million dollars every time he draws a bright and real smile, wrenched from place hidden safe inside Max. He feels like he's doing something right. He listens to Max's detailed lectures on trick plays, on the value of a good rushing game. Daniel cooks him his breakfasts at home, even earlier, before he leaves. Walks over extra early just to do it for him. One day, they spend the weekend snowed in, as so often happens. It's good. It's fun. They drink a lot.

In spring, really, more late May or so, Max and him sleep together, and it's so good. Daniel's never had sex that good, most detached little bathroom fumbles in bars. Never felt like going steady, like his dad called it especially if going steady meant a nice girl. But he feels like it, with him. It's crazy, they go the whole night. He's so in love. He loves Max all over. He doesn't see a thing wrong with him except for his unhappiness, which his whole body aches to help soothe. He can't, though, because this all runs so deep. Daniel doesn't know, and even if he did. A sweet boyfriend can only do so much. They still make plans to go for drinks, properly, as a date-date, the next Friday.

Wednesday, Max doesn't come in for breakfast.

He might just be sick, but he always texts Daniel. On his break, he goes down the street to the garage where Max works, and asks if he's been in or called. Neither. So he goes to Max's apartment. He knocks and knocks to no response. And when he tries the door, it opens.

Nothing wrong inside except for the dinner that hasn't been cleared away, or the chair tipped over.

On the grounds of a hospital stay a year before, the police suspect suicide. Despite Daniel's cold cold dread and suspicion of his father, they say his alibi checks out, out for dinner with his wife.

They don't find anything. And years pass like this.

[beezonia]

Frost Family - Prologue

—————

“So who is it you’re inviting again Scott? I mean is it a surprise, you don’t have to tell me!”

The voice of Carol Calvin is heard interrogating her husband. She sits with a hand on the baby bump, her second child is coming soon.

“My cousin Holly, you know the brunette wears really chunky glasses because she thinks she looks cool in them.” He replies

Carol nods remembering the first time she met Scott’s sweet cousin.

“The music teacher! Oh yes she was so sweet, and kind, she brought a fruit basket the last time she visited.” She hums

Scott scoffs, mumbling a quick “show of” under his breath before dialling a number he had nearly forgotten.

It rings for a few minutes before the woman answers.

“Scott Calvin. Something up over there that needs me?!” It’s her or well her voice.

Holly Davis is still one of the sweetest people Scott knows, his cousin always putting others before herself no matter the situation.

In a way it kind of bugs him, maybe she secretly did have it out for him.

“Not quite, you wanna come visit Carol and I for Christmas with that new fiancé of yours?”

He hears a gasp over the phone, then a few squeals followed by shouting.

“Of course Scott! I’m not doing much for Christmas this year cause dad’s vacationing with Andrea and mom is with aunt Vera again, so yeah I’m down to visit!”

Scott smiles at the enthusiasm of his cousin, one of the many things he admired about her was that Holly managed to stay positive and with a smile on her face every day.

God knows how though? He wouldn’t last a minute if he tried.

“Great! Looking forward to seeing you little cus.” It’s soft

He had always had a soft spot for his cousin, but he if he was older she stuck up for him no matter what, acting like the adult when the were just little kids.

“Same goes for you big guy, say hi to Carol for me!”

He mumbles an answer, saying his goodbye. Then after a few beats the line goes dead, Holly’s warm presence is no longer there and Scott is feeling some sort of emptiness but he doesn’t dwell on it.

He wonders if Holly would ever come and uproot her life and join them in the North Pole. Scott missed having his baby cousin around but of course they now had even more separate lives so he didn’t expect much.

————

Celeste didn’t have time for this, no. Nothing should be holding the elf back from getting to the small office her and a few other friends shared.

The Elf Protection Society (EPS for short) was something she had come up with about 2000 years ago along with her girlfriend Babs. Designed to protect any Elf no matter the problem.

The only problem was. Non of the council had actually acknowledged or even cared to ask about it. Now Celeste understands their all busy and stuff needs to be prepared otherwise the balance of seasons will go cuckoo.

But why would they not care? ESPECIALLY SANTA!

It was to help HIS elves after all, so she really didn’t understand why they were being forced into the shadows over and over.

The elf did have an idea, prove to Santa and the council they could help with something big and maybe just MAYBE they could become official!

Oh Celeste prays to whatever god could hear her to answer or just give her a small sign.

“Hey Celeste! I gotta ask a favour.”

It’s Santa, welll that wasn’t expected but it was appreciated thanks god.

“Hey Santa, what’s up?!” The elf replies

Cheerfully of course she couldn’t let on how she was really feeling oh god that wouldn’t be fair on the already busy Santa.

He’s rubbing his chin, looks like he’s trying to come up with a more civil way to say what he wants.

“My Cousin, you know Holly is coming up again and obviously because I foolishly said I’d let Jack stay here in the North Pole this year,” he takes a deep breath before continuing “ I need you and your group to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t wreak havoc again.”

Celeste smirks, he was worried Jack was gonna make a move on his cousin. The elf loved Holly, she’d help them with baking and toy making! The woman would even play some music to keep the spirits up whenever she’d visit!

“Suuure. What’s in it for us though?” She asks

Santa stares at her wide eyed, not realising or remembering that the elf would do anything as long as she got something in return.

“I guess, if you prove that you can look after him. The EPS can become a proper part of Christmas.” Is the answer

Holy candy canes, this was it! The moment Celeste had been waiting for, the Gods had really blessed her today!

“YOU HAVE A DEAL!” She cheers

But little did the elf know that the same deal would cause chaos and shake the balance of the seasons.

Things in the North Pole where about to get interesting, as soon as Jack Frost and Holly Davis crossed paths.

———-

Hello! It’s here, I hope you like this and if you do don’t be afraid to leave a comment!

I’ll slowly slowly be updating this as I go on but probably will post snippets and little au lore things!

Anyway I hope you enjoy the frost family au!

[grison-in-space]

I keep thinking about this post in the context of my discipline, which is in the sciences. At this moment, I am in the process of applying to jobs in IT: I'm a postdoc, so my funding comes entirely and directly from federal funds. Which would end in May anyway. And the lab was low on its grant cycles to start, and its whole focus is on a number of topics that put us on a number of chopping blocks even if science as a whole starts getting funded again.

Fuck. I'm really sad. I have been avoiding talking about this decision because we're not telling the students or the lab as a whole for another month so they don't panic. I still intend to be available for them as a resource and if I'm very lucky, I'll land a position in the university IT and that will be part of my new job. I'm trying to get my core project into publication, too, before I go, and I don't have the time to soothe my students' emotions if I'm going to get that done. And I have to document the various things I have built the lab since I've been here so that it can go on using without them. That's gonna take time and work. If I stop to make anyone else feel good about it, I won't get it done. I am carrying a lot of grief right now.

So I'm looking at leaving science, at least for a while. I'm facing down the very real possibility that science, which has been funded far more aggressively than humanities for a very long time, might cease to exist outside of the private sector for some time to come. And I keep looking at myself internally, thinking what will I do now?

I find that my thoughts keep revolving around two things. One is the obvious: how do I make myself marketable enough to find a new job? I have some pretty terrifying giant data analysis skills, though, so that one isn't so frightening. The other one is really the one that keeps occupying my mind when I think about my immediate future: how am I going to Find Out without money for materials now? What's my next research project? What can I contribute to existing citizen science positions? What could I crowdfund a tiny budget for?

I don't know if that's what all the scholars facing down this gutting of our industry are thinking, but here's what I think: I think the National Endowments for Arts and Humanities have been shadows of themselves since 1996, and yet arts and history have not died. True, they're nothing like the flowering of knowledge we could have had with budgets that kept pace as a function of the (tiny) expenditures the Nation makes to fund generating new areas of human knowledge. Nevertheless, both yet live on, even under compromise.

I console myself by thinking: even if the current attempts to break the backs of knowledge workers and the university system succeed, there will still be questions to be asked and people working on answering them to the best of the resources available. Maybe it's just that I'm a cussed fucker who lost an entire chapter of my thesis once because my PI couldn't find me $2000, but I'm used to thinking about how to be rigorous about my work without the benefit of actual finances. I have... probably six scholarly projects I want to play with that could be accomplished without assistance from a university or significant startup funding. Sure, molecular techniques are out of reach right now and so are some of the toys I get at work. That doesn't mean I can't still collect data and build conclusions.

If we're going back to the days of the Victorian gentleman naturalists, goddammit, we could do worse than to learn from the likes of Mary Anning and Alfred Russell Wallace and George Washington Carver. Let's really lean into what we've learned from a decade of Citizen Science initiatives. If basic rather than applied science is going to become a hobby rather than a profession once more, let's make a really good hobby culture capable of turning out interesting data.

After all, there will always be science, just as there's always history. Let's stick around to see what kinds of things we find out next.

[electrhea]

One Of Us: III

☆ Vamp!Rhea x afab!Reader

★ Word Count: 955

Author's Note: Bar meeting, and Reader's ex is there. :3

TW: Decapitation of said ex.

____________________________________________________

A text pops up on my phone, and before long I’m calling the love of my life (platonically).

“You called?”

“Took you long enough. Where are you?” The sound of clinking glasses and faint 2000s rave music halfway drowns out her voice.

“Home, right now. When do you want me to be there?”

“I suggest you be on your way.”

“Way to be passive, Rhea.” I roll my eyes. “Let me put an outfit together first and I’ll be on my way.”

“Or…” she drifts off, accent thick and voice dripping with an oxytocin-flooding pitch, “you could come in nothing.”

All I let her hear is an exhale, especially since the last thing I need her to hear is a verbal—or rather, audible—sign of lustful desperation emanating from my vocal cords.

“You wish.” Is she drunk, or is this normal from her?

“Well either way, I need something from you.”

“That being?”

“I need you a tad bit tipsy, then I’ll tell you.”

“You’re lucky I’ve been a fan of yours for years.”

“That’s precisely why I trust you can handle this.”

“Pish-posh, let me get an outfit on; unless you want to hear fabric moving in the background.”

“I’d rather hear with my eyes.”

“Keep that up and I’ll blindfold you.”

She chuckles, then hangs up the call. Guys My Age by Hey Violet plays from a Bose speaker bluetoothed to my phone.

I put together an outfit consisting of: a black tank top, a black Hawk&Bull ‘Tomb Raider Lara Croft’ leather jacket, VICI burgundy faux leather shorts, black fishnets under the shorts and tank top, and black KysBloes knee-high boots.

I check myself out in the door-sized mirror in front of my bed before deciding to put my tongue piercing in and add DragonWeave red Empyrean Tear earrings and silver rings into the mix.

When I finally make my way inside I hear Rhea compliment my outfit from directly behind me, already sat on a barstool and awaiting my arrival like her dogs would be waiting for her at home.

I sit beside her and she orders an expensive champagne for the both of us—side eyeing the bartender while he walks away; and fuck, I know him.

He brings our champagne to us, and invites himself to sit directly across from me at the bar counter Rhea and I are sat at.

Why him?

Why me?

It’s the worst moments possible that exes get caught up in your business like you’re frenemies at worst.

Ugh.

“What brings you here of all places?” he asks me, and I want to punch his perverted face.

My lack of interest seems to trigger him, as it fucking should. This is why Guys My Age was playing earlier. He’s why.

“Not gonna talk, huh?” Rhea ends up triggered as well, and she stands from her barstool to retort.

“Just how oblivious is that moronic little brain of yours?”

“Excuse me?”

Rhea takes a few long sips of her champagne and slams the glass down onto the counter.

“Can’t you read her body language telling you to back off? Go find a stripper to piss off; and while you’re at it—you piss off!” She looks into his eyes with the kind of death stare a mother gives you when you make her mad.

“Someone’s feisty~” he won’t fucking quit.

“Caillette, before I kill you.”

“Can’t kill the staff, buff-goth-lady.

“Ya think so? Try me.”

He scoffs and tries to walk away, but Rhea catches up and thrusts a kick to his lower back. I watch him collapse to his knees on the floor in pain.

I bend over the counter to drag his stool over to whack him in the head and use the rusted metal legs to pry his head off—which I pick up and grind into the counter and throw at the bar’s little target for knife throwing.

Someone’ll flush the rest of him down into the sewage system.

Rhea and I reseat ourselves and drink in achievement; we clink our glasses before chugging the rest like shots of vodka.

“How did you—?” I start asking, but Rhea cuts me off.

“—know?”

I nod.

“Let’s say I have a…‘sixth sense’...” I nod slower this time, relying on taking her word for it. I spot a red flash of light in my peripheral and immediately perk up in the direction I see it go.

“She’s back.”

“Who’s back?” I gesture with a hard side-eye in the direction and she gets the memo. “Goddamnit.” Rhea stands up and walks over to the Voice but ends up pinned to a wall.

“Miss me, darling?” the Voice teases.

“What do you want?”

“I see you’re still keeping your victim around, and not in the form it’s supposed to be in by now.”

“And why should I care?”

“Because our kind doesn’t drag prey around for emotional connection; we fucking eat them.”

“Wrong. You eat them; and if you even think about touching my friend, I will become a cannibal from consuming your flesh.”

“Hmph,” the Voice chuckles. “So confident, aren’t you? Quit waiting around and do your fucking job, or—”

“Not if I’m here,” I intervene in protest. I’m so done with this shit.

“Oh, you’re ssso clever,” the Voice hisses in an altered tone, but I come up from behind and choke her hard enough to de- capitate her.

“Oh, don’t worry; I know.” I grin, watching its head fall to the floor. Meanwhile, Rhea claps celebratorily—all with a smile on her adorable face.

“We should probably get going,” she suggests.

“Yeah? Where to?”

“How ‘bout a hotel room?”

“I’ve got nowhere better to be.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You bet your pretty face it is,” I chuckle.

[Masterlist]

[the-firebird69]

We are hearing our son he says waiter there is no water in my coffee it's very thick here these people are very contrary and mean and nasty and honory to our son he's not used to it at all and there's telling them to F off and they don't so now he started hitting ask people hit each other and started us hitting them and it is what Mack proper planned they are disgusting and it is how it's going we do have several things to announce

- We are having issues with certain people some of them have no reason at all to bother our son except he helped them and we are going to kill them for it that's the price for being an **** and we're going to get rid of him shortly timmy Doyle is going to die as well for his crimes against us and our son and daughter is a ridiculous slob and he is doing things that are out of the norm and can't be trusted and is sick we have a hit list people that have to go john Remelard is on it and he's going to die fully regardless of his big mouth and there's several more if he goes to Titan and is killed and goes into Christopher Watkins body it's killed again and that's where he dies in the tree he does come back that is quite a bit and is gross he goes to tighten and he fights the tree imprisoned him and he dies it's another trip to Titan and it looks like he dies completely and people argue about it but they show them going to leave the suit the Mec Unit and he's dead and his skeletal is empty and not compromised. And he dies at the hands of his son But then you hear his stupid voice again and that might be before Titan where he gets zapped So it's hard to say my son and daughter say it would be over in Massachusetts but we don't think so it should be it's a little early for that

-- It seems like it goes around forever but he does not survive eventually dies and it doesn't take that long sometime around April 15th 2025 lindsay ignorant slob

-- The Pseudo Empire lost in the Western Hemisphere they are down in power about 40% Of their bases and bunkers are lost They are doing very very badly and here in Sherlock County they have an offensive to grab tons of the smaller ships to try and defend their bases and it seems to be working in some areas

- There's also another problem these people keep putting our sun in their argument and blaming him for stuff and I'm trying to threaten for things they're also just bothering him what he says is I'm gonna wipe both you out have some patience don't worry about it your lives are not valuable to you and I noted that and we both say it we both act like you don't care about life anymore so we're just gonna take advantage of you it's true too you're a pilot **** and we don't care for irresponsible not why I was saying telling me to go away you don't gonna make you

--- We have other ideas on what to do here and we're going to start deploying them none of you are a friend none of you are family none of you are helpful you have expired

--- In the Western Hemisphere trump stashes in cashes are under siege about half of the medium that's 150 out of 300 and that's a little bit high it's more like 40 out of 300 the rest is just occupying and it's damned annoying he is going after most of the small about 2000 out of 3000 and all of the tiny ones and he'll have an army already made by the time they're done with it which should only be a few more days in the tiny ones it has information about what's in the rest of them they're getting a very interested especially from all this talk yelling and other stupid things they're very uncouth and it's gonna happen rather soon that they'll get beat up because of it. More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

[eikaprime]

Doing this as a reblog, rather than a reply, because it's probably gonna get too long for one reply. Feel free to scroll past this: I can't figure out how to put a cut in, and very few people actually care about this. (I expect maybe OP and two others, max.)

I started on fanfiction.net when I was 12, abandoned it, returned to both ffnet and started in AO3 at the age of... 28? I forget. Right now I'm near-exclusively on AO3, but I link things on tumblr and twitter, and I read on both AO3 and ffnet. I have tried and failed to navigate other sites (what drunk insomniac devised Wattpad?) and both of those sites are free to use, reasonably well organized and easy to navigate, and places where people expect to find fanfiction. Those are probably the key points: free, easy to use, expect to find fanfiction there. I'll point out AO3 makes people wait for an account, and tends to have fewer but higher-quality fics; FFNet has some absolute diamonds but also more trolls..

2. Write, write well, and be consistent. I wish I could tell you more how to get readers, but that's what worked for me. If you want to play to things popular in your favorite fandom, fine, but only do what makes you personally happy. Fanfiction, in particular, is an I-love-it venture, and fandom tastes are fickle. In general, though, fics about canon characters will get more views than OC's, because people are in fanfiction usually because they can't get enough of (character). Romance is also well done. Neither of these are strictly necessary.

I write well. It feels like bragging, but I've been writing for fun (and aimed for publication) for a large number of years, and I've been improving near-constantly: trying new things, seeing what works, playing with words and plot and description. At least as important, I update regularly: twice a week, usually. That's too much for a lot of fics, but my chapters are shorter than many peoples (usually under 2000 words). Once a week, or once every two weeks, is better. Longer than that and you risk losing readers because they forgot things and have to reread at least one chapter, if not the whole work, to continue.

3. Is it better to write fanfic, fiction, or both? That depends ENTIRELY on what you're going for. I wrote fanfiction as a teenager, then spent a long time writing original fiction and trying to get published, then back into fanfiction again. There are fanfictions out there better than original works. Fanfiction wouldn't exist without original work. If you write for reasons other than 'I like writing!' and 'I wanna write this to (make myself/someone else happy)!' then you're gonna fail.

4. Okay, we're looking at the financial end here. You may be thinking of Rowling or Stephen King or... if you want original fiction publishing, then your choices are self-publishing (no support, all costs and advertising and profit is on you) or traditional publishing (publisher gets the bulk of the profits, you actually get in stores). Let's say you're going traditional publishing. None of the largest US publishers, with nationwide access, and a good chunk of the medium publishers won't work with anyone who doesn't have a literary agent. Nelson Literary's blog Pub Rants publishes their end-of-year stats every year; 2022 they got over 8000 letters from people wanting representation (down around 5k from 2021) and signed 4 new clients. People who self publish and make as much money as those traditionally published tend to become signed by traditional publishers (and in the news, to boot!). Further, I don't have the statistics in front of me right now, but more than half of published writers cannot support themselves writing.

With that said, you *can* make money off it. I've gained enough notoriety through my fanfic that people are supporting me on patreon to help keep me writing them, and I've had several people commission flashfics from me. Further, by getting out there--fanzines and magazines, working for either fun or money (if someone contacts you, ask for money. If you contact them, and they're for charity or fandom or just for fun, it's for fun) you gain a reputation and visibility and credits for work that greatly increases your odds traditionally. (and the stuff mentioned in question 2 will work for self-publishing, too!)

5. What is my motivation? I enjoy the CRUD out of it. I have stories in my head that wanna be told, characters to play with, people I wanna hear scream (even if the screaming is only in the comments). Everything else comes second.

6. Do long fics do well? Does pineapple go on pizza? Do you prefer the mountains or the oceans? Yeah, you're looking at a whole lot of perspectives, here.

One of my most popular splatoon fics, LUCKY, is part of a series, but it was a stand-alone for over 8 months and people absolutely adored it. All of 5000 words and full of good characterization and relationships and banter and emotions. 309 kudos, 22 bookmarks; for comparison, if you sort the Splatoon AO3 section by kudos, it's on page 5/383 (as of 12/1/23). Several people say it's the best fic in the series. On the other end, my fic SLY 5: THIEVES AND ROBBERS is 108 chapters, 214 kudos, 43 bookmarks, and page 1/22 (number 6) when sorted by kudos.

Or maybe you want to think of another awesome fic, not by me, but LADY KNIGHT VOLANT by BracketyJack is 432k, almost 15000 kudos, 679 bookmarks, and on page 1/197 when sorted by kudos... and three places below a 7000 word oneshot that I've also read and loved, THE SMALL by dirgewithoutmusic.

And all of this leads into...

7. Write well. Try to write better every time you write. Read things you like to read. Try to put things you like reading into the things you write. Like romance? Try writing romance. Like horror? Try writing horror. Trust your interests. Write what you want to read, because odds are very good, if you enjoy something--if you like it, and want to read about it, and have fun with it--someone else will adore it. I can't even start to tell you the number of things I almost didn't put in because I was second-guessing how stupid or silly it was (lore where teeth are good luck charms, a brick joke where one character refuses to believe another is famous, shoe stealing, platonic rare pairs, more) and people have adored it. I have people commissioning oneshots about my throwaway characters I barely cared about because I put in just enough detail to make them desperate for more.

Now if you'll excuse me, I either need to go to bed or continue making my trans/questioning accidental teenage double-agent spy who commenters have determined either suffers from panic attacks or seizures continue having a burping contest with his new captain/greatest enemy while his sentient service animal eats three bags of potato chips. I don't know how I got here but I'm having a blast.

ppl who write fanfiction/fiction, i am asking for your aid!!!

1) which site? ao3? tumblr? something else?

2) how to get readers?

3) is it better to write fanfiction, your own stories, or a mix of both?

4) is it possible to profit on your writing financially?

5) what is your motivation?

6) do long fics do well?

7) what tips do you have for someone starting out?

[unforth]

All right ya'll I'm theoretically planning to do kinktober next month and could really use some help with planning. I've gone through the list and removed the kinks I'm not interested in writing:

(Yes I know that leaves nothing for the twelfth, I'll just write one of the others cause nope)

Your task? Pick whatever prompt(s) you want and suggest pairings for me! (m/m, m/f, f/f, and poly ships are all fine)

Fandoms I'll write for:

SPN (almost any ship)

YoI (Viktuuri, or plus Christophe)

MDZS (almost any ship)

TGCF (mostly Hualian but idk try me?)

MCU (almost any ship)

Check Please (Zimbits)

Star Wars (permutations of JediStormPilot)

Guardian (Weilan)

Harry Potter (Wolfstar)

Or if you've really got a craving you can try me on Star Trek (ToS, TNG, DS9, NOT the reboot ToS), Final Fantasy (VII, IX, X or XII), some random anime fandoms (Slayers, One Piece, Gundam W, Trigun, Kenshin, Fake, Escaflowne, various Clamp, idek I'm too tired to think which I'm up for writing rn), Johnlock (for Sherlock or Jeremy Brett or the original stories), Voltron (Sheith), Witcher (Jeraskier), Firefly, Babylon 5, Doctor Who (Nine or Ten), Leverage (the OT3), Wheel of Time, Ladybug (Marionette/Adrian, aged up or AU only probably), Love Nikki, or Glimmer of Hope....or really anything else you've seen me talk or blog about.

My August and September have been waaaaay less productive than I hoped so absolutely no promises on any given request but I'll try so...let's hear your um! (Anon asks are fine if you don't want to associate what you're into with your username).

[https-florals]

thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me - j.m.

summary: if there was a contest for the world’s stupidest teenagers, you and jj would take first place.

word count: 3.1k??? i got a little carried away

warnings: a little language. 

a/n: childhood best friends to lovers, a little argument, tiniest bit of angst. WHOLEEE lotta fluff. reading it back, im starting to wonder if it really flows together or if it even makes sense, but i think its cute and i liked writing it!! as always, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. i adore you all!!

“Can I crash at your place tonight?” JJ blurts out the question, almost like he’s scared of the answer.

The two of you are headed away from a long day of surfing, your hair tangled and a little crunchy from the saltwater. You probably would have stayed out later, if it weren’t for how nasty the waves were getting. JJ had gotten pushed under and scraped against a reef, and you had slipped and landed facefirst into the side of your board, both of your accidents resulting in some pretty nasty cuts. Some old 2000s playlist is playing through the aux, and you’re driving while JJ holds a can of beer to your busted lip. 

“Or..” he swallows. “Maybe until your parents get back? They’re outta town for like another three days, right?

You give him a sidelong glance and push the can away, your lip numb from the coldness. JJ isn’t the type to ask favors, so you’re a little taken aback. You don’t ask questions though; you just nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.” You pause, and then grin, saying, “You scared my daddy would run you off with a shotgun if he was home?”

He huffs and shoves the corner of a towel into your face. “Your lip’s bleeding again, dumbass. And no. He just scares me a little.”

Swatting him away and laughing, you go back to the subject of him staying at your house. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can stay as long as you need. Plus, that gives me a chance to make sure you don’t let those cuts get infected.” You gesture to the raw skin on his torso. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he scoffs, but the way he runs his hand over his side and winces isn’t lost on you. 

By the time you pull into your driveway, it’s started to rain. Beams from the sunset hit the droplets just perfectly, and a rainbow stretches over the cut. It’s so pretty, and if your neck wasn’t so sore and if JJ wasn’t so cut up you would’ve taken the opportunity to pull him out in the rain and force him to dance with you. But he is trying to pick up the cooler and the towels and take it all inside himself, so you run around to the trunk and nudge him away. “Stop! Just grab the towels, you’re too bruised up to lift that.” Wedging yourself between him and the trunk, you set the cooler down on the gravel.

“C’mon,” he sighs, saying your name entreatingly. “No bruise is gonna mess with these.” JJ flexes and grins, and you glare at him.

“Never do that again. If you want to keep me as a friend, you will never flex in front of me again.” You’re only half-joking.

He fake-yawns and stretches, making sure to flex again when you look back up at him. “I know, you can’t even stand to be around a sex god like me.”

You look at him, jaw dropped in faux horror, and shake your head. “That’s it. Maybank, you can go stay at the Chateau.”

“I’ll tell John B you just couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, leaning against you and making kissy noises into your ear.

You are giggling between fake gags, pushing him away gently. “Get your shit and go inside, freak,” you laugh as you tug the cooler into the garage.

Kicking your sandals off by the door,you grab some antibacterial soap, and then check under the sink for peroxide and bandages. 

When JJ comes inside, you’re diluting a little cup of the peroxide with water. Pushing that and the soap towards him, you say, “Go shower and flush the cuts out with that-” you tap the cup- “then scrub with the soap. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’ll get worse if it gets infected.”

He frowns, and takes them. “Okay, nurse.”

You both take fast showers, and soon the two of you are back in the living room. You’re wearing borrowed boxers and a big tshirt, and JJ has on the clothes he left last time he came over. Your mother always insists on doing your friends’ laundry, and thank God she does. 

“Sit on the couch,” you instruct JJ, pouring some antiseptic onto cotton pads.

“I can do it myself,” he huffs, but he doesn’t make any more complaints when you climb over him and straddle one of his legs. In fact, he’s staring at you with a kind of awe in his expression. 

“Lift your shirt up,” you command, looking at him with a stony expression.

He rolls his eyes, but obeys, hands a little shaky as he pulls up the fabric and you begin to clean the wound.

JJ hisses at the stinging, his muscles contracting and shifting under your fingertips.

You shush him and readjust so you’re sitting a little higher on his thigh rather than his knee. “Breathe, JJ.” Mentally, you’re telling yourself to breathe too. You’re just helping your best friend. Your heart shouldn’t be racing like it is.

One of his hands balls into a fist, and the other lands on your waist, grasping the worn fabric of your tee. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are parted as he tilts his head back and groans.

You’re shameless in the way you’re staring at him. Maybe you shouldn’t find him in pain so very attractive, but- you’re just observing. You’re not even paying attention to what you're doing anymore as you wipe the cotton haphazardly over his cuts; you just watch the way his jaw tenses and relaxes. He opens one eye, and you jump slightly, heat infusing into your cheeks.

“Distracted?” he teases.

You scoff in response, bandaging up his cuts and climbing off of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

JJ doesn’t press it any further; he just smirks and leans back onto the couch.

It’s getting late, the cloudy sky turning deep, dusky amber with the setting sun. It’s still raining, harder now, and JJ has the weatherman on TV as you throw together a quick dinner. It’s a three course meal of pizza pockets, some sliced up cucumber and ranch, and a pack of oreos split between the two of you. After some bickering, you settle on a movie to watch together. It’s some old rom-com JJ is obsessed with it, and you have never even heard of it. 

You’re still whining through the first twenty minutes; saying, “A Christmas movie? It’s not even Christmas!”

He shushes you, putting his arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful thump on the head. “It’s got John Cusack in it. Everybody loves John Cusack.”

Sure enough, by the end of Serendipity, you decide you love John Cusack. “I feel a little bad for his fiancée,” you yawn, slumped against the blond boy beside you. There’s no point where you aren’t touching: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. “I still don’t understand why he’d just leave her.”

You do understand actually, but you would listen to JJ explain the plot a thousand times if it meant you could stay this close. His hand is on your shoulder, fingers playing with the collar of your t-shirt as he talks about fate. It’s a little poetic, in fact, it’s the most serious you’ve heard him in a while.

“The whole idea about having someone destined for you is just really beautiful, you know. Like someone out there is supposed to love you no matter what. Like, the universe doesn’t give a shit about what you’ve done or where you come from. It’s just in total agreement that you deserve to be loved.”

You’re resting your head on his bicep, watching his expressions as he talks. His blue eyes are like lights across the water, his mouth serious. 

“That just seems so… I dunno, fair. Like that’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“J, you know that the universe doesn’t have a say in whether or not you’re worthy of love, right?”

He’s a bit caught off guard, looking you in the eyes now. “What?”

You adjust so you're facing him, legs criss-crossed on the couch. Hands in your lap, you wring your fingers as you begin to speak. “I just want to make sure that you know you…” you pause, and breathe. “You’re worthy of love, JJ. Destiny doesn’t determine that.”

His gaze softens for a split second, and he unconsciously rubs his side, the one bruised. But, then the mask is back up quicker than you can snap. He scoffs, moving his arm away from where you're leaning against it. “I know that. None of the Pogues are getting more love than me,” he smirks, but its a little half-hearted. 

“I’m serious, JJ. I’’n not talking about fucking around,” you sigh. 

He says your name a little rough, a little annoyed. A plea for you to stop. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have with you. Especially not right now. “Don’t start with the mushy shit,” he coaxes, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You stand up, your temper a little hotter. “It’s not mushy shit! It’s the truth, and I’m not gonna sit here while you feel sorry for yourself, acting like you don’t deserve every single good thing.”

“I’m not acting sorry for myself!”

You’re on a roll now, and JJ can’t stop you now. “You so are! You won’t let anyone get close, cause you’re so scared that they’re gonna hurt you.”

He stands up quick, almost knocking you back. You stare up at him, his face a mere handbreadth away, but you don’t back down. “I’m not gonna bet on a race that I know I’m gonna lose,” he says, voice low.

“Love isn’t- it’s not- you can’t win if you’re more afraid of losing!” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense at this point. You don’t really know what sparked this little flame in you. Maybe it’s your PMS, or maybe it’s the rain making you antsy.. Maybe it’s the years or worrying, all the times he has done something reckless and stupid and kept you and your friends up all night. Maybe it’s the blatant disregard for his own wellbeing, or the way he ignores your questions about new cuts or bruises. Now, everything is spilling out, in words, in tears. “You never even give it the chance!”

“It’s just not in the cards for me, okay?”

You start to hit his chest, but he grabs your wrists and holds you steady. “It’s just how it is, and I’m okay with that,” he says, trying to infuse a brightness into his voice.

You snatch your wrists away, and yank your blanket up off the couch. “I don’t know if you’re- I don’t know, blind or just plain fucking stupid.”

His eyebrows furrow as you walk away from him. “What?”

“I’m going to bed.”

He says your name quick and a little strained, but you don’t turn to look at him. You disappear down the hallway, leaving JJ to slump on the couch, alone.

It takes no more than twenty minutes for the blond to come slinking into your bedroom. JJ whispers your name as he cracks open the door, but you don’t answer. He can't tell if you’re really asleep yet, so he just slides under the covers next to you, like he used to when you were kids. You still have the same full bed, and your sheets still smell like salt water and coconut shampoo. When your breath hitches as his hand comes to rest right by your back, he knows that you’re awake. 

“Do you really think I’m stupid?”

“Yeah.” You don’t move, voice muffled against your pillow. 

JJ lays parallel to you, almost painfully close, but not touching. “Come on, talk to me.”

You huff and roll over to face him. “Why aren’t you sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s scary as hell out there alone. Y’all got too many windows.”

Just like that, any animosity dissipates. “You’re supposed to be the man, JJ. S’posed to protect me.” You’re clutching a stuffed animal to your chest, and you push it into JJ’s. It’s an old battered dolphin pillow pet, and his hands close instinctively around it. It’s sat on your bed since fourth grade, and the stuffing isn’t as fluffy as it used to be. He remembers when you first got it. “Mr. Melon’s feeling a little flat,” he comments.

You nod, but are silent, watching the tendons in his hands and the bones of his knuckles. In fact, you’re a little shocked that he remembers the stuffed animal’s name.

“Remember when we used to have sleepovers like, every night?” JJ asks, a little laughter in his voice. “I never understood why your mom was so happy to have me over on school nights.”

There’s a twinge in your chest. You understood. Even during the worst of you and JJ’s childhood arguments, your mom would coax you to invite him over, and she’d patch up his cuts and wash the dirt and blood stains out of his clothes.

“I miss our sleepovers,” you sigh. The two of you have scooted closer together subconsciously, the only barrier being Mr. Melon.

JJ nods, and asks, “Why’d we ever stop?”

You smile. “We got old, J.”

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry.”Who cares? We’re old now, and look at us. Having the time of our lives. We could be ninety and still be the funnest people in the OBX.”

“Most fun,” you correct with a grin.

“Hey, y’know I have a shitty English grade,” he answers, playfully punching your upper arm.

“My mom was scared I’d fall in love with you,” you comment, a little off-subject with a shaky smile plastered across your face. “She always said I’d fall head over heels, and that you’d be the biggest heartbreaker in the county.”

JJ’s face gets serious quick, faux solemnity all in his eyes. “A real concern,” he says, deadpan, “For mothers everywhere.”

“She was right about you being a heartbreaker! Remember that poor touron from the other weekend?”

He scowls and shakes his head. “I made it very clear that it was a one night type of thing.”

It makes you think of your argument from less than a hour ago. If love was in the cards for any of the Pogues, it had to be JJ. Girls tripped over themselves just so he would notice them. But, you laugh, shove him in the arm, and switch the subject. “Remember when you fought John B in here and broke my lamp?”

“Wasn’t that like, what, fifth grade?” 

“Yeah. It was my favorite fairy lamp, and you bumped into it and her head broke off!”

You're both giggling, the tiredness setting in. “He called you a bitch! That was a big bad word back then,” JJ laughs, blond hair tangled and messy as it falls across his pillow.

Your eyebrows quirk up. “You call me a bitch all the time now.”

“That’s different,” he waves his hand to cut you off. “But then? I couldn't let him mess with my girl.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you kick yourself mentally for being so damn cliche when you feel it.

The two of you keep exchanging stories, thunder rolling and the lightning lighting up your room every few minutes.

“So, old-fashioned slumber party with the whole gang tomorrow night?” JJ proposes, his goodnight, his eyes barely open.

You nod and smile, then you do your best Pogue handshake the two of you can manage while lying on your sides. 

Your eyes drift close, and after a few minutes of silence filled with JJ’s breathing and the sound of your heart, you say, “My mom was right about another thing.” JJ takes a moment to process, cracking his eyes back open to look at you. Yours are still squeezed shut because you're scared to look at him. “About me falling in love with you. It was inevitable.” You’re shaking, but it has to be said. You have to at least get it out there.

His mouth goes dry. 

The silence is killing you, but you don’t dare look at him.

“Like destiny,” he finally says, tripping over the first word.

A warmth spreads through you, heat in your cheeks and heart. “Exactly like destiny.”

When you finally get the courage to look at him, he’s staring at you like you’ve peeled back your skin and revealed solid diamond underneath. Awestruck, maybe a little fear in that deep blue.

You can hear your own heartbeat, and your breath is shallow and short. His, in contrast, is deep and slow.

“She was wrong about one thing though.”

You wait for his answer, lips parted as you watch his gaze go from your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes, down to your lips again…

“I could never break your heart.”

Your cheeks heat when he traces a line from the end of your eyebrow, down your cheek and jawline. It’s a ghost of a caress, almost like you’re some holy relic that he thinks will heal him.

You start to backtrack, feeling a little embarrassed, a little scared “J, you don’t- don’t have to say something you don’t mean.” 

JJ draws his hand back so fast you jump, and he sits up and scoffs. “You think I’m bullshitting you?”

Your stomach drops as the sudden shift in emotion, and you nod hesitantly.

His jaw clenches as he turns his face away from you, and when he looks back at you his lips are pressed into a firm line. You’ve seen this expression only a couple of times, and only when JJ is on the brink of tears. In fact, his eyes seem a little glassy when he starts to speak. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he snaps. 

“J-”

JJ waves his hand to cut you off. “No. It’s my turn to talk.” His voice does that thing where it gets a little higher, stress peeking through the cracks in his pitch. “Y’know how you called me blind earlier? You’re the blindest person ever! Everybody else sees the way I look at you except you!” he cries. His hands push anxiously through his hair. “It’s been you. Always you. As long as I can remember.” The way he’s looking at you practically sets you on fire. You can see it now. All those years of childhood crushes, pining and overthinking are evident in his eyes, like a storm at sea. “You-” his voice breaks fully now, and he covers his mouth with his fist before breathing and continuing. “You were the first person who made me feel like I was someone. Like, loved. You really made me feel loved.”

“Always have, always will,” you blurt out.

That’s when the dam bursts, and JJ begins to cry. You sit up and throw your arms around him, and his hands grasp your shirt like you’re a lifeline. He’s murmuring your name like a prayer, over and over like he’s trying to do penance. Before you can even begin to console him, he kisses you quick and soft. 

“Is that okay?” It’s so sweet, a side of JJ you hadn’t seen since you were little kids. Since before you had burdens and before the world got scary. 

“More than okay,” you whisper back, utterly melting against him. When he kisses you again, you can feel him smile, and feel the dampness from his eyes on your cheeks.

JJ can’t believe that you’re kissing him back, and he wonders if he’s dreaming. When your hands shift into his hair, he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. It has to be fake.

Almost like you can read his mind, you pull back. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you assure.

His smile is so wide, you think it’ll get stuck like that. “You’re gonna have me around forever,” he says. “That’s a promise.”

“It better be, Maybank. I kinda like you.” You cuddle up against him, head on his chest, grinning profusely.

“I guess I really do have to tell John B you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” he jokes.

“Shush! You’re gonna ruin the moment!”