#i hope they will find a wonderful support system and get all the help they need and want and recover in a good safe environment.

[sunrise-on-the-shore]

temporarily back with one post. i am not ready to fully come back.

all the stuff you need to know about the future of this blog are in the tags.

[hannieehaee]

BITE (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: keeping appearances as an idol was already hard enough, but it becomes even worse upon finding a forlorn jeonghan with need of assistance with the company's faulty security system, instantly becoming endeared with the idol who refused to take no for an answer — not that you'd ever want him to.

content: idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, small age gap implied, afab reader, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is implied to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.9k (teaser); 11.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: september 6th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: wrote this super quickly so it might be a little messy but i really love idol aus so yeah hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

support me through a one time tip<3

"Hey, is that Yoon Jeonghan from Seventeen?", asked Minji as she patted your shoulder, finger pointing towards your right.

"Who?", you wondered, attempting to make sense of the distressed man standing in front of the main artist elevators in the building, "Oh, yeah, I think that's him," you said once you spotted his face, deeming it impossible to not recognize a face such as his.

"Why is he just standing there?", she wondered, holding onto your arm in the affectionate manner she usually did, "Do you think it's that elevator thing again?" she faced you to ask.

"What elevator thing?"

"Apparently he went on a variety show and complained about the company's security system. It was a whole controversy, but I guess the facial recognition doesn't work for him for some reason," she informed you before chuckling at the sight of Jeonghan sighing in defeat at yet another failed attempt at utilizing the aforementioned system, "I thought it was a bit, but I guess he was for real."

"Huh," you hummed, having been unaware of the issue. The system worked just fine for you and all your members, so you never had any motive to question it. Your senior, however, had clear issues with the system. Within the two minutes you had noticed his presence, he had already attempted the facial recognition three times, getting rejected every single one of them.

"You should help him," your groupmate suggested, "I would, but my manager will be here soon for my shoot. You only have rehearsals today, right? You're heading that way anyway."

"What? No!" you declined, "I always get anxious around our seniors. I've never even met him," you added, far too shy to even face the pretty boy during his predicament.

Disconnecting from you, she grabbed onto your shoulders, scolding you, "Dude, just go help him! This is how you make connections. You give him a hand and then he gives you one back," she said, physically turning you around so you could face his direction, hands still on your shoulders, "Go! My ride's probably already here anyways. Good luck," she encouraged as she pushed you forward, making you absentmindedly begin walking towards the boy.

Taking a breath, you began to walk towards the boy who seemed to grow more and more frustrated at the faulty security system. The closer you got, the more you could hear his whines in complaint. It appeared that he had taken up a phone call during the time you'd been talking to your friend, frustratedly arguing with whoever was on the other line.

"Seokminnie, c'mon! Just come down! I'll buy you soju after practice," he whined, groaning at whatever response his groupmate had given him in return, "My manager already left ... Yeah .... No! Stop! Just come down! I'm your senior and- Wait! Don't hang up!", he groaned at last upon hearing the classic sound of a disconnected line invade his ears.

It was only then that he seemed to notice your presence, widening his eyes momentarily before offering you a brief bow to acknowledge your presence. Moving aside, he gave you enough space to stand in front of the elevator, quietly awaiting for you to utilize the security system, likely assuming you had not heard his prior predicament. He gestured for you to move forward, acting as if he were being a gentleman in allowing you to go first.

You approached the small facial recognition screen, about to scan your face before turning to him, finding the boy staring at you expectantly, "You need me in order to use the elevator, don't you?", you asked him, amused.

"Huh?", he gaped at you, tsk'ing afterward and making an odd 'Eyyy' sound, "I'm just being a gentleman. Go ahead," he gave you a tight yet amused smile.

You chuckled in return, "Liar," you were surprised at how easy it was to be informal with him, but he was immediately likable, "Ask me to help you and maybe I might," you added, giving him a satisfied smile.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm your senior — Whatever happened to respect?", he joked, tsk'ing at you once more. He proceeded to walk towards you, pushing his face onto the scanner and ignoring your presence altogether, "I'll do it, see," he practically challenged, attempting the scanner once more.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with a red X and a beeping sound that indicated yet another failure to be recognized by the system. This caused him to stand there in silence for a few seconds before whining 'Yah!' and cursing out the security system.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up again, facing you once more, "Sorry about that. Your turn," he gestured to you to move forward again, stepping out of your way.

Both amused and surprised, you decided to finally utilize the scanner on yourself, smiling at him with a satisfied look when it immediately allowed you in. Turning to him, you nodded at him to get in before you, only for him to gesture for you to go first. Something about 'ladies first.'

"You owe me one," you said once you were both in the elevator again, standing side by side as you faced the closing door.

"Nuh-uh. This was just a coincidence. You needed to head upstairs anyways," he rebutted petulantly.

"Yeah? So you don't need me to help you get to your floor, then, right?", you questioned mockingly, knowing he would also have to work the scanner in order to get the door to open to Seventeen's designated floor. There were far too many steps to get to the artists' floors, but it made sense to you by now.

Upon the realization, he groaned, letting himself throw his head back against the wall behind him as he earned a giggle from you. He frowned in your direction at your laugh, though he joined you with a chuckle just mere seconds later.

"Okay, fine. I owe you," he gave up, still leaning against the wall behind but turning his head to look at you, "What can Yoon Jeonghan do for you?"

You pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, finger on your chin as you thought it over, "I have no idea. I'll let you know," you finally responded, "Okay, so, what floor?", you asked as your finger moved to the buttons on the elevator door.

"13th," he responded, now casually leaning back against the wall.

"Oh? The second highest floor. You're an important man, aren't you?", you teased, pressing his button before moving onto your group's number 9.

"Nine?," he gaped, "Seems I'm higher on the company hierarchy than you, yet you show me no respect," he joked back.

"Shut up. I'm going out of my way for you. Senior or not, you owe me. Those are the rules of all civilized society," you argued back.

"Okay, how about," he began, pressing his hands together as if making a proposition, "I see you downstairs every morning bright and early with a fresh cup of coffee in exchange for your face — y'know, for the scanner. How's that sound?", he proposed, a pleased smile on his face at your agape mouth.

"Every morning? Do you not have any friends?", you asked as the elevator continued to move up.

"Do you see anyone here? They all get here before me. You seem pretty friendless. C'mon. Free coffee, good company. I'll even play one of your group's songs in my next Welive. See? Can't get any better than that," he continued to sell his idea as the elevator came to a stop, now at his floor but demanding yet another facial scan to even exit the elevator.

"God, the security's too much," he groaned upon noticing the prompt on the small screen inside the elevator, "C'mon!", he turned to you, "Try to tell me that's not unnecessary."

You gave up, nodding as you chuckled, though not making a move to scan your face.

"Say yes. Please," he dragged the e for an annoyingly long amount of time, grinning when you rolled your eyes but laughed, "I'll keep going. Just agree. What better way to spend your time than with Yoon Jeonghan?"

"What makes you think I even knew that name before today?", you challenged.

"You do. Don't lie to me, it won't work," he smirked back before going back to being annoying again, "Come on-"

"Fine! I'll meet you downstairs every morning expecting a fresh matcha in hand — I don't drink coffee. But you still owe me," you agreed, extending your hand to him to solidify the agreement.

"No coffee? Ew. But okay, deal," he returned your handshake, holding onto your hand for an annoying amount of time, pretending as if he were unaware of when to let go and waiting for you to pull his hand off yours with another eye roll. He chuckled any time he managed to get a reaction out of you, leading you to realize he must be an absolute menace to every person he comes across. Sadly, he was charmingly entertaining, leaving you with no complaints.

Finally, you scanned your face on the screen, letting him walk in front of you to head out. Before the elevator doors could close and separate again, he held his arm out to stop them, nodding towards you.

"What's your name? I like you," he said plainly, head tilted in curiosity.

"Y/N," you said, "Please don't introduce yourself again-"

"Yoon Jeonghan," he interrupted anyways, "Remember that. We'll be having fun in the near future," were his last words before removing his hand and allowing the elevator doors to separate you, likely heading over to his groupmates upon leaving your line of sight.

Silver doors closed in front of you, now leaving you to your own company. Dumbfounded yet amused by the interaction, you stood there as you waited for the elevator to arrive to your floor, robotically scanning your face on the door once you made it there and exiting the square-shaped room upon arrival. There, you stood with the remnant of a shocked smile on your face, surprised at how easy it had been to put any concept of age or seniority aside when interacting with Yoon Jeonghan. While you always had the tendency of being overly formal with your seniors, you had spoken to Jeonghan like you would any guy your age, disregarding formalities as soon as he'd spoken to you.

You didn't truly need any convincing to agree to see him again. On the contrary, had he not suggested as such, you would've remained with an itch to find a reason for a re-encounter. Like any other junior idol at a company with big names such as BTS and Seventeen, developing a slight crush on your seniors was the normalcy — your groupmates Minji and Lila had crushes on BTS' V and Seventeen's Vernon, respectively — and it appeared that you were now joining them in the list of girls with unrequited crushes.

Jeonghan was, what, maybe five or so years older than you? The age difference alone was enough for you to chalk this up to a mindless crush. That, and the kindergarten teacher voice he had put on while speaking to you — clearly he made a very obvious distinction about your age difference right off the bat.

As of now, all you could do was hope to see him again (which, thankfully, you would) and retain the fun back and forth he'd welcomed you in on. Friendzone was one thing, but junior-zone? At least you now had a story to let your members in on next dance practice.

...

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[icyg4l]

PAC: September 2024 Predictions

Hello beautiful people! I am finally back and I feel wonderful! I hope you all do too! I am just getting settled into school and I feel very confident about what's to come! It has been a long time coming but I feel ready to launch into this new fall era! I hope you all are too! My booking site is officially open so I will link it here in order for you all to have access to it. I will be taking readings starting Friday. So without further ado, please select the photo that aligns with you and don't forget to tell your friends about me! I hope that you all enjoy!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You are in a bit of a pickle, I can tell. Just remember this: the choice is always yours. You can choose what reality you want to make yours. I am channeling the movie ‘Look Both Ways’ starring Lili Reinhart and Danny Ramirez. You will have difficulties coming to a decision. Watching this movie can help with your indecision quite a bit. It also feels as though you need to cut certain things out. I am especially picking up on overspending and overeating. You also need to cut down on screen time and any other distractions that may be capturing your attention. For those of you that are attracted to men, you should stop hooking up with them. A potential pregnancy/STD scare could occur. Overall, it seems that you should be working on improving your health. Virgo energy is significant. By the end of October, you should see the results that you want to see. I am also channeling the movie ‘The Princess Diaries’ starring Anne Hathaway. You are on the brink of transformation. There is a reason why your body is not digesting foods properly at this time. There is a reason why you feel out of place at the moment socially. Your body is rejecting your current environment because you are being prepared for a new one. You may meet someone who you aspire to be like. They will help you get aligned with your goals (personal, career, financial, etc). Do not be afraid to use your connections. Networking will be helpful for you to do. Remember, a closed mouth never gets fed and plan accordingly for your upcoming journey. You know what to do. 

Cards Used: Page of Swords, 7 of Cups, 2 of Discs, The Hanged Man, Queen of Swords, 9 of Swords, The Magician, The Chariot, Princess of Discs 

extras: cutting out certain foods. resisting temptation. random dancing. struggling with internalized fatphobia/homophobia. halloween costume. myriad.

PIle Two: I feel like this pile works with older women or have the tendency to surround themselves with older women. Perhaps, you get along with them better? You are wise beyond your years. Seeking knowledge from them about a situation that deeply concerns you will not hurt. This month will be all about retribution. Some of you want to learn more about casting spells. Others of you could be trying to seek justice in the courts. Some of you want to perform street justice. However, you should weigh out the pros and cons. Does your idea of punishment match the actions of the person that has harmed you? This is exactly why you will need to reach out to someone older than you. This month, you may be spending more time with a mother figure especially if she is sick. During this time, you may find that your support system isn’t as supportive as you thought they were. It’s time to cut them loose. Also, if you’ve been lurking on their page hoping for an apology, you will not get it. It is best that you move forward so that you do not go crazy. Be prepared to take extra precautions this month so that you don’t get sick. Hydrate and moisturize. Take Vitamin C. Go for a light jog or a walk after you eat so that you can avoid throwing up. Also, you should go out to the city more often to admire the sights. Lastly, some of you will be getting pulled over by the police this month. I also heard “search warrant”. If you’re doing something that is questionable, nothing will be found. If you just get pulled over, you will be free to go. I suggest paying off any parking tickets like now though, just to be safe. 

Cards Used: The Empress, 10 of Cups, The Moon, The Hermit, 6 of Discs, 8 of Cups, Princess of Swords, 6 of Cups, 4 of Discs 

extras: fast track. appreciation day. MLK boulevard. sweet sixteen. i declare thumb war. swear jar. every kiss begins with kay. beauty queen. travesty. marshawn lynch. salty cravings. that time of the month.

Pile Three: Smiling through the pain, huh, lovely? You might not understand the significance of what you’re going through right now but you will get it later. For those of you who are in on/off again situations/romantic relationships in general, you need to know that communication is key! It’s so cliche to say but knowing that you have someone to depend on when things get rough can be what grounds us. You need to trust that whatever you are going through, you will get through this; the both of you. For those of you that are single, you have to be open to the process of getting to know other people. You are about to be in a soulmate connection but in order for you to meet them, you have to let them in! There is a reason why you are meeting them now. They will serve their purpose. No time will be wasted here. You are a very logical/analytical person, but there is no reason why you should be locking yourself in your room all the time. You need to be out with other humans. It’s a very good time for you to go out to clubs, restaurants, bars, clubs, jazz lounges, sip and paints, speakeasies, poetry slams, etc. Allow yourself to exist in the moment so that you don’t have to think about your problems. Be an escapist for once, and this brings me to my last point! You need to balance out your realism and your imagination. There is something that you have wanted since you were a child, but you are suppressing it. It could be wanting to try out a certain food, wanting to go to a different country, wanting to go to a specific artist’s concert, but you have been too busy to do so. You need to spoil yourself! Allow your inner child to be healed by actually listening to them. You can get your work done while also being fun! What’s the point in living if you don’t actually live, babe?

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, 3 of Cups, The Tower, The Lovers, The Star, The Hierophant, The Hanged Man, The Chariot, 8 of Pentacles 

extras: kitchen salon. ass-kisser. por favor. typing up papers. graphs. mathematics major. public health/public relations/humanities major. sour candy.

Pile Four: There are so many opportunities for you to market yourself, Pile Four. If you’ve been trying to expand your market/business, there will be plenty of opportunities coming toward you. If you have been trying to get a fellowship/grant/scholarship/loan, there will be an opportunity that fits you perfectly. But before you get involved with anyone, be sure that you read any contracts fully before signing so that you do not get involved in anything you don’t want to. I feel like right now, you may be experiencing boredom or a “cool down” period. That is fine, but prepare yourself to actually get up and take action. You will not be sitting for much longer. If there is a situation where you are looking for the resolution to play out in your favor, it will. It could be a familial/friend fight. It could be someone admitting to their wrongdoings. It could be a simple miscommunication being resolved in person instead of over the phone. Make sure that you have all of your ducks in a row so that no one can call you out on being neglectful. I feel like this pile needs to spend more time with their family members as well, lol. September will be the month for you to do that especially if it’s Grandma’s birthday. If you wish to quit your job, don’t. It will set you up for the future. You could potentially meet a client or a business partner at your job, so don’t blow it off just yet. You could also connect with someone who you will look forward to seeing everyday as well very soon. 

Cards Used: The Magician, 2 of Wands, 10 of Discs, Princess of Discs, 4 of Cups, Justice, Temperance, 8 of Wands, King of Cups, The Hermit.

extras: resistance. princess diana. dragonfruit. time tables. shifting gears. gta 6. pomegranate. pizza. oopsie daisy. thin veil. rising gas prices. california.

[fandomnerd9602]

The Last Three Months

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

The last three months of your human-doe hybrid mate’s pregnancy were eventful to say the least. The nursery was assembled. The weird cravings came and went. The mood swings were mild. But yet the last three months were still so eventful.

In the seventh month, you and your happy brood went to the doctors and found out the gender of your little baby.

“I’m hoping for a little brother!” Billy, ever the energetic little buck, jumped around the room in excitement.

“Three bucks in one house!!” Tommy exclaimed.

You and Wanda could only look at each other. Three little bucks would almost be too much. But Wanda gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The doc came in a second later, “are you all ready to find out?”

“Yes we are” Wanda giggles as she nuzzles you.

The doc brought in a little pink balloon and handed it to Wanda, “congratulations”

Wanda couldn’t help but squeal in delight. The doe couldn’t contain her excitement, a little baby doe of her own.

“What?” Tommy exclaimed, “I’m gonna teach her how to spit when she’s old enough!”

“We’re gonna hurt anyone who tries to hurt her too!” Billy chimed in before head butting his bro. Barely six years old and they were energetic as ever.

Then came month eight, the boys were a little over five at this point. And so it was time for kindergarten. Wanda couldn’t help but cry as she saw her little boys happily run into their kindergarten classroom. The human children didn’t care that Billy and Tommy had little antlers. The sight of hybrids and humans painting pictures and drawing together gave you hope.

You wrapped a loving arm around your mate as you guided her out to your minivan. “They’re gonna be alright” you whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead gently.

The boys experienced a few firsts. First friends, first bit of homework. It all was the start of a wonderful school time.

“Sooner or later, they’ll be in college” Wanda gave you a weak smile.

“Yeah we still got a while before that” you joked. You and Wanda went back to the Sanctuary and got back to work. Although you and her still take lunch breaks to cuddle on your office couch.

And finally came month nine. Things were getting close, dangerously close. Wanda was actually starting to worry, how come her due date was so close and yet, she didn’t feel any sort of signs.

In her worry, she approached her brother and best friend. Natasha was happily attending to chores in her on site den, a regular hangout spot for the wolf and deer hybrid friends.

“You think your little doe might be in trouble?” Natasha asked.

“I was in a haze last time for my entire pregnancy. I have no experience!” Wanda explained.

Pietro came around and clanked his antlers with hers, “sestra you’re fine. The little baby just needs a bit more time. That is all”

Wanda took a deep breath in and out. Just having her support system always provided a bit of relief for her.

“A-are there ways to induce childbirth?”

“Two ways I know of” Natasha shrugged, “spicy foods and…love making”

Wanda couldn’t help but blush. “I-I don’t think Y/N would want to make love to me when I look like this.”

“I do not want to know” Pietro put up his hands and quickly tried to leave the den.

“Oh please Pietro! We make love constantly, you big baby and you don’t seem to mind!” Natasha blurts out before immediately folding her ears behind her head in embarrassment.

Wanda giggles and laughs causing her brother to try and bury his head in his own jacket.

“You’ll solve it Wanda, I know you will.” Natasha reassures her best friend.

Wanda gave it some thought.

That evening, you made dinner for your family and put the boys down to sleep. You trudge along and went back to your living room couch, turning on the TV and tried to relax. Wanda saunters up to you and sits in your lap.

“Hey my doe,” you gave her a soft smile and began rubbing her lower back.

“I need you” she whispered as she buries her head in the nape of your neck. “Will I be a good momma?”

“You already are, my love” you reassure her. You kiss her shoulder as a little gesture of affection and affirmation.

“My first baby girl. And I get to have her with you. You’re gonna be such a good poppa.”

“You’re gonna be such a good momma” the two of you shared a gentle smile.

Wanda felt so loved in that moment, she had everything she ever needed. And then came a sudden little feeling of wetness.

“Detka?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s time” she gave you a little nervous laugh.

This baby’s got amazing timing.

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacenradio7 @lifespectator @aloneodi @multi-fandom-enjoyer @iiconicsfan25 @iamnicodemus @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @mathxa @julieromanoff

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad's best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can't help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Geto x reader a little bit, kinda not really. Nobara x reader (kissin’ n stuff)

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, dad's best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, female masturbation, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught in the act, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/ affectionate names, age gap (reader is 24, Toji is in his 30s), Toji calls reader (doll, slut, bitch, etc.), big dick! Toji, cunnilingus (f! receiving), jealousy, Nobara and reader kiss and stuff, sending nudes (if that makes you uncomfortable just scroll through!), public sex if you squint really hard.

TW: karaoke lmao

Word count: 7.5k (ur welcome)

Notes: why hello again cuties!🫶😭thank you for all the support. Please enjoy this part! Next part is currently in the works so it’ll be up soon-ish. As always, let me know what you think! much love, fruit punch🧃

You awake in the morning to an empty house. Toji must still be working, and your dad and brother were packing to leave already. You stretch and yawn as you place your feet on the floor, hips still aching from the rough treatment from Toji last night. You put on your house shoes as you shuffle into the living room.

“Hey, y/n! Thought you’d up and died in there, haha,” your dad says, reaching to give you a hug.

You three discuss the fishing trip, school, and your dads next big project at work. You woke up pretty late, so they were almost out the door by the time you caught them. You all exchanged goodbyes and I love you’s before you head back to your room.

You decide to clean up the mess that you had made last night, throwing your sheets in the wash along with your bikini. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts that flood your mind. You turn up the music playing in the speaker as you decide to tidy the rest of the house. You knew you’d have a busy night ahead of you, and you definitely wanted to come home to a clean house.

————————————————————————

You finished the rest of your drink as you started to curl your hair. You had previously planned to go to the club with some college friends that lived in the area. It was Saturday night, and after your experience with Toji last night, you knew you needed to get fucked up. With no new texts from him since yesterday, you figured it’d be best to forget it ever happened and just try to get laid tonight if you could manage. You swiped left to delete the messages, hoping your drink hits your system quickly.

Everything with Toji was perfect- thinking about it for longer than you had to was making you sweat. But you couldn’t help the nagging feeling of guilt deep in your core. It would crush your dad to find out that you were into older men, especially when those older men were very close to him. Plus, you and Toji were in two totally different phases of your life. You had plans to go to graduate school and well, he just sat around and drank and when he wasn’t drinking he was at work doing god knows what. You still had no insight as to what his profession was (if you can even call it that), but you knew he made enough to go out to clubs, bars, and casinos most nights of the week.

You knew Toji had a gambling problem from your father, but he made it seem like he had plenty of money to spare. Toji didn’t seem like he was rich by any means, always wearing the same cycle of workout clothes, jeans, and sweats. You don’t recall ever seeing him dressed up.

As you finish the last few curls in your hair, you run to your dresser looking for the package Toji left there yesterday. It had a fishnet bra, panties, and stockings. You really just wanted the stockings to go with your black skirt and black bra combo, but the full set was ridiculously on sale. You just had to get it. It hugged your figure in all the right ways and made you feel, for once, really fucking sexy.

You had no intentions of leaving the club without someone with you, so you decide to take a tasteful nude just in case you want to use it as a bargaining chip later. You continue with the rest of your outfit, opting for black platform boots instead of your regular stilettos. All that was left was your makeup, a shot or two, and you were good to go.

You finish the last coat of your mascara, and as you wait for your lash glue to dry, you order the Uber. Your dad had to return to work back in the states, and your brother went back to campus early. It was just you in the house. You decided to blast your music, dancing as you await your ride. You looked pretty damn good and you were ready to get laid, or at least find someone to dance with at the minimum.

————————————————————————

You walk into the club — the music was so loud you felt the bass in your heart and your ears were rattling. The DJ was doing a great job, and you knew just the thing to get you back into the dancing mood.

“Who wants shooooots?” You yell to your girlfriends, and a few random patrons at the bar. You order shots for everyone, including two for yourself. The liquor burned on the way down but you knew in just a few minutes you wouldn’t have a care in the world.

You finish your other drink as your friend convinces you to join her on the dance floor. You two take turns guessing how big everyones dick is, far too drunk to care who can hear you.

“Oh his is definitely bigger than average and he looks like he knows what to do with it,” your friend Nobara giggles, blushing as she covers her mouth. She points to a tall, pink haired man behind you, with little scars near his eyes.

“Ohmygod! Okay, n-nobara you’re literally so right bitch,” normally Nobara would never let you address her as that, but you were all too fucked to care. Your other friend mentions that the tall black haired man with the plugs looks like he’s hung, to which you agree. They dare you to go get his number, and you wouldn’t mind finding out if your speculations were true.

“Hi, I’m y/n, -sorry, s-so loud in here, hah” you yell, grabbing onto his sleeve for support.

“It’s okay pretty, I’m Geto. Nice to meet you,” he says in your ear, making shivers run down your spine. You knew he was hot but you didn’t expect his voice to turn you on that much.

Feeling all confidence being thrown out the window, you ask him, “my friends dared me to get your number and you are really cute. You can give me a fake one if you want!” You beam up at him. He was quite excited to exchange information. His phone was on a charger somewhere, so he puts his number in your phone.

“Ohmygod, you got it?!” They scream. With happy giggles they order another round of drinks for themselves and a shot for you, to congratulate you on your stunning victory.

At this point, your vision was hazy and you were far too sweaty for your own good. The DJ had started playing some of Charli XCX’s new album ‘brat’, the title of which you felt was a very applicable name for yourself.

“Holy shit-“ your other friend starts.

“S’up?” You yell.

“I know we stopped playing a while ago, but he looks like he’s got the biggest dick of them all”

You turn. Trying your damndest to keep your balance, you look towards the entrance to see none other than Mr. Fushiguro.

You knew you were fucked. He had left you on read and you hadn’t seen him since. You were confused about the relationship between you two, especially since you were back to university in a few days. You pray to god that he doesn’t notice you and turn back around, trying to shuffle more towards the middle of the dance floor. You mutter a halfhearted ‘yeah’ to your friend before you spin her around and start dancing to the next song.

Geto appears behind you and he grabs on to your waist, asking if he could dance with you and your friends. You yell back an ‘of course!’ as you all start jumping to the music.

He walked in the bar, looking to occupy his favorite seat for most of the night. He came here after he was done at the casino, usually to get a couple drinks, listen to music, and maybe get his dick sucked in the bathroom if he was lucky. He had been feeling much too antisocial lately, opting to drown his sorrows in another drink instead of another woman.

He looks through the crowd as he sees someone he never expected to go on stage.

The song comes to an end as the dj yells ‘karaoke anyone?!’ You had just finished yet another shot Geto bought for you as your friends are pushing you to the stage. You try to plant your feet flat on the floor to no avail as your balance was questionable at best. Before you know it you’re on stage, grabbing the microphone, looking out at the crowd and seeing nothing but blurry faces.

You tell the dj to play the song ‘Guess’ by Charli, just to keep the vibes going. You hear the beat come in as you start to dance on stage, currently unaffected by the hundreds of eyes planted on you and your movements. You were a shitty singer so thankfully, this song was more talking than anything.

‘You wanna guess the color of my underwear.’

‘You wanna know what I got going on down there.’

You chant as you hear your friends screaming in the crowd for you.

‘Is it pretty in pink or all see-through?’

‘Is it showin’ off my brand new lower back tattoo?’

You spin around, lowering your skirt just a hair to reveal the little heart tattoo you have on your lower back. It definitely wasn’t a new tattoo by any means, but it fit the song nonetheless. You spin around, seeing Nobara shout for you near the front.

To your surprise, you also see an all too familiar face approach the front of the stage. Toji looks up at you and you swear you see him sweating. He has a cigarette in between his lips and a drink in hand, not even dancing to the music. He was too entranced by your presence on the stage to think about anything other than you.

‘You wanna put ‘em in your mouth, pull ‘em all down south.’

‘You wanna turn this shit out, that’s what I’m talkin’ about’

You failed to pull your skirt back up from earlier, leaving little to the imagination as your fish net panties peek through the top of your skirt. You feel the beat drop as the hook comes in, charli’s voice saying the words for you this time around as you continue to dance. You sway your hips and the crowd is going wild for you. You know the beat drop is coming so you start to jump. You repeat the chorus from earlier, dancing as slutty as you can for the man in front of you. Your tits were bouncing as you jumped and you had to put your hand on top of them to keep them from escaping.

The bridge is coming as you drop to your hands and knees, crawling towards the black-haired man in front of you. He takes a final puff of his cigarette before he’s putting it in between your lips with a smirk. He takes a drink as you take a puff, blowing out the bitter smoke as you continue.

‘Guess.’

The crowd goes wild as you see everyone, excluding Toji, jumping up and down to the beat. He has a thumb tucked into his belt as he bites his bottom lip, eyeing your figure up and down. You and the crowd chant to the bridge.

“Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess. Guess.”

You finish your little dance as the outro plays. The part you had to sing was practically over, so you head to the stairs on the side of the stage.

You meet back up with your friends and they are all but losing their shit.

‘Y/n that was so fuckin’ good!’

‘Okay girl who knew you had it in you??’

‘I’m deeeeeead, you looked so fucking hot up there!!’

You fan your audience away, telling them ‘please, no paparazzi’

You feel Geto come up behind you as he congratulates you, telling you your performance was amazing. You thank him with a smile as he goes to find his friends in the crowd.

Toji must have missed you when you rejoined the crowd because he was no where to be seen. At this point, you’ve had so many drinks you can’t count. You feel a buzz in your pocket from an unknown number.

You assume it must be Geto. You search the crowd for him, spotting him in the back. You shoot him a smile as he does the same.

You remembered the picture from earlier, hoping this might signal him to take you out of here.

The nickname rings an all too familiar bell as you try to forget the ache in your stomach. You send him the picture with a heart emoji. You search for Geto again, hoping to see his reaction. You catch his eyes again as he turns around, continuing to dance with his friends. Odd. But not out of the ordinary.

Whoa. It must have worked. You anxiously await the clock as you dance to the last song of the album.

You start to push yourself through the crowd as you head towards the bathroom. You see Geto to your left, and he hasn’t moved-only greeting you with a smile and a sloppy wave. Weird. Maybe he was just waiting for you to see if you were down? Who knows, you think, as you finally make it to the bathroom.

It’s dimly lit with only red LEDS along the ceiling. It’s a family bathroom (in a club yeah right) so the door (thankfully) has a lock. You put your back against the wall as you wait for geto.

You continue to bob your head to the music as the door opens. Before you can turn your head to greet him, you are slammed against the wall with a hand up your shirt. That’s when the all too familiar scent of pine and liquor hit your nose.

“Toji?!”

You find it hard to push him away as he is grabbing every inch of your body, so possessively and full of want. He grunts in your ear as you hug him back, scratching down his back underneath his slutty white tee.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, doll. Getting up on stage, dancing like a fuckin’ stripper in front of everyone. You were makin’ me lose my mind.”

You feel so embarrassed, knowing that toji was witness to the whole performance.

“And you really think you’re slick, huh? Sending me pictures like that and thinkin’ I won’t fuck you right here in front of everybody on the bathroom floor.”

Sending pictures? Oh shit. There’s no way, I mean it had to be Geto. You didn’t recognize the area code and there were no previous messages. But that would explain his distant behavior earlier.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought I-I was sending them to some-someone else.”

“Yeah I know you did you slut. These tits and this pussy are just for me, ya’ got it? Thought you woulda’ learned that by now, seein’ as I made you squirt all over me yesterday.”

You face burns as he rubs you through your fishnet panties. You whine underneath him, desperately holding onto his arm for stability.

“I’m sorry, T-Toji. I can take some mo-more for you if ya want”

“Oh there’s no ifs. You’re going to.”

Toji crouches down and suddenly has you in the air above him. Your back is still to the wall as he lifts your right leg up, bringing your wet cunt level with his face. He throws your leg over his shoulder and scoots your left leg out, making you spread yourself in front of him once again.

He wastes no time devouring you through your panties and he doesn’t even give you the decency of pulling them to the side. He slides his tongue through the holes of your panties, drawing out cry after cry from you. All the liquor has made you too horny for your own good as your orgasm fast approaches. You thread both hands in his hair as you pull him close to you, desperate to cum.

“T-Toji, fuck, m-cumming”

He pulls off of you and drops your leg down onto the floor. Did he really just edge you?

He’s pulling your panties down your plush thighs and shoves them into his pocket. You think he’s going to finally have his way with you, until he starts standing up.

“I’m keeping these. You know better than to wear something so slutty in front of me and not expect me to devour you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, knowing he liked your outfit and everything you had on underneath. He kissed your cheek as he pulls back to whisper in your ear.

“Good girls get to cum, but you haven’t been that good have ya’? That’s for tryin’ t’show those pretty tits to some other bitch. Just know the only reason I’m not fucking you right here right now is because I wouldn’t want to pop your cherry in the club bathroom. You’re a slut, but you’re not a whore,” he says, giving your ass a hard slap as you yelp.

“Now get the fuck outta here. I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave, yeah?” He says as he turns you around and pushes you out the door. You’ve barely maintained your balance as you’re shuffling out the door as you hear it close and lock behind you.

Toji shuts the door and locks it and immediately has his pants around his ankles. Seeing you up on stage, showing everyone your tattoo that he had never managed to see, while you sway your hips directly in front of him. He saw the fishnets peeking out of your skirt and your top and he knew he had to see what you had on underneath, just as the song implied.

He decided to text you instead of approaching just in case you wanted nothing to do with him. You responded quickly, obviously very drunk, and sent him a picture that nearly had him poking someone’s eye out with his raging hard-on. He had to taste you, even if just for a moment.

His hands are working on his length furiously. He brings your panties up to his big nose, smelling them with a grunt. Covered in perfume, sweat, and your wetness. He spits on them, bringing them down to his hard cock.

He doesn’t want you to leave without him, and he’s scared you’ll go find the younger, raven-haired man to accompany you instead of him. He runs his hand over his slit, rubbing his precum all over the tip. He’s coming closer to his orgasm as he rubs your panties up and down his length. He pulls out the picture you sent him earlier before he’s accidentally cumming all over his phone screen, paying tribute to your slutty thighs and big tits as best he can. He washes his phone off and buttons his pants before he’s back on the dance floor.

You were pretty short, so Toji had a hard time locating you. He was about to ask the bartender if he’d seen you, when he catches you traipsing out the front door with a couple of friends. Were you leaving?? Surely not after the interaction you two just had.

Had he really just edged you?? In the club bathroom nonetheless. You needed a smoke break and a break in general from the flashing lights and loud music. You take Nobara and another friend outside as you pull out the joint from behind your ear. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smoke tonight, but the adrenaline rush from being on stage on top of the feeling Toji left you with was enough to seal the deal.

Toji heads towards the door, hoping to catch you and offer you a ride home before you’re gone. He had only a few drinks and would be sober enough in no time. He grabs your arm as he sees you light up your joint.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, huh?” He whispers in your ear as he pulls you close to him by your waist.

You take a deep breath, letting the harsh smoke enter your lungs and praying it will fix all of your problems. You felt a large hand on your arm, thinking it might be a security guard ready to chastise you for smoking so close to the entrance. Until that hand becomes two hands on your waist and you feel an all too familiar length being pushed into the softness of your ass. Toji had really followed you out here. Did he think you were leaving or something?

“N-nowhere, I just needed a smoke after-“

“After what?”

“Uhm, the song, that’s all,” you say, blushing as he takes the joint from your hand. You look at him surprised, not expecting the old man to be okay with smoking weed. He takes a long puff as he brings his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your nose and mouth as you kiss him back with fervor.

“Um hello? I’m right here lovebirds,” you hear Nobara say to your left.

“Jesus, s-sorry Nobara”

You pull away from Toji and you let him keep the blunt.

“Why don’t ya’ lemme’ have this? Wouldn’t want ya’ killing all your brain cells before your last semester, right? I’ll get you some more drinks when we go inside,” Toji murmurs in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Are you gonna’ introduce me to your friend here or are you two just going to fuck in the street?”

Nobara says, snapping you out of your trance for the second time that night.

“S-sorry, this is… T-Toji, the one I was telling you about,” you say as Nobara’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“This is Toji? Like the Toji?” You wish Nobara wouldn’t lay it on so thick, as if you hadn’t spent all day on the phone telling her every detail about your escapades.

“Yeah, that Toji. I’m her dad’s best friend, isn’t that right hun?”

If you thought Nobara’s eyes couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. She somehow hadn’t put two and two together that the Toji you were fucking was also the Mr. Fushiguro that your father was friends with.

“Ohhhhhhh. Ohhhh, okayyyyy. Everything is connecting now, haha. I think I might head back inside and leave you two to it. Come find me when you get back inside y/n”

“Of course, we’ll be back in just a second! You still owe me a dance,” you can barely get the words out before Nobara is closing the door and Toji is turning you around.

“Let’s sit, yeah? I’m sure you’re exhausted from shaking your ass for everyone.”

Toji pulls out a chair only for himself as he watches you sit across from him.

“Silly girl, your seat’s right here,” he says looking into your eyes as he pats his lap. You regrettably get back up and go to sit on his lap, knowing that your lack of panties would not help your arousal. You sit down and immediately feel a large rod underneath you, lined up with your cunt so perfectly, you could sit here forever.

“That’s right, good girl. Now try not to make a big mess on me, okay? These are my good pants and according to you we’ve still got some dancin’ to do,” Toji says with a smirk. He’s finished nearly half the joint now, and you can tell his high has definitely hit him. His eyes are two lines as you attempt to make eye contact with him.

“Somebody’s hiiiiiiiiigh,” you say in a singsong voice, giggling at him as you do so. He keeps puffing until you feel him shaking underneath you. You look back to see Toji giggling too. Scratch that, he was full on laughing. He was slapping his knee and everything like some old fogey. He couldn’t put the joint down now, not while there was so little left. But you were right in your assumption. Toji rarely smoked, preferring to drink when he got off work. Yet here he was, toking on the weed like it was a cigarette and he felt like he might have fucked up. He wanted to think of something sly to say back to you, but his mind was empty except for thoughts of you, as always.

“Hell yeah I’m high,” he says, giggling like a little school girl. “Wanna get back inside? I still never rewarded you for your stellar performance earlier.” Curious as to what reward he had in mind, you stand up and grab his hand. The two of you walk back inside as he leads you to the bar.

“Let me get a vodka cran’ for my lady, please”

Your lady? You were loving this special treatment, wanting to bask in it all night long. He hands you your drink as you chug it, not wanting to waste one of your hands holding a drink when it could be on Toji’s body. You two make it back to the dance floor and you find Nobara talking to a tall, fit woman with a long white braid on her shoulder. The braid was hanging in her face and you wondered if she could even see walking around in a dark night club like that.

“Ohmygod, Toji?!” She exclaims, running up to him to hug him, nearly pushing you over out of excitement. You don’t know why, but seeing him hug her back sent you fuming. You felt as if everyone could see the smoke coming out of your ears. You knew Toji wasn’t your boyfriend or whatever, but you still had some sort of feelings for him, even if they were only rooted in lust.

“Mei, h-hey, how’ve you been? It’s been a while!”

You’d never seen Toji say anything exclamatory in his life, except for when he was laying with you. You watch the two of them catch up as you grab Nobara by the hand and walk away.

“Are we leaving?! I found this cute girl and I was just about to go talk to her!” You assure her that while you weren’t leaving, you had a new mission: make Toji jealous.

Nobara suggested you go grind on Geto, which seemed like an excellent idea, if you weren’t scared for what Toji would do with him if he saw you. Besides, he was absolutely no where to be found. You checked your phone to see a missed message from him.

‘Hey, y/n, it was super nice to meet you! Had to go home, and you looked pretty occupied with your friend in the white shirt, so I didn’t wanna bother you. I’d love to get coffee sometime! x’

Jesus, you were such an asshole. You text him back, letting him know you were too fucked up to come up with a coherent response and that you would say something back that actually made sense tomorrow. You let Nobara know the bad news, but she is quick to come up with another plan.

“You definitely don’t have to, but you could grind on me if you want… or kiss me. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, you know I’m always down to help out a friend,” Nobara stammers as you watch a faint blush creep up her cheeks.

“Oh, Nobara, don’t be embarrassed. I’d love to. I’ve always thought you were cute, but you’re too good of a best friend to try and date I think,” you admit. You definitely found yourself looking at Nobara’s curves all too often when you were at the gym together.

“No, I totally agree! I mean you’re hot as fuck, but if we broke up someday I don’t think I’d be able to look at you ever again,” she says, inching closer towards you.

You wrap your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you.

“Soooooo……”

“Sooooooooooooo….”

You both say, trying not to make this mission any awkward than it already was. You hear the next song come on and the beat was shaking the floor. You take this as a sign to step even closer to Nobara as you put your lips on hers.

You two were moving with the music and the bodies in the crowd, as you run your fingers through your hair. You two were full on making out now, laughing in between breaths as you try your hardest not to take Nobara home instead of Toji. You didn’t really care if Toji noticed or not since you were having the most fun you’ve had all night wrapped up with Nobara in this way.

She sucks on your lip, pulling away to ask if she can touch your butt.

“Nobara you touch my butt all the time,” you say, giggling, looking up at her puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, but this is different. You can totally say n-“

You grab Nobara’s hands and reach them behind you as she grabs a handful of you under your skirt. You kiss her back as her eyes are wide open. You continue this for a while, switching places with her as you grab on her body, not wanting the moment to end.

Toji tells Mei he’ll see her later as he goes to close his tab. He had already spent far too much for his liking, and you were way too drunk to have anything else tonight. The drink he got you earlier was just straight cranberry juice, little did you know. He thanks the bartender as he puts his card back in his wallet, turning around as he felt the wind get knocked out of him.

He saw you in the crowd, tongue shoved down some red head’s throat. She was grabbing your ass as you knead her tit, giggling as you two whisper to each other.

Nobara just admitted you may actually have the biggest dick at the party, to which you can’t help but giggle. Being edged earlier made you feel all too eager for things to move further as you hear someone’s throat clearing to your right.

You pull away from Nobara and look beside you to see Toji sitting on a bar stool, a cigarette trapped between his teeth as he grabs both of his legs, trying to keep himself from standing up.

“Havin’ fun?” He says with a glint in his eyes. Not to be a perverted boy, but he could watch you do this for hours. The way you had your friend melting under your touch, gasping for more than just a kiss as you teased her for the sole purpose of making him jealous.

Nobara looks at you with a grin on her face. She leans in for another peck, as she turns away, “Looks like it worked. That was fun, we should try it again sometime. I think I might call an Uber. Getting late,” she says, yawning. She seems totally unfazed, as if you two weren’t just swapping spit for the last few minutes.

“I can ride with you!” You say before she’s interrupting you, telling you to stay with your man. You wouldn’t exactly call him that, but one thing you never did was start an argument with Nobara.

She mouths to you, “let me know if he’s good or not,” winking as she heads for the door.

“Who’s that little redhead? I like her, seems feisty. I like ‘em with a lil’ bit of attitude,” he says, smirking as he puts out his cigarette. He stands up, having had enough of his private show.

“Her name’s Nobara and she’s my friend. Who the fuck was that girl with the braid?”

“Seemed like more than just a friend, your tongue in her mouth and all.” Toji tried so hard to not let on that while he was extremely turned on by the sight, he was also entirely too jealous for his liking. Jealous was not an emotion he frequented. If he even though he might get jealous, he moved on to the next bitch that was fawning over him. But here he was, seeing red as he awaits your response.

“She is just a friend. But you still didn’t answer my question, ya’know.”

“Her name’s Mei. Old coworker. Haven’t seen her in years and last I heard, she was missing. You’ve never been excited to see an old friend?”

Oh. You thought she was definitely an ex-lover, given their tight embrace. Toji didn’t come off as the touchy type, so watching him hug her back so eagerly made you livid.

“No I have, but you look like you wanted to fuck her, I mean what is your-“

“Doll, if I wanted to fuck her I already would have. I’ve only got eyes for one person right now, if ya’ couldn’t tell.”

You walk towards him, hands clasped in front of you as you ask who this person might be.

“Probably the girl I just jacked off to in the bathroom, I think. She sent me this slutty picture and I came all over my phone as soon as I pulled up the pic,” he says, grabbing you by your hand.

Had he really cum to that picture? You didn’t think you looked all that hot, and knowing Toji, you figured he needed to watch a thirty minute gangbang video in order to get his nut off.

“Wooowwww. I mean even I need a video to cum, but you’re over here cumming to a picture? Pathetic.”

You had no idea what you just said. He yanks your hand as he quickly makes his way towards the exit.

“T-Toji I’m joking, please s-slow down! Where are we going??”

He doesn’t answer as he drags you along the street. You figured you’d get an Uber in case Toji was just being dramatic, but he snatches the phone out of your hand before you can even unlock it.

“Don’t want’ya sending any more pictures tonight little girl. We’re going to mine, pick up the pace before I carry you,” he finally says. You tried your hardest to keep up with the large man in front of you, but his stride was so big. You had short legs and you were ridiculously drunk. You try your hardest to plant your feet, forcing him to turn around. It had started sprinkling at this point, and you raise your hands above your head to keep the rain from ruining your pretty face of makeup.

“Toji, you’re too fucking fast. And you don’t have to hold my hand, you-“

Toji has had enough. The rain was picking up and like he said, these were his good pants that he did not feel like dry cleaning.

You watch Toji get into a stance as if he’s about to tackle you, picking you up under your butt and throwing you over his shoulder like a rag doll. He holds the back of your knees with his large hand as he starts to walk towards his apartment. He kept an apartment downtown due to how often he was out at the casino too late in the night to spend $50 dollars on an Uber back to the condo.

You don’t even care to protest as you’d rather have the rain hitting your back anyways. It was cool to the touch and you didn’t really mind letting this man have his way with you. You did want to play fight with him, lightly hitting his butt as you let out, ”nooooo, please don’t take me and do whatever you want to me sir”

He responds only by giving your ass a light smack before he kisses it. You couldn’t help but call him a pervert, and the sound of that word leaving your lips had him rock hard again. He was a pervert to an extent, but only for you.

———————————————————————

He plops you down at the front of his door, motioning for you to go inside after he unlocks it. You stumble in, reaching for the light switch, flicking it on as you hear Toji hiss behind you. He fumbles for the switch, turning it back off quickly.

“Too fuckin’ bright, Jesus”

He grabs your hand and walks you to the bathroom. His apartment was clean, and pretty cozy. He didn’t stay here often, so you noticed the dust covering most of his appliances. You turn on the bathroom light and turn around to ask him what his plans were for you.

“My plans? Get this makeup off and get in the bed,” he says, fumbling through the shelves to find a washcloth. You cross your arms and pout as you grab his arm.

“But Toji I want it. Want you, please”

He grabs a new bar of soap from underneath the sink and turns the warm water on, giving it a moment to heat up. He puts his hand on the counter and gives you a stern look.

“Look, y/n. You couldn’t possibly understand how bad I want you, too. But you’re too drunk and I’m the highest I’ve been in a while. Last time I checked, you were still a virgin. Doesn’t mean I plan on going easy on ya’, but we need to wait.”

You continue to pout, poking your bottom lip out. Maybe you can convince him with your mouth, and not your words. You reach for his belt buckle as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He kisses you back, hesitantly at first. You moan into the kiss, unable to control yourself. As soon as that first moan leaves your lips, he’s pulling away so he can run his hands under the warm water, adjusting the temperature so it’s not too hot.

He brings his wet hands to your face, making sure to cover every inch of your skin so this process wouldn’t take any longer than it already has.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to stop myself. Shut up and lemme help you, then we’ll get in the bed. I can sleep on the couch if ya’ want”

You couldn’t seem to take no for an answer, as you let out the most earth-shattering, loud moan you can muster. Your mouth is stuck in an ‘o’ shape as you moan Toji’s name, trying to see how far you could push the man.

Hearing that from your mouth made him feel like his cock would explode. He puts a hand over your mouth and pushes you against the wall, making your head hit the wall a little too hard for your liking.

“Have ya’ lost your fuckin’ mind? I have neighbors ya’know? I already told you no, and if you can’t take that as an answer, you’re gonna be the one sleepin’ on the couch.”

You look at him with wide eyes as he removes his hand from your mouth. He kisses the top of your head, muttering an apology for hitting your head on the wall. He grabs the soap, letting it run under the water before he lathers it up in his hands.

He brings his hands to your face and starts washing your face for you as if you were inept.

“I can wash my own damn face, Toji”

He laughs at you, still very high from the joint he stole earlier.

“Yeah, not before you poke out your own eye with those nails. Just lemme’ take care of ya’ then we’ll get in bed.”

You huff as you let him continue. You enjoyed seeing a more gentle, domestic side of him. Albeit in odd circumstances, it was still an unexpected surprise. He tells you to rinse your face off and gives you the washcloth to dry your face.

“Just throw the lashes away, I’ll get ya’ some new ones tomorrow.”

“What, these old things? They’re all natural,” you say with a fake accent. He simply reaches up and takes the pair of lashes off, dropping them in the trash.

“How do you know to do this shit anyways? Lots of experience?”

He glares at you as if you just asked if the sky is blue.

“I wash my own face woman. Makeup is just another layer of shit to wash off.”

You somehow find yourself agreeing with him as you finish wiping the water off of your neck. You start to take off your jewelry as you watch him pull his pants down as he whips out his cock.

Well, you don’t know if you should call it that, given that he was almost entirely soft now. He flips the lid of the toilet up, taking care of his bladder right in front of you. You look him up and down with questioning eyes.

“Ewww, you could have waited!”

“You’re the one starin’, doll. Look who’s the pervert now,” he says, cleaning himself off and only pulling up his boxers. “Let’s get in bed,” he says, leading you by your lower back to his bedroom.

He’s taking off the rest of his clothes on the way, leaving them scattered in the hallway. You wanted him taking those clothes off in other circumstances, but you follow his lead, taking everything off except your bra (since someone still had your panties).

“Whoa, gotta let me know when you’re getting undressed next time. Got me sweatin’ over here,” he says, trying to think of his most annoying coworkers to help his chub go down.

“You think m’sleepin’ in this? Pssshh-,” you say, laughing as you try to unclasp your bra. Your nails were too long and it was only making it more difficult.

“Here,” he starts, making his way behind you to help you take it off. He tries his best to avert his eyes, somehow feeling guilty for admiring you when you two were supposed to be strictly going to bed right now.

“I know we’re not fuckin’ tonight, but you are so goddamn perfect f’me,” he admits, letting out a breath as he watches you walk ahead of him, hips swaying so tantalizingly back and forth. Hair cascading down your pretty back. Tits so big he could see their outline from the back. He clears his throat, mentally cursing himself for jacking off earlier. If he would have just let it go down, he’d probably be fine right now. But cumming to that picture and thinking about cumming on those tits forreal had him feeling like a creep.

You wait for Toji to join you near the bed. You don’t want to overstep and you didn’t know what side of the bed he slept on. He asks what you’re waiting for, and when he hears you mumble ‘you’, he smiles so bright. You’re both totally naked now as you climb under the sheets, shivering at the cool linen brushing against your warm body. Toji sat across from you, not touching you anywhere.

“Ya’know, seeing you makeout with that girl was hot n’all, but you really pissed me off doing that.”

Pissed him off? That was not your goal at all.

“What, w-why? I was jus’ tryin’ to make you jealous is all,” you admit.

“Yeah, well it fuckin’ worked. Don’t do that shit in front of me again unless you want to see me go to prison.”

Oh. He was really serious. You could only imagine what he’d do if he saw you grinding in Geto’s lap. Thank god for Nobara.

You scoot towards him, “M’sorry, I won’t do it again, promise. Now can we cuddle please? So cold, baby,” you huff. He wraps his arms around you as you bury your head in his chest, entwining your legs with his.

“You’re lucky. Don’t do this with just anybody. And it’s takin’ all my strength not to bend you over and break you right now. Only reason I’m not makin’ you cum right now s’cuz I wanna’ give you a break before tomorrow.”

You mumble an ‘awwww’ as he tells you to shut up and go to sleep. You thank him for the second night in a row, only earning a ‘mmmhm’ from the man beside you. He’s already drifting off to sleep, exhausted from the night of work before and the long night he’s spent with you. You shut your eyes, trying to steady yourself as you feel the room spinning around you. You take a few deep breaths and finally fall asleep, knowing you needed all the rest you could get for the day you had ahead of you.

@scorpiosugar @theobsidianempress mwahahah

[ivystoryweaver]

hi ivy, congrats on 1k! 💕🎉 i was wondering if u have any hc's on how the mk system would take care of u when ur sick? currently dealing w strep myself & it sucks. hope this is okay if ur still doing these & that u have good day! 🩷

You're Not Alone

@suresnips Once upon a time you were sick and I left you there, with no Moon Boys to comfort you... Jake is gonna have words with me. Thank you so much for the congratulations, you are so sweet! Long overdue, but I never leave an ask unanswered

Word Count: 700 Content: sick you, mentions of food, domestic life, slight mentions of Marc's past, not beta'd

Marc has been on his own for years, and even when he was young, he had to fend for himself.

He knows how to take care of himself, having shivered through fevers in the roughest neighborhoods and parts of the world - sometimes on the run.

Believe it or not, Marc is the one who really doesn't want you to feel alone when you're sick. He doesn't always know what to say or do (he does, actually, but that's his self-loathing talking), but he'll sit with you.

Marc doesn't like the doctor - he was raised hiding things from professionals and he's conditioned to think they don't actually care, but since he doesn't want you to feel alone, he will always make sure he's there to wait with you.

He's traveled all over. He's a survivor and he's picked up all kinds of useful knowledge from his journeys.

Marc knows lots of little tricks, like how peppermint or lavender oil can be diluted and rubbed on your feet to bring down fever. He also knows oils and tinctures for all kinds of symptoms, such tightness or spasms from coughing, or simply to help you rest.

Since Marc doesn't know what to say sometimes, he will want to touch you. But occasionally, having a fever means you do not want to be touched - or at least not held.

This is why both of you find it so soothing when he rubs a balm into your chest or oils onto your feet. His dark eyes lock onto yours and you can see straight to his soul

Marc is steady and calm when you're sick. He doesn't want you to feel that what is wrong with you is your fault - you really feel loved and supported, even when you have "just a cold."

Steven is a caring, observant person: cordial to those who dismiss him, professional to rude bosses, sympathetic to friends and mindful and proud of the places he occupies

He even talks to Gus and makes sure he has everything he needs.

So he is going to notice the second you're feeling off.

"Getting sick, aren't you, love?"

"What? No, I'm just tired."

By that evening, you're burning with a fever.

Steven ushers you to bed, letting you know he stopped by the store on the way home. He is prepared.

Steven knows which tea will soothe your throat or settle your stomach. He understands just the right amount of honey or lemon you need, and how long to steep the tea leaves.

Even if you don't prefer tea, he knows how to make it taste good enough to warm you up or settle you.

Steven is vegan so he knows how to substitute ingredients or some interesting places to order takeaway. He'll encourage you to steer away from foods that will only exacerbate your symptoms, like fried foods or too much dairy.

He loves to take care of you, dote on you, bring you trays of things, prop up your head with an extra pillow.

He'll place a washcloth over your forehead and cover you with an extra blanket while you suffer.

He'll read you to sleep if you like, but he will miss you so much while you're down and out.

He's an exuberant puppy when you're better.

Jake helps you get things done.

You're out of it for a few days or a week? All good - bills are paid (if you share them), laundry is done.

Don't feel like calling out of work or making doctor's appointments? Jake takes care of it. You're not to be bothered.

He's going to help you zone out.

He'll make you smile, play your favorite record, watch movies with you on the couch.

He's gonna sneak you junk food, tbh. Steven's teas and soups are so wonderful, but after a few days, there's just that one food you want because you're kinda feeling sorry for yourself?

That's Jake. Snacks and movies and lightening the mood.

And - it's Jake Lockley. He's definitely going to try to feel you up during a movie. Once your fever breaks anyway.

“But I look awful,” you halfheartedly protest.

"Never, mi amor. Just relax."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

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[ikeucity]

IKEUCITY WILL BE UNDER MAINTENANCE :(

hey guys...

so i’ve been thinking a lot about my current fics, and i really want to make them better. i am afraid to announce that some things might get revamped or changed, but it’s all for the best, trust me. i’m adding extra scenes and details to make everything more enjoyable for you. things i felt i could've added to make the world even better.

(don't worry! i will keep almost everything, as i know you've enjoyed how i write the characters and scenes, i simply want to write it better)

i want those who enjoy my stories to find an escape and be immersed in the world i've created with my works, thats why i love writing long ass fics. and i will continue to do so because i know it has helped me too. to just step into a different reality even if just for a moment.

i’m still continuing brought the heat back and moonstruck, but the my one-shots are getting a bit of a refresh. i know edits not showing up in reblogs is annoying, and i honestly get so pissed every time 😭

all my fics are getting a deeper, more polished version. i’ve been reading a lot and doing research to improve my writing, so expect more quality content! i’ve also created a system where, by the time i post something, there’s already another fic lined up.

what you can expect in the future is yours to wreck is getting a new spin, and i’m dropping part 3 as a gift! i’m not deleting posts—just archiving them. if something goes missing, don’t worry—the completed work will be even better.

i’ve also figured out how to make sure i have more words allowed on my posts and stay organized.

i’ll be making drabbles for fics like yours to wreck, featuring cute moments that won’t be in the plot—just a little side thing. and is something i plan to do for future fics too!

will i write requests? absolutely! but not yet, not until i feel like i've at least completed some of my series.

also it's important to know that i do love my series like akdjdjsisjs but i can't keep the series going without adding more to the plot, but you guys trust me, right?

i write fast. the reason for all of this is that i need to get better at posting finished work that i find perfect, no more second guessing. no more typos and feeling the urge to edit it or replace a few things.

i want to feel completely satisfied with what i share. if i’m calling something mid, imagine what i can do when i’m fully content with it? :O

literally, in a month, i’m gonna be raining down fics on you. the one that’s setting the tone for the kind of writing and quality you can expect is peeping tom, which i’m completely focused on right now and am receiving help from a wonderful person for it.

i want to keep my blog alive, and i need to feel happy about it. hence the changes. i hope you understand my sweets.

thank you all so much for the love and support—it means the world to me!

🖋️ love, keuri

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 11

Hi! Here's part 11 to my Dracula x Reader series! I apologize for the huge delay, I've had a lot going on IRL, so I haven't has as much time/energy to write as I would have liked. Still, I hope you enjoy! I hope to have more happen in the next chapter as well, hopefully some action! Summary: Dracula finally manages to get things running somewhat smoothly, only to run into a snag when it comes to the potions he's had made for you. Thankfully, it isn't as big of a setback as it could be, so long as he can see you beginning to heal. During all of it, he begins to recognize some old feelings...

CW: Injury mention, death mention, brief description of injury, thoughts of murder,

Word Count: 6244 Words!

Like my work? Come support me here! Link Every little bit helps!

Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @pumpkinvampie, @bethleeham, @mshope16, @sixsixtwenty, @haleypearce, @rvautomatic, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @marshmelloe, @maorizon, @ursamajor17, @sapphicsfordracula, @dame-sunflowers, @sleepyendymion, @starrlo0ver, @onewiththebeanbag First: Here! Last: Here! Next: Here! - - -

Dracula was beginning to wonder just how you had managed to survive so long on your own.

He wasn’t doubting your skills. In fact, Dracula could tell from a glance you were a powerful fighter, much like your ancestors had been. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were one of the strongest Belmonts yet.

No, he was concerned over how you seemed lacking when it came to taking care of yourself.

Sure, you had bandaged yourself on the way to his castle, and he was thankful you seemed to have some sort of survival instinct.

But he noticed you didn’t put in too much effort though in your own health overall.

It wasn’t just from how you came to his castle recently, but something he had noticed long before he had been freed.

After the first few times he saw you, it was clear to him. You would briefly mention your headaches, and your homelife, how you just ‘dealt’ with it.

You had mentioned to him in a joke how even though you had been sick at one point, you just pushed through it while sleeping in your car for a week.

He couldn’t ask you at the time why you did such things, being trapped in stone. Now, he felt it would be counterproductive to ask you. Not until you were comfortable around him.

But it was a horrifying thing you mentioned offhandedly while eating a sandwich, and you refused to elaborate. Why would you put yourself through that?

Add that to his mental list of reasons why he had to investigate your home life. If anything, that was blatantly unhealthy. How the hell was your immune system putting up such a fight on its own if that was how you handled being sick at your home?

How did you handle most injuries before you met him? A part of him really did not wish to find out, but he couldn’t help but feel the desire to know.

Dracula was at least thankful you mentioned a small cabin once. After you had mentioned it while he was stone, you realized what you had said, and were quick to try and change the subject. You had not meant to tell him about it, it seemed.

But he was thankful at least that you had a small place nearby to rest.

At one point throughout the day as he checked in on you, he briefly considered going to see this cabin, or sending a scout to see where it was. However, he dismissed this idea almost as soon as he had thought it.

You’d no doubt be upset if you found out he had done so, and he would be willing to bet you had traps all over the land leading up to your small sanctuary away from your home.

It was only logical to assume so. You had found his castle nearby your own property.

Something he didn’t fail to see irony in. Of course his castle would choose a place nearby a Belmont’s property.

Still, if it had been him in your situation, he would have placed traps on top of traps once finding out such a thing. Sending an underling was just asking for it to either be captured, destroyed, or injured. Or for such information to spread to less enthusiastic minions who were disgruntled about your stay here.

No doubt when you inevitably left, you would check the traps, or at least notice one out of place, if not finding a dead monster's remains on your land. Dracula couldn’t afford to have you lose trust in him just because he was curious.

Yes… Dracula would wait, and put his patience to the test. He’d try to get you to open up to him, and show him yourself.

You already were showing you didn’t detest him, something that was bringing an old warmth to his cold heart.

He’d even wager you opened up to him just a little earlier, when you had mentioned your injuries had been from something personal.

Sure, it wasn’t a large amount of information, but it was progress.

Now, he just had to keep this progress going forward, something Dracula knew was not going to be smooth sailing as he had hoped. There was already unrest in the castle, he could just feel it.

No one had said anything to him, but Dracula was more in tune with his castle and its magic than people gave him credit for. Every being here had energy that was woven with the castle’s in some way shape or form.

And people were anxious.

Some were restless, some were afraid. Many were irritated.

A Belmont being treated as a guest? He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone or something acted out.

Dracula just hoped it wouldn’t be at your expense. He could clean any other mess as need be, but he wouldn’t stand you being injured further.

Alas, he couldn’t act unless someone else acted out first, or he could see they were planning something that involved you. Dracula, loathe as he may to admit it, would only cause more unrest by acting too hastily.

That was fine though, he could bide his time.

The only thing that had him on edge was your current injuries. Or rather, he didn’t want you fighting with your injuries and making them worse, especially after your healing has been progressing nicely.

Speaking of which, You were healing incredibly quickly. If it wasn’t for your lineage, he would have guessed you had some sort of distant supernatural blood in your veins, such as vampirism.

Still, even though you were healing at an impressive rate, it still wasn’t enough. Your injuries by all means could have killed you, and they were still deep and fresh.

His fingers tapped on the wood of his desk in his study, concern no doubt etched clear on his features.

Those potions should be finished today, or at least the first batch of them. The stronger type usually required a longer amount of time to simmer for better healing effects. Time though, was not something he could afford, so a batch of the regular sort would have to do.

Of course, he’d have to thoroughly check them himself after his alchemists were finished. He had not explained who the potions were for when he had ordered it to be done, but now, there was no doubt in his mind the ones creating the potions knew it was for a hunter.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even trust most of his underlings with this. Even his more trusted ones, he was going to be forced to keep an eye on.

The chances of his alchemists messing with your potions were low, but not impossible. Thankfully, he knew potions very well after studying them centuries ago. Dracula was confident he could catch any ‘unneeded’ ingredients that might slip in the finished batch.

However, he hated that he would have to check.

“How bothersome…” he mumbled as he pressed his face into the palm of one of his hands.

Looking for poison itself wasn’t the issue, it’s something he’ll gladly do. It was the fact this would mean it would take longer to get the potions to you that irritated him.

If the potions were tampered with, like he worried they might be, he’d probably have to make them himself. Something he would also do without pause, but again, he didn’t wish for you to stay injured any longer than necessary.

Dracula rubbed his eyes for a moment, wondering how he had grown so protective of you like a mother hen.

The last time he could remember fretting over someone, was whenever his late wife had gotten sick, or when his son fell ill once or twice.

Back before everything fell apart.

He sighed, feeling another migraine coming on. It wouldn’t do well to think of that now. The less distractions, the better.

At least one good thing came from this. You were receptive to him checking in on you. Dracula doubted you would trust any of his underlings to do it, or at least any of them bringing you meals.

Not without him there to supervise, it seemed.

It was small, but that amount of trust you had in him was a lot for the circumstances.

Dracula felt another sigh escape his lips, and he ignored the temptation to lay his head on his desk like a daydreaming school boy.

What were you doing to him? Had the Great Dracula really fallen for a Belmont?

His eyes widened slightly at his own thoughts.

Fallen? No. Though he detested the idea of admitting he had a schoolboy crush.

He could at least admit he felt fonder for you than some human teenager just figuring themselves out, thank you very much.

Deep down however, thinking about this unsettled him.

Dracula cared for you. He could admit that in his head whole heartedly. Somehow, the Little Belmont had wormed their way into his cold, dead heart without even trying.

But he feared to think about what that meant for him. His life. His future. Your future.

The trust between you two was rocky, but it was there. Could he really push to have you trust him more? Was that really a future he could hope for? Try for? To even care about?

Was it even worth it?

Dracula ran a hand through his hair, and debated summoning another glass of blood to sooth the migraine he could already feel forming in his temples.

Himself and your family had been doomed to fight for centuries. Would even trying to open up the possibilities of at least a friendship be very wise?

Looking from the outside, it seemed like something doomed to fail.

So why did he want to try?

His fingers began to thrum idly on the desk again.

The answer was still the same as before. It was you.

You were different. Different from most Belmonts.

Was wanting to bet on that difference really worth the possible pain? Heartbreak? Potential agony?

Vlad’s eyes drifted over to a portrait that hung in his private study. One depicting his precious Lisa.

Lisa had been worth it, even if his time with her had been so cruelly cut short. He knew her time with her would have been limited, as she had wanted to stay human. It was one of the things that had made her so precious.

One of the few things he regretted was not being there for her when she needed him most. Probably one of his biggest regrets, alongside not being next to Elisabetha when she passed back when he had been human.

So perhaps… This too, would be worth it.

He could not deny that this was a golden opportunity. If, by small chance, he could change fate…

Perhaps he would not have to suffer being killed once more, and this damned cycle between him and your family could finally break.

Dracula was no fool. He was sure this cycle affected your family just as much as it did him. Ever since Leon, almost every Belmont has had to learn to fight creatures of the night. Either to be a hunter, or to avoid simply being the prey.

No doubt not every Belmont liked this, and judging from the small glimpses of your home life he has seen, the Belmont clan seems to have fallen into disrepair.

There was a darkness in your eyes when you spoke about your home, one that had him worrying all over again.

That was something else he was going to have to focus on. Your life at home.

Given that your clan was full of vampire hunters, even if he did by chance get your home’s location, he doubted himself or any of his underlings would be able to get too close. Surveillance wouldn’t be an easy option, or most likely would not be an option at all.

Unless, of course, your family’s home and protections have also deteriorated. Perhaps getting close to the home wouldn’t be as big of an issue.

But alas, he wouldn’t risk most of his underlings finding your home like that. He has a few he trusts, sure, but he couldn’t in good faith let most of them know where you lived.

All it would take is one slip up, and your home would no doubt be swarmed. Even if it wasn’t monsters from his circles, it wouldn’t take much from other groups to learn and decide to exterminate you en masse.

Even if no one could penetrate your home’s defenses, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ambush to have you assassinated the moment you left your property. Or anyone else that lived with you.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed at that thought. Oh, how that was tempting, just to see those who may have hurt you torn to shreds.

But he had to wait. He’d have vengeance for you one way or another.

Before he could contemplate who he had to murder, he heard a brisk knock at his door. Crimson eyes narrowed, and with his mask slipping back into place, he sat back in his chair.

“Enter.”

Large doors to his study creaked open, and one of the alchemists he had working on your potions stepped into the room. A young man who had answered the Castle’s magical call for power and safety.

The young man before him tried not to tremble under his gaze, barely making eye contact before looking at a different part of the room. Dracula had to hold back an annoyed sigh.

A shame those who could create potions were few and far between, leaving him with such a sniveling fool. At least he could get the job done, along with the few others he had working under him.

“Is the task I set for you and the others finished?” he asked, thrumming his fingers against the desk once again, a bored look on his face.

Swallowing nervously, the alchemist nodded, before remembering he needed to speak.

“Y-Yes, milord. The first batch of potions has finished, but…”

Dracula raised an eyebrow. He was already nearing the end of his patience.

“But?”

The young man flinched, and the vampire tried not to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid, ah… this batch won’t be that potent, due t-to us having to rush…”

As if Dracula didn’t already anticipate that.

No matter though. What was important was getting you something to fend back the majority of your injuries. Even if it is just enough to help you fight infection and mend a few patches of skin, it was better than nothing.

“I’m aware of the effect of making potions on such short notice. Is that everything?”

For a split second, the alchemist’s heartbeat spiked, and he avoided looking at the Vampire Lord. Dracula forced his face to remain neutral.

How curious.

“That’s everything, sir.”

Almost immediately, the shadows in the room crawled forward, and the temperature dropped a noticeable amount.

Dracula stood up from his chair to his full height, and leaned over his desk. His claws dug into the wood, and his eyes grew black and red.

“Tell me, Alchemist, why are you lying to me?”

A squeak left the young man’s lips, and he physically shrunk in on himself. No one wanted to be on Dracula’s bad side.

“I don’t tolerate liars in my court.”

The Alchemist fell backwards onto the floor in a scramble, and shuffled backwards a few feet. The door magically shut behind him, and he looked as if he were to faint.

Dracula felt the air grow heavy around him, and the pathetic man in front of him began to pant and shake.

“Now, what is it you are hiding from me?”

The threat was clear as day. Should the young man in front of him lie, or do something foolish, he would not live to see tomorrow.

Swallowing thickly, the Alchemist shakily stood to his feet.

“I… As I was finishing up my batch of potions, I overheard a few of the witches talking.”

Dracula had the tension in the air lesson to a degree. The boy in front of him was willing to speak, so he may as well not make it too difficult, lest the coward faint.

Though he made sure his displeasure was apparent.

“Go on.” Eyes darted between him and other parts of the room, the Alchemist shrunk in on himself further before speaking.

“I… I overheard them talking about how they think the hunter has bewitched you. That the hunter is going to kill you, and everyone involved.”

Dracula wanted to scoff. Just mild gossip. He wasn’t surprised it was already making the rounds, though he’d have to keep an eye on it lest it fester into something unmanageable without conflict.

Rumors and resentment building would only cause unrest, and the less he had to deal with, the better.

“And just who were the witches who were discussing this?” The man swallowed. “I don’t know.” “So you didn’t think to get a look on who it might be?” He shook his head, fingers twitching idly.

“No sir. But…”

Dracula could feel the throbbing in his temples. Perhaps he should summon some wine…

“...The witches talked about wanting to do something before it was too late.”

Now that caught Dracula’s attention.

“They what?!”

The Alchemist winced, though straightened up a little now that Dracula’s ire wasn’t entirely directed at him.

“I-I have no evidence, nor was I able to follow them, but- I think some of them might be planning something, sir.”

The room’s temperature dropped further, and at the moment, the Alchemist felt like his soul left his body.

Dracula was well known for his fury.

How his anger was icy, yet his fury ran hot.

“Planning something?”

His voice was low, in a way that was like a growl. Like a predator readying to bite down on the neck of its prey. It was inviting, yet it had the survival instincts of anything around him screaming to run.

The wind picked up around the castle, and lightning began to strike across the clouded sky. The flashes of light only seemed to emphasize the anger on his face.

Briefly, The King of the Night hoped you weren’t bothered by the pick up of the storm. Surely you’d notice the change in atmosphere…

But that was something he could check in with you later.

“And do you happen to know just what they might be planning? Or which ones it even was?”

Dracula’s mind was beginning to work overtime. Which witches lingered near the Alchemy lab? He's going to have to do a sweep it seemed, and soon. At least Castlevania would give him some insight should he ask for it.

If some of his underlings were already conspiring against him…

The boy in front of him was eerily silent, and Dracula held back from snapping. Killing the fool wouldn’t solve any of his issues, especially as he needed him for now.

Then, a thought suddenly hit Dracula, and he sat back into his seat, his claws growing sharper.

“Boy, where is the finished batch of potions?”

The Alchemist froze for a moment, taken aback by the sudden question.

“Um… In the labs?”

Dracula’s eyes sharpened, almost glowing red.

“And is there anyone or anything protecting the finished batch of potions in the labs?”

“Ah…”

Running a hand across his face, Dracula fought the urge to kill something.

He was going to need that drink before visiting you.

—

Much to Dracula’s disappointment (and hidden fury), it was just as he had expected.

He had decided to check on the batch of the potion himself after that conversation, just to be sure it hadn’t been tampered with.

It was something he was already going to do, but now it was incredibly important to do so after hearing what the Alchemist had to say.

Just as he had feared, the main batch that had been left out had indeed been soiled.

The potion itself was a darker blue than it should have been, a first tell that something wasn’t quite right. Then there was the smell.

Potions already smelled a bit bland, with a hint of bitterness to them. However, he was able to catch the scent of something almost sour.

The texture itself was also a bit… thick. Closer to a cream rather than the liquid form it was supposed to have.

Dracula felt his brow twitch with thinly veiled disdain.

With a sigh, and barely hidden rage, he ended up banishing the whole batch. No point in taste testing when he could already smell the signs of tampering. The only thing he would be able to get out of a test would be what ingredients specifically had been added, but there was no point. Not when he already knew the results.

It seems he would have to keep a closer eye on things than he thought.

Even if the alchemists and potioneers he had working on this were as trustworthy as they could get, it seemed that there was only so much he could do before the rats began to poke their noses where they didn't belong.

As much as he hated to section off parts of the lab, it seems he would have to until you were healed, or he found all the idiots involved who dared try and pull a fast one on him.

Thankfully however, not everything was lost.

Dracula was thankful that moment for employing several alchemists to the lab for different batches of potions. He could just take from those, since they would have a similar effect.

The other alchemists were to keep working on different batches of potions, so he could have stronger ones brewing while the first batch was finished. This meant there would be less powerful ones, sure, but he would simply have more made.

What mattered was getting this first batch to you.

You may be healing relatively quickly and well, but he was quickly growing to dislike seeing you injured.

The shadows under your eyes, and how sunken in your face looked, added to your winces of pain… He hoped that he could help with that by taking care of your wounds.

It would be a long journey, he was sure. No doubt it would take more than just healing your injuries to actually have you looked… alive.

That was what had his cold, undead heart beating worriedly in his chest.

You didn’t look like you were living.

Sure, your blood pumped, your heart still beats, but you didn’t have a happy light in your eyes. Dracula could mistake you for one of his minions with how those eyes alone looked.

He was thankful though, seeing a spark in them. It was subtle, and only showed up on occasion.

However, he found himself yearning to protect it.

Ha. Him. Lord of the Night. King of all Vampires, wanting to protect his own supposed enemy. Even more so, with such… feelings developing.

Dracula still wasn’t sure whether to find it amusing, or pitiful.

The beast in his mind that he had embraced so long ago surprisingly didn’t fight him on it. At first, it had called him pathetic the first time he found himself wanting to help you.

But that same beast had quickly done a 180, quickly growing to respect you much like his logical side had.

And oh, how it had quickly grown protective.

Dracula felt his lips almost twitch upward at the thought, feeling the very same protectiveness stir in his soul as he approached your door.

He gave a brisk knock at the door, casting a brief glance to the living armors he had stationed near your room. Stone still as always.

After a brief moment, he heard your voice, telling him to come in.

Carefully he opened the door, and it was as if a weight was lifted off his chest just seeing you. The way you subtly perked up when seeing him, sitting up in your bed…

He tried not to let his pride get to him, how it was him that you were sitting up for.

‘One step at a time, Vlad.’

The scent of your blood though soon quickly caught his nose, and he felt himself stand straighter as he walked quickly to your side.

“Your injuries… did one re-open?” He was quick to ask, internally scolding himself when he felt the urge to have a taste.

For a Belmont, your blood was still such an intoxicating scent…

Sheepishly, you looked away from him after he arrived at your side.

“Ah… I fell on the way to the restroom. I accidentally pulled some stitches open, but I got the wound under control.”

If he had been a human, he would have sworn you were trying to give him a heart attack at this rate. How was it you were such a trouble magnet?

Gently, he leaned over you, his hands hovering over where your shirt was. Underneath, he could already smell the irritated wound and fresh blood.

His eyes met your own.

“May I?” He asked, desiring to see how bad it had gotten. His voice was soft and tender, not wishing to push you or make you uncomfortable.

You froze for a moment, and a glimmer of emotion passed in your eyes. However, it left as quick as it came, and you carefully pulled your arms up to give him access.

Even now, Dracula was still incredibly impressed with the trust you were giving him. If this had been any of your ancestors, or any hunter, really, he would no doubt be in a fight.

Gently, his cool hands brushed against your warm skin as he lifted your shirt upwards to see the bandaged wound. He pointedly ignored the shiver you have, no doubt his cold hands most likely the cause.

At least, that’s what he told himself, also ignoring how you tensed slightly. Or how he heard your pulse pick up as he got closer.

It was not the time to let his mind wander and theorize.

Dracula would give you credit, though. Your pain tolerance wasn’t anything to scoff at, and you were taking everything in stride, even now.

He removed the bandages with a gentle ease, and immediately internally stomped down the sudden hunger he felt.

The fresh scent of your blood still somehow managed to drive him crazy, even when he wasn’t starving.

To think he’d find a Belmont’s blood so appealing?

It took a bit of his will power to calm himself, before continuing to look at the wound. Pursing his lips, he let out a hum.

His hands held your midsection still as he observed the new damage, ignoring your sharp intake of air.

“Apologies…” He mumbled, knowing full and well his hands were most likely even colder the closer they were to your feverish flesh.

“No worries…” You breathed, your voice small. His eyes flickered up to your face, and your own were wide as you watched him. Still vigilant, even now. Cute.

Eyes back on your wound, he felt a bit of relief. Thankfully you hadn’t torn open as many stitches as he had feared, and you had cleaned the wound up well.

It seems getting rest and meals was helping you both physically, and mentally. You weren’t hanging on a thread, wrapping wounds with little regard to your life now.

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Even if he was worried about how you thought of yourself and your health in general, you of all people would know how to properly wrap a wound when in good conditions to do so.

After a moment, he pressed the bandages back onto your injury, and stepped back.

“Despite several stitches being pulled, it could have been worse.”

You pull your shirt down, and smile sheepishly.

“That’s good. It didn’t look too bad, but I’m glad you agree.” You spoke, rubbing the back of your neck a bit nervously.

It seemed you were still on edge, though he didn’t mind too much.

He looked you over for a moment as you fixed your shirt. You really were looking better than when you first arrived. Even from when he saw you this morning, you seemed to be improving.

At least, he was definitely thankful you no longer looked like you were dead on your feet.

Clearing his throat for a moment, he nearly smirked at how you almost jumped. Most would have missed how your muscles tensed, though he decided to count the fact he wasn’t outright scaring you a plus.

“I have something for you.”

Immediately your interest was piqued.

How you subtly leaned towards him and tilted your head, you were curious.

“You do?”

He stepped back for a moment, before holding out his hand. In a flash of smoke and light, a bottle appeared in his hand.

As he held it out to you, your eyes widened as you gently took it from his grip.

“A potion? You really made some?”

Dracula crossed his arms a bit in pride as you looked over the bottle.

“Of course. You’ll find I am not fond of breaking promises, or going back on my word.”

You took a moment to look over the bottle you now held in your hands, almost disbelieving. Dracula felt a pang of something in his heart. Pity? Worry? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like how astounded you looked over the fact he would get you some basic potions.

“I do apologize in advance. Due to the fact your injuries were severe, I had this made as fast as possible. It won’t heal you completely, but it should heal the worst of your wounds.”

For a moment, you were silent, clearly thinking.

“If you are worried about it being poisoned-” he began, but you raised a hand to cut him off.

“No! No, it’s fine. Sorry. I trust it isn’t poisoned.” You spoke. After another moment, you pulled the cork off the bottle, and debated if you should take a sip.

“However, I do wish to warn you about something.” Dracula said, speaking before you could drink it. He may as well tell you now, before you take a drink. No doubt you’d be upset if he told you after.

You froze, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes…?”

Dracula let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming up to his forehead just thinking about it.

“Someone has tried to tamper with one of the batches of potions I have commissioned to be made.”

Your eyes widened, flickering to the potion, but he held up a hand to try and calm you before you could panic.

“I tossed that batch out after testing it myself. I can assure you the potion you hold in your hand has been deemed clean by myself personally. That one you hold in your hand was not supposed to go to you today. It was a batch that was supposed to simmer for a few more days.”

“To become a stronger batch…” You murmured, and Dracula felt a small twinge of pride. He supposes it shouldn’t be a surprise you would know such things, given how often you probably used potions in general.

“So… Someone wanted me dead…?” You asked, still eyeing the bottle critically. Dracula’s face turned a bit more sour.

“Unfortunately so. I will not lie to you, having you as my guest has… ruffled some feathers. I’m currently investigating those I believe tried to lace the potion with poison.”

Bright eyes flickered to him, and he caught that look, one of near disbelief.

“Why? I don’t particularly blame them, I’m a hunter, after all…” You murmured once again, eyes glancing back to the bottle.

“Because you are my guest. I will not tolerate those who wish to go against my orders, and attempt to kill the company I deemed worthy to keep.”

Dracula wondered if you weren’t used to such thoughts, with the way he saw emotions flicker across your face, gone as quick as they came.

Summoning a chair from the side of the room, he sat down, placing his elbows on his knees as he rested his chin over his clasped hands.

“If you don’t wish to drink that potion, I will not force you. It will just take a longer period for you to fully recover. I will not blame you for doing so.”

After all, he just admitted someone tried to use a different batch to kill you. He wouldn’t blame you for being careful.

You seemed to think for a moment, and Dracula decided to keep speaking as you thought about it.

“I also wish to officially inform you that unrest is beginning to stir in the castle. However,” Dracula began, taking in your expression of slight alarm, “I once again wish to reiterate something. You are allowed to protect yourself. I will not vilify you if you defend yourself from an attack.”

It was the truth. He had means to see if it was self defense, or a planned attack. He doubted you would attack unprompted.

You look at him a bit confused.

“But… How would you know it was self defense? The monsters who want me dead could just lie as a group, right?”

Dracula felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards. You had clearly been thinking about this, though he could tell it was something that must have weighed on your mind.

Not so much you thinking you could get away with attacking his subordinate, rather, you were worried about being attacked and thinking ahead.

He felt his lips curl into a small, amused smirk.

“I have my ways of figuring out what happens throughout my castle without being present.”

It was through his close connection with Castlevania, really.

Thanks to his connection, he was able to loosely figure out just who had tampered with your potions. Needless to say, it wasn’t hard to get the two witches to admit it, with how weak willed they were.

His castle was now a few witches less. Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t all of them, he was sure. Dracula still had a bit of investigating to do. The two he disposed of were just the ones who admitted to it, and Dracula could tell more were involved. No doubt he would be busy later looking further into the matter.

Some certainly weren’t happy with him, but alas, that was what happened when you attempted to hurt those he was protecting.

You seemed a bit skeptical, or perhaps curious?

“Um… Is it through the power of Chaos you can?”

As soon as you asked it, a worried look appeared on your face.

“Uh, if that isn’t too personal of a question, I mean…?”

He almost wanted to laugh. You were trying to be respectful, unsure if that was too much information to ask for.

“Trying to figure out a way to one up your enemy, hm?” He asked, though his lips ticked upwards in a full grin, clearly teasing you. Dracula could tell that wasn’t what you meant.

“No! That’s not what I-! I didn’t- fuck, I mean-”

It was adorable how you sputtered, and tried to catch your words to apologize.

“Relax, I’m only teasing you. Yes, it’s partially through the power of Chaos. Though Castlevania itself is bound to my very soul. Not much gets past me, should the castle alert me about it.”

You instantly relaxed at his words, and seemed to perk up in interest.

Once again, your eyes flickered to the bottle in your hand.

“Is that how you found out the last potion was poisoned?”

Dracula hummed, leaning back in the chair.

“No. One of my Alchemists alerted me to the fact several witches were discussing how they were… unhappy about your presence. I decided to check on the potion early, even if it was finished. I simply had my castle assist me in finding out who had done it.”

Silence filled the room once more. It seemed you were unsure what you wanted to say next.

After a beat passed, you looked back at him.

“Thank you, then. For checking. And for giving this to me.”

Your voice was soft, as was your smile.

If Dracula still breathed, he just knows his breath would have caught in his throat.

That was a smile that was worth protecting.

After you thanked him, you brought the bottle to your lips, and began to drink down the potion.

The effect was almost immediate. Even if he couldn’t see most of your wounds, he could see how you changed.

You no longer favored one side, leaning oddly to the left. Nor did you hold your arm as close as before. In fact, your body seemed to relax even further, now that the worst of the injuries were finally repairing from the magic treatment.

When you finished the drink, you pulled the bottle away from your lips, a disgusted look on your face presumably due to the taste. You coughed for a moment, and shook your head a bit.

After gathering your bearings, you then looked back up to Dracula, and truly smiled.

For once, you looked happy. You looked alive.

Yes, Dracula thought. Pursuing a future where you two don’t have to fight, would be one worth aiming for, just to see you smile once more.

[brucewaynehater101]

"It's A Wonderful Life" AU with Tim and Jason

I only know the very basic premise of this movie, so we're going off of that.

Tw: death, suicide, violence

This could be a Titan's Tower AU, but I do think this could be a bit more fun after the BruceQuest.

Tim, who's had his support systems (even the JL ripped from him) and is seething in paranoia, gets cornered by Red Hood. The last time he saw Jason alone, he got a batarang to the chest (Battle of the Cowl). Tim has no reason to suspect this interaction will be friendly.

Red Robin is geared up for a fight. Red Hood has his hands up in surrender and far away from his hip holsters. It's not exactly reassuring (Jason can probably whip out his pistols in the same amount of time it takes Tim to grab a birdarang), but it does communicate that Jason isn't looking for a fight. Tim, who's one mental breakdown away from taking over Lex Corp for the hell of it, doesn't see this as a good sign. Why would Jason, the original Cain instinct, want to talk "peacefully" with his Placeholder? What's the aim?

Jason kind of just wants to apologize and is low-key concerned with how he's so isolated from everyone. He doesn't truly care about Tim, and he doesn't think it's his place/right/ability to be the support for the kid, but he can at least say sorry. Tim doesn't need to accept it, but he deserves the acknowledgement that it was indeed fucked up and not Tim's fault in the slightest. It's not much, especially with the scar on Tim's throat and the trauma, but it's a start. He still holds some resentment for the kid, but he's starting to learn that's more Jason and Bruce's fault than Tim's.

The conversation doesn't go great. Maybe Tim is being defensive and an asshole (which is fair since Jason's attacked him twice at least). Jason gets a little upset over this and snaps back (which is not what he's trying to do and counterproductive).

They get interrupted by this magician that sighs. They explain how fucking exhausting it is hearing them continue to misunderstand each other so they will show them what the world was like if Tim was never born.

Cue something similar to the movie I described. I haven't seen it, so here's what I think happens in that movie combined with this AU.

Tim and Jason stumble around Gotham at the current date in this alternative universe.

It's hell. They constantly run into crime on every corner, and there's no order.

They find out that Bruce had died within a year of Jason dying. Gotham fell to shambles due to Batman's declining reputation at that point. They had no hope and were hostile to any heroes that tried to help (due to the last hero they had turning on them). Gotham was eventually abandoned by the US government.

With his death, people found out Bruce Wayne was Batman. This causes Alfred to be sent to jail, and Dick could never return to Gotham. Dick only survived due to the Titan's refusing to let him destroy himself. He's still not okay.

Damian never came to Gotham cause Bruce had died. He's still set to become Ra's vessel, and no one (like Dick, the JL, Jason, etc) knows about this plot.

Jim Gordon was killed, and Barbara had to move out of Gotham.

Steph joined Helena for a bit. They made a kickass team, but they didn't survive to the current day.

Duke and his family moved out of Gotham before the gates closed, but he lost his parents in the escape.

Cass was never taught language.

Jason killed the Joker and then himself.

Anyways, Gotham goes to shit and Bruce kills himself on patrol (let's himself be hit and doesn't give himself needed rest). That's the basics of what they learned in this alternative universe.

This causes Tim to feel a bit better about all the sacrifices he made. He was vital and important to the Bats. He did good. He was necessary. It doesn't erase all the pain and hurt, but it boosts his self-esteem just a small bit.

Jason didn't realize the extent of what Tim did for them. He didn't realize the impact of Tim's decision and how he saved everyone. The two of them part, and Jason starts to uncover all the sacrifices the teen made.

Tw: suicide

If you want extra angst, maybe the magician reveals that Tim was planning to kill himself before he saw that Bruce needed him (thus the world is what happened if Tim went through with his OG plan). Tim has severely unhealthy coping mechanisms now, but his tendency to help people allows himself to feel needed. Lots to unpack there.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Today we're once again reminded of the levels of cruelty people are capable of.

I missed most of the drama with the bait accounts, but I want to offer some positivity and solace to those affected.

Many of you actually cared about the fake child behind the screen. You wanted to help, you sent kindness and support, and I watched many of you worry in private on discord-- everyone was very realistic about the claims. Obviously they were probably wrong, but goddamn, they needed help.

Don't be embarrassed or ashamed that you fell for it.

You are a good person, who sees good in the world.

You aren't gullible or easily manipulated.

You are still capable of trust, and you should be so proud of yourself for manging to hold on to that trait after everything you've been through.

Don't let this do further damage to you. Don't be angry with yourself, don't lose that faith in the good of humanity.

Don't let sick people trick you into thinking the world is full of only horrible people. Don't let yourself become more skeptical, because that's what they want.

Continue to believe survivors

In Canada, we have a saying.

"Better that someone abuse the system, than for someone who needs it to not have access."

Stay with me, I'm going somewhere with this.

When we talk about Universal Healthcare with Americans, this topic comes up a lot. "But people will abuse the system."

Yes, but more people actually need and use the system appropriately. You can't allow bad people to harm everyone. Everyone loses in that case.

As proof:

We pay less in taxes than Americans, and still get free Healthcare. I take home more money than you, and still get more out of it. The myth that our waitlists are months long is fake and orchestrated by American insurance companies.

Consider, for a second, how your background plays into your beliefs and skepticism regarding these topics. Maybe I was just raised to be more trusting, I don't know.

But I certainly don't think the mindset is harmful.

You can read interviews on the isstd website with clinicians that were working during the satanic panic. One interview stood out to me in particular.

Imagine for a second that you have a patient sitting in front of you. They tell you that they have dreams about being abused by a satanic cult. They give you details of these dreams and you talk through them together. For now, you're focused on how these dreams affect them. Are they losing sleep? Is their daily life affected? Anxiety? They begin to tell you about their paranoia, and how people they recognize are in the dreams.

You probe a bit deeper.

They wonder aloud if maybe it happened in real life.

How do you respond? Really think about how your response will come across.

This was the satanic panic.

The ISSTD didn't find their patients themselves. Doctors from across the world referred their patients to the ISSTD's treatment program in Chicago. The doctors at the ISSTD trusted the referring doctors, who had already done the majority of work and background gathering (meaning the ISSTD met these clients long after they had made their claims, rather than "implanting" those memories themselves). Police were involved trying to sort through all the information to find real culprits. Everyone was terrified. No one knew what was happening or who to trust or believe. It looked real.

In the back of every doctor's mind was the question, "What if they're telling the truth?"

Many doctors didn't believe their clients, but telling them that to their face would be bad practice.

This large scale hysteria was something no one was prepared for. They were flying by the seat of their pants, hoping for the best and that an answer would fall from the sky.

Yes, many of the claims were fake. Whether they were consciously made up, or stand-in pseudomemories for real abuse (a well-documented thing), and the rare cases mixed in that were genuine-- doctors tried to take their clients' claims at face value.

Imagine you tell your doctor about your abuse and they say, "that sounds a bit extreme, I don't think that's possible."

Programmed DID existed before the panic, it exists to this day. Just because you can't find the research doesn't mean it isn't there.

By claiming something specific isn't real, you also discredit the abuse leading up to it.

Let me put it another way, who cares if programmed DID is possible? Organized and ritual abuse is real. Trafficking, CSA films, war crimes, conversion groups, churches. DID is real.

Grey Faction and TST want you to stay in the mindset that it's more important to weed out fakers and malingerers than to trust people in the hopes you help just one person in a real way. They want you to be skeptical of everyone and everything in order to maintain their public image, because if you look too hard, you'll see the terrible things they have done.

GF has a bad habit of being like, "The TST doesn't take part in LARGE SCALE MURDER AND CANNIBALISM, that's not even real, it was debunked during the panic," as if to say anything less severe isn't worthy of note and also must not be real. It's surprisingly effective, and by connecting more absurd ideas with RAMCOA and the ISSTD, they manage to discredit huge swathes of the field.

Some people like to think they took the red pill, and that they've ascended to a higher level of intelligence with a new, better ability to look at things impartially, when they're really just assholes falling for bullshit. They hurt real survivors and still think they're in the right.

It's vile behavior done for cheap kicks and internet brownie points. Even 4chan types wouldn't go that far or be that pathetic.

Who else could look someone in the face and say, "I don't believe you."

They want you to think they're better than you, but which is better?

Outward and vocal skepticism and dismissal, or quiet, thoughtful reflection with the longterm goal of helping this person find their truth?

Some of you would make much better doctors than others.

The bad people aren't the ones "faking" or lying. Those people at mentally ill and still deserving of help.

The bad people are the ones who want to dismiss every claim because one person once lied about it.

Don't lose your faith. Don't let this set you back. We need more people like you.

I'm proud of you for caring about people.

What happened will further stigmatize survivors, it did real damage to people. You're not alone.

Don't let them win, you did the right things.

Stay safe, everyone.

We survived this kind of discourse once on a much larger scale. We'll do it again.

[viking-raider]

Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [28] - Poison Ivy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Anger leads to impulsive decisions.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, angst.

Word Count: 4500

Series Masterlist

Well, this—

This was definitely unexpected.

You could feel the fear pounding through your system, the ticks of the clock in the drawing room echoing in your ears. Josie looked almost frozen in her seat, but you knew that expression on her face way too well. As soon as your uncle had left his study, he had asked you all to go to the drawing room so that you could talk about the letter away from Teddy, who was sent to play outside again.

“What does it say?” you croaked out as soon as the maid walked out of the room after serving you tea, and your aunt heaved a sigh.

“There’s nothing to worry about, we assure you.”

“Uncle?”

“What your aunt said,” he said. “It’s just a letter.”

“He doesn’t write to you,” you insisted. “You know I know that. So what is it?”

“Y/N…”

“Can I see the letter?” Josie spoke for the first time and your uncle heaved a sigh, then handed her the letter. You rubbed at your wrist, watching her frown before you extended your hand.

“May I?”

“This is not happening,” Josie growled, holding up the letter and your uncle shook his head.

“Obviously it is not,” he assured her and you pulled the letter out of her hand, then scanned the lines, your heart still beating in your throat.

“…They want to host Teddy for the season,” you murmured, raising your glances from the letter, then shook your head fervently. “No. Not that’s not—”

“That’s not going to happen,” your aunt said. “Teddy isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s a trick,” you managed to say. “Remember what he was saying when you first got there to get us out, he only wants Teddy with you so that he can use him to get more money from you—”

“I know that,” your uncle said. “Trust me. I see through him very well.”

“And this…” A hysterical laughter spilled from your lips as you checked the letter again. “What is this supposed to mean? Coming to visit?”

“He’s not going to come here to visit,” your uncle said. “As you said, it’s a trick.”

“Uncle, if he tries to take Teddy away—”

“He’s not going to take Teddy away,” your uncle said. “I promise you. He’s not going to get any of you there ever again.”

You threw the letter on the coffee table and flexed your numb fingers before digging your palms into your eyes, shaking your head.

“I will just throw more money at him and it’ll be the end of it,” your uncle said as you lowered your hands. “I honestly wouldn’t have told you if you two hadn’t found the envelope, there’s no reason to be worried.”

“And everyone is safe,” your aunt said, reaching out to squeeze your hand and you offered her a small smile.

“Josie?” your uncle said softly and Josie turned her head.

“I’m fine,” she said and cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back before she stood up. “I’m fine but um…I need to find Bess, excuse me.”

She walked out of the room in a haste and you exchanged glances with your aunt, then you darted after her as well.

“Josie!”

“I’m fine I said!” she snapped as she made her way down the stairs and passed the foyer with you following her.

“No you’re not!” you told her as you both stepped out of the house and you grabbed her arm to make her stop. “Come on. It’s me. I was standing right beside you throughout that hell, remember?”

Josie turned to you and clenched her teeth, then scoffed a bitter laugh.

“I don’t want to see him, or her.”

“Funny we have that in common,” you deadpanned and she clicked her tongue.

“I might just have to kill him if he shows his face here.”

You grimaced.

“Don’t,” you said. “Bess would kill me if I let you get hanged, and I can’t handle Andrew alone.”  

She heaved a deep sigh and sat down on the marble stairs, and you sat beside her, taking her hand in yours.

“He’s not going to take Teddy away,” she said. “Over my dead body.”

“And mine,” you said and twisted your wrist, trying to ignore the throb of pain but it didn’t escape her notice.

“I almost forgot,” she mumbled and you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s fine,” you lied through your teeth. “It’s a habit at this point, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Are you alright though?”

“Um…” you trailed off, pursing your lips before nodding your head. “Yeah. I’m just worried about Teddy, that’s all.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m safe, I have Benedict.”

Josie smiled slightly. “I almost forgot,” she said. “Yeah. You’re married, they couldn’t take you back if they tried.”

“Oh that’s not why—” you paused and shook your head. “They wouldn’t have tried anyway. I’m not the heir, I’m worthless.” A small laugh climbed up your throat. “Look at that, I sound like mother.”

“Don’t say that,” Josie said. “Never say that. You know that’s not true.”

You heaved a sigh, fixing your gaze on the carriage before clearing your throat.

“You know, father sending a letter makes a lot of sense when you think about it,” you mused. “I was beginning to get too much sleep lately with zero nightmares. He must have sensed it or something.”

Josie’s lips twitched for a second and you raised your brows, then tried again.

“Not to mention I have been smiling too much, and Benedict even said he forgot how scary I can look sometimes,” you said. “We can’t have that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

That managed to draw a small chuckle out of her and you smiled at her, squeezing her hand.

“Will you be alright?”

“Probably,” she said. “You?”

“Always am,” you said. “I can take care of myself. Learned it from you.”

She smiled at you softly, then hugged you and stood up from the stairs.

“I will find Bess,” she said. “Will you tell Benedict?”

“Uh…” you trailed off. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I’ll just go and come up with a plan in case they do decide to show up,” she said. “Kiss Teddy for me?”

“Will do,” you said and she walked away to get in the carriage. You watched it go down the stone road and heaved a sigh, then stood up as well, threw your shoulders back and made your way to the backyard where Teddy was playing.

“Y/N!” he called out as soon as he saw you and ran to you. “Can we play now?”

You tried to blink back the tears and hugged him tight, then pressed a kiss on top of his head.

“Yeah,” you rasped out. “Of course we can, my sweet.”

                                               *

When you got back home, it was after lunch and you were so tense that you could feel it all over your body. While you were with your family, you had tried to act as if you weren’t worried at all especially because Teddy was with you, but now that you were home and didn’t have to pretend, your head was swimming with possibilities of your parents showing up.

And if they did decide to take Teddy back…

No. That was not going to happen. You were not going to let them, not even if it killed you.

They weren’t going to hurt Teddy, ever.

“Hey you’re back,” Benedict’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you were walking past his studio and you turned your head, trying to pull yourself together.

“I am,” you said. “And you’re still here?”

He motioned at the canvas in front of him and you stepped into the room, your eyes finding the covered canvas at the corner of the room before you turned to him.

“New project?”

“You could say that,” he said with a sigh. “I was working on yours but there’s just something in your eyes that I cannot depict on canvas. Not to mention the…rest of you.”

You raised your brows. “What are you working on then?”

“A landscape,” he said as he stood up from the stool. “At least I will be working on it once I get back. Right now only the sky exists.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, your stomach doing a painful flip and he nodded, then cracked his neck, making a face.

“Yeah I’m meeting Henry,” he said. “It wasn’t in the plans but he insisted. How about you? How was Josie?”

You could feel your throat tightening but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“She’s fine,” you said and shifted your weight, nibbling on your lip. “Benedict, can we um… when you come back, can we talk?”

He pulled his brows together. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah!” you said quickly. “Sure.”

“Because I can stay—”

“No need for that,” you said. “It’s not urgent.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you lied through your teeth and smiled. “It’s just that—it’s a long story. It can wait.”

His blue eyes searched your face as if trying to see whether you were lying and you could feel the panic filling you once more so you cleared your throat.

“You should go, you wouldn’t want to keep Henry waiting.”

He nodded slowly as if still deep in thought and stepped closer to you to press a kiss on top of your head to say goodbye. As soon as he pulled back, you rested your forehead against his chest, his scent filling your nostrils, the lovely sensation shooting through the absolute terror in your mind. You closed your eyes for a moment as his hand went to the back of your head and he pressed his nose into the top of your hair.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

You swallowed thickly and pulled back to look up at him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to squeeze at it in an assuring manner.

“Totally,” you said. “I’m just tired I suppose. I should take a nap until the dinner time.”

“Okay,” he said gently. “Then I’ll see you at dinner time and we will talk, yes?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding your head. “At dinner time. Sounds good.”

He kissed your temple, making you smile slightly.

“Get some sleep,” his murmur was soft and he walked out of the room, his footsteps getting distant.

Panic crashed down on you so fast that it made your head spin. Your breath got caught in your throat and you managed to sit down on the sofa before your knees buckled, your heart beating in your ears. You clenched your teeth and closed your eyes, then forced yourself to take a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re fine,” you muttered to yourself as you buried your face into your trembling hands. “You’re fine.”

                                                 *

For the whole day until the dinner time, you felt as if you were watching the world through a haze. The panic was always there at the corner of your mind, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t focus on anything.

Walking in the garden didn’t help.

Trying to read in the library didn’t help.

Going over the ledgers for the staff didn’t help.

You had spent some time in the gazebo to at least enjoy the weather and relax your mind, but even that didn’t help.

You went back to the house around the usual dinner time when the sky turned dark, even if Benedict was nowhere to be found. You weren’t even hungry to be honest, so when the maids asked if you would like to take your dinner, you told them it could wait until Benedict got there and excused yourself to the drawing room.

It took around two hours of you listening to the ticks of the clock on the wall while staring at the book in your hand for Paula to knock on the doorframe, then step inside.

“Ma’am, the food is cold,” she said. “Would you like the cook to heat it?”

You tried to unclench your jaw and took a deep breath.

“I’m actually not hungry,” you managed to rasp out. “Could you perhaps bring me some tea Paula?”

“Of course,” she said and looked over her shoulder. “And—there’s a messenger boy for you.”

That made your head snap up. “What?”

“Shall I send him in?”

“Yes,” you said and stood up from the sofa as she walked out of the room and the boy stepped in.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said and bowed slightly. “Ma’am, I bring a message from Mr. Bridgerton.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as dread filled your system.

“Is—is he alright?” you stammered, looking at the clock before turning to him. “He’s late but I figured—”

“Oh no ma’am, he’s absolutely fine,” he assured you quickly. “There’s just…there’s this party at Sir Granville’s house and he sent word for you to join them.”

For a couple of seconds you could do nothing but stare at him, your heart clenching in your chest as if someone was squeezing it.

“…He’s at a party?” you heard yourself say and the boy nodded.

“Yes ma’am. A very fun one too. He sent you a carriage to take you there.”

The disappointment hit you so fast that you could feel the tears rushing to your eyes but you blinked them back, turning around so that you could give yourself a moment to pull yourself together.

A party.

Of course.

He was at a party having fun while you waited for him like a goddamn pathetic idiot just so that you could talk to him about what had happened earlier.

The hot red fury burned through your chest and you pressed your lips together, willing yourself to keep it under control before you dug your fingernails into your palms just so that you could focus on something else. You gritted your teeth and sniffled, then cleared your throat and turned to him again.

“What’s your name?”

“Joseph, ma’am.”

“Joseph,” you repeated and grabbed your small purse on the coffee table, then took out two coins. “Would you do me a favor, Joseph?”

“Of course ma’am.”

“Tell Mr. Bridgerton that when you came here, the maids told you I went to bed early,” you said, putting the coins into his palm and his eyes widened, then he looked up at you and nodded.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you for your trouble,” you said and he bowed again before walking out of the room. You went to sit down on the sofa again, trying to ignore how badly your eyes were burning but bit inside your cheek, willing yourself to stop the tears on their way.

Paula entered the room carrying a tray and placed it on the small coffee table.

“I had them put some biscuits and such as well,” she said. “You haven’t eaten the whole day—are you alright?”

Your throat tightened as you tried to swallow, still keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Yeah,” you rasped out. “Yeah I just realized something.”

“Realized what?”

“How much of a fool I’ve been,” your voice came out as a whisper and you sniffled again before clearing your throat. “Paula?”

“Yes ma’am?”

You turned to look at her.

“There’s uh…” you motioned at the door. “In my bedroom, there’s a vase with a tiny sprout in it. Can you give it to Mr. Binsted? Tell him it’s geranium and that he can plant it in the garden or put it in the greenhouse, or throw it away if he wants.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said. “Now?”

“Now would be good, thank you.”

She offered you a small smile and left the room. A bitter laugh climbed up your throat and you shook your head slightly, a tear escaping from your eyes. Your hand shot up to wipe it away quickly and you heaved a trembling sigh, then pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, resting your chin on them and fixed your gaze on the flames in the fireplace.

                                               *

You knew how to deal with anger.

Growing up in that hellhole your parents called a home had taught you a thing or two. You knew how to function with anger burning in your veins and remain completely calm to the outside world, no matter how much you wanted to scream.

And you should have seen that coming. It wasn’t as if this was Benedict’s first time telling you he would be there and then not turning up, it had happened when he had promised you a dance for the first time as well.

Not coming home at night was new though. You had read about it on Whistledown before you got married of course, but it hadn’t occurred to you that it would take place within your marriage as well.

Yet another thing you should have seen coming.

People didn’t change, really.

You couldn’t sleep that night no matter how much you had tried. You kept tossing and turning in bed, and when the morning came you decided there was no use trying, so you made your way to the breakfast room, the smell of delicious food filling your nostrils before you sat down, and a maid filled your teacup.

“Thank you. Can I have the room please?” you asked and the maid and the footmen walked out of the room, leaving you there. You pushed at the food in your plate and sipped your tea, grimacing at how hot it was before you heard the footsteps coming closer and soon enough the door opened.

Benedict.

Even the sight of him was enough to break your heart but it didn’t take long for sadness to be replaced by absolute fury. You could swear the rage was powerful enough to blind you but bit inside your cheek as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Good morning!” he said, smiling. “Y/N you have no idea what happened last night.”

Your jaw clenched as you watched him grab a piece of toast before he bit on it, your eyes taking in his whole appearance. He looked rather disheveled in a way you would have thought was handsome if it were any other time, but right now it only poured gas over the flame of your anger. His cravat was loosened, his hair was ruffled, he had rolled his shirt up to his elbows and the excited gleam in his eyes signaled that he’d had a rather fun night.

“I just got home by the way, I know I missed dinner but I sent a messenger boy to you last night but you were already asleep so I figured—anyway, last night there was this party at Henry’s, and Lord Easton was there!” he said, oblivious to your silent form. “My hero in art! And Henry introduced us, and he even showed some of my sketches to him and he said I was very talented! And Henry had this room for the party for artists only, and we all painted while drinking and Gordon—that’s Lord Easton by the way— he thinks I should apply for the Academy this year as well, can you believe that?!”

Your fingers curled into fists as you dug your fingernails into your palms, that fire in your chest climbing up your throat.

“I drank too much,” he said with a small laugh. “I absolutely lost the track of time around evening and we all fell asleep elsewhere at dawn, Margery was telling Lucy how her back will never go back to what it used to, and I woke up merely half an hour ago starving.”

You raised your brows, trying to keep your anger under control while he grabbed his cup to pour some tea, and took a sip.

“I’m just going to have a bath and a change of clothes after breakfast,” he said. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Gordon—he is a genius and he actually thinks I’m good! He was telling Henry how he didn’t exaggerate at all when he mentioned me to him!”

It felt as if you were swallowing glass shards.

“…Congratulations,” you managed to say through the haze of anger and he smiled.

“Thank you,” he said and sat down on the chair near yours. “Anyway, sorry about missing dinner last night. What did you want us to talk about?”

A silence fell upon you as you tried to see through the red haze of anger. You grabbed your fork just so that you could do something with your hands and pushed at the food on your plate, biting inside your cheek.

Calm down.

“It’s uh…” you rasped out. “It’s not important, I solved it myself.”

He tilted his head, now his whole attention on you.

“There was a problem?” he asked and you stopped the hysterical laugh threatening to spill from your lips at the last second, pursing your lips together.

Calm the hell down.

“It’s not important,” you repeated through your clenched teeth, willing yourself to keep your anger at bay as you kept your gaze on your plate. He shifted his weight, and out of the corner of your eye you could see he was frowning.

“Wait, I didn’t know—”

“It’s not important Benedict.”

“If I knew you needed me—”

“Why on earth would I ever need you?” the words left your lips like poison from a snake as your eyes snapped up to his, and even you were aware of just how cold your glare was.

As it was when you two had first met.

And even though you had been trying so hard to think through the fury and remain calm, you knew it was not going to work. The familiar fury had already taken over you, you were tired and sleepless and hungry and the worst of all, the tension that had been pulling at all your muscles since yesterday made you feel as if you were about to shatter into pieces.

He pulled back slightly, and from the look on his face you could tell that he recognized that cold glare just fine.

“What happened?”

A bitter chuckled escaped from your lips and you clicked your tongue, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“If this is about me spending the night somewhere else,” he said after a moment. “You were asleep already and I assure you nothing happened. I would never.”

“I assure you I couldn’t care less if anything happened,” you replied. “Your overestimate my interest in your life as usual. You are free to do whatever you want with whoever you want, that’s not the issue at all.”

“Then what is?”

“That you almost had me fooled,” you mused. “Which I admit was a mistake on my part to let you but you had yourself fooled as well so I suppose it’s not that surprising.”

His frown deepened.

“How am I fooling myself?”

“You’re not in love with me.”

A look of shock crossed his handsome face and you shrugged your shoulders, anger still pulsing through you.

“You—you’re just—” you stammered. “You’re an artist, a very good one at that, who was so desperate to fall in love and get some inspiration that you made yourself believe you were in love with the first person you found slightly interesting.”

“You don’t believe that,” he said, his eyes locked in yours and you scoffed.

“Why would I not?” you asked. “It’s the truth. You’ve never had any issues in your entire life so you had to create one, and you found the solution by making yourself think you loved me because all artists are supposed to be tortured and suffering, but life has been too good to you. Endless praise, endless wealth, endless opportunities with zero responsibilities, ought to be hard to find something to suffer in all that.”

His jaw clenched in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” you asked, trying to provoke him but it was no use, because even if you could tell that he was angry, he didn’t even let it seep into his voice as he spoke.

“Not at all.”

“Even you have to see how convenient this all has been for you though,” you said with a small, insincere smile as you stood up from your chair, leaning your hands on the table. “You had to find someone who wouldn’t bore you to tears but still be accepted by the ton, so you found the one person who didn’t swoon at the sight of you just so that—”

He stood up as well, running a hand through his hair, taking a step away from you as if he was trying to keep his calm.

“Y/N.”

You kept going as if he hadn’t interrupted you. “Just so that you could have an inkling of what all the other artists were driven by.”

He turned to you and narrowed his eyes. “You’re honestly being nonsense right now.”

“No, I think it’s the first time since I met you that I can actually see clear,” you retorted. “That’s what I meant by fooling me. And this?” you motioned between you two. “This was never supposed to get to this point. You didn’t even want to marry me, you merely wanted to find someone whom you could use as your inspiration because you’re so used to getting everything and everyone you want—”

“Don’t.”

“And you figured you might as well pretend to love me—”

“That’s not—”

The impatience got the best of you; “Do not interrupt me!”

“I will interrupt you all I want if you’re going to throw false accusations around!” he snapped back and you let out a bitter chuckle, a momentary silence falling upon the room until you broke it.

“I’m not accusing you,” you ended up saying. “If anything, I’m thanking you.”

He raised his brows, sarcasm etched in his tone. “Oh you’re thanking me?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Now that we both know the truth, I do not need to feel guilty or bad.”

“For what?”

“For not feeling the same.”

That managed to get an actual reaction from him. The flash of pain crossing his face was more than enough to make your throat tighten, tears filling your eyes but you quickly blinked them back, trying to ignore just how badly your chest was hurting.

“You do not love me,” the words spilled from your lips like a growl, and you leaned in to lock your eyes with his, your palms on the table. “And I do not love you. I will never, ever love you.”

With that, you pushed yourself off the table and walked out of the room without looking back, tears burning your eyes but you managed to keep them at bay until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you and fell on your knees.

And then you started sobbing.

Chapter 29

[delusionalfanficwriter]

burn

“Y/N, we can’t discharge you until we know you are going to be taken care of at home. You can’t handle this by yourself.” Dr. Meed told me as I lay against the hospital bed. 

“Doc, all due respect, I can clean and change the bandages myself. There’s not need to worry anyone.” I try to convince him but I can see him not caving. 

“You’ve been here for almost 2 days and I am pretty sure you didn’t even tell anyone what happened. You don’t have a place to go to as far as I know. So I will not discharge you until I see someone in person who tells me that they will be there for you. You can be out as early as tomorrow morning.” I watch him say before making his way out of my room. I sigh and close my eyes knowing the repercussions if I make the inevitable call. Thinking strategically of a list of people, I figure out who I am going to call. 

As the phone rings, I come up with a script, but it all leaves my head when the voice on the other end answers. “What do I owe this pleasure, Y/N?” 

“Hey, O’Hara, just wondering what you are up to tomorrow?”

“Planning on getting a coffee and furniture shop for the apartment. Want to join? I haven’t seen you since our game a few days ago.”

“I would love to, but I have a favor to ask you.” 

“No, you can’t drive my car or go to the animal shelter. You remember how emotional you got leaving the animals behind.”

She’s not exaggerating and I laugh at the memories. “No, Kel, I actually need you to pick me up.”

“Obviously dummy. You don’t have a car,” 

“From a different location.”

“So secretive. Where is this location I am picking you up from?” She asks, fully curious as if I am giving her tea.

“The hospital downtown.”

“Y/N… why would I be picking you up from there?” I pick at the blanket laying on top of me. 

“Something happened and I ended up here but I am okay. I promise. They just won’t discharge me without confirming someone can come pick me up and care for me.”

“Y/N!!! Why didn’t you call me sooner? What happened? You know what, I am on the way. We will talk.” She frantically yells on the phone before hanging up. I close my eyes hoping to get some shut eye before she storms in here. I groan as I hear my phone constantly vibrate and see messages from both my Gotham FC teammates and USWNT asking what happened and if I am okay…I’m going to kill O’Hara.

A half hour passes and soon enough not only is Kelley coming through my door but Kristie, Ali, and Sonnet. 

“What happened?!” Ali asks, approaching carefully looking at any damage she might find.

“I’m okay. My apartment caught fire and I got burnt in the process, nothing crazy.” I act as if everything is fine.

“Nothing crazy?! Y/N, you have burns!” O’Hara whisper yells. 

“Wait, Y/N, when was this?” Kristie observed knowing well enough I hate bothering people. 

I bite my tongue and whisper, “2 days.” That’s when all hell broke loose. 

The hospital room was filled with a cacophony of concerned voices as Ali, Kristie, Sonnet, and Kelley vented their anger and frustration at the situation. I couldn't help but wince at the onslaught of their emotions, but their presence meant the world to me. They were like a protective shield, ready to battle any adversity, even against their teammate's stubbornness.

"Y/N, how could you not tell us?" Ali's eyes blazed with intensity, a reflection of her passion on the soccer field. "We're your teammates, your friends. You can't just hide something like this."

Sonnet's voice, though calmer, was no less concerned. "And now you're telling us it's 'nothing crazy' when you have burns from a house fire? But two days in a hospital is not nothing.”

As we continue going back and forth, Dr. Meed, returned to my room with a surprised look on his face. He had probably expected a more difficult situation based on our previous conversation.

"Y/N, it looks like you have a support system in place," he remarked, a hint of approval in his voice.

I nodded, feeling grateful for the incredible people who had come to my aid. "Yes, doctor. They're going to make sure I'm taken care of."

Dr. Meed assessed the room, noting the presence of Kelley, Ali, Kristie, and Sonnet. "Well, I believe we can arrange for your discharge tonight if you got this team to care for you. I can have the nurses prepare your medications and instructions. You'll need to follow up with your primary care physician within a week."

My heart swelled with relief at the news. I had been eager to leave the sterile environment of the hospital.

"Thank you, doctor," I said, genuinely appreciative.

Dr. Meed nodded and started discussing my care instructions with the group. They listened attentively, taking notes and asking questions to ensure they were fully prepared.

Kelley stepped forward and shook the doctor's hand. "We've got it from here, doc. Thanks for taking care of her."

The doctor smiled, his demeanor much lighter now. "You're welcome. And you take care of yourself, Y/N."

… … … … … … … … … … … … 

Kelley left me no choice but to move into her apartment until I recovered and since Sonnet was visiting her, they figured two pairs of eyes and hands were better than one when it came to me. They had a routine set from the moment I left the hospital and today is a new day. Teammates have been stopping by and visiting. I laughed and smiled through every encounter after I got a talking to about hiding my injuries. 

“Is Y/N getting a little tired?” Lynn said as I seem to be drifting off. 

“Seems like it. She has had a long first day out of the hospital.” Kelley says and excuses the company in the room and says goodbyes to them and I mutter a goodbye as well. As they leave, Sonnet gets a new set of bandages ready for my legs as Kelley gets my antibiotics and pain meds. 

Sonnet carefully peeled off the old bandages, her touch delicate but precise. The adhesive clung to my skin, making it an uncomfortable experience. As she pulled the bandages away, my breath caught in my throat, and I bit down on my lower lip to stifle any cries of pain. I could feel the slight tug and sting as the bandages left my raw, sensitive skin.

Kelley, sitting by my side, offered an empathetic smile. "We're almost through this part, Y/N," she assured me, her fingers lightly tracing circles on my forearm.

Sonnet continued her work, unwrapping each bandage with the utmost care. Her face was a mix of concentration and sympathy as she revealed the burns on my legs. When the fresh bandages came into contact with my wounded skin, a sharp wave of pain coursed through me, causing me to clench my fists tightly.

"Easy, Y/N," Kelley murmured soothingly, her hand slipping into mine and offering a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great."

Sonnet nodded in agreement, her expression filled with understanding. "We're trying to be as gentle as possible, but I know it's still painful. Just a bit more, okay?"

I mustered a nod, grateful for their presence. The pain was a reminder of the challenging journey I was on, but the unwavering support of my teammates made it bearable. Sonnet continued her task, her movements swift and precise.

Once the bandage change was complete, Kelley handed me the antibiotics and pain medications. She watched me closely as I swallowed the pills, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and care.

As I leaned back against the pillows, Kelley and Sonnet took their seats beside me.

Fatigue threatened to overtake me, I clenched my eyes shut, resisting the pull of sleep. I knew that once I closed my eyes, the nightmares would return, vivid and tormenting. The darkness had become my enemy, and my reluctance to face it was exhausting.

Kelley noticed my struggle and squeezed my shoulder gently. "Y/N, you need to get some rest," she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

I nodded, my lips forming a weak smile. "I know, Kel. It's just... the nightmares. I can't handle them."

Sonnet shifted closer, her touch soft and reassuring. "We won’t leave your side, Y/N.”

Despite their comforting words, the fear of what awaited in my dreams persisted. The mere thought of reliving the traumatic experience made my heart race. I bit my lip, fighting back the anxiety that threatened to consume me.

Kelley's fingers brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, and her gaze met mine. "Y/N, you're not alone in this. We'll be here to wake you up if those nightmares come knocking. But you need sleep, okay? You've been through so much."

I nodded, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. The room seemed to blur as my eyelids drooped. Sonnet's hand still rested on my knee, and she leaned in, her voice a soothing lullaby. "Close your eyes, Y/N.”

As much as I resisted, I couldn't hold onto consciousness any longer. My eyes closed, and I was plunged into the unsettling abyss of sleep.

[sepublic]

Luz Noceda 🤝 Miles Morales

            Afro-latine teenagers with pressure on their shoulders to figure out their future, and also save the world. They love their parents and want to make them proud, but also struggle with lying to them, afraid they won’t be accepted for their strangeness. Bright, wonderful kids who meet friends from another world, and whose chosen future is to continue to engage with those other worlds and the family they made there. They’re separated from those worlds and work hard to get there, feeling lonely without the ones who understand.

         They are regarded as anomalies, not fitting in with the world of others like them that they visit. They are born of chance and coincidence, and suffer a villain who is convinced of the connections and parallels they have; I made you, and you made me! But that villain wants to take away one of the families they’ve made. They question if they’re a real witch/Spider-Man with how unlike the others they are, but eventually embrace their unique identity and the unexpected advantages it has.

         They struggle with the narrative, from a meta sense; They know how the story goes, the hero returns home from their adventure, the captain dies. But they hope to defy that ending and make their own, do their own thing. This puts them at odds with an older man who insists things must go a certain way, that there must be a sacrifice of some kind, particularly with their parents; But Luz and Miles ask, why do I have to choose? Why can’t we, and everyone else, have it all? Why not choose the path of compassion, instead of making others lose in order to grow? Their kindness affects those around them, sparing them what they themselves suffered, or are afraid to experience.

         They’re kids caught between two worlds, but they’re also tired of being seen as just weak, ineffectual kids; They can do things too, they can fight and help! And make their own decisions! So when their mentor, a once-jaded person who got their life back together with the kid’s help, suggests sending that teen away for their own good… No, I’m staying here with all of you guys, because I love you, and I don’t have to lose my parents back at my other home either!

         One could argue that these kids, by being involved, created a tragic story, made things worse by sparking the conflict at all, and they doubt themselves for that; Luz helped Philip Wittebane find the Collector, Miles took the place of Peter Parker, leading to his death. But they’re here, so they may as well make the most of it, choose themselves, and forge their own destinies. It’s okay, they can forgive themselves, too. They’re gonna rebel against the status quo to deconstruct it and change things, by asking critically; Why does it have to be this way? Question the rules, as a punk friend tells them.

Amity Blight 🤝 Gwen Stacy

                    On another note; White girlfriends to the above-mentioned with undercuts. Because of their own mistakes, said girlfriends lost a meek, glasses-wearing childhood friend that they saw themselves as a protector for; That friend was tired of the bullying and their anger boiled over into something destructive (and green), wanting to be seen as just as capable. Amity and Gwen struggle with a period of loneliness and isolation because of the loss of that friend, blaming themselves for what happened. They meet Luz and Miles under less than ideal circumstances, but manage to open up because of them.

        Amity and Gwen struggle with approval and acceptance from their father, who works for the system and contributes to enforcing its oppression. But that father realizes he has alienated his daughter, who finds a different family without him, and chooses his child over the system, abandoning it to become a better person. Amity and Gwen both want to be with their loved ones, supporting them, and because of that break ties with the system and another parental figure. They make sure to rally the other friends their loved ones have made, to lift up the protagonist at their lowest points; They’ll answer the call to return the favor in their time of need.

[millerscoffee]

soft spot for trouble | part two | hbf!javi

my celluloid scenes are torn at the seams.

6.8k | javier peña x f!reader

part one | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: husband's best friend, infidelity, hangover, confiding in ur bff, a lot of tears - like a lot, guilt, shame, nauseating truths, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lots of dirty talk, edging for a second, hints of subspace and papí!javi, pet names & degrading names (slut, bebita, cariño), javi would do anything to have reader and kind of says it tbh. no use of y/n.

summary: after waking up in javi– peña's house, guilt rushes you. after discovering another truth about your husband, you wonder if your marriage is salvageable.

A/N: just wanted to say thank you for all of your support and encouragement. i really appreciate the response part one received, and hope to continue loving these two as much as i do. enjoy! ♡

When you wake up, your mouth is a desert.  Cigarettes, whiskey, and the faint taste of someone who wasn’t your husband coats your tongue.  Head pounding, there are parts of your body you didn’t realise could even get dry.  Your eyes aren’t open yet, as if you need the world to calibrate with you before you adjust to it, and when you do – you know where you are immediately.

Guilt hits you like a thousand stones to your chest.

“Fuck,” you sit up all to fast, it dizzies you, only adding to your heart palpitations.  “Fuck,” you choke a sob.  Fearful, panicked.  What the fuck have you done?

Javi– Peña wasn’t in his bed.  You weren’t sure where he was, and you didn’t want to find out.  Not a single part of you could bring yourself to look at him.  The two of you held a secret that shouldn’t have seen the light of day– or, the light of neon.  You get flashbacks of the bar, of his hands on you.  It’s all too much, rebelling up your throat as your eyes dart around in a dire need for the bathroom.

You make your way out of bed enough to hit your knees in front of the toilet bowl, the rest of your regret becoming a tangible entity residing with you in Javier's bathroom.  Couldn’t get any worse.  At least that’s what you think, until you come to the sinking realisation that Julian doesn’t know where you are.  You place your forehead over your forearm and cry into the toilet: vomit, snot, and tears taking over your face.  The prettiest sight.  A hangover’s dream.

You give yourself time to be here.  You knew if your husband would wait on you this long, he’d continue to be patient until you got yourself together.  This truth makes your howling worse, shaking from how royally messed up your life has become within a matter of hours.  It takes about five more minutes for you to regulate your nervous system enough to stand up, but everything equally feels like it’s spinning and that makes things difficult.

You groan on your way upright, letting out a heavy sigh before rising to your feet and flushing.  You wash your mouth out, wash your face, try to cleanse yourself from the night before.  You redirect any thought that may suggest otherwise.  It wasn’t meant to happen, and Javier would know that soon.

It doesn’t take you too much longer to feel suitable in exiting the bathroom when you realise just how naked you are – completely, even.  And he was right, you had a limp you couldn’t ignore.  That truth, you couldn’t help but bite a grin back at.  He was everywhere if you focused: you could still feel him inside you, your hips sore all the way to the apex of your thighs and down.  He was everywhere.  God, you were fucked up for finding it sexy.

A shirt you never really saw him in was on the bed… did he leave that for you?  You slip the larger t-shirt over your frame and ignore the way it smelled innately like Javi.  Peña, you remind yourself.

After the worn fabric touches your skin, you’re brave enough to tiptoe out into his living room.  Your eyes scan the kitchen where he ate you out.  Where he made you squirt.  It all looks cleaned now, as if nothing happened.  A part of you hopes it’s true, and it fights with the other side of you begging for a round two.  All of the quiet giving signs of one truth: Javier is not at home.  No note, no instructions if you should lock up.  Just gone.

Maybe it was better that way.  Loneliness didn’t creep around you in the way it would if Julian did this to you.  It didn’t cause any disruption in your day, or alter it dramatically.  If anything, you felt relieved you didn’t have to talk to him.  To excavate an already awkward and dead situation.  You took what you wanted, that was all.

You decide to utilise his shower, going back to the hellscape that was where you threw up and undressed again.  You turn the dials to a steamy, hot shower – he wouldn’t mind right?  You’d send him a bill.  When it’s time, the water feels like a blessing as your sinuses open.  Your head, less bogged down, yet a cloud of shame resides in the shower with you.  You were careful not to use his products, not to smell like him if you could help it and definitely remove the scent of cigarettes from your skin… if it were possible.  Regardless, you stay in the shower a little longer before it’s time to remove yourself.

Being in Peña’s space when he wasn’t here was nice.  Although, it looks new… because it was.  Furniture littering the living room when you’re dried and dressed.  He was back from Colombia, and that’s really as much as he was willing to share.  He didn’t know for how long, and it was tinged with rushed embarrassment about the issue.

But, most of his work was like that, from what you could tell.  A lot of secrecy, inability to talk about his work out in the open.

He knew how to keep a secret.

No, don’t go there.

The skirt’s zipper is popped open from last night and when you try to pull it up, you resign to tie your jacket around the fabric.  It’s not long before you’re out.

That was that.

But you can’t go home.  You lean back against Peña’s front door when the palpitations come back in full force, as if the fresh air held truths about what you did than you could even comprehend.  Fucked, you’re fucked.

Your hair is wet, you’re kind of cold even though the Texan heat surrounds you.  You feel lost and scared and disgusting.  And as if your mind maps your route for you, you walk to Gabbie’s instead of your own house.  Knuckles graze over the door, you don’t even really know what time it is, but there’s a possibility she’s at work unle– “...Are you okay?”  Gabbie looks concerned when she opens the door to find you on the other side: hungover, mascara still seemingly down your face even after the shower, your clothes reeking.  She sees you for who you are, unable to stop the floodgates from lifting.  Your face screws up in a weep you can’t stop, and she ushers you inside – looking behind her before closing the door.

“I… I…,” you hiccup, burying your face in your best friend’s shoulder, you feel it when she lets you give in to her.  A worry comes over you, would she still support you like this after she finds out the truth?  After she finds out who you really are?  Repulsion grips your throat again, unable to form it.  But Gabbie is tolerant, you always appreciated it about her.  You needed the space to think, and she was always good at giving that to you.  Something Julian was more impatient about, but it wasn’t the time to point out his shortcomings.  God, your head hurt.

“C’mon, let’s get you some tea,” she whispers, curling her nose at the scent of smoke on the fabric, “and some new clothes.”  You sniffle and nod, following her into the kitchen while she goes to grab some comfortable clothes for you to replace.

“What happened, honey?”

With your arms curled at the kitchen counter, you rest your head in them, “I fucked everything up.”  It feels like you did, feels like you couldn’t undo this if you tried – if you even wanted to.  Your voice sounds meek, whiny, you can’t believe it’s you who’s saying the words.  You could and wanted to be better than you were. 

“What do you mean?”  Gabbie pulls a couple of cups from the cupboard before turning on the kettle, your mind not registering the irony of having hot tea for where you are in the world, but her air conditioning made the experience understandable.  Really, any thought to take you out of your narrative aided in not completely fainting from the inertia of reality that stuck to the pit of your stomach.

“Julian and I,” you start.  An attempt.  A purchase.  Something to make it less bad than how you felt, anything to take the sting away.  “We-we had this big fight last night, and I-I went down to the bar and I ran into someone and…,” tears soak your face again, you choke on the sobs before you can get anything else out.  You couldn’t utter it, the guilt weaves a vice grip around your voice.  You couldn’t tell her it was Peña, and you couldn’t tell her you fucked anyone else but your husband.  Those two truths pinned your eyes down, disabling you to look up from the granite tops.

You weren’t looking for sympathy, and Gabbie knew that.  But fuck, when you look up, pity is coating her face.  She mutters your name when she walks around the side and grips you in a hug.  “You love him, honey.  You made a mistake.  What matters now is making it right.”

You’re not sure what hurt worse, the prospect of making it right or the fact that when Gabbie calls what you had with Peña a mistake, it twists a knife inside you – one you weren’t sure you could take out now.

You pull away when the kettle begins to sing and you’re able to snort a laugh at her curled nose.  The scent of cigarettes, equally from Javi– Peña and the bar, circulates you.  “Seriously.  You need a shower.” “And those clothes, could I borrow some?”

After finishing your cup – and having a long talk, you utilise your friends shower and slip on a fresh pair of clothes – and you’re grateful for the guest bathroom stocked with unused toothbrushes.  You look more presentable, and feel a little better.  Albeit, feeling more indebted than before you came through the threshold of her place.  “Listen, I can’t and won’t tell you to hold this secret for me.  It’s too much to bear, you shouldn’t be responsible for holding this.”  Your hand brushes over your face, but she’s quick to interject.

“You’re my friend.  My best friend.  You don’t owe me anything.  I’m not going to leave you or rat you out.  I don’t judge you.  Just make this right, okay?  I hate to see you like this.”

She’s a good friend.  Makes you wonder if Julian is a friend like this to Peña.  Fuck, it never ends.

You don’t know what you did to deserve Gabbie, but you hug her anyway.  Your clothes in your bag, you’re on your way.  You thank her, you kiss her cheek, and you look intently into her eyes before leaving.

You had to make this right.

Julian, I had an affair, you think.  That’s how you’ll tell him.  No.  Listen, Julian – last night I got drunk.  God, no.  It was all wrong.

You had to tell him, but one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to say who.  You just couldn’t bring yourself to split up their friendship, no matter how mutually involved Javier was.  And you couldn’t bear the thought of Julian’s borderline smug expression at how correct he was in assuming the worst of you.

How he did one thing wrong and you made a dumpster fire of it.

The pounding in your head was more from tension and stress by the time you made it to your front door.

And nervous couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt.  Nauseous, heart pounding, sweat prickles your skin.

When you unlock the door, a new sense of silence fills the air of your home.  It’s eerie, being here after doing what you did.  Like your past self is slapping you in the face as soon as you close the door behind you.  ‘How could you ruin this home?  How could you throw away every second of time and love you poured into this relationship?’.  You close your eyes, dizzy as you press the back of your head against the frame of your house – finding support, finding breath.  But not finding your husband.

“Julian?” you call out, toeing your shoes off before putting your purse away; keys in the pot.  Nothing.  No where.

You make your way to the kitchen when you find a note.

Out with Peña.  Be back soon.  I miss you.  – J

Fuck.  Holy fucking shit.  What?  What?!  Your mouth slacks open in shock.  Followed by fear, followed by rage.  Did Javier invite him out?  While you were fucking asleep?  You felt as though you were going to faint when you heard the phone ring.  Throat dry, you cling to the edge of the tabletop before taking the phone off the hook – you shakily press the receiver to your ear.  “H-hello?”

“Wow, you sound guilty,” your breath hitches and hotness washes over your skin.

“Peña, I–”

“Who’s Peña, huh?  Not necessarily what you were saying last n–”

“Stop.  Just stop.  Where’s Julian?  He left a note, said he was with you.  Did you?  God, I can’t even say it.”

You can hear the drag of a cigarette on the other line and it forms flashbacks you did your best to deny you enjoyed.  You were so logical, so level-headed before his voice filtered through the microphone – the moment you hear the slip of nectarous syllables, you want to fold.  You hated this.  Pressing your forehead to the adjacent wall, the phone hangs loosely in your fist when you listen.

“I didn’t tell him anything, querida,” tears form in your eyes from your lack of control; the pet name panging you.  It shouldn’t have, but goddammit.  Goddammit.  Your hand braces against the pillar-lengthed frame, “he’s at work now.  He came by looking for you.  I told him you were with me last night–”

“What the fuck, Javier.”

“People saw you leave with me last night,” your name fits in his mouth better than it should and you swallow hard, knowing he’s right. “He would have found out.”

“This has to stop, we have to stop,” you can hear it – the strain on your throat, the knife inside, that ever present hum of your doom.  Your clammy palm touches your jaw as you will yourself to stand up straighter.  Instantly queasy, bad idea.  You sink down the wall, sitting down as the cord of the phone follows you.

“I know,” Javier whispers now, a bit pained.

“Did it hurt seeing him?” Your own voice bruised.

“Not as much as I anticipated.  That hurt more, probably.”

It’s quiet for a long time.  Your knees curled up to your chest, hands curled until your chin.

“I know that we have to stop,” Javi– fuck, Peña, starts, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, “we have to.” and it’s there.  It’s right there in how you say it.  How your words draw out rather than cut sharp.  More beseeching than a strong boundary.  An obvious sign of how you bend for him like kinetic energy’s effect on tree limbs from wind.  It is all in motion, too close to stop.  Your barrier is already washing away, and you cling closely to its threads.  You must keep your wits about you.  “We have to,” you repeat, your voice soaked in tears this time.

On the other line, Javier squeezes his eyes shut.  The cigarette burns between his fingers as he presses his index and thumb where the bridge of his nose meets.  And the thing with Javi, is that he doesn’t beg, but you’ve got him so wrapped up – so enthralled in what could be, maybe the chase, that he can’t see anything else.  “What will it take?”

That is when you hear the doorknob turn.  “I have to go,” you hush, rising to your feet and wiping your face, “can I call you later?” but he’s already hung up, so you do the same.  It knocks the air out of you, but you don’t have time to dwell.

Julian turns the corner to where you are: almost hidden between the kitchen and laundry room.  And if you were crying more, you’re doubled in tears now.

“Julian,” you cry, rushing to him.  Your arms wrap around him and although he wraps back around you, you’re left with a sinking feeling: guilt, shame, a veracity that this touch you were feeling wasn’t half as electric as the one you felt last night.  “Julian, I’m so sorry.” you snivel in his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around you tighter.  The nose against your temple doesn’t feel as strong as Javier’s, and it all stings.  It feels a new sense of wrong when you pull away, and he’s thumbing under your eyes.

“No, I’m sorry,” his voice is soft, beckoning you to be close, and you want to – you really want to.

But you don’t know if you can.

That rush of why this shatter exists in the first place comes in waves as it crashes into your skin – leaving a film of betrayal over every cell.  Because it wasn’t just his lying that led you to the bar last night, it was the repetitious behaviour.  Julian’s demanding a different treatment than what he gave.  Your arms slip from him and hang by your sides, giving yourself some space.

“I guess you know where I was last night,” you bite the corner of your lip, leaning against the wall for some stability, arms crossed.

“Yeah, I went to see Peña.  Was worried sick about you, you know.  You couldn’t have called?” you suppose you deserved that.  You nod swiftly, “I should have, I’m really sorry.  I just, I needed to clear my head.”

“Well, since you stayed at his place, I hope you realise how silly this all is.  How miniscule it all is.  Just because I slept with Veronica–”

“Excuse me?” your eyes widen, “Veronica… Veronica… The same Veronica who you told me not to worry about?” you remember the party – a holiday party with Julian’s coworkers, one of which, Veronica.  Red lipstick is easy to trace: cups, forks, your husband’s cheek.

He promised it was nothing, promised it was only a friendly kiss under the mistletoe and now, a year later, you’re in your kitchen being told that only was it something, it was something that went on for years.  “How fucking long have you known her, Julian?”

When your eyes cut to him, he looks frozen.  Like he didn’t mean for it to come out, and now he has unraveled such a can of worms he doesn’t know where to begin, but you sure do.  He doesn’t deserve to waste another second of your time today.  You felt so guilty, so wrong for every second of your day only to be lied to for who knows how long.  Your mind reels at the possibilities.  The double-dealing.

“I-I can’t have you in this house.  I need you out.  I need you out, get out.  Pack a fucking bag, I need space.”

You had no room to talk, you knew that, but after a whole day of worrying yourself to the bone, and this was how it really was?  The details he neglected to inform you for how long?  You brush past him before he can respond, and it hurts more that he doesn’t put up a fight.  Packs a bag, tells you he’s going to stay with Javier, and leaves within fifteen minutes.  Your knees buckle the second the door closes behind him, heavy wails rattling your ribcage.

---

You’re not sure your face has ever been so puffy.  You pour a glass of water, and you just barely remember to eat, but you do.  You don’t open the blinds, though.  At least you’re trying.  Keeping the house dark, it’s surprising when you don’t reach for alcohol or something to numb this, but a part of you wonders if he’ll call.

And you don’t mean Julian.

The sun sets, leaving inky blue in the sky when you get ready for bed.  It’s been such a long day that you couldn’t imagine staying up for a second longer.  After a long bath, you change into your silk pyjamas.  You’re not sure you’ve taken so many showers or baths in one day, either.  That makes the stranger of an amused grin grace your features.  You were washing away every memory you could from today.

Getting under the blankets, you look over to Julian’s side of the bed.  How empty it was, how you missed him.  You couldn’t help it.  The two of you built a life together, but one that you were coming to understand was built on more lies than one and god, you just couldn’t cry about it any more tonight.

But it was lonely like this.

You wondered what the two of them were doing.  If Peña– fuck it– Javi was listening to him, if Julian was lying to him.  Thoughts flooded you so much the sound of the phone on your nightstand is background noise until you realise it.  A gasp flutters your lungs, turning your head to it.  Shit.

Picking up the phone, you place it to your ear, but you don’t say anything immediately.  A nauseating twelve seconds.

“Cariño?” your breath hitches when you hear him.  Sinking further down in the bed, your legs brush against the sheets and your eyes slip shut.  It’s a relief where earlier in the day it was a curse.

“Javi–,” you start, tears pricking your eyes, and he’s already catching you.

“I know, baby, I know.”

And you want so bitterly to scream I’m not your baby, you don’t want anyone near you in this way after the day you had – after the deception that coated your marriage from both you and your husband lies in wait for you both to get back to.  But you don’t tell him that, you don’t contest.

Instead you sniff softly and wipe your eyes.  You focus on your inhales, you settle yourself down.

You are there for yourself more than anyone else could ever be.

“Is he there?” a part of you worries Javi won’t like what you asked, that he will feel slighted, but you’re relieved when he answers you without a passing judgment.

“He is, I think he’s asleep now.  I’m not sure what you told him, but he was a mess.  He, uh, called you crazy, though…,”

“He what?” your jaw tightens, clenching the sheets with your free hand, “He’s the fucking crazy one–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi’s voice hushes you in his smooth, but matter-of-fact way, and you close your mouth. “I know.  I was there, remember?  We all went to college together.”

“Who was the other woman?  Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I’m not sure, I think she was from out of town.  And I didn’t know that you didn’t know, remember?  What happened?”  So you explain.  Tell Javi all about the way Julian assured you not to worry about her at the company party, or any time thereafter.  Peña curses under his breath, “What a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” your jaw ticks, tempting to pull your tears back in.  No more tonight.

“Seriously.  You don’t deserve this.  You deserve… someone who’s honest with you.  For better or for worse.”

For better, for worse.  You weren’t sure if Javi did that intentionally, but the vow makes you feel sick now on what was a beautiful wedding day.  It’s simultaneous, the remembering of it.  But you shove it down, deep.  You want to forget.

So you sigh.  Occiput at the headboard, and you close your eyes – just wanting some peace.  A distraction, maybe?  It was just so present, and it burned as strong as your desire for Javier that couldn’t be contained for a second longer.  Especially not now with yet another thing on your plate pulled you away from who you thought was the love of your life.

“Where are you?” you ask, and you think it’s unassuming enough, but the slight exhale of laughter from the other end calls you out, “I’m in bed. I assume you’re the same?”

“Shocked you wouldn’t be out all night.”

“You know, I wanted to go to this girl’s place tonight, but she’s kinda going through a lot right now.  Seemed a little too much,” he’s hushed now and the transition of his voice stirs your middle.  It shouldn’t, but it does.

Worse, it makes you smile.

“She sounds like a bore,” you swipe a thumb over your grin, but there was some truth to that.  Despite the adventurous couple days, you didn’t necessarily feel like you were an exciting person.  You had a 9-5 (lucky to be off today), you had a husband.  You did your activities, and you came home.  This was the most excitement you’ve experienced in, well, maybe since you met Julian.  There were areas you were passionate about that either got abandoned due to it not meshing with his schedule, or him not approving of it.

Was he ever good for you?

“She sounds like she needs to relax.”

“What are you suggesting?” you respond.  The tension cuts like a knife even through the phone, and you can hear his own smile form.  If you close your eyes, you can see it.

“It’s cute when you play dumb.”

“What?  Phone sex?” you question as if your words are twisting a lock of your hair, ripe for the picking.

“Is that what this is?” Javi questions, giving you the same fake-innocence that’s being thrown at him.

“Is that what you want?”

There’s a pause, contemplative and feverish.  The sound of fabric plays in the background until ultimately stillness.

“You would get off while your husband is in my apartment across the hall?” Javi’s quiet, but his words cause your legs to spread, a bitten noise in the back of your throat greets you on this hellish day on earth.  “Mierda. You’re so dirty, you know that?  Willing to do anything for me.”

“I’m not sure I should do anything you tell me,” you start with a flash of amusement, you’re unable to think about anything but the slick gathering between your legs, “but I want to.”

“You need it, bebita?  You need me to take care of you?  Because I can, but only if you tell me.”

You bite your bottom lip, slipping your head over your pillow as you get comfortable in the dark.

“Take care of me, Javi.  Make me feel good.”

And it was working already, your other hand skates over your abdomen as a shiver sends through you.

“Do you think it’s that easy?”  a growl behind his voice, you gasp quietly at the sound.  “Beg me.”

“God, after today?  Seriously, Javi?”

“Beg.”

And there’s something about the way he barks an order that makes your hole clench around nothing.  Like last night when he pulled back because you weren’t giving him what he wanted right away.  Makes you want to do as he says, and you can’t explain why.

“Javi,” clouded in arousal, your legs squeeze together to feel friction – 180° turn around from your protests, “I need you, I want to cum for you.  Want to know how good you make me feel.  Please, Javi.”

You hear Javi’s jeans unzip.  Jeans in bed, the mad man.

“We’re going slow, bebita.  Understand?  Go ahead, slip your hand down.  You'll do as I say, sí?”

Instinctively, your free hand slips down, gasping at the pool of wetness there.  More than what you thought, something comes over you.  The heat of pleasure washes over any other thought. 

“Yes – yes, Javier.  I’ll do as you say.  Tell me what to do, Javi – fuck – please!  Tell me how to get myself off,” your tongue darts out of your lips, brain swimming as the swell of your sex pulses in crashing undulations demanding to be touched.

And Javi fucking loves that.  The desperation in your voice, wrecked with desire, and you’re so sober compared to last night.  All of this is true.  Your eagerness drives him to his own cliff, abandoning any remorse he has for his friend.  The focus shifts on you and Javi alone.

“Take your index finger and ring finger.  Are you paying attention?”  you hum, focusing on those two fingers.  “Yes or no, hermosa?  Use your words.”

And you waste no time in humming again, spreading your wetness across your folds from the shift of your thighs.  “Yes, I’m paying attention,” orbs already glossy, the lost sound of you is initiative for Javi.

“Spread your lips apart with them and lightly — I mean it, cariño,” he warns briefly, “lightly press your middle finger against your clit.”

So you do as you’re told.  Your fingers are natural as they spread your lips, and you let out a heady sigh when your middle finger grazes over your clit.  “S’sensitive,” you slur, biting a sob as your head rocks to the side against the plushness of pillow.  “Javi…,”

“You feel that, babygirl?  That's good.  Keep my cunt pried open.  Roll your middle finger against your clit, harder this time.  That clit your husband neglects, but I found day one.  Bounce the pad of your finger against it, up and down just like that.  Good girl.  I bet you look like a dream, princesa.  Wish I could taste you…,” he trails off and you can hear the faint sound of his skin.  You imagine him hard while he talks to you, the cherry of his head beading with precum as he smears it down the shaft.  It sends you to whine, bouncing the pad of your middle finger – up and down, just like he instructs.  You’re being so good for him, and you know it.  Following what he says, word for word.  Your folds feel so soft like this, you wonder if he’s telling you to touch yourself this way to absorb just how good you feel.

“Jav– I,” you swallow, the sparkle of pleasure hitting you with each pass, you need more.  Need a depth to take you under more than the shallowness of this teasing.  “Please,” you whisper, and you’re not sure you could elaborate.  You’re so gone.  It doesn’t land on you, the trust you’re placing in him and how willing he is to hold it.  But it is there without putting words to it.  And Javi?  He is fully aware of the space you’re taking yourself to.  Just for him.

“Yeah?  Is that not enough?  But you’re such a depraved slut I bet you could get off just by doing that, I know you could.  I'll be kind, you’re welcome,” god he’s so cocky, and it’s still so sexy – how can he manage it? “Press your clit between your index and middle finger.  Are you doing it?”

“Mmn’doing it,” you manage, eyes slipping shut – even in the dark, you can only focus on the way his words spill – viscous and sweet – into the telephone.  “Oh, you like being called that, yeah?  Are you my slut?”  “Javi, Javi,” you whimper, pressure at your clit between your fingers you know you’re soaked now, “M’your slut!  Fuck!” you’re panting, sweat forming at the nape of your neck.

“Good girl, princesa.  Squeeze your clit – un poco, just a little.  Can you do that for papí?” and fuck, you haven’t heard him say that, either.  Two firsts in one phone call.  Your body is in overdrive, you can feel wetness slip from your hole over the crease of your ass, against your thighs, “Flick your clit between those two fingers.  Back and forth.  Do it now.  God, listen to you.  Dirty girl wants to cum with her husband snoring in the other room.  Bet that’s the first time you’ve cum in your bed in a long time.”

And you’re pathetic, whimpering like crazy as you flick your fingers back and forth around your clit.  You can feel the swell, how hard the nub of nerves feels – shocks of electricity run through you, you’re so close like this.  The fast motions taking you until–

“Hands off — now.” you gasp, panting against the ledge, not so silently begging for your release.

“I want to hear her.  Middle finger.  Don’t go all the way in.”

So you do as you’re told, your throat dry and rough.  You lean the receiver to your sopping cunt so he can hear the tapping of your hole that’s so soaked it almost hurts.  When you bring your phone back to your ear, you tighten it between your ear and shoulder and Javi is busy singing praises to her before he realises you’re back.  He sounds different.  Possessive.  Just like you wanted him to be last night.

“That fucking cunt.  That’s mine.  That's for me.  Julian called you crazy, but he ate dinner exactly where I made you cream on my fucking kitchen counter last night.  He won’t say shit about you and get away with it.”  He sounds hushed, but rough like this.  Like you can hear him snarl those words at the base of your ear while he takes you from behind.  Your heart picks up at the imagery he’s given you.  The symbolism of his protection of you, and you let the flames take you.

There is no going back.

“Touch yourself.  Two fingers in your cunt, roll that gorgeous clit.  Perfect, messy pussy,” and you can hear it now— the slapping of his skin more intentional than before.

Your two fingers tease your hole, groaning without holding back from the touch and how wet you feel.  And he was right, you were so… messy.  It spreads over your outer labia, your thighs, up to your clit.  All from the sound of his voice, all from his claim over you – how protected you felt.  Desired.  You bite your lip as you work your fingers inside, rolling your sensitive clit in lazy strokes – doing your best to keep the phone close.  Moans drip easily from your wanton mouth.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” you mewl, head spinning from the way his hand is around your throat without even being there to touch you.

“Fuck.  Got my fist around my cock, right at the base before bringing it up.  Stroking at my head.  You have it twitching, bebita.  You make me so fucking hard.  You’d love it.  That slutty mouth would lap up every bit of precum – mierda, fuck.”

Even his muttering sounds sinful, leaving your bottom lip tucked into your mouth, sucking hard at the skin.  Your hole tightens around your fingers and you work yourself to peaks, massaging your clit in deep circles that work in tandem with the repetitious tapping against that spot inside you.

“Faster,” you finally purr, unsure if you’ll find it together – but god, do you want it so bad.  You’re not even sure if it’s a plea or a demand to him, but you leave it.

And he’s secure enough to let you boss him, if only for a moment.

“Fuck.  You too.  Now.  Are you a good girl?”

“Hmmpnh,” you uselessly whimper, nodding to no one.  “I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl–” whining praises over and over, Javi’s grunts got more deliberate, more in time with your puling sounds.  You’re shaking, needing to be sent to your climax, you beg to him in the broken words between exhalations.

“That’s it, bebita – be a good little slut.  Give it up to me – mierda, got my cock throbbing for it.  Wish I was cumming in your perfect little cunt – fuck.  Let go, let me fucking hear it,” there’s a pause as he huffs into your ear, his attempt to find composure, as he grits through his teeth.

“Make my fucking pussy come, now.”

That demand, that ownership is what sends you.  Your body responding to it instantly, you moan – hips lifting off of the bed as you nod.  Nipples standing to attention as your body rolls through waves of pleasure, cunt fluttering around your fingers so tight and rhythmically the phone drops for a moment and you can hear a loud grunt on the other line – one that was dangerously foolish, your name falling from his mouth when you both knew just who was in his house.  You didn’t even care.  Not one part of you was cautious in this moment as you both fell into the throes of this affair.

Your body convulses before its inevitable release.  Your muscles, tense, now relax into a puddle.  You sigh, pulling away from your core and skillfully avoid getting the phone sticky as you put it back to your ear.

As you’re both just a pair of lungs battling breath between the phone connection, you shift in bed, rolling onto your side, the receiver slipping to your other ear.  Savouring the seconds, the feelings of connection.  You realise you lack this with Julian now.  You didn’t notice it before.  All a feeling, and not intellectualised, but it’s palpable, like a looming presence at the bottom of this ocean.

Your thoughts come and go as a yawn finally leaves Javi, and it’s kind of sweet to hear him be soft.  To hear his humanity.

“When will I see you again?” you break the silence timidly, and honestly, despite the quite literal affair happening, you’re surprised the question slips by your lips.

Who was this person Javi brought out in you?

You can recall the times the two of you shared glances in silence before this.  Not so many words were shared, and back then you thought it was due to lack of interest in each other’s lives, but now… now you’re realising it’s because of the volcano bubbling underneath the surface.  The potential you both share.

It was fucked, you’re fucked, and you’re scared.

But you still poke the bear because if you didn’t you knew you would spend the rest of your life curious about the cave it resides in.

Hibernation had to come to an end eventually.

“It can’t be soon,” this upsets him, you can tell, but he is nothing if not observant.  How odd this would look if the two of you started to hang out.  “A week or two, cariño.  We can make phone calls often.  But we have to wait.  Can you wait?”

And you want to tell him you’d wait ages for him, but you don’t.  You force the words back down your throat, and instead offer him a nod even though he cannot see it.

“I can wait, Javi.  I can wait for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” his words make your heart swell with pride, “I’ll call you.” he promises and you want to believe him so you do.

“I’ll call you, too,” fast to say it back.  And you don’t feel an ounce of desperation.  You feel renewed.  Empowered by this.  Confident.

“You should get some sleep, cariño.  Got a husband to fight with tomorrow.  He is not staying here.”

You both laugh as it simmers into comfortable silence.

“Okay…,” you’re reluctant, but you do agree to hang up.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Goodnight, ángel.”

You cling to the phone, and he hangs up first.  You’re left with yourself just as you were when you woke up this morning.  Surprised that you feel less guilty than you did earlier in the day, how swiftly your perception has changed of Julian, of your stance with Javier.  All of it.  You knew that you couldn’t just leave your husband at the drop of a hat, not after this much time had been put into the relationship.  But you knew nothing or no one could light you on fire the way Javier Peña did.

Finally latching the phone to the hook, you close your eyes.  The stickiness of your cunt peels your lips apart when you shift, and it’s a reminder of him.  Your skin grows hot, your fingers exploring yourself again – if only to touch, if only to bring him back to life just as he was speaking into your ear moments ago.  “Javi,” you whisper to yourself, nipples still erect from arousal.

And so you go again, with yourself, to make yourself feel good.  Not for Julian, and not for Javier.

For you.

Until your core is shaking, your spent body spreading over the bed when sleep finally takes you.

When was the last time you did that?  When was the last time you spent time on yourself rather than making sure your husband’s pleasure was prioritised?  You weren’t sure, but you didn’t have time to dwell.  Not with your eyelids getting heavy, drowned in your self-gratification.  This was the start of something new.  A new version of yourself actualised.

If anything, you were grateful for Javi’s presence.  Whether he was doing this selfishly or not, this shook you to the core.  He was waking you up.

And you had so much more to learn about yourself.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - comment to be added! if i missed you, please remind me!

[lady-raziel]

hello! feel free to answer this privately if you want, or not answer at all, but i wanted to ask how you balance your anonymity on tumblr while working in politics/communications. like, do you ever get scared of your employers finding your blog? anyways i hope you have a wonderful day 🙏

yeah--it is a big concern. and yeah--i do worry about it a lot. i try to manage it by keeping any personal social media accounts i have under my real name very separate from my tumblr stuff. i don't really post on the accounts under my real name a lot, and don't post anything about politics there basically. conversely on here i try to remain as nonspecific as i can so i dont dox myself.

and it's like, yeah-- I could easily just like not talk about politics on tumblr and mitigate all risk whatsoever. because the big thing about actually working in politics that i don't know that the average person understands is that unless you're a freelance commentator, you're...not really supposed to talk about politics online unless its in support of your "team."

however, i think my thought process is that i do have some specific and detailed knowledge about the american political system and process that might help those i know find a little more clarity on what's going on-- because it is frustrating and confusing and terrifying and despite what some people might say, the answer to all the problems is not burning the city down. if i can help just a few people understand how to try to use this deeply flawed system to start to make things better and not just give up as the world seemingly gets worse every day, i think that's important. i've heard having any positive take nowadays or wanting to craft solutions instead of revolutions be called hopeless naivety. I just call it hope. We aren't going to be the first generation in history to solve all the world's problems. The goal is to try enough new things and not fail in the same way others have before so that people going forward can better know what doesn't work and start getting things right.