#ignore me this got very different from what i originally had in mind

[senseiwu]

In October, my dad got upset with me when I told him I wanted to try taking ADHD medication to see if it would help me.

"You're basically getting meth from a drug dealer!"

I didn't say anything else about it.

A couple months later, he said something about me doing a lot more lately, and how it was good.

....I started taking dexamphetamine in November.

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[skzdarlings]

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

-

Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you. 

Not the fun kind of torture, either.   You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away.  Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked. 

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours.  Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip.  It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong.  And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn.   Your thoughts spiralled. 

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door.  You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind.  It did, but only momentarily.  When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled.  Badly.  You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive.  Something about how last night was the only night.  Something about how you were bad at commitments.  Something about being better off friends. 

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot.  Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed.  It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.    

“Trust me,” he said.  “We will never be friends.” 

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him.  What did you care if he hated you again?  You didn’t.  You shouldn’t.  “Good.”

It was not good.  Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach. 

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed.   You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words. 

You will never look at him the same way again.  You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back.  Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.   

It freaks you out.  You are usually good at shucking attachments.  His cold acceptance should not have hurt.  What did you care?  This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right?   So you let Seungmin shove past you.  He ignored you for the rest of the day.  When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.   

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart. 

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well.  You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface.  It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.   

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar.  You know you will not like what you see. 

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out. 

You are not having any fun, of course.  You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular. 

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be.  You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes. 

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans.  No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed.  Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed.  The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is.  His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze. 

The jeans.  The stupid fucking jeans.  Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does.  And why does he have such a nice ass anyway?  It also has no business looking that way. 

Kim Seungmin.  What a nightmare. 

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall.  You tell yourself not to look at him.  He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink. 

So, no.  You will not give him the satisfaction.  It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never  been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves. 

You will not let him get to you.  You will not look at him.  You will not react. 

Except he is already getting to you.  So you look over.  You react. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool. 

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man.  You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff.  Seungmin doesn’t know that.  He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk.  And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you. 

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you.  Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world.  There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth.  You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that. 

“Move along,” you say to the creep. 

“Excuse me?” 

He is already drunk.  You can smell it as much as see it.  Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose. 

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does.  One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you.  You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone.  He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him.  You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was.  You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you. 

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze.  You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling.  He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed. 

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep.  “Now move along.” 

“Try me.” 

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him. 

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist.  He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip.  You slam him against the back of the booth. 

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand.  You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it.  You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth.  You drag him away. 

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.” 

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again.  “I’m having fun.  I don’t need you to do anything.  It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me.  Bad,” he smirks, “or good.” 

He knows he has you cornered.  You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands.  You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent. 

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.    

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing.  You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other.   When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place.  He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual. 

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back.  His stare is unwavering.  He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows. 

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket.  “We’re leaving.  Now.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks. 

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you. 

“I didn’t ask,” you say.   

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends.  He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either.  He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated. 

He is going to make you say it.  He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it.  He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.   

“Fine,” you say.  You exhale.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit.  I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says.  “You are.” 

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly. 

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit.  “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway.  I just—”  You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away.  You can feel him glaring at you.  “Look, I suck, I get it.  Believe me, I know all the ways I suck.  I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says.  He is still frowning at you.  “I already know how much you suck.  It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”     

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”  

 “I… don’t…”  You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you.  Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one.  Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.” 

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities.  Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes.  Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips.  Seungmin rolls his eyes. 

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you.  “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”   

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face. 

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

You draw a cross over your heart and nod.  He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside. 

“You’re the worst,” he says.  He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face.  He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet.  “You better make this worth my while,” he says. 

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while.  You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on.  You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments. 

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him.  He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood.  It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold.  Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it. 

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind.  It is all the more reason to make sure you are.  You really were such an idiot. 

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder.  This touch invites more than demands. 

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare.  It disappears when you swoop in.  His hood falls as you tug him close.  He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you. 

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs.  You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans. 

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours.  “Not prepared.” 

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing.  You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch.  You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.     

“Trust me,” you say.  “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says.  “I will.  You better not let me down.”  He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does. 

You feel the weight of that trust.  You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss.  You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw. 

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you.  “Are you gonna prove it or not?” 

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot.  Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either.  You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed.  All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch.  You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity.  He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt.  He is inside the cabin before you reach the door. 

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door.  It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside.  You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were. 

But he is waiting inside the cabin.  Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours.  When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with. 

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily.  It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss. 

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot.  He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours. 

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.  

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip.  The coat hits the floor in a damp heap.  You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off.  You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.  

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill.  Just looking at him like this has you throbbing.  You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour. 

You can’t imagine believing it.  Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath. 

He is looking aside, contemplatively.  You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers.  You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him.  He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say.  The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.  

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?”  he asks. 

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound.  He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees.  He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side.  The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in. 

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans.  He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses. 

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp.  His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be. 

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet.   You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise.  There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows.  He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs. 

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance.  Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.    

“Making it worth your while,” you say.  He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof. 

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back.  He blinks innocently.    

“Shoes first,” he says. 

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth.   You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other.  It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on.   You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following. 

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice.  You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively. 

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down.  “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word.  “Jerk.” 

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise.  His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand.  He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand.  You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb. 

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him.  He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them.  His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth. 

“I’m—I’m—”  His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once.  He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting.  It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.   

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again.  When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go. 

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him.  You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck.  You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately. 

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet. 

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants. 

“Hello—”  It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly.  It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down.  “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace.  “Just like that is good.” 

He learns quickly.  It was the same last time.  Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled.  With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges.  He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out.  You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass.  The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.  

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It is,” he says.  “And I’m winning.” 

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs.  He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.   

“Still winning?” you ask. 

“Obviously,” he replies. 

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious.  You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation. 

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him. 

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently.  “Can you?” 

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless.   Your equipment is in your travel bag.  You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless.  You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver.  Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding. 

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket.  You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that. 

He’d naked.  Of course he is.  Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap.  He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong.  Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Oh,” you say.  “That’s fine.”  It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising.  You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly.  A lot of men are new to it.  Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it. 

But then he says, “Any of it.” 

And you say, “Huh?” 

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.” 

“Any.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute.  You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning.  Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered.  Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you. 

“Oh,” you say.  Then, “Oh.  Fucking shit.  I’m such an asshole.” 

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning. 

He does not look upset about it anymore.  In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back.  It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “You are.  We already knew that.” 

“I really, I just—” 

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt. 

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected. 

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability. 

“Thanks,” he says.  “Stating the obvious.  I’m also picky.  And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.  “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says.  His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one.  “Not ever.” 

Agh.  There’s that heart again, pounding away.  Who knew that thing could race so fast. 

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table.  “That is their loss.  Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.” 

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself.  “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting. 

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face.  “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.” 

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that.  That the wrong person could make this terrible for him.  That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream.  These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish. 

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck. 

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless. 

“Wow!” he says.  “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing. 

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him.  “No way,” he says.  “You and your ego.  Gross.” 

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant.  “I’ll be so normal,” you say.  “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly. 

“Yeah, but…”  You wiggle your eyebrows at him.  “You kinda like me anyway, right?” 

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be.  It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Unfortunately,” he says. 

You giggle and he swats your head. 

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms. 

“No, no, of course not,” you say.  You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him. 

“What are we doing then?” he asks.   

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again. 

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you.  Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.  

“First, before anything else, this.”  You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound.  You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing.  It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are.  Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you. 

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.” 

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts.  The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again.  There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation. 

Last time, he needed almost no direction.  He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body.  He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth. 

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen.  It does not matter if you do.  It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm.  This time, it is touch and sensuality.  He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time.  You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry.  You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time. 

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair.  He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again. 

“You’re a fast learner,” you say.  “Bet you could get used to this.” 

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by.  He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him.  Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back.  You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.    

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him. 

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him.  He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry.   You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile. 

“Turn around,” you say.  “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner.  Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly. 

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you.  He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you.  His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him. 

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you.  This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.  

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him.  You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm.  You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick.  You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started.  The sheets are a mess already. 

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh.  “You’re the worst.  I hate you.” 

You laugh.  Oh well.  No time to worry about bedsheets.  You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you. 

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside.  “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says.  “They’ll think it was a skiing accident.  And that you got mauled by a bear.  And eaten by wolves.  And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best.  It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in.  Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels.  You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear.  His groaning turns into a whine. 

“Okay?” you ask. 

“Gonna kill you,” he says. 

“That a yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.”  You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely.  His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest.  You let him catch his breath and adjust.  “Still okay?” 

“It’s weird,” he says. 

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says.  “It’s… it’s good.  It’s just…”  You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens.  He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin.  You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood.  “Ugh,” he says.  “It’s so wet.  I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…” 

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips.  “You’re not.” 

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you.  You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest.  He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return. 

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants.  It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all.  If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down. 

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too. 

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says. 

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck.  “It’s okay.” 

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh.  “Making love, huh,” he says dryly.  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours.  “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand. 

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do about it?  Make love at me?  Sap.” 

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back.  He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness.  His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread.  Good.”  Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed.  He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it. 

You snap your hips together and fuck into him.  This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control.  He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his.  He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth. 

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure.  “Yeah, that’s right.” 

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves.  The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head.  You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all. 

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back. 

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled. 

“Yes,” he murmurs.  “I won. Again.” 

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say. 

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh. 

 “Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy. 

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles. 

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own.  It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases. 

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you. 

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest.  He wakes a little on the journey.  And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.  “I promise.”

“Good,” he says.  “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod. 

“You’re right,” you say. 

“Of course I am.”  He snuggles in close and sighs.  “Now go the fuck to sleep.  Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse.  Good night.”  

“Good night,” you say with a laugh. 

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.   

You can tell him in the morning. 

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere!dc: goddess! darling

ⁱⁿᶠᵒ ᵃᵇᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃʳˡⁱⁿᵍ۫ ꣑ৎ

darling is a god from another world who just so happens to immigrate into the dc universe after a very long time of probably embodying... well, everything.

firstly having to live for love as a human, and then ending it all to fight for the beauty of life as god.

she is the reason for existence, from the big to the miniscule.

(so basically op goddess reader who has wayyyy too much power in their hands-- ex: nothing can kill them, nothing can put an end to them, etc--)

the least you could do is seal away her powers, but even that would truly not be enough because your only sealing away 0.000000000000001%. (i mean that 💀)

*cough* anyway... aside from goddess reader backstory, lets go to the inspiration <33

she's a mix of Madokami from Puella Magi, HoF Kiana Kaslana from Honkai Impact, and mostly of Ishtar Ashtart/Space Ishtar from Fate Grand Order <3

originally kind and lighthearted after becoming 'God', but as time passes and stars dimmed, she has become... well... neutral. not good, but DEFINITELY not bad. like this!

"let me help you :)" to "...From the dawn of creation. Man has come from the ground not by his hand but mine. go back to the land and return to dust."

summary: lawful, void, alien... yet beautiful, destructive, human.

sooooo. yup.

:p

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ۫ ꣑ৎ

...she has met the justice league before. because, who in their right minds would ignore the giant falling 'star' that came out of a very visible tear in the sky caused by said celestial body???

dramatically crashing down the surface like a meteorite, you lowkey may have destroyed a 'few' buildings... whoopsies :p

they are surprised. this... girl, no- alien, exudes endless quantity of power, leaking from every blurred pore. it also seems like they might be power themselves...

batman goes bazingas at the amount of destruction caused by your fall leading to an airheaded you getting towed to the JL headquarters and any sort of refusal or fighting back is unallowed. (even tho your more than capable of destroying anything AND everything you still oblige)

though cool as ice, you are so confused deep down. head tilted, vacant expression, the usual from the emotionally detached goddess albeit with a little change. 'what are these humans talking about?' you think, 'what threat?' you think again, unaware that you are the threat being spoken of.

the white slits of the vigilante's mask narrows at your disposition. everything about you seems... off. from your oppressing aura, to the... heavenly allure your blankness brings.

"more alien than the actual alien," a familiar scarlet speedster jokes, in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood. (he failed horribly btw) said alien rolls their eyes and sighs. though he has to admit, you lowkey look kind of cute... but he stops, remembering lois.

once you say your side of the story, they go all shocked pikachu faces again. your a god from another seperate world??? i mean dont get them wrong though, they had their fair share of situations like these, as some dc villains and heroes they know arent even from here originally. but they cant help but feel a bit different about you, something about you makes their soul writhe... and its not in a bad way.

so once B confirms your not a threat despite your extreme potential to act like one, everybody is relieved. you just need a littleeeeeee supervision, thats all :3

and oh look at that, your actually not that bad. your cold demeanor fades once they got to know you, and that void in your eyes is filled with a light comparable to the twilight star's soothing glow— pure, tranquil, and ever so mystifying.

every step you take, life seems to exist and flourish all around you. life heals around you. not only that, but also... them. the dead part of them actually, that died from complications now too complicated to be retold and remembered.

you fill the void they never knew they had, and all their aching scars were no longer painful but tolerable. bearable even, and its all because of you.

at this point, everybody knows how this all plays out. this ordinary tune, twisted into a fanatic's song.

their once innocent admiration has now spoiled into something darker, the more you stay in this world. holy eyes peeked at it, not at them but at the abyss that is their 'love.'

...you were starting to get aware. and a rarity occurred, you were... 'saddened'. for eternities you lived alone, and in an attempt to reconnect with that sliver of humanity you hid and kept, you went here to feel something again. and you did, and you were so successful.

too successful, in fact.

they loved you; so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sooooo much. without you, they would die! :(

and that, in your eyes, is what makes you 'sad'. if your presence drives your beloved mortals to insanity's grip, then you must fly.

fly away from this despair, fly away from this madness.

your 'love' is your undoing, and ultimately also theirs.

their eyes widen as the sky is torn once again, and a familiar star flies back into it, meaning that you--- left. left? left. left? left... left.

something inside them breaks. both hearts any sense of rationality and morality left.

there is no reason to exist without you it seems, and they will do everything just to see you once more, even a second's glimpse.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

...you can't help but feel something you havent felt for a very long time. what was it again, sadness? anxiety? fear? you dont know. the endless rows of your ivory silks flutter even in the slightest movement. something tugs at you, your mind and heart. something tugs at you, telling... that it is far from over.

they call for you, their cries drowned in obsession masquerading as love.

you never answer, as your supposed concern and care for them lessens and your patience dwindles. reality is cruel, but never crueler than you. and that's when you realized it.

...they make your skin crawl. they make you want to vomit. they make you want to scream and cry. they make your ichor run cold. and if they touch you again, you'll--

...huh. who would have thought that was how you truly felt, goddess.

[lordsukunas]

the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

[soggyriceee]

strawberry | John Price

summary: price gets you to use your safe word

warnings: rough sex, choking, biting, spanking, overstimulation, public oral (male receiving), slapping(mentions of blood). just like really aggressive John until the end where we get soft core John, not edited bc of how much I wrote so, ignore and possible typos PLZ

Price was always pretty rough with you during sex. but never enough to make you cry like he did tonight. he was a whole new person, new man. and all it took was the teasing at dinner with his family to set him off.

it started off light. pulling your dress down in the car, showing off the top of your boobs. of course, you played dumb, apologizing and saying 'I didn't know'. at first he had fallen for it, saying he wouldn't mind if you kept it that way. but then, you got more bold and cocky. under the dinner table, your hand found its place on his pants, right where his dick rested so peacefully. his eyes that were once on the menu were now on your innocent ones. "is everything alright?" his mother asked. John smiled and nodded, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "yes she just looks so pretty tonight doesn't she? cant keep my eyes off her." he smiled, looking back down at you.

the rest of the dinner you got progressively more cocky. to the point his dick was now out, resting in your warm hand. his parents talked about John's passion for the military, how he'd been dedicated to it his whole life. all while your hand played with his tip, squeezing it ever so gently. his hand was quick to find your thigh, gripping it firmly. thankfully, the cloth was enough to cover his lower half and yours, but the thrill of it all was still very much there. when the waiter had came by, you smoothly let his girth go, using the table cloth to cover his hard on. you smirked at the tiny wet circle that appeared onto the cloth right where his tip was.

when his parents were deep into the menu, the waiter helping them with choosing what to eat, John leaned down to your ear and whispered, "keep this up I promise you'll regret it. don't test me lovie." he smiled down at you before turning back to his parents. you pressed your thighs together, smiling softly to yourself. this was exactly what you wanted from him.

his dick remained out for the rest of the dinner, your hand occasionally reaching down and giving it a firm grab, surprising him each time. by the time dinner was done, he had come close to finishing at least 3 times, always flicking your hand away. he was good at keeping his moans and groans suppressed (public sex was something you both had often), but when he'd cum that was a whole different situation.

"well it was lovely seeing you both tonight. we should do this more often." you smiled to his parents as John tried to put his throbbing dick back into his pants. "it was. thank you for inviting us out. hopefully next time we do meet you both will tell us your pregnant." his mom winked, standing from the table. you blushed and looked at John who's eyes were already staring at you. " who knows mom. you might get lucky real soon." he said, his eyes remaining on yours.

the car ride was silent. you were excited but also a bit nervous about what he had in store. of course, you had a feeling it would be nothing short of amazing. "I had fun with your parents." you said as he pulled to a red light. he shifted his whole body to you, tilting his head to the side. "really? seems you had too much fucking fun." he said, his deep voice suddenly turning into a threatening tone. you shifted in your seat, a proud smile still plastered across your face. "I did. you didnt?" you asked innocently, batting your eye lashes.

before he could respond the light turned green. he shifted back to his original position, driving off quickly. his driving got you both home within 10 minuets, and he was quick to get out the car, slamming the door behind him. he walked over to your side, opening the door and helping you out. it was dark outside, about 9:30 at night. the only light that lit the street was the porch lights on each house.

when he had helped you out fully, he quickly dragged you to the front of the car, shoving you down. you gasped at the pain of your knees and the cement, looking up at him. " John that fucking-" his hand came crashing across your face, gripping your chin so you'd look back up at him. "think I fucking care after that shit you pulled at dinner?" he growled, his grip on your chin growing firmer. you looked up at him, smiling innocently. " I was just having fun tho." you said softly, fingers playing with the ends of his pants.

he growled and let your face go, going to his pants buckle while keeping eye contact. "wanna play silly little games like that, okay. lets play." he gripped your hair at the top of your head, forcing your head back. you gasped at the sudden tug, biting your lip at the same time. "open." he said, gripping his dick with his other hand, jerking it off in front of you. "but captain were outside" you smirked, only teasing him more. "stop fucking playing with me. open your goddam mouth." he growled, tugging your hair. you whimpered at the pain, but ultimately opened your mouth. he wasted no time shoving his dick down your throat, your hands immediately going to his thighs to keep balance.

" s..shit. this what you wanted, hm? just needed my dick down your fucking throat." he growled, pulling his hips back before moving them back onto your face. you were unable to even say anything, but the way you nodded slowly as best you could, he smiled down at you. it was so thrilling, getting your face fucked outside in public. the way he looked down at you with such admiration, his dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, just to slide back out again.

he pulled your head back a bit more, your head resting on the front bumper of the car now. that same hand rested onto the car hood, his other on your shoulder. "g..gonna fuck that throat faster. bet you want that huh?" he groaned, his hips moving faster. his head fell back, grip on your shoulder tightening. to be honest, John had never gone this far with face fucking. he was pretty gentle when it came to head. sex, no, but when you gave him head it was never something that he forced upon you or was super rough with. he let you take your time, breaks whenever you needed. he was patient. but not tonight and it was definitely something you had to get used to.

your drool practically poured out your mouth, his dick slippery with your saliva. the mix of his pre cum and your saliva made it even easier for his throat to slide down your throat, and it was a feeling he wanted to keep on feeling. tears poured out your eyes the more rough he got with you, mascara running down your cheeks. and he loved it. "look do fucking gorgeous like this love. wanna fuck your face more." he moaned, watching his dick and a fuck ton of saliva come from your mouth as he pulled his dick out, sliding it back in to watch it all pool at the corners of your lips.

to be honest, it was a bit much. again, it was something neither of you had really experienced before. and as much as you tried to relax your throat, it was pretty hard because of how fast and rough he was getting. but when he whimpered out your name, head falling forward, mouth slightly agape, you couldnt give up. "gonna cum baby.. gonna cum down that tight fucking throat." he moaned, his had that was once on your shoulder cupping your cheek. you squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering around his dick. his body jerked forward, his body falling forward onto the hood of the car, his cum shooting down your throat.

he gasped, strained groans leaving him, his hips giving you small thrusts. "t-thats it baby.. fucking swallow.. all of it." he groaned, breathing heavily above you. you tried your best to swallow it all, only a bit seeping out of your lips. he slowly slid his dick out, strings of saliva, cum or even both connecting you both. shoving his soaked dick back in his pants, he looked down at you. your jaw hurt, lips too. you looked up at him, chest heaving up and down. "get the fuck up." he said, gripping your arm and pulling you up into his chest. he gdragged you to the front door, quickly opening the door and shoving you inside.

you had tripped, but ultimately kept your balance. his keys were thrown onto the mail table as he flicked the light on, making quick movements towards you. saliva was still smeared across your face, his cum too. but to say he cared would be a lie. his lips pressed firmly against yours, his tongue sliding in easily, his hand pressed to the back of your neck while his other gripped your ass. "couch. now" he said against your lips. you stumbled backwards, quickly making your way to the couch. despite your stumbling he walked towards you slowly, his head tilted to the side a small smirk plastered along his face. he loved the shy, kinda shocked version of you. he ate it up every time.

"wait." he said as you got to the couch. he walked in front of you, sitting down on the couch. he leaned back, man spreading before patting his lap. "lay." was all he said, eyes staring up at you. you hesitated but did as he asked, laying across his lap. he sighed, hand gripping your calf before moving his hand up your leg. "been so good for me so far. gonna keep being good?" he asked, gripping your thighs, your dress trailing up your body the farther his hand went. he loved your thighs. so much so he one night woke up and decided to fuck into them. pressed them together against your chest, ramming into them. it was hot how much he loved all the parts of your body you had always been insecure or less confident in. when his hands came to your ass, he smoothly slid your panties off and down your legs, tossing them beside him on the couch.

you nodded, throat still pretty sore to speak. but he wasn't going to have that. his hand came down on your ass harshly, your body jerking forward. but his actions after contradicted that, his hand rubbing on the red spot. " words princess. you know I dont like feeling ignored." he whispered, his other hand petting the top of your head soothingly. "y-yes" you croaked out, letting go of the breath you had no idea you were holding onto. " such a shame tho." he mumbled, his hand quickly coming back down harshly onto your ass. a pained whimper fell from you, your eyes squeezing shut, hands gripping the pillow right in front of your face. "you were acting like such a slut earlier. sluts get punished, dont they? especially my pretty little slut." he said, leaning down to your ear while his hand slapped another red spot onto your ass.

John had become a whole new person in the blink of an eye. first the face fucking, now the spanking. what was next? you weren't necessarily scared. but you were anxious. anxious about what he would do to you next. how far he'd take it. you were left in the dark. " teasing me in front of my parents. in public." slap. "bet you wanted me to cum under that table, didnt you?" another harsh slap. he watched how your ass jiggled after each hit, bitting his lip. he himself had no idea what came over him. at all. but he knew that he liked it. in fact, he loved it.

your ass was a bright red, stinging so badly the cold air didnt even help. in a way, it made it worse. tears once again didnt fail to brim your eyes, feeling more and more slaps hit your ass, the same spot each and every time. " P-price please" you cried out. but he was in a trance. he hated it, but deep down loved the way blood began to prickle up from the spot he was abusing. "so pretty.." he whispered, before leaning down, placing a small kiss onto the skin before gently biting the spot. you winced in pain, again digging your nails into the pillow.

he sighed, pulling you up by your waist, your knees digging into his thighs. "lay down baby.. gonna fuck that pretty little cunt." he whispered, holding your hips to help you lay down. once you were comfortable, back on the couch, he rose, pulling his pants off and down his body. his dick sprung out, pre cum leaking onto the floor in drops. you whimpered at the sight, your eyes shooting back up to his. " dont worry baby.. im gonna fuck you." he smirked, practically leaping over you. he leaned back down, lips meeting your slightly wet ones. your face, for the most part, was dry and crusty. but again, he didnt care. he'd been on the battle field with literal guts splattered everywhere. plus, it was his own cum on your face

his lips distracted you from his tip moving up your cunt, collecting all the slick you had. it was embarrassing, how much pain and embarrassment made you wet. you both had a wild side, but there were limits that you both hadn't yet reached, but tonight, he had decided it was time. and its not like you minded and your cunt was proof you didnt.

without warning, his dick pushed into you, a gasp coming from you that broke the kiss. his nose touched yours, his eyes looking down into your wide ones. " I know baby.. just relax. " he whispered, feeling you tighten around his dick. your hands found his shoulders, gripping them firmly as he bottomed out inside you. his forehead connected to yours, a deep sigh leaving him. he wasted little to no time in gripping your legs to wrap them around his waist, your bleeding ass cheek failing to not sting. he pulled out real slow before slamming back into you, going straight in for a faster pace.

your head pressed into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut. " fuck this cunt is so tight. so fucking... good." he groaned, his hands keeping his body up. he looked down, watching his dick slide in and out, the slick from your cunt forming strings. the sounds were sinful, the squelching of your wetness as his dick slammed into you. "j-john.. oh my god~" you whined, back arching up. he smirked down at you, one hand gripping your face. " keep those pretty eyes on me. wanna see your face while I fuck you senseless." he said, his voice deep and smooth like honey.

his tip was quick to hit your womb, the bulge in your stomach not going unnoticed. he moaned at the sight, biting his lip. " look at that. taking this dick so well. such a good slut for me, aren't you?" he cooed, watching it disappear and re appear over and over. you went cross eyes, mouth falling agape at how deep he was hitting into you. it was embarrassing, but you felt your first orgasm of the night hit you like a train. it was coming, and coming fast. he felt the way your cunt pulsed around him, and he chuckled, looking back up at you. "gonna cum already? better hold it. im not done with this little cunt." he said, his right hand going to your throat.

your gasped, hands gripping his wrists as his thrusts only got more and more rough. you couldnt hold back and he knew you couldnt. but he wanted that. he wanted you to cum, just so he could punish you for cumming. his eyes were saying it all, watching you with a small smirk on his lips, mocking you. the way he looked down at you, his thrusts hitting all the right spots in your cunt, you couldnt stop the knot in your stomach from coming loose. he smiled, looking down between you both to watch your cum pour out of you and coat his dick.

" tsk tsk.. being a bad girl again are we?" he chuckled, shaking his head. " I-i couldnt.. help it. im s..sorry" you whined, eyes pleading with his. but he didnt care. again, this is what he wanted. now he could punish you for it.

his hips didnt stop. in fact they sped up. he let go of your throat, that same hand finding your clit. " gonna cum again. and again. until I decide ive had enough of you. since that what you wanted to fucking bad, right?" he asked, watching his thumb play with your throbbing clit. you tried your hardest to pull away, but his other hand held your hips down. " stop fucking running. take what the fuck you deserve for being such a fucking cum slut." he growled, leaning farther over your body to hit deeper into your cunt.

your mouth fell agape once more, your hands digging into his shoulders. he moaned at the feeling, his head falling into your neck. his lips sucked onto your skin, leaving behind big, dark purple and red, bloody marks. his teeth sunk into your skin, feeling his orgasm approaching. " gonna cum in you. you want that, want me to fill you up with my cum? make you a mommy?" he moaned, his thumb still working on your clit. " y-yes.. fuck fill me with it John p..please" you moaned, hands finding the back of his head and running your fingers through his hair.

he moaned into your neck, giving you a few harsh thrust before small, cute little whimpers slipped past him. his cum shot deep into you, his teeth once again sinking into you. you cried out at the pain, the taste of blood dancing along his tongue. and when you though the was done, you felt his hips slamming back into you.

he leaned up off you, blood smeared on his bottom lip. his hair was a mess, bot from your fingers and his head moving against you as he laid into your neck. his hand gripped your calf, pulling it from his waist before holding it up in the air. " thought I was done with you? no baby.. gonna fuck this cunt till you cant even cum anymore." he said, watching you from below.

his thumb went right back to your clit, rubbing small circles that matched his pace. you were sure it was because you just had the strongest orgasm you've had in a bit, but you already felt tired and worn out. it could also be from all the blood Price had managed to draw from you. " c-cant take it." you cried, hands resting on his stomach in hopes to slow him down. but it only fueled him. seeing your poor attempts in stopping him, watching you run from him. " come on princess. take this dick like I know you can. making me so proud." he moaned, head falling back at the feeling of both your warmth and slick coating him.

the room sounded like pure filth, both you guys' moans, the sound of your slick, the skin slapping. it was hot, but also so much for you. it didnt take long for your second orgasm to follow your first one, this one more powerful than the last. " come on baby, cum for me. I know you want to." he smiled from above you, watching how his dick slid back into your cunt with ease and pull back out that much easier. your fingers gripped the ends of the couch cushions, your body jerking forward as another orgasm washed over your body. you chanted his name, legs shaking as you came down from it.

" p...please hold on." you cried out, feeling him continue to fuck into you. he shook his head, growling at you. " didnt I say im not stopping till this cunt cant cum anymore? now shut the fuck up and take it." he growled, his hand landing a slap across your face.

you had to admit, Price was beginning to scare you. it went from just being anxious to being a bit scared of him. he hadn't realized it tho, thinking the look on your expression was just from being so cock drunk. he loved it, watching your blood slide down your neck, pooling in your collar bone. his balls wet with your cum and slick. he felt too good to stop.

" gonna cum again. milking me so goddam good baby." he groaned, his head falling down. you though that this would be the end. that he'd be too tired to keep fucking you. and you were right, kinda.

he shot his last load into you, his body falling forward just a bit at the feeling. he chanted your name, telling you how good your pussy felt, how he wanted to stay in it forever. and when he slid out, you were shocked to immediately feel his fingers sliding in. your back arched, a cry slipping from you. " j-john please I cant" you cried, your legs arching. but he didnt stop. his fingers curled, hitting your g spot each time. his thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in small circles. " sounds so hot baby.. but I know you can. this is what happens to sluts. if you act like on im gonna treat you like one."

again, you began to spasm around his fingers, tears officially puling from your eyes as your stomach cramped up at yet another orgasm. to be honest, John hadn't realized how crazy he was going on you. he didnt know why you teasing him and jerking him off under the table was what set him off. maybe it was because he wanted to match your energy. but he had begun to take it to far when he again, slid his dick back inside your cunt. you were surprised he wasn't just as tired as you were or overstimulated. but he did just give himself a decent break.

" you look so fucked out baby.. are you tired?" he pouted, his hips moving slowly, giving you somewhat of a break. you nodded, wiping your watery eyes. finally, he was going to give you a break and maybe just stop all together. but no. all he did was lean back into your neck, leaving another hickey followed with a bite mark, ramming his hips back into yours. "John please" you cried, shaking your head, pressing your hands to his stomach and shoving him back.

his hand shoved yours off him, his other hand going to your neck. " I said take what I fucking give you, didnt I? stop fucking moving." at this point your pussy was sore, it hurt. you didnt even think you could cum anymore. and the grip on your throat was painful. tears fell from your eyes once you realized you had to use the now word he had promised neither of you would ever have to use. ever.

"s-strawberry.. please strawberry!" you sobbed, hands pressing onto his abdomen. at first he didnt think he heard you right. he slowed down, his face softening. "what?" he looked down at you, watching at the tears ran downpour face. he noticed, really noticed, the bite marks, the hickies covered with blood. he slid out immediately, sitting down and pulling your limp body onto his lap. " im so sorry.. im so so sorry." he whispered, pulling you into his arms.

but you couldnt stop crying. you didnt know if he was being genuine, if he found it hot. you were in the mindset that he was going to just flip you over and fuck you all over. but he didnt. he held you tight, whispering how sorry he was in your ear, how wrong he was for going so overboard. " i.. I broke a promise. and im so sorry my love. I should've listened to you." he said, pulling you off his chest. he wiped the tears from your eyes, his chest hurting as he looked at your red eyes. "please let me take care of you. for real." he said, taking your hand in his.

he stood, holding you in his arms and made his way to the bathroom. "im gonna set you on the toilet for a bit.." he said, sitting you gently. he started the bath before turning back to you, lifting your dress off you. when the bath was full, he helped you inside, watching you settle in. it was silent, kinda awkward. he didnt know what to say other than he was sorry. and he was. he'd never had to do this before, but he knew that he had to take care of you as best he could.

"look up for me princess." he said, cupping your chin softly. he grabbed the washcloth that hung on the rack, wetting it a bit before gently wiping your face. you eyes met his, giving you a small smile. " your so pretty." he mumbled, wiping your chin before dipping the washcloth back in the warm water. "thank you." you said softly, looking down. he continued to wipe your face before moving down to your neck. " this may hurt.. but I promise ill be as gentle as I can." he said before pressing the cloth to your neck.

you winced at the pain, squeezing your eyes shut. " im sorry my love.. just a bit more." he said softly, patting your skin softly. when it was done, he looked at the bloody cloth, sighing, shaking his head to himself. to say he was angry at himself or disappointed, that would be an understatement. he promised himself and you he'd never hurt you. " im so sorry my love.. I dont know what came over me." he said, head hanging low.

you reached over the tub and gripped his hand. " lets just watch movies and cuddle.. maybe even get some tea." you said, voice still hoarse from earlier. he didnt look at you at first, his eyes still stuck to the ground. but when you squeezed his hand again, he looked at you and nodded. " ill take care of you princess. dont you worry."

and he did. the rest of the night he was like your personal little maid. you needed to go pee? dont even think about using your legs, he'd carry you. you wanted the blanket? he'd tuck you in like a burrito. you got too hot? okay he'd take it off. he ordered your favorite food to the house since cooking was not his strong suit, ice cream on the side as well. he felt happy being able to take care of you like he told himself he would always do instead of hurting you.

when you were tired, you curled into his chest, snuggling into him. he looked down and smiled, his hand resting on top of your head. for the first time that night he had let himself cry. well not cry, but a few tears did drop. he was so grateful that you were as forgiving as you were. how even though he hurt you as bad as he did, you still felt safe in his arms, comfortable.

he kissed the top of your head, switched the tv off and laid back. " goodnight princess, I love you so much." he whispered before holding you in his arms, his grip on you never getting loose.

| this was pure fucking filth but like... I love this man so much I can help but right filthy filthy smut about him, also this was for @grqpegrqve |

[hell-bats]

earth 42!miles x gn!reader

summary: miles is very aware you love making bracelets, you would always have tons on your wrist with all sorts of beads and charms, you left a few at his house so he stops by to give them back, somehow you rope him into making some with you.

extra: mostly fluff, light swearing, reader listens to destiny’s child, reader is mean (playfully)

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notes: reader is black to me but anyone can read, and he’s been plaguing my brain as of recent it’s insane

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“I can’t believe you got me doin this” miles says his brows furrowed as he’s trying to put the thread through the shiny black bead.

he originally came by to drop off the multiple bracelets you left all over his room, everytime he sees you, you always got a row of them on your wrist, even one for every occasion, one of every color, every type of bead, any charm you can think of, it was impossible to find a variation you didn’t have.

now here he was, sitting on the carpet of your bedroom, criss-cross apple sauce with destiny’s child playing from your phone, the window slightly open for a slight breeze to blow in, as he’s attempting to a bracelet of his own.

“you need help over there?” you ask, holding back a smirk at his struggling, this comes easy to you, you’re on your fourth bracelet by now and it’s been only 15 minutes.

“nah I got it, just gimmie a sec” he says squinting as the thread misses the hole of the bead, his hands slightly trembling as he’s concentrated. you let out a laugh and scoot over closer to him, you can feel his warm body radiating and the smell of his cologne he always wears which made a fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

“I told you I got it” he says protesting, despite him clearly struggling. “ boy if you don’t let me help you..” you say rolling your eyes and taking it from him, you grab the bead and swiftly yet smoothly slide it on the thread, tying off the end to start it off for him. “see, wasn’t that easier?” you say with a smile looking over at him, inches away from his face.

he shrugs, “damn, you good with your hands I see” he says slyly, he was speaking practically in your ear, before getting another bead, slightly getting the hang of it but barely, this boy was gonna be the death of you.

“I see that you aren’t” you say back teasingly, you’re on your last bead getting ready to tie the knot to finish it, this would be your fifth bracelet. “ you tryna bet on that?” he says smirking at you, giving that smug smile he loves to do knowing the effect it has.

“you must want me to throw you out?” you say, trying to ignore him, he gives a chuckle before shaking his head lightly and his eyes practically piercing through you the way he’s staring at you, he shifts the way he’s sitting “you know you love me, but seriously.. this a real talent you got, don’t lose it” he says, his voice laced with sweetness and playfulness to it.

“might have to keep some of these too” he says eyeing the extra bracelets you have laying around on the carpet along with some of the variety of charms, picking one up that had a dark crimson red color to it, each had their own look, he didn’t mind, it’s the fact they were yours,your creations that he loved so much and he loved seeing how happy it makes you.

“you can get a few, don’t break them cause I ain’t gonna make you more” you say sounding pretty serious as you give him a look narrowing your eyes.

he hums at that before speaking “the ones still lying around my room you made, begs to differ but it’s ight” he says with a small smile before getting up and flicking your forehead lightly to look at your collection of bracelets, definitely taking more then what he came with.

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end of this little drabble 😭🫶🏾, if you did make him a bunch he’d make sure to wear every single one, not at once but he’d switch through them and would definitely say you made em if someone asked.

[aphrogeneias]

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you. 

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit. 

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him. 

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you. 

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house. 

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside. 

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall. 

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine. 

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you. 

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin. 

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door. 

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie." 

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

[itsa-me-lily]

So I wrote this during my lunch hour in a haze of fruit and inspiration. Thank you @kitsur for reading this over for me to check the ending and in general for hearing me go on my crazed cork board rants some days (most days)

This is a sequel to “That’s My Purse” and I really really encourage you to read part one because it sets all of this up. And maybe read this if the bed comment is confusing. Also thank you @nightunite for the original ask that lead to all this.

Here is the list to Military Program Spouse

Content warning; cheating (kind of. It’s more non monogamy I guess and it’s very debatable if it’s even ethical because I really don’t think Simon would explain his arrangement to a stranger), fatphobia, misogyny, “bro language”

Alright, he could admit it. You weren’t the worst person to be married to. Though you were certainly in the running for most annoying. Always had some smart comment to say, acting like it was an Olympic sport you were aiming for gold in. Sometimes Simon just wanted to eat his beans on toast in god damn peace. Was that too much to ask for?

So yeah you seemed to always run your mouth with him, but sometimes you did say things that made logical sense.

He didn’t care about the whole demi-whatever thing you had explained to him, even if it sparked some sort of recognition in the back of his brain. You didn’t want to have sex with him, so he didn’t want to have sex with you, simple enough. And he could appreciate that you didn’t want the entire base to know he was being cuckholded, however willingly. Though he didn’t really care what people around him thought.

But he’d give what he got. The few times he did find someone that held some interest to him, in some after mission bar, he at least made sure there wasn’t a surface level connection to the base, or you. He’d go back to their place and then act like he had just gotten back from the mission when he went home the next morning. It didn’t seem to bother you and he’d figure you’d appreciate the extra night in the bed and not the pull out.

The first time he tried though, Price nearly put him on his ass. Pulling him to the alley outside the pub and shoving him against a wall, demanding to know if Simon was the kind of man to ignore his vows just to get his dick wet. Trying to explain your agreement with Price went phenomenally awful, and the captain wouldn’t look at him different until all three of you sat down and you confirmed that you were indeed okay with it.

And then of course it had to happen all over again with the other two chuckleheads he worked with. By the time you were having your third sit down with Soap you’d just handed him some informational pamphlet you cooked up. Always had to be cheeky you did. He didn’t think they really understood, but as long as they didn’t look at him like he was a scummy bastard he didn’t care.

So every now and again he’d find someone to follow back to theirs, just to blow off some steam, get rid of the twitch that lived under his skin. The sex was okay. Nothing to write home about. It got the job done.

It was what Simon was planning to do tonight. There was already some bird leaning against the bar, giving him the stare as she nibbled on the end of her drink straw. Plump little thing. But before he could get up to start his advance, voices behind him broke out in the loud drunk way young twenty-something men did when they had too much liquid courage.

“Listen man, pussy is pussy even in the dark”

“Yeah but you got some balls to go after Riley’s wife.”

That stopped him, keeping him glued to his seat. What’s this about you? Judging how Soap’s bottle paused at his lips though, Simon wasn’t the only one to hear it.

“Yeah well she found your balls lacking bro.”

There was mocking laughter from the table behind him. At least Simon wasn’t the only one catching casualties from your mouth. He was going to let it go, maybe just see who they were to keep in mind, when the ring leader decided to seal his fate.

“Yeah yeah. Fat cow’s acting all tough now but she’ll be begging for it sooner or later.”

No Simon didn’t notice how his grip tightened around his beer, tight enough that his fingertips turned white.

“Dude you think?”

No one in the vicinity heard how Simon’s chair scrapped violently against the ground as he stood up.

“There’s no way Riley is fucking that. Even with back shots she’s-”

No one at the other table expected Simon Riley to appear out of thin air, heavy hand coming down with a crushing force onto the man stupid enough to slander your name. Pearson. Of course it was. Jackass who thought he was god’s gift to everyone because Daddy had a bit of money and some girls let him stick it in once.

Yes, you had to have the last word all the fucking time. You had too much shit, and he honestly thought you were a little too obsessed with your guinea pigs.

But you always met him head on. Was so unapologetically yourself, laughing so loudly at terrible jokes even he got startled now and again. You respected who he was, how he was. Like hell he was going to let some personification of a left ballsack talk about you like that.

“She’s my wife”

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: Hi love! I was wondering if you could do a Jude x reader where they get into a VERY nasty argument and reader goes to sleep on the couch crying and wakes up with jude next to her on the couch! (anonymous - @neosfam)

Word Count: 678 words

(author's note: thank you for the request, my love 🫶)

Y/N and Jude never seemed to argue. They were both so similar and held the same views on everything, so there was never any need for them to fight. But this time was different. Jude had just blown her off again to go for a meal with his teammates, and she had finally had enough.

“I’m not saying I don’t want you to hang out with your friends, baby, you know I encourage you too. Its just we’ve had plans multiple times this week and you’ve cancelled on me every time to hang out with your friends.”

“I need them to like me Y/N, you don’t understand. So what I cancelled on a few plans, we can always reschedule? I don’t understand why you’re so annoyed?”

“Jude, I’m annoyed because it feels like I’m second best to your friends. I know how hard moving teams has been on you, and I get it. But it doesn’t mean you can push me aside and forget about me!” 

At this point, she felt like crying. Jude was normally so understanding, and she couldn’t understand why he was being like this.

“No, Y/N you don’t know how I feel. You don’t know anything.” 

With the final gut-wrenching line, Jude stomped upstairs, leaving his girlfriend crying in their kitchen. Y/N moved over to the sofa, grabbed a blanket, and tried to fall asleep.

Hours passed, and Jude felt awful. He was in disbelief with himself over how he had spoken to Y/N. He didn’t know what came over him. All he did know was how the guilt was slowly eating away at him. 

When Y/N didn’t come up to bed, Jude began to worry. He pushed the plush covers away from his body and quietly walked downstairs. When he saw his girlfriend curled up on their sofa, her cheeks still wet with tears, his heart broke. It was all his fault.

Jude moved over to where she was laid down and manoeuvered himself down next to her. He readjusted the blanket, so it covered them both and tried to fall asleep.

Y/N woke up to the early morning sun streaming in through the window. She felt something wrapped around her waist, and she turned around to see Jude sleeping peacefully behind her. All the pain from last nights argument resurfaced in her mind.

She removed his arms and got up. She turned the kettle on to boil and got a mug out of the cupboard. Once the water had boiled, she began preparing herself a cup of tea.

Stirring at the sound of the kettle, Jude sat up on the sofa. He rubbed his eyes, wiping the heavy weight of sleep away. He watched his girlfriend mill around their kitchen, preparing herself a drink and some breakfast.

“Good morning.” Jude said, breaking the thick silence that had settled over the room.

Y/N just nodded at him, barely acknowledging his presence. She continued making her food, determined to ignore Jude. 

Jude knew that she was still upset. He didn’t blame her. Y/N had poured her heart out to him and alerted him she she was upset and he had responded with spiteful comments and aggression.

“Look, I know you’re angry. You have plenty of reasons to be angry. But I just want you to know that I’m so sorry. I should never have spoken to you like that, especially when you were only telling me how you felt. I understand now that I’ve been a complete idiot.”

Y/N stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. 

“You have been a complete idiot. But I know how much pressure you’re under. I accept your apology, but please don’t ever act like that again. That isn’t the Jude I know and love.”

He nodded at her words, thankful that Y/N had accepted his apology. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. Jude made a silent promise to himself to never argue with the woman he loved so dearly ever again.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Would Jenny allow Danny to tinker with her? I know robotics isn’t exactly the same as aerospace engineering (and I do be headcanoning that my boy chose this as his major since he wants to be an astronaut), but with all the experience he had from handling his parents inventions I believe he can be trusted with fixing something as complex as a robot. I like to think that Danny was really impressed with how Jenny was made and secretly wanted to take a look at how she works, but was too shy to ask because he knows how it’s like to be treated like an object and not a person (with the whole “ghosts are non-sentient globs of ectoplasm with post-human consciousness” spiel he heard so many times) and didn’t want to make Jenny uncomfortable. I believe it took Jenny some time and getting to know Danny and his engineering skills before she let him fix her when she got something badly broken. It was like a show of ultimate trust from Jenny’s side and Danny was flattered, humbled and very respectful. And super careful of course, constantly asking how Jenny’s doing or feeling while he tinkered, mindful of her. I bet she was touched.

Not gonna lie, this is one of the more fascinating asks I got - if only because its incredibly interesting to read about your take/interpretation of Danny & Jenny's relationship! I hope you don't mind me saying, but it feels like you adore both characters and it's very cute!

Well, now, in HoM AU, both Danny and Jenny are close friends and indeed Danny is one of the few people who Jenny trusts with - well, herself - her mechanical self. Like you, I headcanon Danny as quite mechanicaly gifted - in HoM AU he actually graduated college/uni with engineering degree, so he got education to polish his raw skills! He is one of the first people who would help Jenny in and out of the field, if there is a minor malfunction or an injury of some sort!

But even for that to happen it took a couple of years and a few adventures together.

So to answer the original question, I would have to say that in HoM AU specifically, neither Danny would ask to 'tinker' with her, nor Jenny would probably be totally comfortable with that question if asked. 'Tinkering' would imply a degree of casual poking around, and in this case, both Danny and Jenny have certain life experiences that gave them... boundaries when it comes to their own and others' autonomy. Jenny especially.

(a bit of random background info dump here to explain the reasoning, but feel free to ignore it, since i basically answered the ask xD i just got bitten by a writing bunny, so its gotten a bit long - be warned!)

When Jenny was younger and only just acclimatizing herself with human world and amongst teenagers, she was rather blaze at times with how much access to her body she gave to her human friends and acquaintances.

After all, her mother was rather frank about it - often poking around in Jenny's mechanics and code. But it was her mother, who created her (sort of 'why are you covering yourself, i made you i already know what you have' mother attitude, which is a bit over-controlling and invasive to other's autonomy, but well, Jenny is a robot after all) and it a completely different deal from others.

So, despite her mother's warnings there are instances when Jenny was not very careful. Like when she allowed Brad, Tuck and Sheldon to literally remove and rip out her stuff in pursuit of fashion goals. Or when she dropped her guard around Todd Sweeney and got reprogrammed for her good deed.

And during the events of the last episode, she was once again controlled, by Dr Locus. While not exactly her fault, it still left a lasting impression that any mechanically gifted person could be dangerous to her.

Now, this is where we venture into my personal headcanons for MLAATR that are tied into HoM-verse:

Another aspect of Jenny's developed caution to giving access to her body - is the fact that she is not considered as a real person in the eye of the government/world. She is a thing, a weapon created by Dr. Walkman. She does not have the same rights as a human, and on paper she does not even have rights to her own body. It's all patented Nora Wakeman technology, (secretly) founded by the government.

And she has been fighting it ever since she was a teenager and refused to be called an IT - XJ-9 - and became a HER, a teenage girl Jenny, who also just happens to be a robot.

At first it started as a simple teenage rebellion and she went to school and started to hang out with other kids, but what about later after she graduates? Will she be even allowed to? Sure, maybe her school will give her a diploma, but how legal will it be to give something like that to someone who is legally not a real person? After all, its not like when other kids will turn 18 and can be their own people, not under the legal control of their parents. Jenny is her mother's property, intellectual and physical. For her to be considered a real person in the eye of government, it would require a law being passed about recognizing sentience of Artificial Intelligence.

And sure, she could probably be made an exception, being a hero robot and all, but the problem is, she is not the only human-made robot in existence! What about her sisters, who are prototypes and are not as developed as her? Her brother, who seemed to develop sentiency to the point of turning on humans?? Melody and Killgore?? And its not only in her world (cartoon), but in others (since its a crossover). So the question about AI/Robot sentience, no matter if they are good or bad or how developed they are, would not concern only her, it would be a global debate.

And we all know how the governments of the world would feel about passing laws about sentience of artificial beings that were created to serve the human race. It would be a struggle one way or another.

So, as she grows up and sees the world refusing to aknowledge her as a person, she doesnt have legal rights to finish school and go to college, to get a job, to get married, heck she cant even have a legal documentation that doesnt says 'Dr. Wakeman's creation'. The government says: your body belongs to us, because we paid for Dr. Wakeman to make you - you belong to us, we control you.

That, on top of several unpleasant experiences with other people disregarding her autonomy, will equal to Jenny trying to get some sense of that control back. So she starts to be more cautious about how much access others have to her physical self; she starts to build and reinforce boundaries with other people, starting with her family and friends.

It was one of the darkest days in Sheldon's life, when Jenny started to firmly say 'no' to whenever he asked her about her inner workings and casual access for poking around. xD Tuck was not a happy camper either, that his favorite robot friend became very stingy with all the cool stuff. But Brad got it. And after gentle (and sometimes not) reminders, others became more understanding.

It was a little harder with her mother. Dr. Wakeman truly loved her daughter, but she was a scientist first and mother second. She was so used to casual access to Jenny, in order to keep maitanance that it was hard for her to break the habits. Its still a constant struggle, but she has gotten so much better.

Now, when it came to her new friends amongst HoMies, she already has built a set of boundaries that allowed her to feel more secure as a person, despite how the world sees her, but she is much more reserved to opening herself up to others, at least compared to how she first approached people when she was younger.

It took a few missions and getting to know them better, for her to start trusting with them with her mechanical self. But now a few years later, she feels comfortable enough with most of them to give her a helping hand when needed!

Of course not everyone are capable of helping her though: Danny, Kim and Zak are three of more mechanically oriented people who can help. Though Danny is the one with actual education in that field, while Kim and Zak learned more by necessity, from Kim's various jobs and Zak to operate the Saturday's equipments.

When Rex joined them, he actually became the second best person for her to come to if she needed help. Not only because he has unprecedent skills in mechanics, but also because of his nanites. (but thats info dump for another time, lol)

Jun has some basic knowledge in mechanics, but nowhere near enough for her to feel comfortable poking in Jenny's insides. Jake is perhaps the least capable of helping, when it comes to engineering, followed by newbie Randy (tho we really aint counting him tbh xD).

Ben is a complicated situation - he has some training and knowledge in engineering and robotics because of his Plumber training, but Jenny has heard horror tales from Gwen about how he treats his stuff (the whole hacking/playing with Omnitrix settings), so she flat out refuses for Ben to touch her. However in emergency/battle situation she would allow Ben to use one of his aliens to do so (like, Grey Matter or Upgrade).

So, we talked about Jenny's experiences and why they would contribute to her feeling uncomfortable if someone asked to 'tinker' with her.

Now, let's talk about why Danny would not ask to 'tinker' with her in the first place.

Like you said, Danny is all to familiar with the struggle of being part of something tat is hardly recognized as a sentient species - he had to listen to his parents dismiss ghost sentience most of his younger life. Of course, they have gotten much better since the... 'finale' of DP, but this sort of racism? xenophobia? (im not rally sure which term to use tbh) prejudice against ghosts would have left a lasting impression on Danny.

So I dont remember if I ever implied it, but in HoM AU - events of DP finale happened very differently and the resulting consequences of it diverged a lot from Mr ButtHurtman's 'canon'.

(Also, I had ideas about it, before a Glitch In Time came out, so events from there were not taken into consideration. )

I don't want to reveal much, because it is kinda one of my planned flashback for HoM, but the events that happened reinforced Danny's ... well lets say regard of people's autonomy? It's kind of hard to put into words.

Ok, let's explain it like this: Danny would not ask Jenny if he could look at how she worked and if he could tinker with her, because it would be like if his Mom and Dad casually asked if they could perform a vivisection on him to see how different he is from a full human.

And while sure, the comparison might sound a bit extreme, since there is a difference when it comes to robots and humans about 'poking around' in their innards. But to Danny - it would be too close of a comparison - because of the whole 'recognition of sentience' thing.

After all, wasn't it just some years ago, his parents cried that ghost are nothing more than lump of malicious energy that have no feelings? They changed their mind after Danny's reveal, which allowed them to actually listen and look into evidence proving otherwise and learn. And here is Jenny, struggling to be recognized as a person, since she is considered nothing more than a lump of metal with no feelings - just a weapon to be pointed in a certain direction.

And Danny would feel like asking Jenny if he could casually poke inside her, is a bit... hypocritical? And not to mention insenstitive. After all, he knows how she feels - she is basically still living his worst imagined life in some ways.

So, I don't think he will ever ask to study how she works by casually poking inside her.

HOWEVER -

At some point, after they became friends, Danny would feel like he should know at least some basics on how Jenny works, just so he could help her in an emergency.

I imagine it happened after a particularly rough mission, and Danny had to help Jenny back home since she was unable to do so herself, so Dr. Wakeman could fix her. After some time thinking, he would sit in front of both Nora and Jenny and ask them for permission if he could learn how Jenny works - from Nora.

After all, Danny does not need to poke inside Jenny to learn how she functions, when there is her mother right there - the creator, the maintanance and doctor all in one package, with access to blueprints and all intricate knowledge, who can evaluate what Danny needs to know in accordance to his passable engineering skills. She could teach him the basics - but of course not without Jenny's permission.

So he asks her, if he could learn, because he is tired of looking how she gets hurt along with them, but unlike most of them she can not be easily fixed with bandages and some time. And Danny, since he is one of the few of them who has the skills, would like to be actually able to help her with those skills. But it is her body - it is her choice, to trust him or not.

And Jenny would be speechless. It would be the first time someone asked her like that. Not even Kim, who is one of her closest friends, asked before (but mostly because Kim was perfectly aware that she is nowhere skilled enough to even think about it).

And you would be right. It would be a show of ultimate trust from Jenny, to agree for Danny to learn. And maybe at some point, simply learning, turned into more on hands learning in some small ways. And Jenny's trust was never betrayed, and Danny always stayed humbled and aware of that.

so, i hope the answer was satisfying, or at least entertaining for you! thank you again, your ask was delightful to read and allowed me to explore some of my own backstory parts for HoM a little bit more!

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.4

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin feels completely isolated from you for the first time in five years, and he doesn’t know if he will ever be given the chance to fix his mistake.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Anakin gave his guitar to Theo as he sprinted off stage and towards the very dressing room he broke your heart in.

You never came back after walking away at the beginning of the show, and that had him completely on edge. He looked around the backstage area and when he couldn’t find you anywhere, he checked the dressing room. But you weren’t in there either. 

Maybe you went back to the bus? God, he hoped so. He just got you back, he couldn’t handle losing you again so soon, and for a completely different reason this time. 

His nerves were completely shot as he practically sprinted to the bus, the only thought on his mind being to get back to you and further explain things to you. If he needed to drop to his knees and beg for you, he was more than willing to do so, because you were it. His one and only, and you always would be. 

The show tonight was one of the longer ones, so in the two hours he was on stage you could have literally gone anywhere. His heart was in his throat as he pulled open the bus door and looked around, and he could feel it quicken its pace as he realized that you weren’t here either. 

Where the fuck did you go? You told him you’d be here after the show, yet he couldn’t find any trace of you. 

Actually, he couldn’t find any sign of you at all. Your bag was gone, your jacket was picked up from off the couch, and your laptop wasn’t on the table anymore. “No,” he rasped. “Fuck. No.”

His hands were shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called you, but he was sent straight to voicemail. 

You were ignoring him.

“Fuck,” he nearly yelled as he called you again, only to be met with the same result. “Fuck!”

After the third call he was forced to leave you a message, and he felt as pathetic as he sounded. “Baby, please. Please….call me back. I’m so sorry,” he rambled as he pulled at his sweaty hair. “We need to talk about this more, we have to work this out, I….fuck, Y/n, you said you’d be here after the show.”

He was crying now and was choking on his words as he said them, and he hoped you would be able to understand him, but he also hoped you couldn’t. He hated the fact that he was the one crying after he fucked things up, possibly beyond repair, when he really had no right to. 

“Please, just…tell me where you are and that you’re okay and safe, please,” he begged and dropped onto the couch. “I love you.” 

His phone fell to the floor after that and his hands came up to cover his face. 

He had no idea what to do. He was shaking and his eyes were sore as he couldn’t seem to stop the tears from leaving them.

What the fuck is he going to do? How is he going to fix this? 

He can��t lose you. He can’t, he wouldn’t be able to function without you. The thought of not having you around him after this was enough to send him into a panic attack, and he knew he needed to get a hold of himself, but he didn’t know how. 

You weren’t here, weren’t at the venue, and your stuff was gone. Where did you go? You wouldn’t have left without telling him, right? You wouldn’t have gone back to London and not tell him, right? 

He didn’t know anymore. 

His phone went off from its place on the floor, and he scrambled off the couch to grab it, and when he saw that it was you who texted him, he nearly cried of joy. But your message wasn’t what he wanted to read, and it left him feeling even worse.

Princess: I’m safe. I just need some time to think. Please, at least give me that. 

-

You slept on a chair in the airport last night, your duffle bag being your pillow and your jacket being your blanket. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and sore beyond words from all the crying you’ve done since Anakin told you that he cheated on you. Did that count as him cheating on you? Not exactly, but his lips touched someone else’s, so what did that make it? Accidentally cheating? You didn’t know and you were too upset to care about what to call it. 

After he went on stage and began the show, you couldn’t stand it anymore and left. You went back to the bus and was originally going to stay there and sleep on the couch, but the more you got into your head, the more you wanted to get the fuck out of there completely. 

Running away from your problems never helped anybody, but you were too stubborn to think rationally at this point. 

So you bought a ticket for the earliest flight back to London and grabbed your things before fleeing from the bus and sending him a text after listening to his voicemail. 

You felt bad about leaving like that, but you were so upset and hurt. Your heart felt like it had been physically ripped from your body and been left back with Anakin in Paris; the place you wanted to visit for so long now with the love of your life. And the two days you were there with him were amazing, and you were prepared for so much more, but every hope and dream you had for that city had been crushed and destroyed. You weren’t sure you ever wanted to go back, Eiffel Tower be damned. 

There were other towers you could see, right?

The whole flight back to London you wrote down the last few chapters for your short story in your notebook, needing the distraction to help keep you sane enough to be able to get back to your room in one piece. 

You looked like a mess once you got back onto campus, and you avoided everyone like the plague as you made a beeline towards your dorm and had a forty five minute shower. It helped a little bit, but you were still left feeling empty as you sat down on your bed with wet hair and opened up your laptop to type out what you wrote down on the plane. 

After you added some final touches, you printed it out and got changed into a pair of jeans and a grey shirt, leaving your hair still damp as you made your way to Kenneth’s classroom. 

It was empty when you entered it, and he looked up at you in surprise when you closed the door behind you and walked over to him. “Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted and closed the book he was reading. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. I thought you’d still be with that boyfriend of yours.”

The mention of Anakin had a sharp pain shoot straight through your heart, and you flinched slightly as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, something happened with that,” you whisper and he gives you a look of concern as he notices the way your eyes glaze over with tears. “I’m okay. Promise.”

He gives you a smile that nearly had you sobbing right then and there, because how the fuck did things get to this? How did you end up back in London, crying in front of your instructor with wet hair that dampened your shirt as the seconds went on? 

“Alright,” he said quietly and braced his elbows on his desk. “What’s going on?”

His voice was so comforting and caring, you allowed your walls to come down a bit as you held up the stack of papers in your hand and wiped your eyes with your other. “I wrote my short story,” you announce. “I didn’t get around to editing it, so it’s probably full of errors, but I just wanted to give it to you because..”

You stopped your sentence short, but Kenneth gave you a look that told you he knew exactly what you were saying. “Because you’re not coming back to class,” he finished for you. “Are you?”

He stated it instead of asking it, and you bite down on your bottom lip as you nodded. Glancing down at the papers in your hands, he gestures for you to give them to him, and you do so with a sad smile. “You don’t have to read it,” your voice broke as you felt yourself beginning to cry again. “I just wanted to show that I really did love every second of these classes. I know I can do so much more, but it’s just not a good time for me right now.”

Kenneth flipped through the pages and looked up at you. “I’ll read it,” he promised, his gaze the softest you had ever seen it, and you realized just how much you would miss being able to talk to him like this and not feel embarrassed about it. “You’re an amazing writer, Y/n. It was a privilege to have you in my class, and I hate to see you go so soon, but I also want you to start putting yourself first. You’re always worried about everyone else around you, don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. Whatever happened before this, don’t let it take over. Use it, if it helps.”

You nod and wipe at your eyes with both hands now, sniffling quietly as you look at the man you respect deeply. 

“You’re going to go on and do great things. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he lightened the mood by laughing and it made you laugh, too. “Just don’t forget to put yourself first. I remember when my teacher told me that, and it stuck with me for most of my life. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it until he said it.”

And you didn’t either. 

It was true, you put everyone above yourself and it often made you forget to take care of yourself. But not anymore. 

You were going back home, and you were dropping out of the program, but you weren’t quitting. You just needed to figure some things out and keep yourself grounded until you decided what was going to happen next. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Kenneth nodded and set your story down onto his desk. “Good luck, Y/n,” he said and it was the second time he used your first name since you walked in here, and it somehow made everything seem so much more real. You weren’t his student anymore. “I’ll reach out to you once I’ve finished reading this.”

“Okay,” you nod and turn around, giving the classroom one last look before heading towards the administrative office to officially drop out of the school. 

You cried more as you packed up your room, and then Bailey came in and let you cry onto her shoulder as she held you and told you to keep in touch. After that you met Evan’s eyes from across campus, and the three bags you were carrying told him all he needed to know. 

He brought you into his arms, too, and these were the people you were going to miss most about this chapter in your life. “Call me whenever you need to, okay? Or whenever you want to,” he begged and you nod against his chest. “Fuck, this sucks. I’m going to miss you.”

You laugh sadly, “I’m going to miss you, too,” then you step away and get a ride back to the airport, your heart feeling the heaviest its felt in all the twenty two years you’ve been alive. 

-

Anakin didn’t sleep at all, but that was no surprise. 

He got a good two nights of sleep with you while you were here, but now that you were gone, his sleep schedule was already back to being fucked. 

His whole body felt weak as he paced around backstage, holding his phone up to his ear as he called you for the first time today. He told himself that he’d give you some time, but fuck that. He missed you and needed to see where things were with you at the moment. 

“Hi,” you answered, making Anakin instantly stop pacing. 

“Hi,” he said back quickly. “How are you? Where are you?” He had no idea where you were since you only told him that you were safe, and he wasn’t one of those boyfriends that needed their girlfriends location on all the time. 

“In the car,” you answered and he felt his heart drop. “On the way to the airport.”

“The…airport?” He stuttered, his eyes burning as he let your words sink in. “You’re going back to London?”

“No,” you say quietly, and he could hear in your voice the way you were holding back tears. “I’m already in London. I’m going back home, Anakin.”

Anakin felt his whole body tense up, and it felt almost painful to move. So he stayed still as he tried to process your words. “You’re in London? How? When?”

“Last night. I bought a ticket and left. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I just don’t know what to do anymore, Anakin,” you cried and the remaining pieces of his heart shattered to bits. “I dropped out of the writing program and now I’m on my way back home. I need to feel normal right now or I might just go crazy.”

“Baby,” he shakily said as he met Vinny’s eyes from across the room. His friend gave him a concerned look, but Anakin just turned around and headed for the dressing room. “Baby, please.”

“Please, what? I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what to say,” you sobbed and he let the door close loudly behind him once he reached the dressing room. 

“Say that we’re going to be okay,” he begged, beginning to pace around the small room as he tugged at his hair. “Say that you and I will be fine, that we’ll talk this through and that we’re going to be okay.”

You were quiet for a few seconds, leaving him to listen to your uneven breathing. “You’re in Paris, Anakin,” he hated the way you hadn’t called him Ani even once since the start of this call. “I’ll be in LA tomorrow. Maybe this time away from each other will be good.”

“We’ve been away from each other,” he said as his heart twisted in agony. “I don’t want more time apart.”

“You’re on tour, Anakin-”

“I’ll come home,” he cut you off. “I’ll talk to Helena, we’ll stop the tour for a few weeks or something. Please.”

You sniff quietly. “The tour is too important,”

“You’re more important. We’re more important,” he thought maybe he was getting through to you, but then you destroyed that small ounce of hope with a single sentence. 

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “I need time. Have fun on the rest of the tour, Anakin. I really mean that.”

Then you hung up before he could say another word, leaving him to call you back three times before you turned your phone off. 

“Fuck!” Anakin yells out and throws his phone onto the couch before sitting down next to it, his hands coming up to cover his face as he tries to hold back his tears. 

This was all his fault. He fucked things up between you beyond repair, and he was the one to blame. 

You flew back to London, for fucks sake, and the whole time he thought you were still here. And now you’re going back to LA, back to the apartment you and he shared, and possibly packing up there as well. 

What was he supposed to do? He needed to be on stage in less than twenty minutes, and he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

Anakin looked around the room wildly, as if anything he would help him even a little bit. His eyes landed on the various alcohol bottles placed on a table in the corner, and he knew he shouldn’t. The last time he drank was at the club with Liz, then she kissed him and he threw up twice and swore he’d never drink again.

But it was different this time. 

He needed to feel nothing right now, to get him through the show, then he’d figure out how to fix things. 

Without giving it a second thought, Anakin grabbed the first bottle he could reach and spent the next ten minutes drinking it. He set the now empty bottle down and left his phone on the couch, swinging the door open and stumbling his way backstage. 

The first person he saw was Liz. Of course it was Liz. 

Anakin’s eyes glazed over and he made it to her in less than four strides. She turned to face him with that fucking smirk of hers, and he narrowed his eyes on the bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose, and for a split second he was proud that his girlfriend did that to her, then he remembered that you might not be his girlfriend anymore. “There you are,” she cooed. “We were starting to get worried.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, getting into her personal space. This was another situation where he could use his size to his advantage, even if he hated to do it, but he didn’t care right now. “This is all your fault. Y/n left because of what you did, because of what we did. Are you happy? Are you fucking proud of yourself?”

Vinny, who was standing nearby quickly made his way over, as did Helena, who had been talking with Theo a few feet away. “Anakin,” Vinny murmured, pulling on his arm. “Hey, don’t do this, man. She’s not worth it.”

Helena guided Liz away and towards the side of the stage, and Anakin could see how angry his manager was as she talked to the photographer. 

Anakin turned to Vinny, his eyes burning and his head spinning. “She left,” he rasped. “She left, Vin. Y/n left to go back home.”

Vinny stepped back in surprise but kept his hand on Anakin’s arm. “Back home? Like, back to London?”

“No, back to LA. She already went back to London and dropped out of the program and now she’s going back home,” he nearly cried. “She’s going to leave me, Vinny. I lost her.”

The drummer looked alarmed, and he pulled Anakin into his arms within seconds. “It’s okay,” he tried to comfort him, but they both knew it would never work. “It’s okay.”

Anakin felt pathetic. This is the second time Vinny had to comfort him in less than two weeks, and while he knew Vinny would never mind doing so, Anakin still felt terrible. It shouldn’t be this way. He should be better than this. 

“We’ll talk after the show,” Vinny promised, pulling away and reaching up to smooth out Anakin’s hair. “You and I will figure everything out, okay? It’s going to be okay.”

Anakin felt like a shell of himself as he nodded and allowed Vinny to lead him out onto stage, his mind a mess of thoughts and doubts and worries, and all of them were about you. 

The lights were blinding and Anakin’s vision blurred from the flashes. His head was pounding and his throat was dry as he tried to get out the last song of the night as quickly as he could, but he felt sick. The bourbon he had downed earlier didn’t help, either. 

He felt bile rise up his throat but he held it back and tore his eyes away from the crowd so he could look over at Theo. The bass player gave him a concerned look as he began to sing the song as well, no doubt sensing something was wrong and deciding to help the poor guy out.

Anakin was thankful for that as he didn’t have to raise his voice anymore since Theo is singing alongside him now, so his throat was given somewhat of a break. While his friend didn’t have a strong enough voice to be the lead singer, Theo still had a pretty good singing voice, and Anakin knew he should probably start having him sing in more songs in the future.

He felt his heartbeat quicken as even more sweat began to settle on his skin. The flannel he had adorned at the start of the show had long since been tossed aside and had left him in just his graphic tee, but he was still so fucking hot, and the lights weren’t helping at all. 

He made the mistake of looking over to his right, where he saw Liz and Helena standing backstage. While his manager had a frown on her lips, Liz had a lustful look in her eyes, and somehow that made Anakin feel even more sick. 

His fingers fumbled on the strings as he messed up the tempo of the song, which is something he had never done while he was out on stage before. Embarrassment floods through him and he quickly falls back into the right rhythm with Vinny and Theo backing him up as best as they could. 

All these cameras on him were not helping, even though he was used to being filmed at this point. He felt like was three seconds away from having a full on panic attack, and he would probably die of humiliation if he woke up tomorrow morning to see thousands of videos online of him breaking down on stage. 

The headline ‘Anakin Skywalker Has Epic Meltdown During Last Song Of Show’ was one he refused to read the following day. Fuck, he hated those stupid tabloids. They were written by money hungry, self-obsessed assholes who wouldn’t know what privacy is if it slapped them in the face. 

You hated them, too, and your distaste for them was more than valid. 

He missed you. God, did he ever. 

Anakin wasn’t used to missing you. He never needed to. Ever since his third year of high school he’s had you by his side. You were never more than a few feet away from him back then, and even now you were always usually backstage and quietly cheering him on. You should be where Liz is currently standing now. 

Or maybe he should be with you. 

Since the second you became his girlfriend you were always his top priority.

He hated that he had somehow managed to forget that fact the minute a pretty girl started paying more attention to him than you were. Could you be blamed? You were thousands of miles away and chasing your own dream while he was living out his. You couldn’t give him every second of your time like he was used to receiving, and he really fucking hated how he had actually managed to turn into one of those pricks who forgets about how good he has it as soon as things don’t end up going his way. 

Anakin wanted to stop singing the song and call out to you, but you weren’t in the crowd. You weren’t backstage. You weren’t here. You weren’t with him. You wouldn’t answer him, because you’re so fucking far away while he is here acting like everything is just fine. All he wanted to do was to run off stage, find you, and wrap you up in his arms, but he wasn’t sure if he had that right anymore.

He’s insecure and has never been away from you for this long. It was like he didn’t know how to properly function without you by his side. 

All the excuses in the world would never make up for just how poorly he’s treated you and for how little effort he’s been putting into your relationship. 

He didn’t blame you for wanting to end it.

But he needed you. He had just gotten you back, just gotten that sense of normalcy back, but you were gone again. 

Possibly for good this time, and he only had himself to blame.

-

One more part after this x

[randomness-is-my-order]

okay, buckle up, this pjo rant-post will be a bit long! this is gonna sound a bit melodramatic but what genuinely saddens me about percy’s characterisations and portrayal by the narrative over the years since the last olympian was out is that... the very nuance that was written into this character in the original series is slowly being stripped away and moulded into the caricatures that percy has been flanderized into in popular fanon. i remember having debates over the whole “can’t function without annabeth”/“has one functional braincell”/“is constantly self-doubting himself into a pithole” characterisations and opposing these perceptions with canonical content. because the beauty of percy’s character is how his strengths have always balanced his weaknesses. he’s impulsive but battle-smart, he’s ignorant (about the greek ways) but has a tough as shit skin, he’s new to everything but he’s mindful enough to keep up with the new inlet of information. he’s loyal to a fault, but brave beyond measure. he’s a smart guy, a wisecracking guy, a loving, caring, wonderful person. the aspect of himself that doubts himself always read part-trauma, part-humility. his perception of himself was generally skewed, yes, but we had a counterbalance of it in terms of how people reacted to him, even in the original series! annabeth sure as hell didn’t fall for him for being a dumbknut who can’t tie his shoelaces without her assistance. their competence was implicitly and explicitly shown to be equal! percy had opinions that went against annabeth’s all the time, he had stances on matters that he remained so firm on he gave up immortality for them. he respected himself enough to respect his own views on different matters.

and towards the end of the series, i always got the impression that percy’s self-doubt had been improving and that is exactly how an upward progressive arc for a main character should be! and i did think that was rick’s idea too during the heroes of olympus, especially because the outsider perspectives were heavy on appreciating percy as a powerful, capable demigod. but i think, in hindsight, the seeds of what we now see in the new trilogy had already been planted. the constant pointed remarks about percy’s intelligence are irksome enough but the backpedaling of percy’s self-perception is probably the most egregious to me. because how do i argue my points from above anymore when the newest canon supports that fanon pov?

when the people surrounding percy have been reinforcing views that undermine him–primarily his intelligence and his competence–the very same people who you’d think would know better because they actually know percy the most intimately, it makes sense that percy himself is still stuck in the routine of undermining his ownself. but also... this should, from a writing-continuity perspective, make NO sense whatsoever. because this kind of superficial reading of percy from the other characters only made sense at the very start of the original series. by the end, i do not think annabeth was in the dark about percy’s “surprising intelligence”. that’s a laughable notion to have. and she’d be the first to shut down anyone implying that percy couldn’t function without her because again, so much of their original fascination and bonding with each other was about how well they could keep up with each other! they don’t need each other and that makes it all the more wonderful that they’re gonna help each other out regardless!

ugh, i just do not understand the logic behind having the protagonist revert back to self-esteem issues that he has already been shown to overcome to a noticeable difference by the conclusion of his original arc. i get regression in self perception is not some uncommon, unfathomable concept. but i cannot wrap my head around the fact that this view of percy of his ownself is not treated with enough gravity by the narrative, instead it’s just a part of his pov now. i do not think rick’s trying to paint annabeth or the friends as enablers of this self-perception and if he is, that’s bullshit. someone like sally would not allow her son to continue thinking of himself in such a manner anyway.

also, like, forget everything–the writing, the logic leaps, the plot holes. is it too much to ask for percy, a beloved main character, to have a confident outlook and have that reflected in the books explicitly meant for “fun”? if this series is how we send-off the golden trio and say goodbye to them, why do we need to see percy with a self-deprecating perception? why can’t we have banter that doesn’t horribly contradict established characterisations in the past? the fun of percabeth was, for me, that even if they were on some pedestal, they were on it together. but lately, it’s like rick is trying his best to throw percy off that pedestal from all directions possible and i think that’s such a disservice to this character we all have cherished for decades now. there are ways to go about writing, what is essentially, an “unserious” trilogy without compromising on character traits and interpersonal dynamics. it was never dumb vs smart, clumsy vs competent, grumpy vs sunshine, whipped vs unbothered when it came to percabeth. but slowly, so many of these black-and-white popular tropes have been bleeding into their canon dynamic and at the cost of sounding crude: fuck this, just fucking FUCK THISSSS.

[jadeddangel]

Feel free to ignore this request if you want! But basically Adam and reader being pretty good friends who are casual with each other, have a similar sense of humor and personality, reader is a older sibling figure to many of the other angels, and him just beginning to actually gain feelings for them

Eeee I'm so excited!! Thank you for requesting!!

Adam x reader

"Can't believe I'm falling in love with such a cocky bitch"

You and Adam knew eachother since the beginning of time, and having known eachother that long you started to rub off on eachother. You both had similar humor and jokes the only difference was, was that you knew how to act politely, Adam did not.

You worked as a welcoming angel for new souls and angels of the like, showing them around and getting them set up in a home was just one of your many jobs. You worked closely with percious but you didn't like him, he was kind of a cunt when he wasn't around other people. You were on your lunch break sitting at a high table on a chair swinging your legs happily, you had gotten a milkshake and some fries. Adam snuck up behind you grabbing your sides suddenly, "hah! gotcha bitch!" Adam laughed. You had went to hit him at first but started laughing with him when you realized who it was, "adam!! You bitch come sit! I haven't seen you all week bro" you pointed to the seat across from you.

You couldn't even remember who had started the tradition of sneaking up on each other, but it just stuck, and Adam never failed to sneak up on you. Adam and you talked about your week together making small jokes as you ended up sharing your fries and milkshake with him. "And then she's over here hitting on the drummer, like, you think you want drummer dick? Nah, do you know who I am? I'm fucking Adam, I'm the original dick!" Adam recited the story to you as you started snort laughing. "Well it can't be that good if she wanted drummer dick!" You said between laughing as you hit your thigh loosing your shit over your own joke. "Hey!! My dick is fine thank you very much!" Adam huffed defensively before joining in your laughter. It took you both forever to catch your breath and stop.

Adam grabbed the last fry and ate it "Alright sugartits I've gotta go danger tits is waiting for me, but hey! I'll swing by your place with some Chinese food. Sound good?" Adam looked at you with hopeful eyes. You chuckled "sure thing dickmaster I'll see ya then" you said playfully giving him a sweet smile. Adam went to get you a hug but paused and patted you on the head awkwardly instead before speeding off to go find lute.

You were a bit confused but expected it from Adam, well atleast you were learning to Adam had been acting weird.. you thought that it would be all fixed up after mating week, but he was still just as weird as before.

You ended up getting an early day off since Emily took over welcoming souls for a bit to help. "Calm her energy down." In Sera's words, at least. You picked up your place, finally dishes and other chores you were behind on. You got a movie picked for tonight and some beer and sodas for you and Adam.

Adam finally came by your place after dark with a bag of Chinese food and a bag of clothes for him to change into assuming he was staying over. Adam knocked on the door rhythmically as he waited, you opened the door after a moment or so in some sleep shorts and one of Adam's band t-shirts(I keep forgetting Adam has a band bro).

"Woah, is that Adam without lute on his shoulder like a little parrot?" You teased letting the man in. Adam took his helmet off and rolled his eyes, "I'm not bringing my second in command to your house to hang out." Now that that was weird, Adam never responded that way to that joke, "bro, you good? What happened that got you all pissy? Are you on your man period or sum?" You asked concerned but still trying to make it a joke. Adam sighed "nah just a lot on my mind. There's this chick -" "ooooo does the Adam have a crush?" Who's the lucky bitch huh? " You cut him off plopping on your couch and turning your head so Adam could change(like you weren't just watching him in the reflection of the tv). Adam sighed and got changed into comfy clothes, "yea it's fucking weird though I mean she wouldn't leave my mind during mating week and ugh I get so awkward around her" Adam groaned laying on the couch with his head in you thighs. "Shit Adam do you actually like this chick? Or do you just wanna fuck her? Orrrr was the pussy that good that you want more?" You teased playing with Adam's hair carefully. Adam shook his head "I think I like her I mean I've known her for awhile and she just gets me yknow?" Adam said tilting his head a bit to look at you before changing his mind and grabbing the remote looking through Aisney(angel disney) and putting on the live action of "the jungle dude" (the jungle book).

You took a moment to think, it hurt, the thought of Adam falling in love with someone else after sharing so much. "Just think about your heart before you brain Adam, think about your feelings, maybe you should tell her I mean it can't hurt too bad, and I mean if your friends I'm sure she feels the same... and you guys can just be together, yknow.." You slowly got quieter and quieter, feeling like if you were any louder, you were gonna cry your eyes out.

Adam nodded a bit. "What would you do in my situation?" Adam asked under his breath, yet you still heard him. You took a deep breath "Adam I...." Your words got caught in your throat as you looked down at him looking guilty. Adam tilted his head to look at you confused at the look. "What's with the look sugar tits? You look like I'm about to cry, did I say sum?" Adam asked genuinely concerned for you. It made your heart melt knowing he cared for you so much, it made your heart melt so much in fact that before your brain registered what you were doing you had leaned down and trapped his lips in a kiss. The angle wasn't comfortable, and your spine was bent weird, but God was it worth it, feeling how soft his lips were. Adam froze for a moment before melting into it, licking along your bottom lip, teasing you a bit. After a moment of you both continuing to kiss each other, you both pulled away for air a small string of salive connecting you and breaking after you moved too far away. You were panting a bit but didn't go too far from his face. "That's what I'd do.. " you whispered softly, your lips barely brushing against Adam's. Adam reached up and put a had on your cheek "you wanna know something sugar tits? I think I would do the same.." Adam smiled as he locked your lips together in a passionate kiss pulling away after a few moments.

Adam smiled and sat up next to you , allowing you to straighten your back properly. Adam chuckled " awwe you hunched just to kiss me sugar tits? I'm honored" Adam joked. You rolled your eyes "yea yea whatever dickmaster now do you wanna cuddle up and eat while we watch a movie or do we wanna talk about what well we are first?" You tilted you head a bit. Adam was already reaching for the bag when you brought it up. "What do you mean what we are? I thought that kiss established it, I'm yours and your mine" Adam spoke almost boredly. You could feel the blush creep up on your face " your gonna be one heck of a boyfriend " you laughed.

The rest of the evening was relaxed as you cuddled and ate together. Before falling asleep together on your couch, hoping everything would be perfect with you both together

[blueflipflops]

I saw the post you made about punk-flower and the patch sharing jacket and I just wanted to ask if you have anything specific that you would like to expand on as I plan to write a fic for it!

I’ve been in a writing slump for months now and you’re post just inspired me again finally so I just wanted to see if there were any more headcannons you had for this idea

This is the post I’m referencing btw!

Ignore the terrible crop job lol

Oooooh thats so cool! Sure!! Go for it!!

There's really not much for me to add other than ✨️vibes✨️and like a general direction/idea. But i do have a few so here's what i got so far:

I imagine that Miles was the first one to ask bring up the patched jackets (i don't really know what they're called) thing for like just a conversation starter at first but ended up getting geniunely interested as Hobie rants explains the whole thing. From its history where its originally a practical way of mending clothes but now means more to the punk culture, to how to stitch it in, picking the right jacket for it, etc.

He would explain each patch in his vest, what they represent, and how he got it. (Or Miles would ask abt it idk)

I like to hc hobie as decent enough at sewing to make shody patches with his own design. Its not good good but he's proud of them enough to show it off

Miles couldn't get his mind off Hobie's rant and some of the shoddy patches that looks so rough and like a snap away from leaving Hobie's vest and he can't get his mind off the fact that Hobie made some of his own patches which made him curious enough to make his own designs.

At first it was just drawings and doodles but then he got curious enough to try embriodery stuff. How hard could it be, right? He was wrong. Embroidery is very hard. (This coming from me who does embroidery for fun) But the learning process was fun enough that he continued on.

Rio absolutely caught him more than once, brings out her sewing kit, and gives him tips and advices like different kinds of stitches and how to fix holes on clothes, happy to have something they can bond over. (Would love to have more Rio content. She deserves the world.)

With his newly aqcuired sewing skills, he offers to fix Hobie's patch that was loose.

Then he showed Hobie the very first patch he made which was a very simple sunflower (or something else if you want) and

Hobie was very normal about that and trying to be casual like: "Can I keep it?" And it flusters Miles like "Uh, yeah, sure. I guess. I mean if you want it—"

Hobie then decided that Miles is his new go-to patch repair guy just so he can spend more time with him

Miles uses a really old jacket from either his dad or his uncle Aaron or heck even from his mom or maybe even from his grandparents. (your pick) Because he knows that you just dont do that on a new jacket! That goes against its whole purpose!!

When he shows Hobie the jacket he intends to patch up, Hobie got so exited that he rips off a patch from his vest and gifts it to Miles to "start him with" or something.

They gift each other patches that reminds them of the other

And yeah. That's it. Thats all I've got haha. Link me up on the fic when (? Or after? Srry idk grammar haha) you get to write it. Really very excited to read how you write my current favorite blorbos!! 💕

[melzula]

The Search

part two

pairing: Zuko x princess!reader

notes: part two is finally here! hope you enjoy, and reminder that not everything from the comics is covered in these pieces so i suggest reading the search to better your experience :) also if you’d like to be removed from the taglist pls let me know!

summary: the group arrives in Hira’a where the Princess’s patience is tested by Azula

~ part of the fire lilies series~

It had been an eventful morning to say the least.

Azula’s frenzied outburst had led to your group having to put out the fires left in her wake, and though it was obvious she was clearly unfit to travel, Zuko insisted that everything was fine. You would continue your journey to Hira’a as planned, and without further discussion you found yourself back on Appa’s saddle flying towards the small town.

This trip was turning out to be much more eventful than you had originally anticipated, but still you tried your best to mask your apprehensions in support of Zuko’s search for his mother. However, you could sense that there was now something different about Zuko, as if a change had occurred overnight while you were sleeping, but if there was such a change he said nothing of it.

“You missed breakfast this morning,” you remind him as you place a mango in his lap and sit beside him on the saddle. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not sure,” he laments quietly, staring down contemplatively at the fruit. “So far this trip isn’t going the way I pictured it.”

“It hasn’t been perfect,” you agree with a shrug, “but it could be worse. There’s still time to turn it around.”

“I wish I had your optimism.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you counter with a teasing smile, “to balance out your negativity.”

“Two halves of a whole,” he replies with a quiet laugh. Despite the events of this morning and the contents of Azula’s scroll, Zuko’s mood is already beginning to improve. Maybe you’re right, and things will get better before the trip is over, but there’s still work to do, so your group will just have to wait and see.

After finally arriving to Hira’a, Zuko suggests you all work to conceal your identities in order to avoid drawing attention to your group, and so you put on a Fire Nation style dress and remove any trace of your water tribe identity. The act is reminiscent to your time hiding in the Fire Nation after your breakup, but you try not to think too much about that as you attempt to tie a top knot in your hair.

“Allow me,” Zuko offers with a fond smile, taking the ribbon from your hands and carefully pulling back your hair before beginning to style the knot. His movements are gentle in order to avoid pulling your hair, and you’re immediately able to relax at the feeling of his touch.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring the look of disgust Azula sends your way. It’s obvious she still isn’t very fond of your relationship with her brother, but you try your best to pay her no mind and focus on the task at hand.

“I thought Hira’a was supposed to be a small town,” Aang notes curiously as your group begins to walk into the bustling community, “why is it so crowded?”

“Looks like they’re performing some kind of play!”

“I recognize that scene!” Zuko exclaims with a smile. “It’s the final battle in Love Amongst the Dragons.”

You smile as a wave of nostalgia washes over you at the mention of the play. Though you’d never seen the performance yourself, Zuko often took it upon himself to reenact it for you during his visits to the South when you were children. If she was in a good mood and had nothing better to do, Azula too would sometimes join in on the reenactment as the part of the Dragon Emperor. It was their mother’s favorite play, and it was something Zuko felt he could share with you so that you could know her the way he did. You never got the chance to meet her, but you felt like you knew her from all the times he had talked about her.

When the play is over and the crowd begins to disperse, your group begins asking the remaining locals about any information they may have concerning Ursa. Though you’re mostly given pure rumors and speculation, a man by the name of Noren seems to be your best bet at discovering her whereabouts.

“I’m the director of the Hira’a acting troupe,” he says as he shakes Zuko’s hand. “Ursa was once a member.”

“Really?” Zuko asks with a surprised smile.

“That’s right!” A nearby local exclaims, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. “She always wanted to play the Dragon Empress, but she never got the chance!”

“We should find a quiet place to talk, away from the crowds,” Noren suggests in response to the eavesdropper. “You’re all welcome to my home. We’ll share some tea and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“It would be an honor. Thank you,” Zuko says gratefully before your group begins to follow the man to his home.

It seems you were right about still being able to turn this trip around for good. Because of Noren, Zuko is one step closer to finding his mother.

Thank the spirits for your optimism.

~~~

Noren’s home is the perfect place to relax after the eventful morning you’ve had, and you’re grateful for his wife Noriko’s tea and hospitality. Your friends sit spread out around the home conversing and enjoying their drinks, and you find yourself being kept company by the couple’s adorable daughter Kiyi and her doll little Kiyi.

“I like little Kiyi’s dress,” you tell her with a sincere smile, “you both match beautifully.”

“Thanks! She likes your dress too! She thinks you’re pretty.”

“Why thank you, little Kiyi,” you giggle. “You’re a wonderful hostess.”

“Hey, do you think your boyfriend would wanna meet my doll?”

“I’m sure he’d love to,” you smile, and when Kiyi holds out her little hand for you to take you graciously accept her invitation to get up and follow her to where Zuko and Azula are seated on the floor.

“Wanna meet my doll?” She asks as you sit yourself beside him.

“Of course,” he replies as Azula answers with a “No” at the same moment.

“This is Kiyi!”

“I thought your name was Kiyi,” Zuko notes with a chuckle as the little girl proudly displays her doll for him to see.

“It’s such a good name I used it twice!”

“It certainly is a lovely name,” you agree fondly much to Kiyi’s joy.

“Yes, but I must admit that little Kiyi has a very interesting… haircut,” the Fire Lord notes with an amused smile, carefully running his finger along doll’s the frayed strands of hair.

“I wanted to make her prettier, but it didn’t turn out very good,” the girl says with a frown.

“I still think she’s pretty,” you console with a genuine smile, “you just need to style her hair is all.”

“Really? Could you do that?” Kiyi asks in astonishment.

“My sister used to do stuff like that,” Zuko says in passing, prompting a sly smirk to form on Azula’s face at the mention.

“That’s right. Only I didn’t give them haircuts, I gave them headcuts!” She remarks snidely. “Would you like me to show you?”

“No!” Kiyi cries, immediately clutching her doll close to her chest and hiding behind you for protection.

“Azula, stop it!” Zuko scolds.

“Haven’t you terrorized enough dolls?” You accuse, recalling how she had beheaded your favorite doll when you were children. It had crushed you, and you weren’t about to let her do the same to poor Kiyi.

“That was ages ago, y/n. Don’t be so dramatic,” Azula dismisses you with a wave of her hand.

“You really haven’t changed,” you huff much to Zuko’s dismay. He feels guilty for having to put you through all of this, and though he had hoped this trip would be a chance for Azula to redeem herself it seemed now that that was unlikely.

“Kiyi,” Noren says as he enters the room with Sokka following close behind him, “are you being hospitable to our guests?”

"I’m trying!” She insists exasperatedly prompting you to frown.

“She’s the perfect hostess, Noren,” you assure him with a smile, your compliment alleviating some of Kiyi’s stress.

“Will you play dolls with me? I have an extra one you can borrow,” she asks.

“Of course, I’d be honored,” you smile, laughing quietly at the way she immediately bolts out of the room in search of her spare doll.

“You’re so… good with her,” Zuko notes quietly. “It almost seems to come naturally for you.”

“Well, teaching a new generation of children to water bend is certainly good practice,” you explain fondly.

The mention of your students has you feeling homesick, and you can’t help but wonder how your tribe was doing without you. You left them in the care of Hakoda and Pakku, so you knew they were in good hands, but a part of you still worried. The last time you’d been away from home things hadn’t gone so well, but you hoped this time would be different.

“I guess that’s true,” he notes with a chuckle, but his heart is full of admiration for you. Your gentle nature and kind heart are what he loves most about you, and seeing you interact with Kiyi only strengthens the adoration he has for you. He briefly begins to imagine what you’d be like as a mother, but he’s quick to remind himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

Your group learns from Noren and Noriko that Ursa was once a famous member of the Hira’a acting troupe, but her career was cut short when she was taken away to the Capital City and married into the royal family. No one truly knows what happened to her or her boyfriend Ikem, but some believe the two ran off to the Forgetful Valley. The story is pure speculation, but it’s enough to give Zuko a sense of what his next step in finding his mother should be.

You all are sure to thank the couple for their help and hospitality, and as you turn to leave a tug at your dress has you halting in your tracks.

“Will you and Zuko come again?” Kiyi pleads. “Please, please, please!”

“I really hope so, Kiyi,” he says with a smile.

“I promise I will do my absolute best to come and visit you again,” you assure her, and with that you and your friends depart from the family’s home and head for Appa.

“Ugh, more than once tonight I was tempted to burn that whole place down!” Azula scoffs in disgust. “But I resisted for you, Zuzu. I hope you appreciate it.”

“Azula!” You exclaim in shock at her words. “What an awful thing to say!”

“How could you even think that about such a lovely family?!” Katara cries angrily.

“Oh please, their charade disgusted me. Nobody’s that happy!”

“Aang and I are that happy!” Katara rebuffs only for Azula to scoff.

“Because you two are idiots,” she states plainly as if it’s the most obvious observation.

“Does that make Zuko and I idiots as well?” You counter, arms crossing over your chest indignantly.

“No, you and Zuko are a mistake,” she corrects you with a snide smirk. “Unnatural and unfit for each other.“

Though you’d learned early on to have a thick skin when it came to Azula, there was something about her words that got to you in a way she hadn’t been able to do since you were children. Your eyes zero in on her cruel smile and your hands begin to clench at your sides as you stare the girl down.

“What did you say?” You utter through gritted teeth, your sudden change in demeanor surprising even Katra.

“You must not be as smart as I thought if you honestly think you’re meant to be together,” she taunts with a sneer. “A Water Tribe Chief and the Fire Lord? What a joke.”

“Azula, that’s enough,” Katara attempts to intervene to no avail as you feed right into Azula’s mind games.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Zuko loves me.”

Your body feels as if it’s on fire as a result of her words, your chest tightening and fingertips beginning to curl instinctually for a fight. You know she’s just trying to get a reaction out of you, and yet you can’t help the anger and despair they bring you. Could it be the reason you were reacting so strongly to her words was because you knew there was some ounce of truth to them?

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Azula shrugs with a passive smile that only infuriates you further.

Sensing the rising tension amongst his friends and Azula, Sokka is quick to approach Aang and Zuko who are having a conversation a ways ahead of the group. “How much longer do you plan to keep this crew together, Zuko? I give it another two minutes tops before something’s either on fire or encased in ice!”

“One more place to visit and then we’re done,” he assures his friend. “We’re going to Forgetful Valley.”

Katara is sure to separate you from Azula as you climb onto Appa’s saddle and attempt to cool off from your spat. Across the way the fire bender sits with a smug smile on her face, clearly aware that she’d gotten under your skin like she’d been trying to do since seeing you again.

“You know she’s just trying to get a reaction out of you, don’t listen to her,” Katara consoles. “Zuko adores you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“Do you really think the Fire Lord and the Chief can be together?” You ask, a sense of defeat in your tone. “Is it really possible?”

Your lack of usual optimism and confidence catches Katara off guard. She hadn’t heard you sound this despondent since you joined their team after your breakup with Zuko in Ba Sing Se. It worried her, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to make it better. Azula really had gotten under your skin.

“You and Zuko are meant to be together,”she says with a reassuring smile, “you wouldn’t have made it this far through everything that’s been thrown your way if you weren’t.”

Sensing her sincerity and acknowledging the truth to her words, your nerves begin to dissipate and you finally find yourself able to relax. Katara was right, you and Zuko had managed to overcome every hurdle in your relationship, and nothing was going to change that.

“Princess,” Zuko calls gently, and Katara takes this as her cue to leave. Taking her place beside you, he removes his cloak and drapes it carefully over your shoulders to ensure you stay warm during the flight to Forgetful Valley. “I’m sorry about my sister, I should have stopped her from speaking to you that way.”

“It’s alright,” you reply with a meek smile. It really isn’t, but Zuko has a lot on his plate and the last thing you want is to pile onto it. You can swallow your hurt and your anger for his sake.

“We should be arriving to Forgetful Valley by morning,” he informs you, “I think you should try and get some rest.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” you admit dejectedly, contemplatively staring down at your scars. “Too much excitement at once, I suppose.”

“Then I’ll keep you company,” he insists with a gentle smile. “And when you do fall asleep I’ll be here to chase the nightmares away should they come.”

“Thank you, my love,” you utter gratefully, immediately melting into his touch when he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in for a tender kiss.

And unbeknownst to either of you, Azula looks on from across Appa’s saddle with a scowl on her face and a vengeful glint in her eyes.

| atla taglist: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @chronic-daydreamer

| zuko taglist: @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @taeeemin @user12345321

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