#it's so frustrating....someone somewhere had to have recorded the whole thing right???

[brainworms-all-night-long]

Gives you a 🌹 with a hunch of freebies

(🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹)

This is just a little one-shot I'm not rewriting Sonic prime s3 this is just a little one-shot I'm not rewriting Sonic prime s3 this is just a one-shot I'm not re

"Wait a minute. Black Rose, where is the rest of your crew?" The numbers weren't adding up. "Batten? Sails? Catfish?" Black only starred at him wide eyes, seemingly processing the possibility of her crew being in danger. "Figured they were somewhere in this cursed place. Has no one seen them? Dread?" Her voice was coated with the edge of disbelief slipping into desperation as she turned towards her captain for any sign of hope. Dread only shrugged, disinterested. "They're still in No Place.." Realization dawned onto Sonic and he immiditely ran through any possible actions to take to get them out. "Not for long, that place is shattering at the seams." Doctor Don't suddenly added and pulled up a screencap showing the current state of No Place, which to say, wasn't the best "If your friends are there, it's game over for them." Too bad, there's no game over for Sonic the hedgehog, especially if his friends are involved. "I have to try." "There's no time." this time it was MrDr.Eggman that made himself known with urgency. No matter what the doctor says, it's not gonna move him though "I'm not leaving anyone behind. I can't." "Hey are those... the metal birds?" Sonic shifted his attention from the doctor to Gnarly and to where the echidna was looking. His blood ran cold. "Yes they're fully occupying the area outside of the dome." Rebel stated focused on the movement behind the only thing separating them from certain death, but that wasn't what concerned either him or Gnarly. "No, over there!" Gnarly shook his head and frantically pointed towards the snapshot of No Place. Sure enough what was left behind of the Angel's voyage crew was trying and failing to fight off a batch of viscious Grim bots undoubtedly sent by Nine for no good reason. "Just what does that fox think he's doing." Renegade watched with gridded teeth as the birds dissapeared through a crack in the sky with the unfortunate crew in their talons. "See? We have to go and help them now." Sonic was already up and runing before he finished his sentence, yet just had to be stopped by three tennis balls digging into his chest. "We all know what happens once that fox gets his paws on ya, and I'll be double dog darned if I sit back and twiddle my thumbs, while you give away the store!" It would be an understatement that Dr.Done It's voice wasn't absolutely grading to the ears, but thankfully he was kicked away by mister doctor. "Agreed, than now let the record show that this has nothing to do with our concern for your well being." Well, "thankfully" was a way too charitable of a word in this case, all of them were insufferable. Honestly Sonic couldn't care less about what exuses or reasons they have on keeping him confined here, his friends need him and he's stood around for more than he'd like to even if someone's life wasn't in danger– Wait, "their lives in danger." Nine wouldn't do anything that drastic would he? No matter, Sonic pushed those thoughts away and instead opted to bolt out again "Noted. Now that we got that cleared up, back in a jiff!" Exept he was stopped with almost trained precision by Rebel. "Sonic I hate to admit it," her ears dropped but hand stayed firm in front of him, "but they got a point." "Sorry Rebel, but I can't just sit around and risk the lives of my friends-" She stopped him from moving again and honestly this whole debate was getting just a tad bit frustrating. "No, that's exactly what Nine wants. He's banking on you to rush in headless so he can catch you off guard as you waltz right into his trap." Sonic was about to open his mouth again but she cut him off "I've lost way too many resistance mebers, and friends, to that strategy. I can't let the same happen ever again." Her eyes carried a considerable weight of sadness, even as they stared knives at the back of Mirster whatever egg head. And Sonic's ears did drop at the implications but he still couldn't belive Nine would punch that low. Sure he was angsty and kinda unreasonable right now, but not downright evil. He hoped so anyway.

[dangerously-human]

I was right a year ago, and I was right again now even though I told myself I was being foolish and immediately moved past my suspicion, because why wouldn't I when I was directly told otherwise?

Which is to say: the young whippersnapper asked me out today, after our hike. Sort of. He had written me a letter, and read it, so it was a bit more of a dramatic confession than anything else - but to be fair, that's definitely the vibe I was stuck on with crushes in my early twenties too. It kicked off with "I know we both know I was lying when I said this wasn't what I was trying to do last year," and I had to stop him to say no, I did not know that. That's the one piece of this that does bother me, because I agonized over that misunderstanding, I blamed myself for thinking way too highly of myself and reading the situation wrong, and I would have made different - more careful - choices had I known over the last year that he did have a crush on me. I stopped being cautious not to lead him on, but I don't think I can feel guilty when I was operating off of the information I'd been given. But aside from that, it was fine, and just like last time, I'm glad we cleared the air. I told him I was proud of him for trying, said I've only ever managed to do that outright once and it's hard, but I froze when he asked when because I do not want to encourage the jealousy factor I sense still simmering between him and the adventurer even a year past me resolving my own crush, so I said that was a story for another time, maybe - but at least I have a very good track record of keeping/getting back to normal with these friendships that had this complicating factor in one direction or another. That was apparently part of his worry, that I've been talking more about moving, whether that's the Ireland fellowship or just trying somewhere else for a year, and I "graduate" from young adults Bible study this summer, and he was a little scared of losing me. So again, I pointed out that I've got a good track record of maintaining friendships even when we don't share the same context anymore. He was respectful about everything, not at all pushy (just a tad dramatic), only objecting to my point from last year about the age gap - which I stand by, but it's not the only reason this wouldn't work for me, it was just the easiest one to say quickly last time around.

It feels a little messy, honestly - I'm genuinely surprised Bible study bestie managed not to give anything away when we were talking dating stuff last night (she helped me set up a dating app profile, which is a whole other challenge I feel far less equipped to deal with, if I'm being honest), since the young whippersnapper asked her and her husband for advice, so they were already in the loop. Which makes it easier, doesn't it, I can process with BSB without having to really catch her up on much. These things happen, in friend groups, where everyone's kind of involved to varying degrees. And partially it's a bit flattering, really. But I'm not going to date someone where I'd be the spiritual leader in the relationship, or the more mature in just about every way (among other reasons). I guess the good thing about functionally having this discussion split across a year like this is he's grown a ton in the meantime, so I don't think I hurt him nearly as badly as I would have before. And while I'm frustrated that he lied to me, we did end up with a closer friendship than I would have allowed otherwise, and it's a good one. I just... it's a lot, I guess. More for him than me, obviously. And I hope I handled it with grace.

(But there's a part of me that's yelling I TOLD YOU SO, too. Even in the midst of awkwardness, dang do I appreciate the vindication of being right.)

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturday's #6:

What Is True

Yeah, yeah, I know it's not Saturday. But let's get the weekend going early by checking back in on Sandy's rough return to Fairport Convention in 74/75...

Denny had just made seven nearly flawless records in a row (I'm not including The Bunch in that total; we'll get to that silly record in good time). Beginning with Fortheringay in 68, she'd brought perfect demos of her own songs to every one of those records.

And just listen to the plaintive, yearning ballad she offered her husband's increasingly macho version of Fairport in 74:

In a way I feel for the band here. What the hell were they supposed to do with such a song other than get out of her way? After all, a lot of the song's power comes from picturing Denny alone amidst the storm, working through her feelings for another without them around to bug her. The last thing we need here is a bass line.

But the song turns a corner at the 2 minute mark; Denny reaches out to that other, asking for them to help her have the one thing she's never had. Dave Swarbrick could have joined her there; his fiddle could have answered her longing, providing partnership; light drumming could have joined the conversation as well: after the initial solo elegance, the song's flashes of potential optimism could have found communal form.

The right producer could have helped Denny and the band strive in this, or in another, positive direction. Dylan and Leonard Cohen's producer from that era, Bob Johnson, would have been a perfect choice for that role. Listen to Johnson eight years earlier, trying to help Dylan transform an utterly solo piano song into a full band piece during the Blonde on Blonde sessions.

You can hear that Dylan's lost at first; he's just not into it. But then Johnson steps in with simple reassurance: "do what you were doing," he says. Have some faith and patience, Bob. Let the band listen and appreciate the song, then let them find their way unobtrusively in.

And, one by one, they all do just that. Dylan takes note; his playing and singing improve and he starts to believe. At the end of the track he invents a whole new piano riff (unless that's a second piano alongside him?) that soars somewhere new while entrusting the now organ-led band with the main melody. It's a wonderful piece - and it's a shame Dylan didn't let Johnston help him polish it into final form.

But Johnson wasn't there to lend that kind of support to Denny and the band; instead, as we discussed last week, they had Dumb and Dumber (her husband and Glyn Johns) running the show. And, oh God, just listen to how they ruin her lovely song.

Forget straight up piano; let's make Sandy play electric keys and send everything through some silly pedal, says Glyn the Git. Forget thoughtful pacing; let's give it a driving pulse that doesn't wait for her, says her unhelpful husband. Forget a sympathetic bass line; let's have the bass wander aimlessly about disrupting things before, at the last moment, when Denny has surely already taken off for the ladies in frustration, finding a nice final riff, says the normally dependable Dave Pegg.

And forget Swarbrick uplifting it all with his elegant fiddle; let's have him play inconsequential acoustic guitar, says someone dumb, probably Stephen Stills. It's a wonder they didn't bring in the percussionist on just about every bad song in history, Joe Lala, to drown out every remaining glimpse of soul left in the piece. (My famous brother pointed out that I forgot to mention in this week's Grace Slick post that Lala is one of the guys swinging her terrorizing WRECKING BALL.)

Honestly, the Fairport take of What Is True isn't as bad as I claim. If I'd never heard the song's spiritual demo I might enjoy the performance.

Even so, here's what I say is true: Joni Mitchell, Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris all had male band mates in this same era that knelt before them, complimenting their greatness without elbowing them out of the way or undercutting their genius.

On this, and every other, Saturday, Sandy deserves the same.

[harlowsbby]

Bare wit me part 2

Love is so strange, one minute you’re head over hills for somebody and the next minute you’re crying your heart out and wondering what went wrong.

You getting cheated on wasn’t your fault but you couldn’t help but to blame yourself. Maybe you should’ve saw the signs sooner thinking back on times you’d leave Jack and Lilly alone flooded your mind, all those times they spent together they were sleeping with each other.

Maybe if you were a better girlfriend you wouldn’t have gotten cheated on, you weren’t so sure what it was or how to feel, your emotions were all in the wind you felt like you were going down and couldn’t get up.

“Y/N open the door please, you’ve been hiding in your room all day.” You’ve been staying with your friend Tae ever since you found out Jack was cheating on you, being alone would just take its tole on your mentally so staying with Tae was your best option.

“Let me be Tae please I don’t wanna see anybody ever again, I’m literally the joke of Atlanta right now.” Tae sighed and took out the spare key he had in his pocket before opening the door.

“How did you get in?”

“A spare key duh and I need you to get up and shower I’m not letting you lay around and feel depressed and sorry for yourself he isn’t worth it.”

Tae despised Lilly and Jack for what they did to you especially Lilly, you’ve all been best friends since elementary school he never thought Lilly would stoop so slow and sleep with someone’s man.

“I just hate the way I spent so much time and effort into a relationship that was failing Tae, this shit hurts so much. I was kept a secret for months and months and just to find out the reason why we couldn’t tell the world about us is because he was cheating on me with my so called best friend.”

“I understand your frustration and anger boo but sitting in this dark room all day and eating up all of my ice cream might I add, isn’t healthy.” Tae rubbed soothing circles on your back and you smiled.

“You’re right Tae thank you.”

“You’re welcome Y/N but seriously get up the charity event is tonight and you’re coming.” You groaned and tossed a pillow at Tae but smiled and got up and started the shower for you.

Every year around this holidays Atlanta always put together a charity event for those indeed, a lot of famous celebrities and influencers were invited and helped host the event and they even had musical guest, sadly this years music guest was Jack.

“Do I have to go? How about we both just stay in bed all day and watch movies.” You smiled nicely and even gave him your signature pout but Tae wasn’t falling for it.

“Nope you’re getting up and getting dressed and going, now get up you honestly smell like ten cans of bounce that ass.”

With the help of Tae you finally managed to get up and shower it felt good but the entire time all you thought about was Jack.

That night

“You slept with Lilly? Are you kidding me right now Jack.” You we’re a crying mess, you were sure people around were recording and ready to share them to all the known blogs but that was the last thing on your mind.

“Baby it was a mistake.”

“A mistake?!” Lilly stepped forward.

“You weren’t calling me a mistake just a few days ago, I wasn’t a mistake when you were fucking me after Y/N left to work.” Several gasp were heard from across the room.

“Really Jack? This whole time I was out here being faithful to you and doing nothing but loving and caring for you and towards you and you were out here cheating.”

“Please baby let’s talk about this somewhere more private.” He whispered and went to take your hand but you pulled your hand back and shook your head at him, tears stung your eyes.

“I hate you Jack I really and honestly hate you.”

“You don’t mean that Y/N.” Jack’s lip quivered and tried his best to mask his emotions but he couldn’t.

“I mean every word Jack. I hate you Jack and I hope you both rote in hell together.”

“Y/N are you done in there?! You’ve been showering for the past hour and it don’t take that long to wash some hair and your body.” Tae yelled from the other side of the door, you laughed and rolled your eyes. Turning off the water you grabbed the towel and dried yourself off before stepping out of the shower and opening the connected door.

“Yes Tae?”

“Uhh come on you have to get dressed and I need to do your hair” Tae was one of the best hairstylists in Atlanta, celebrities traveled to get their hair done by Tae and lucky for you he did your hair at no cost.

After you got dressed, Tae did your hair you smiled in approval at how well it looked. After Tae got ready the two of you got into the car he had ordered.

“Are you nervous?” You we’re nervous not because of the charity event but to see Jack again you knew he was currently in Atlanta and you were surprised you haven’t ran into him before tonight’s event.

“I’m nervous but as long as you’re there by my side everything should be okay.”

“Yeah so about that..”

“What are you talking about Tae?” Tae smiled at you sheepishly smile.

“I won’t be with you tonight like I will during certain times but I’ll be busy getting everything ready for the auction Y/N.”

“You promised you’d be with me all night Tae? Now I don’t wanna go I don’t wanna risk getting caught alone with Jack.”

“Just stay around where everyone else will be or sit at the table with Tuson and Ari.”

“Fine I’ll do that.” You pouted and sat back in your seat, you weren’t exactly thrilled that Tae wasn’t going to be with you for the night but as long as you stayed with Ari and Tuson you’d be good.

Once Tae and You arrived, cameras were immediately being shoved in your face.

“Y/N are all the rumors true? Did Jack Harlow cheat on you with your best friend.”

“Y/N over here?! Are you Jack Harlow’s mystery girl?!”

“Y/N, Y/N?!”

“Fuck I wish they’d leave us alone where the hell is security.”

“We’re almost inside Tae don’t even worry about them let’s just go.” When the two of you finally made it inside you sighed in relief. You went from actually being a nobody to finally being a somebody but not in a good way.

“Well I’ll see you around Y/N just stay with Ari and Tuson and you’ll be okay.”

“Don’t take long Tae please, I don’t want to run into Jack without you by my side.” Tae gave you a reassuring smile and gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“I promise Y/N whenever I have the free time I’ll be back out here with you okay?”

“Okay Tae.” He gave you a side hug before going off to the back rooms to get everything together for the auctions.

You felt as if everyone was looking at you and laughing at you, and maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you but you felt like you were the center of attention. Walking past people you could’ve swore they said your name or something about Jack.

Ari had texted you and said her and Tuson would be at the table in a few minutes they were just getting you all some drinks.

“Y/N is that you?” Looking up you you smiled seeing Druski.

“Druski?! Long time no see how have things been.” Druski smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

“Things have been good shorty I can’t complain you know could’ve been records has been out here blowing up, rumor is could’ve been is the hottest recording label out right now.” Druski stated, the two of you immediately bursted out laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you Y/N, but how you been shorty? I kinda heard about Jack and You.” Of course Druski did, it seemed like the whole city of Atlanta knew about Jack and You.

“I’m doing better now Druski, I’m still hurt obviously but I’ll be okay and I’ll get over it.”

Druski hated that Jack cheated on you as well he stopped talking to Jack for a few days because honestly Druski never thought Jack was one of those type of guys but clearly Jack proved him wrong.

“Well as long as you’re growing and moving on that’s all that matters.”

“You’re right Dru, when is Jack supposed to be performing anyways?”

“Uhh” Druski checked his phone seeing it was now ten at night.

“He should be coming on in a few minutes actually.” As if on que here came the Dj announcing Jack.

“Atlanta!! I need you all to stand the fuck up right now and show some love to Jack Harlow!!” Everyone in the room started screaming like crazy and started recording Jack.

You sucked in your breath seeing how good he looked, he was wearing a regular pair of levi jeans and a striped blue and white shirt with a pair of new balance jeans. It was something basic but Jack always pulled off the most basic looks.

“What’s up Atlanta? Y’all ready to party.” The crowd screamed and Jack immediately started singing Dua Lipa, after awhile of singing and talking to the crowed he decided to slow things down a bit.

“This song right here it’s dedicated to someone really special she isn’t in my life anymore but if you’re in this room right now I hope you know I miss you so much.”

“Is he singing a song about you?” Ari’s voice came from behind you. Looking up at Druski he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t know he was doing this honestly Y/N.” Druski told you.

“Why would he sing a song about Y/N when he’s with Lilly?” Tuson asked which received him a slap to the head by Ari.

“Tuson shut up.”

You watched how Jack sat down on the stool that was given to him, he looked around the crowd before his eyes locked with yours.

“This is for you.” He spoke into the mic, the entire time Jack sang he never took his eyes off of you.

“I know you sick of being my little secret, I know you sick of being my favorite, I know you hate the fact that I’m famous.” He sang and stood up, he started making his way towards the direction you were in.

“I told my therapist about you, she always takes your side, ain’t nobody I love more I just need more time.” He started singing with more passion, he wanted you to know that he heard you and that he knew he made a mistake but wanted you two to give what you once had another chance.

“Hate the fact that you gotta wait, but you gon wait, cause you confident that we soulmates.” You smiled sadly thinking back at those late nights after some of his shows you’d lay on his chest and draw random shapes on his chest with your fingers and tell him that the two of you were soulmates and would be together forever.

“Y/N are you okay?” Druski asked, you didn’t even notice you had tears streaming down your face till you rubbed your cheeks and noticed your makeup was smearing.

“Uh I’m okay Druski I’ll be right back okay? I just need to freshen up.” You quickly hurried out of the room.

“Where did she go?” Jack asked Druski backstage.

“She went to the bathroom but I don’t think she’s taking you back Jack I mean what you did was fucked up, sleeping with her best friend? And then you brought Lilly here.”

“I don’t have the time for a lecture right now Druski, I have to get Y/N back.”

“Damn you Tae, I don’t even know why I came tonight, damn you Tae I should’ve stayed home and finished eating my ice cream.” You complained to yourself before leaning against on the of walls.

What were you doing honestly you knew you should’ve stayed home, you should’ve known Jack was going to pull some stuff of stunt like that.

“Y/N?” You never thought you’d hear that voice again turning around slowly you were now face to face with Jack.

“What do you want? Haven’t you caused me enough pain. Don’t you have some new girlfriend to entertain.” You spat at him.

“Look Lilly and me aren’t a thing all of that is fake we never got together. I wanted to see if you’d take me back Y/N.”

“Take you back? After all of the damaged you caused I don’t think so Jack.” You went to step away from him but he pushed you back into the corner gently, he raised both his hands and leaned them against the wall behind you, great now you were stuck.

“Give me one good reason why you won’t take me back Y/N.”

"I don't want a tainted love Jack, haven't you had enough?" Jack fucked up and you weren’t understanding what he didn’t get by that.

"Please Jack, please let me go you messed up things between us not me, you made that choice to sleep with Lilly." You cried out all you wanted was to go home you didn’t want to be here anymore.

You huffed and tried your best to avoid eye contact with him but he wasn't letting up.

"We aren't working out Jack it's over between us, please move l'm pretty sure your little girlfriend Lilly is waiting for you."

What you didn't know was that Lilly was hiding behind the corner listening to Jack and You, she peaked around the corner and glared seeing how dangerously close Jack was to you.

"Please Y/N I promise l've changed I realized I make a mistake sleeping with Lilly was the dumbest thing I’ve ever did.”

You weren’t even sure if you could trust him anymore what if he was lying to you again.

"I miss waking up to you in the morning, I miss hearing the sound of your soft snores in my ear whenever you'd lay on my chest." He smiled weakly as did you. If it was one thing Jack was good at it was changing the topic he loved saying things to make you feel better or make it seem like what he did wasn't as bad.

"I'm sorry Jack but I don't see us getting back together I can't get back together with a cheater, I trusted you, I trusted you with my heart and you broke it, Lilly and You."

While Jack and You were talking you didn’t notice that Lilly had snuck in she was on her way to use the bathroom but stopped when she heard people talking once she realized it was Jack and You she stayed hidden around the corner.

Lilly frowned she never meant to sleep with Jack the two of them were both drunk and one thing led to another and they kept an ongoing relationship for about five months. Lilly was in love with Jack and she wasn't about to let you take him away this time, not again.

"Can we start over Y/N? I promise baby please I promise I won't make those same mistakes again, Ineed you Y/N." You bit your lip nervously as you looked into Jack's eyes you weren't sure what to do or how to feel or what to even say.

We're you seriously about to take him back, after all of the things he put you through, you didn't feel like being his secret again and having to act like the two of you weren't a couple, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him.

“There’s a reason why I can’t take you back Jack.” You gulped were you really about to tell him something that would most likely ruin his friendship with someone close to him.

“I can’t take you back because.”

“Because what baby? What’s the reason.”

“I can’t take you back because I slept with Urban while we were together.”

taglist 💗

@moody4world @mortirolo @minkookie95

@hoodharlow @heavyhitterheaux @nattinatalia

@jackmans-poison @jackharloww

@jacksmoviestar @harlowthot

@awhoere4more

[retrievablememories]

love thy neighbor | kun (m)

title: love thy neighbor pairing: kun x black reader genre: fluff, smut, neighbors to lovers request: “Hello again Rain! I hope you're doing well and I'm happy to see you're open for requests again. Your writing in general is a treat to look forward to. An idea for a fic I'd like to suggest is wayv kun/black oc where they're neighbors that secretly pine for another and do feel free get very nsfw lmao. TY!” word count: 5.7k warnings: alcohol use, protected sex, dirty talk, dry humping, riding a/n: i used a prompt from this list of ideas to help me create this fic.

i’m sorry, this fic could’ve theoretically been finished long ago but took me 3893 years because kun intimidates me (and i don’t know why) and that makes it hard to write for him l m f a o chile anyway...

--

Your neighbor might actually kill you one day—but only in the figurative sense.

Kun is too beautiful and kind for your sanity; he’s like one of those men out of a romantic novel who simply should not exist. In other words, the ideal guy. One who helps all the little old ladies in the building take their groceries up to their apartments, one who feeds all the stray cats that hang around the complex, one who helps new tenants move their things in without even being asked.

Your roommate Charlotte would probably be totally smitten over him just like you if she did not already have her own happy relationship with her girlfriend. But since she does, she has decided to spend her time instead teasing you about your crush on him and trying to persuade you into getting tangled up in a matchmaking mess.

“I’m sure he already has a girlfriend, I don’t know, trying to shoot my shot seems ridiculous,” you say to her, worrying the edge of your blanket in your hands. You toss and turn on the couch, flipping onto your stomach and sighing before shuffling onto your back again. “People like that can never stay single for long. Right? They get snapped up quick.”

“You’d know if you simply asked,” Charlotte points out. “Staring holes into his head won’t help you find out more about him.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, your fingers stumbling over the blanket as it momentarily slips from your hands. Still, the idea of asking him if he’s dating anyone, whether discreetly or more openly, makes you nervous. You’ve talked to Kun several times before, even hung out with him at those friendly get-togethers your apartment building always holds to get the residents mingling, but you’re still anxious around him. It makes you feel silly, like you’re back in high school; but you aren’t quite sure what to do with those emotions or how to form them into something coherent. “Easy to say all that when you already have the person you want, though.”

“Oh, girl. Love is not easy, but that’s why you have to fucking work for it. AKA, go for what—or who—the hell you want and stop pining over him like some lost Juliet on our couch. It’s better than watching you flop around like a dying fish.”

You stand up from the couch abruptly, leaving your blanket to the side and glaring at her. “You don’t get it, ugh.”

“I get it! But you refuse to let me help—”

“Yes, because if I did, you’d say something completely ridiculous and tell him I’m madly in love with him or something.” You head to the bathroom to check yourself in the mirror.

Charlotte throws her hands up in surrender. “Hey, maybe. But that wouldn’t be a lie.”

“Really? I don’t think—”

“I think so. The way you talk about this guy, it’s definitely sounding a little like love to me.”

Once you’re satisfied, you come back in the main room and grab your keys, wanting to end this conversation before Charlotte sets a world record for how many times she can make you feel embarrassed. “Whatever you say. I’m gonna go to the corner store, so...speak now if you need something or forever hold your peace.”

“You can’t run from it,” Charlotte sing-songs, going back to reading her magazine. “And no, I don’t need anything.”

Once you get out your front door, it’s just your luck when you see Kun’s door is also open. You are not dressed for running into him, of all people; your “corner store” clothes being just a T-shirt, leggings, and slides. You freeze in place and momentarily think about unlocking your door and bolting back inside, which you realize is utterly ridiculous. By then, it’s too late; he’s already coming out his door and closing it behind him. 

He perks up when he sees you outside, smiling at you with those deep dimples that make your insides melt. “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“Kun! Uh—great to see you too.”

“Are you going out somewhere?” he asks. Inwardly, he feels a bit silly for asking because you clearly are, keys in hand and everything.

“Yeah, just to the store to get a few things.” You wave your hand, and you almost have the urge to lean on your doorframe to appear more calm and collected than you are. Which could potentially end up looking sillier than you intended. “How about you?”

“Going to see a friend,” he answers, and he brushes his hand through his hair in a way that’s completely casual but somehow modelesque at the same time. This is unbelievable, you think to yourself. “We haven’t met up in a while, so…”

“Oh yeah, it’s always nice to go out with old friends,” you say, smiling at the thought of it. Kun nods his agreement, and then has an abrupt, wild idea to ask if you’d like to go out somewhere sometime. Too busy warring with himself over whether he should take the dive, he doesn’t notice you heading towards the stairs already. “I hope you two have a good time!”

“Oh—thanks. Hope you enjoy your trip.” He chuckles, following you down the steps to get to his car. Well, that moment has passed. Sure, he could probably still ask you now if he was bold enough about it, but it feels too awkward to randomly ask someone out in the middle of a stairwell.

You wave bye to him once you both get in the parking lot. He watches you walk to your car with a wistful smile on his face. He wants to say more to you, but the timing isn’t right and it’s best not to hold you up right now. Plus, Hendery’s probably already waiting for him.

It would’ve provided you with a lot of relief if you knew Kun was facing a similar dilemma to you. He’d never had much problem talking to women he liked in the past, but something about you made him feel clumsy and hesitant. But just like with your inability to move forward, there’s no way for you to know his feelings without him saying anything about it—which he has been hesitating over for the longest. 

Maybe he was also still cowering from the embarrassment of the time he’d tried to show you a magic trick that didn’t quite work out, but it was a convenient excuse. At least for him, anyway.

One day he’d get the courage to tell you how he felt, but he didn’t think today was that day.

–

Some strong shots and a few hours at the club was exactly what you needed to unravel your nerves after a long week. You and a few others from your work had decided to go out that Saturday night as a group effort to unwind from dealing with your overbearing boss. “Just a couple shots” eventually turned into more than that, though, but you weren’t complaining. As long as it gave you the opportunity to discard all your issues for a while, you didn’t mind losing yourself a little.

However, your night of fun quickly dissolves into frustration when you realize you’ve lost your keys and have no way to get back into your apartment. You’re not even sure where they might’ve disappeared—in the club, or in the rideshare back to your apartment?

Charlotte is out of the city for the week visiting her long-distance girlfriend, so there’s no way you’re getting back in your apartment tonight. The main office won’t be open at this hour, either; it’s the weekend, and nobody will be there regardless until Monday. And you’re definitely not drunk enough or desperate enough to try to bust the door down.

Though it pains you to do so, you knock on Kun’s door, your head throbbing and dizzy. You feel bad about this. He won’t even be awake at this hour and might not answer, but you don’t know what other options you have. You aren’t familiar enough with your other neighbors to ask this of them. Especially not the old lady living on the other side of you who has a perpetually judgmental aura towards everyone in the apartment building. The only person she seems marginally approving of is none other than the man himself—Qian Kun.

It takes a good minute or two, but you hear the latch unlock, and Kun is suddenly standing in front of you, a look of concern on his sleepy face. He is adorable like this, in his pajamas and his hair mussed and his eyes foggy with sleep. He’s so cute it makes you want to cry—and so you do. 

But your tears are mostly because you’re very tipsy and tired and currently locked out of your very comfortable apartment.

This awakens Kun immediately. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He gently pulls you into his apartment, his tone quiet but panicked as you put your face in your hands and cry. You just shake your head for a few moments, crying too much to say anything to him. When you don’t reply, he doesn't try to press you for answers; he just puts his arms around you, a bit carefully as if you’re made of some easily breakable material, and lets you wet his T-shirt with your tears.

Finally, when you’ve collected yourself some, you abruptly feel foolish for crying over something like this. He probably thinks someone’s died, and you’ve gotten him all worked up for practically nothing. “I-I’m locked out,” you sigh heavily, and he has enough politeness not to outwardly react to your alcohol breath with your close proximity. “And my roommate is gone…forever.”

His eyebrows lift. “Forever?”

“The whole week, Kun...but it feels like...f-forever.”

“Ah...I see. Is that why you were crying?”

You put your head back in your hands. “Just kill me.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Kun says, and there is a tiny lift to his mouth like he wants to smile at your dramatics. “It’s fine. You can stay here tonight.”

“Kun, thank you.” You’re still loosely embracing each other, and you squeeze your arms more tightly around him. Maybe it’s just a reason to rest your head on his chest again and hear his heart beating strong against your cheek, but you wouldn’t admit that. Wait, why is his heart beating so fast? “Thank youuu, I love you so much, this means the world to me.”

Kun’s mind catches on the words I love you so much, and he knows you’re just drunk and need to sleep it off and aren’t really thinking about what you’re saying, but he cannot help lingering there for a moment. He’s glad the front room is still dim from the single lamp he turned on, otherwise you might notice the flush growing on his cheeks. “I...it’s no problem. We should get you comfortable, then.”

As it turns out, get you comfortable means he lets you sleep in his bed while he takes the couch. In another context you’d protest, not wanting to kick him out of his own space, but you are simply too smashed to think about it. You’re seconds away from falling asleep where you stand now that the adrenaline of discovering you’re locked out has worn off. Kun has the idea to make you drink some ice cold water, though, which wakes you up enough to take a proper shower.

By the time you get out of the shower and are wearing his clothes—his clothes—you are feeling a little more sober. You also feel like you’re going to have another small meltdown over all this. “This” being: wearing Kun’s clothes and standing in his bedroom, which is decorated with all his interests and treasured belongings. There’s a small studio setup in one corner, which interests you, but you don’t investigate it any further.

Now you have another little problem, though; what are you gonna do about the pillows? You don’t have anything to cover your hair with, with all your scarves and bonnets in your own apartment. One night of sleeping on a cotton pillow wouldn’t kill you, but that doesn’t make it any less distasteful to think about.

Kun comes into the bedroom to check on you and sees you puzzling around, sitting on the bed and looking awkward. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. It’s nothing really,” you rush out, unsure if you should tell him about a problem he likely won’t even understand. It must be at least 4:00 a.m. by now, meaning you both desperately need to get some sleep.

“You can tell me, I won’t bite.”

I wouldn’t mind if you did pops into your head, but you immediately try to ignore that thought and are silently grateful that you do not blush visibly.

“Uh, my hair.”

“Your hair?”

“Okay, I need to cover it at night so it won’t get all broken off or anything—sleeping on cotton does wonders for destroying moisture—but I don’t have anything here to use. I mean—it’s...not a huge deal though, I can deal with it for a night?” You’re rambling now. Kun just nods, taking in all this information like he’s listening to something very important and very interesting.

“So then, what would you do to stop that?”

“Wear a scarf, or a bonnet, or using a silk pillowcase works, too. But you probably don’t have any of that stuff, you don’t have to bother with it—”

“Well, let me see.” Kun disappears into his closet and you pause, wondering for a moment if he actually does have a bonnet or something in there. Which would probably be a little hilarious to you.

He comes back out with not a bonnet of a scarf or even a pillowcase, but one of his own shirts. It’s just the right material though, being a pretty purple silk.

“Oh—Kun.” At this point, there are several emotions all trying to come to the forefront, though you have no clue which one to settle on. “Your shirt? You really don’t have to. I could…”

“It’s just a shirt, Y/N. There are a lot more where that comes from...I don’t mind.” He chuckles.

You sigh bashfully but take the shirt from him. “Thank you, it’s really thoughtful of you.” You cover the pillow with his shirt, and it works perfectly.

“Anyway, if you need anything else, just tell me,” he says, lingering by the door.

“I will...thank you,” you say, your voice quiet as you give him a nervous smile. Only when he shuts the door and his footsteps fade away do you allow yourself to bunch the comforter in your fists and scream into it. Everything in here smells just like him, which is probably more than enough to fuel all of your Qian Kun-related daydreams for the next 8 months.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when you finally do lie down, and your mind is blissfully empty of anything throughout the night.

--

The next day takes a bit of settling into. You’re momentarily alarmed when you wake up faced with a strange room until you remember last night’s events and recall where you are. There is also the smell of food, good food, which is also sadly unfamiliar to you. Charlotte can’t cook to save either of your lives, so you know you’d never be waking up to the smell of a professional chef-approved breakfast if you were still in your apartment with her.

Walking out of Kun’s room, you see that he’s in the kitchen, halfway finished with cooking breakfast for the both of you. It’s more like brunch at this hour, but what does that matter.

You linger at the doorway for a moment, allowing yourself to imagine that this is what things would be like if you were dating. Getting this view everyday? Life cannot be this unfair.

Maybe not too much, though, since you are standing in his kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” he greets you, breaking your reverie. “Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. I slept great. Thanks again for, you know, the shirt, haha…”

He grins, and his dimples come out. “Sure thing. Go ahead and sit! Breakfast will be ready soon.”

It’s the best breakfast you’ve eaten since living with Charlotte; maybe some of the best food you’ve ever had. “I had no idea you could cook this well,” you say. “I mean. I guess I wouldn’t since I haven’t—you know, uh—eaten here before, but—it’s great.” It’s just your luck that your thoughts come out in this fumbling mini-rant, but Kun only laughs good-naturedly.

“Thank you, I’m truly glad you like it.”

You both continue eating breakfast while making light conversation. This just might be the longest conversation you’ve had with each other, and that knowledge seems surreal. You’re almost a little glad you lost your key. Almost.

“So...today is Sunday. And the leasing office still won’t be open until Monday.” Kun says this over the remnants of breakfast. He speaks in a measured tone, like he’s trying to ensure he says the right thing. Whatever that could possibly be. “And you told me your roommate won’t be back until Monday.”

To your credit, you hadn’t exactly accounted for this when you first came over to his place in your distressed state. That means another night spent in his apartment though, which becomes very obvious to you now. “Ah. Sorry, am I imposing?”

“What—no, I-I just wanted to make sure you knew you can stay here tonight, or—however long you need.”

Relief floods through you, and you briefly wonder why you even worried about it; as far as you know, he’s not the kind of person to just kick someone out. “Ohh, of course—that’s good to know. Thank you for all this!”

“You’re welcome.” You miss the smile he gives to your response as you’re busy drinking your juice, but it’s one filled with a certain affection.

--

It feels a bit awkward to just sit around in his apartment all day, with nothing to do and all your belongings still locked out of your reach in your own place, so Kun shows you the studio in the corner of his room. He’d talked about being into music before, but you’d never heard anything of his until now.

When he plays the keyboard for you, it’s to the tune of a beautiful self-composed song. You almost pinch yourself to remind yourself this isn’t a hallucination or a fever dream. A man this appealing really exists, and you’ve stayed the night in his apartment and eaten his breakfast. You give a small round of applause when he finishes.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you became a famous singer or something? I’d come to all your concerts,” you say lightly, kicking your legs on the edge of his bed.

“All? Really, all?” He laughs.

“Yes, all. A voice and talent like that deserves all the attention.” You lean back on his bed, stretching your legs out. “But all your venues would probably be sold out. Hopefully you’d remember me from your lil’ ole apartment building. I’m sure you’d be living in a penthouse by then.”

Kun smiles bashfully at your compliments, waving his hands as if it’s too much. “Thank you. But I don’t think I could ever forget you.” His voice grows a bit softer. His expression is more genuine than you expect for a conversation that was so playful only seconds ago, and you find it hard to hold eye contact all of a sudden.

It is your turn to be bashful, and you shrug in an effort to seem natural. “Well, I’m flattered.” Despite your unaffected demeanor, you don’t think those words will leave your mind for a good while, even if you wonder about the meaning of them. 

--

Later that evening, Kun makes dinner and you watch TV together, flipping to whatever channels have dramas or movies playing.

You two eventually fall into another conversation when you can’t find anything good to watch—one that does not make you overly nervous for once. During a lull in the talking, that big question pops up into your mind, and you wince internally at how Charlotte would’ve already told you to make a move. You aren't sure how to do that without making him uncomfortable or seeming too sudden, but you decide to make an attempt.

You edge into it with, “So, um, your place looks pretty nice for one guy. It’s just you here, right?”

“Ah yeah, just me. Thanks, I do try my best.”

“Haha, I’m used to my guy friends all having super messy apartments until they get a girlfriend and she teaches them how to clean a stove for the first time…”

“Oh really? That’s a bit sad for them, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s all me.”

Just the information you were looking for. You try not to show your elation. “Why not?” you blurt out. Then you cringe because this might sound too invasive or even judgmental, but Kun only grins. “It’s just, it’s a little surprising. You’re such a generous person. You seem to care about everyone, even those poor stray kitties that stay outside the apartments all the time.”

He smiles timidly in response to receiving more of your compliments. “I guess it seems curious when you put it like that.” Just like when you’d drunkenly said I love you so much, there’s suddenly heat on the back of his neck that he hopes won’t turn into another blush that’ll expose him. “I don’t really know, I haven’t thought much about it; life’s weird like that.” He isn’t really sure how to answer that question in a way that won’t be too big of a hint that he’s interested in you, though he’s also not entirely sure why he’s still trying to hide it. Wouldn’t now be the perfect opportunity? When will you two have this much time together again? Still, you staying in his apartment for two days doesn’t mean you like him, and maybe he’s jumping the gun.

“That’s true. Guess that’s the same reason why I’ve been alone for a while now.” You shake your head.

“You?” Kun is equally surprised to know this about you.

You laugh incredulously. “Does that shock you or something?”

“I...well.” He rubs the back of his neck as he searches for the words. “I just thought...you’re very pretty, and you’re always really kind when we speak, so...”

“Oh?” Your face heats up at that.

“Yeah, I…think anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“Oh.” Your body’s first instinct is to freeze with nervousness, but you know Charlotte would be kicking your ass in gear right now if she were somehow here. So, you decide to stop stressing about it and just do it. “Well...wouldn’t it be nice if we both had a way to fix our problems at the same time?”

Kun pauses for a moment before replying. “What do you suggest?” He knows what you are proposing—you can see in his eyes and his slight grin and his posture that he knows—but maybe he wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Hm, well…I don’t know, what do you think?” You lean a bit closer to him, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look innocent and unassuming. His smile turns into something different with your increased proximity. Something a little more sly.

Mirroring your actions, he inches nearer to you until there’s little space left between. “Well, I think…” Kun tentatively closes the remaining gap between the two of you, the rest of his sentence left to linger as his soft lips envelop yours.

Maybe it’s corny to say it, but it definitely feels like one of those fairytale kisses with the fireworks going off and streamers popping; even though you’re sitting on his couch wearing his pajamas, some movie in the background you’ve long forgotten the plot of, empty dinner plates sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You aren’t sure how you end up in his lap—who made the first move? Was it his hand on your back or your hands on his shoulders? You straddle him on the couch, your arms slipping around his shoulders and his hands on your back but assuredly traveling farther down your body.

Kun’s hands come to rest on your thighs, pulling the fabric of his shorts up a few inches higher. “I never thought I’d see you wearing my clothes,” he says lowly, grinning against your mouth.

“I also never thought I’d be sitting in your lap like this, but maybe sometimes dreams do come true,” you say jokingly, your lips rubbing against his skin as you slowly kiss his jaw.

You can’t see his expression, but his eyebrows shoot up at that. “Dreams, huh? You think about me often?” His voice pitches lower when he asks this, aroused by the thought of you imagining anything quite so lewd about him. You’ve definitely incriminated yourself now and won’t be able to wiggle out of it without an answer.

“...Maybe.”

“What do you think about me?” Kun grips your hips, which quickly turns into him grabbing your ass—tentatively at first to test the waters, and then firmly enough to grind you against his hardening cock. Sensing him solid and warm underneath you sends a shockwave down your spine, and the sensation heightens when his voice caresses your ear, all low and tense with arousal. “It’s just the two of us here. No one else has to know.”

“I think about your...lips. How you might kiss me. Or what you might say to me. And...your hands.” You pause there, a quiet breath whispering past your lips. “You have really big hands, you know.”

“My hands…” Kun places one on your chest, spreading his fingers across and touching your collarbone. The heel of his palm glides on the top of your breast, and just that touch is enough to get you more worked up. “Hmm. Actually, I’ll admit I’m pretty good with my hands.” He smirks, and he’s possibly the finest thing you’ve ever seen. “What else, Y/N?”

“I thought about how you’d touch me.” His hand slides between your breasts now, down your sternum, and to your stomach. “Maybe I’d invite you into my apartment when Charlotte wasn’t there. We’d watch some stupid movie and pretend to be into it, but we’re really just thinking about each other. You’d eventually end up slipping your hand up my skirt...and making me cum all over your fingers.”

You aren’t sure how you’re saying all this to Kun right now, the dude you have a major crush on, without bursting into flames.

His shaft rubbing against your clit even through your layers of clothes makes you sigh dreamily, pressing your forehead to his and gripping at his shoulders and biceps. His bangs are soft against your forehead, and your breath stutters when he moves to kiss the side of your neck. He has to know how hard your heart is beating right now.

“And then what?” His voice is barely a whisper, then.

“And then you’d fuck me, of course.” There’s a slight laugh in your voice at the ticklish feeling of his lips kissing your skin.

“And then I’d fuck you...hm,” he echoes. “Sure, I can do that.”

The promise of it entices you, and more heat pools between your legs, amplified by the fabric rubbing against your sensitive parts. His hand that’s still on your stomach travels under your shirt then, and your hips falter in your rhythm against him when his fingers brush across your nipple. He brings his lips to your other breast, lapping his tongue against your nipple over the fabric.

You soon come like this, his shaft grinding against your clit and his clothes rubbing against your skin, his hands on your ass and his lips traveling across your breasts. The orgasm is sudden and surprises you, but it’s good, and you convulse as the waves of pleasure course through you. You weaken and slump against him, with him still teasing your breasts with his mouth and hands. Pushing your face into his hair, you moan into the black strands until the quivering stops.

You’re breathless when you speak again. “You haven’t come yet.”

“I’d rather do that when I’m inside you,” he replies. You giggle quietly.

“...What are you waiting for, then?”

“Hold on.” Kun carefully maneuvers you off his lap, and you already want to complain at the lack of his touch. “I have to get a condom.”

“Hurry, or you’ll miss all the fun,” you say as you pull your shirt off with your back to him. You look back over your shoulder at him and grin mischievously.

“You’re such a tease…”

Kun goes into his room to fetch a condom, and when he returns he’s already pulling his shirt off, leaving it on the floor somewhere. You’re fully naked now, your legs pulled up to your chest and your chin resting on your knees as you sit on the couch. Kun’s eyes drop between your legs, your inner thighs still glistening from your previous orgasm, and he swipes his tongue across his lips at the sight of you, wet and ready for him.

Likewise, your eyes drop to the dark trail of hair leading into his pants and his bulge just below it, the way his sweatpants cling to his length, and your pussy throbs with the desire to be filled.

“Please, hurry.”

Kun doesn’t waste any time in getting the rest of his clothes off, shoving his pants and underwear done in one swift move and rolling the condom over his shaft. He climbs onto the couch, grabbing your legs and guiding them around his waist, and you giggle at his eager but gentle touch as you recline on the couch pillows behind you.

He grabs his dick and lines it up with you, then pushes it in slowly at first. The stretch makes your toes curl, but it is a good kind of stretch, the kind that fills you to the brim. Like the missing element you needed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice husky from the pleasure.

“Fuck, please,” is your answer as you shift your hips and try to get him all the way inside quicker. Noticing your urgency, he slides the rest of the way in until your hips are flush against each other and starts thrusting into you. His length dragging across your walls feels much better than you could’ve imagined on any given night, and you clasp your legs tighter around him to get ever closer.

After a point, he pushes your legs up with his hands behind your knees so he can get a deeper angle, and you both moan at the difference in sensation and how much tighter you get around him.

There is no ignoring the messy wet noises of your bodies colliding due to the slickness of your previous orgasm and the new wetness he’s continually fucking out of you. Each thrust reaches deep inside you, deep enough to make you nearly sob, your hands fumbling over your breasts and your clit all the while.

“Kun, god yes please,” you whimper, rocking your hips into the rhythm of his own. You fucking him back makes him groan deeply, his bangs hanging off his forehead as he dips his head to watch himself slide in and out of you. You could not control the urge or the motion of your body even if you wanted to; you want all of him, as close as he can get.

“I don’t want this to end,” he moans, and he pulls out without a warning. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, and your discontent comes out in a full whine. You’d be more embarrassed about it if you weren’t currently consumed with desire, but you presently do not care.

Kun sits back on the couch and pulls you on top of him again. “Ride me,” he says. So you grasp the base of his cock, him grunting as you do, and you press the tip against your entrance before pushing it in. He watches himself slip inside of you while fully enraptured, one hand tight on your hip.

Once you are full with him again, you experimentally grind against him to see how it’ll feel in this new position, and your arms tremble as his pelvis stimulates your clit.

“Go ahead,” he whispers, grasping the nape of your neck and kissing you hard once more, “fuck yourself on me.”

So you keep grinding your clit on him like that, your limbs shaking from the stimulation and your walls fluttering around his cock. You can barely catch a complete breath from him kissing you hard enough to make your lips swell, and your head is so fogged with lust that all you can concentrate on is getting yourself off just like he told you to do.

“Kun…” You roll your head onto his shoulder, pressing your forehead into his skin, your body tiring as you get closer to reaching that high. You’re so close to coming, but you’re not sure if you have enough strength left to get there on your own. Kun notices the state you’re in and grasps your hips to pull them into his, effortlessly sliding himself into you while making sure your clit gets stimulated at the same time.

The new friction of his dick rubbing against your g-spot in this position is enough to have you finally coming and crying out against his neck.

You continue babbling nonsense against his neck as he keeps fucking you, searching for his own end. His hands are hot on your body as he moves you up and down his length.

His climax comes soon after yours, his dick pulsing and his pace slowing. Your back arches at the sensation of him throbbing inside you and releasing his cum into the condom. The way he groans in your ear has your stomach clenching.

For a few minutes after, you both sit quietly and do nothing but cling to one another as you come down from the pleasure.

“So, does this mean we’re together now…?” Kun asks hopefully, running his hands over your back as you lie against him.

You smile against his skin. “Obviously. But if you still want to convince me, we can go a couple more rounds…”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[kkusuka]

We all know how looks can be deceiving right? I’d love to request head cannons of Kuroo, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Konoha, Terushima, and Atsumu with a gf that’s gifted with that super-soaker, wet-wet pussy, a pro at riding that dick, and has the gwak gwak thotty throat slobber 9000 but she is so shy, cute, and innocent at first glance. She looks like the soft-spoken librarian but when they get down and dirty, she puts her body to work and these bois just don’t know how to act from how amazing she is. Let’s say they teased her too much, so she revoked their sex privileges for a few days (not knowing how addicted these guys are on her body). Desperate bois are best bois 😈

:o

i’m shell shocked anon, you’ve blown my mind

Cw: hair pulling, super WAP, kinda fem dom but not really, severe pussy-whipped men  

Kuroo

firstly, he thought you were the innocent type up until you sucked him off for the first time

Honestly, he thought you were a total virgin prude

It wasn't really his fault, you two had met as lab partners for an AP chemistry class

You know, a class full of nerds and people he just assumed would get a job and married when they were thirty

Looking back he should have caught on after seeing you unconsciously jerking of a test tube

But, contrary to popular belief, kuroo is not the social cue master

After a few months of dating, you guys were just a horny time-bomb

Ahh~ the first blow-job, one for the books

He should have known it was going to be good just from the way you were unzipping his jeans, was it normal to almost cum just for your girlfriend palming you?

When you did get his dick out and had it all the way down your throat within the minute, he really did think you were a godsend

He didn't even know what you were doing with his balls, but whatever it was it was working

You didn’t gag or cough, even when he grabbed that back of your head and practically face-fucking you

(the real kicker was when you licked your lips after he came  and gave him that small fucking smirk, mans was done for and he knew it)

Even with all that, nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the first time you guys went at it

when I say that you guy made out for five minutes when he went under your panties and felt the pacific ocean in your panties

He was about to propose right there (and about to cum in his pants for the thousandth time)

He didn't need to but he still rubbed a few circles around your clit, but apparently, you were ready enough

Considering you grabbed his dick and fully sunk onto him in one motion

Poor baby didn't know what hit him

You had to have done this before, and if he hadn't met you in class he would have been sure you slept around and learned everything in the book

You would clench every time your sims met and- AND THAT THINGS WITH HIS BALLS AGAIN

His mind was bungled, especially after you had both come and you fell onto his chest going back to the shy and sweet version he knew you as.

What the hell was that????

Was he fucking you or were you fucking him?? Because at this point he didn't even care

After that experience, you fucked like bunnies, all the time, even in school more than a few times.  

And we all know kuroo can't shut his mouth

And he always teases you about how cute and mouse like you are outside the bedroom and how it's like he’s dating two different girls

....that hit a nerve...

Two different girls??? Well he’ll just have to endure one girl until he realizes what a blessing you are

5 days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, and 432,000 seconds, that's how long he lasted

He was going insane, and so he explained that he didn't mean it in a bad way and that he loved how you acted

Forgiving him you rewarded the poor cat boy, 5 rounds for five days

(he didn't want to admit it but he’s pretty sure his dick would have fallen off if you didn't relent when you did)

(he just didn't want to admit that he was pussy-whipped)

Bokuto

You actually had met at a library

One of his teachers wanted him to get a bit of extra tutoring and volunteered you for the job.

You had hit it off great! Personality-wise

(you’ll never tell him but it was frustrating that he clearly didn't understand anything you were telling him)

And you were so sweet and cute, and such a good teacher

He would know that if he wasn't too busy just staring at you and thinking about you and thinking about what you like and what you wear outside of school

(or how good your lips look, or how your thighs look so soft, or that when you get up he can see under your skirt.)

Your guy’s first time was an experience

(bokuto is the cunny easting master, don't call me out)

More cunny juice = more food for owl man

He was excited, somewhere in his mind he knew that it was gonna get better from then on

He wasn't wrong either, although he didn't let your mouth near his dick just yet, he knew that would be good considering the ‘art’ you've created on his neck

The true fuckary started with him on top, but the second he was in you he...froze

Poor baby was shell shocked, you felt better than he had thought, and he just slumped over, you thought he came but he wasn’t ready for it to end so soon

He just sat there for a few minutes, fucked out, before you just decided to flip you both over

That was more his speed at the moment

So he grabbed onto your hips for dear life and you got working

Within two minutes the two of you had created a pool of juices on his bed (bokuto had a lot of precum ok), not that he really cared

You were not competing with anyone but he already had you 2 to 0

(point 1 for the meal and point 2 for being an Olympic dick-rider)

I am also a firm believer that bokuto thrusts up, he just can't help it

You are too addictive, or the way you ground onto him in between every bounce was addictive

I also don't believe that you could even truly deny bokuto sex, he was good at guilt-tripping and he was soooooo adorable

(not to mention the puppy dog eyes  he does that could convince good to do his will)

So I’m sure the only way he wouldn't get sex would be no nut November.

(aka the devil's month of torture, actually not month, week give or take)

This year it just happens that he set a new record, 8 days

He went a whole 8 days without trying for sex

Truly he went about 10 days before he stopped begging and just took matters into his own hands

(under enough pressure Bokuto become a hard dom and no one can say otherwise)

The entire time he was telling you how pretty you were and how well your pussy takes him and that you had no ‘right’ to tell him he couldn’t have sex

He even gained a new phrase “this pussy belongs to me”

You were going to have to set some things straight once he was done ;)

Iwaizumi

You were on the student council, it felt sacrilegious to think anything but pure thoughts about anyone on the council

(that didn't really stop him)

honestly, from the moment his crush festered he wanted to ruin your little innocent vibe  

You always smiled so sweetly at everyone, and just seemed like a true goody two shoes.

And that point seemed to have been correct when you began to date

Until! The fateful day where his perceived innocent girlfriend pulled a full 180 on him!

Firstly, you had offered, out of the blue, to suck him off in the middle of the movie you were watching.

Second, he asked if you knew how, and you giggled at him with that smile he loved so much

Thirdly, when you did get his dick out, you swirled some of the pre-cum on his tip with your thumb, he started getting a bit suspicious

Lastly, you completely swallowed him down, face pressing on his hip, cheeks hollowed.

That’s when he realized that you did know what you were doing

(that also arouse the thought that you had been with someone else, which was counteracted with the fact that you knew how to suck dick by practicing on hair brushed and popsicles)

((it also helped that you barely had a gag reflex))

Truly trying to put that to the test, dom iwa came right out, grabbing your hair and telling you  to suck harder

And you impressed the man, to say the least

After that he had to fuck you, he really just had too

For the first time, he went with a solid missionary, just to test that waters

He didn’t think anyone's pussy should feel like that, but since you were his it was ok

All was well he was lost in the feeling of your pussy and the deciding moment was when you pulled him against you and started to grind your body onto his

You were putting a whole lot of body into it too, and you were so soft, and unless he wanted to cum early something was going to have to change

So he flipped and changed to doggy style, which made thighs worse???

From there you got tighter and he could see all of the wetness drips from your fold onto the sheets

Yup, you were the one for him

(solidified when he pulled your hair and you moaned like a street whore)

As for the no sex thing, that was a ride

It started when Makki asked you if you were always dripping for iwa

And after a week of no sex, he confessed to letting them on his phone and  watching a recording of one of your nightly escapades and he was sorry

(and he just wanted to show them what they were missing, y’know brag a bit)

That was, and he says the only time, he let you try to dom him

You truly were the most amazing woman in the world

Konoha

( i made him kind of an ass lol sorry)

You wee the girl who sat next to him in class

(not to be mean, but he thought you were a nerd)

You always had your uniform covering everything and you were always playing with your short sleeves

You raised your hand a lot in class, always had a pencil to borrow

He just assumed that you had cobwebs in your pussy

Proven wrong at one of the volleyball teams parties, you had apparently been dragged there by a friend (surprising)

And you both were dragged onto some weird spin the bottle game

The bottle would spring and someone would draw an action from this jar and the two people would have to do it in a bedroom in the house

Seeing as that’’s how fate goes you and him were chosen

A blow-job card was chosen

And he laughed with a friend about how you wouldn’t know what to do

Mistake, that struck a real nerve, was this guy for real?

Oh hell no

Being the baddie you were, you walked to him, grabbed him by the arm, and locked lips, breaking away after a moment you asked if he was ready to go.

Poor boy didn't even respond, he just nodded and stood up

Two minutes in, he knew what he had done

You were blowing him like it would be your last time, it should be illegal to be able to suck someone off that well

And damn you pulled away right before he was going to cum.

And then just left him! Walked out of the closet like nothing had ever happened

That couldn’t be it, he wouldn't let that be it

After two weeks of non-stop begging from the guy you agreed to a date, which led to many dates

Which led to him finally being able to fuck you

God damn, he didn't think it would get better, and it did, it really did.  

You were laying on top of him and grinding your entire body onto him

Dripping all over him and squeezing him like crazy

He was never going to let you go

Now, that same friend from that party seemed very intrigued with your relationship

And he just can't help but tell him about how amazing you were, it just sucks that he did it right in front of you in the middle of lunch

Pussy pass revoked

He didn't think he did anything wrong so he went two whole weeks without any touch and he went crazy

He fell apart and apologized

After he begged enough you gave him the pussy pass back

And now he doesn't do anything to jeopardize it

Terushima

this is gonna sound weird

But

I feel like terushima knows when someone is a good lay

It's like a secret talent of his, he just knows and his radar went off when he saw you

But he thought it was wrong at first considering you were wearing leggings and a huge sweater

Not good fuck material  

But he had to make sure, so he just walked up to you and asked if you were a good fuck

Surprisingly you didn’t punch him in the nuts, instead, you laughed at him and said that he would just have to find out

And that he should at least take you out to dinner first

Adm he took you up it, made it the best damn dinner date he’d ever be on

And you reward him

With what?

The best damn blow-job he’d ever get as long as he lived.

And it fit that to the T

It started with the little licks and swirls, then, you gotta catch the man off guard, and just take his entire dick in your throat

And with that, he was sure he had superpowers

When He came, fairly quick for his taste, you swallowed all of his cum and he was ready to marry you

If he needed to take you on a date for that, he would take you on a date every day for the rest of his life

(not every day) but that's what he did

But eventually, just a blowjob wasn't enough, oh no he knew you had a tight hole

And he knew you were gushing most of the time (ushy gushy my pussy-)

If making him suck the fingers you used to fuck yourself after he came was anything

And you tasted good, really good

He was so ready for it that he let you ride him the whole night

He thought his dick was a]going to fall off, you were just that damn good

It was insane, you were almost using him as a dildo, grinding your clit on the base of his cock

And you looked glorious, he was going to have to talk to you about recording it so he could watch it over and over

Maybe show a few people-

And that's what he did, poor unfortunate soul got the silent treatment for two days before he fell apart

He literally got on his knees and asked for forgiveness

(biggest simp on the planet, but only for you (and your dripping cunt))

He’s sure to never do it again, he’s also sure that if you asked him to step on him he would let you

(and I think he’s the most pussy-whipped)

Ok maybe you didn't fully forgive him until he showed you what his tongue piercing could do, but it was worth every moment.

Atsumu

Honestly, he was dared to sleep with the next girl who walked through the cafeteria door

And that just happens to bring you, miss. I remind the teacher there was homework

(Well he actually wasn’t really sure about that but that's what you looked like and he was already regretting his decision.)

In defense of him, your hair was in a messy bun and you had this teacher's pet aura around you

But he would be damned if he lost this bet to his brother and Suna, oh no

The moment he wa[lked up to your table you knew what was happening, and shut it down immediately

After that, you officially had his attention!

Lucky you!

Unlucky you for the fact that all he wanted to do was get in your pants.

But lucky you again because you could hold this over his head!

But one day you just woke up and chose dick (respectable)

So when atsumu did his daily “c'mon baby, you know you want some” you just stood up, scaring him

(he finally thought you were gonna kill him)

Instead, you grabbed him by the dick, literally grabbed his dick through his pants, and tugged him all the way to the roof

“Hey-hey baby, no need to be that rough”

“Shut up, Miya. pants down, now”

That was not where he thought that was going but he isn't going to complain.

“You want your dick wet so bad? Here you go!”

Honestly, he could die happy.

Not so sound gross, but you were slobbering around his cock like a pro. Now that left the thought, you had to have done this before.

You had hands on the back of his thighs pushing him further down your throat, hollowed cheeks, damn he should’ve done this was sooner

He was gonna cum-

And your mouth was gone, your hand was jerking him but that wasn't nearly as nice

“Lay back.”

Yes, yes he will do that. If what’s about to happen is what he thinks is about to happen  

And now your pussy was above his face. Ok a little detour but he’ll take it

You were literally dripping onto his face while he got to work, and you went back to sucking him off

Yup, heaven.

After you both came he made sure to tell you that that had to happen again.

And it did, you rode him to hell in the hole to heaven, and he couldn't help himself from telling the entire volleyball team about how good you were

Now he really didn't think about what would happen if the news got back to you

But he definitely didn't think that meant a whole week of nothing

Well nothing for him, you made sure to send him more than a few videos of rigid dildos and fingering yourself

A week of torture, but when it was finally over he had an entirely new folder of spanking material

he was sure about who he told about your escapades, as in he told himself and Osamu if he just wanted to vent

poor guy was paranoid now

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[http-lovelyknow]

Infuriating -Johnny Suh Pt2

Hello! The long awaited Infuriating pt2 is here!! 

Thank you to everyone for requesting a part 2 and I’m sorry it took me so long😅

Part 1 Here

And I want to give a special thank you to @flowerboykun for proofreading this and making this incredible banner for me I appreciate you so much!

And big thank you to @se-onghwa for proofreading and all the words of support! 

This is part 2 to the Infuriating I posted on my old blog @we-are-luxury-and-treasure hope you like it!

TW NSFW - Dom(softish) Johnny, Sub(reader) but those are the only TW I think? Sorry if I missed anything

Word count -  3,195

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say that Johnny was stalking you would be an overstatement, it was more like haunting.

Ever since you snapped at him a couple of weeks ago you feel like he’s just been. . . watching you. He’s always just somewhere around the corner and you start to feel like prey. His dark amber eyes seem to follow you everywhere and record your every move.

You often recall his threat of “Next time you’ll be punished, so please behave.” At the worst times it never fails to send shivers down your spine.

Today is no different, except instead of shivering alone in the safety of your house away from Johnny, you're thinking of his threat right in front of him like the idiot you are.

Currently trying not to sweat, you're applying makeup to his face for an interview they have, and while the boys behave better, Johnny is still acting up and pushing your buttons just not in the same way. Now he does things like, winking at you, putting his hand on your back to move past even if he didn't need to, leaning too close to whisper something to you, etc, etc but today he’s actually been well mannered.

You lightly hum to yourself as you carefully place eyeshadow onto Johnny's eyelids, his calm breathing is slightly suspicious, he never sits still, but you’ll take what you can get.

The lively sounds of the boys roughhousing behind you fill the room while you stand between Johnny's knees to get every detail right. You shift your weight to one side, you lean over, and grab a clean brush on the table behind his shoulder. 

Mark then decided this would be a perfect time to stumble back, knocking you into Johnny which wouldn’t have been so bad had Johnny not immediately gripped the back of your thighs much tighter than was necessary, effectively holding you against him.

A small yip escapes you when you make contact and you quickly try to scan his face to see if there was a mistake in his makeup due to you being pushed, when you find none you look up and notice Johnny staring at you. 

His eyes flick from your eyes to your lips a couple of times before he takes in a shaky breath and you realize you're still on top of him.

You feel the burn of embarrassment through your spine to the pit of your stomach and try to move away.

He flexes his fingers for a second demanding you meet his gaze one more time.

And you swear to god the spark his amber eyes ignite is enough to set your every nerve on fire.

The whole ordeal takes less than five seconds, Mark is already pulling you up and off of Johnny and starts spilling apologies through his laughter.

 You brush him off as well as yourself with a soft “no harm done” and everyone went about their business, but Johnny suddenly seemed. . . off

So here you are, waiting behind the camera of the well-lit studio trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Johnny, he keeps avoiding eye contact and shifting around in his seat. 

The lights have caused a slight sheen of sweat to appear on your skin, and just as you go to wipe your brow you finally notice what made Johnny so uncomfortable.

The poor man has a boner.

And there's nothing he can do about it.

The situation is almost laughable until you happen to catch his eye and he sees you smirking. 

You’ve never seen such a livid fire in someone’s eyes.

I’m absolutely and royally fucked.

The interview ended much too quickly in your opinion, you’re all ushered into the ‘backstage’ area.

As you’re gently wiping the makeup off Yuta’s face a very impatient Johnny hovers close by you. 

Everyone packs up and leaves, you remain in the semi-lit room gathering all the little tools and brushes.

Hearing footsteps approach, your heart drops, you know exactly who it is, and how much trouble you’re in.

“Do you happen to remember what was said the last time we spoke?” He’s behind you, “Cause I remember a very clear warning was given to you.” Too afraid to turn around, you remain with feet frozen and gently lift your head to catch his reflection in the mirror. Big mistake.

It never ceases to amaze you just how intimidating the usually sweet but large man is, especially when he’s looking at you like that.

Like he’s a hunter who has fatally cornered his prey, you.

A hot chill shoots through your body as you watch him approach your backside, trying to steady yourself as you grip the makeup table in front of you when he's finally close enough to touch you.

“You think you’re so slick don’t you?” Oh shit, he knows

He smirks as he continues with a taunting cadence in his voice “Think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting? Always standing closer to me than you do the others when you do our make up, always leaning further into me,” He presses himself against you pushing you roughly into the table with his own causing a sharp pain in your hip bones as he leans in closer dropping his tone “Wearing clothes that show just a little more skin, wearing a hint more perfume than normal. . . you really think you’d get away with that shit going unnoticed?”

And that’s just the thing, you wanted him to catch you. 

His hands have begun to wander up to your hips and sides, tracing your shoulders, left hand going back to your waist as the other wraps itself into your hair tugging your head to the side, you make eye contact in the mirror and holy shit does he look delicious. He’s in a white shirt and jeans leftover from the interview, bare face and hair tousled.

And he’s looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

You’re all but gasping for breath at this point, he’s literally knocked the wind from your lungs. 

And that’s when a scary thought strikes you. . . he’s hardly even touched you yet.

“Now tell me, pretty baby, did I not give you a very clear warning about what would happen if you didn't behave?”

Unable to nod with his hand holding your hair you whimper out a weak yes.

“And what did you do today that caused you this situation?”

He punctuates the last word with a knee coming in between your legs from behind, the action makes all the words you’ve ever learned flee from your brain.

“You should know better than to ignore me. . . but I’ll make it real clear for you just this once” He lets go of your hair and begins to roam with his fingertips, surprisingly gentle

“You left me painfully hard right before the interview.”

Fingers gripping your wrists he brings your hand back to start feeling his toned waist through the soft material of his shirt

“You just had to walk in looking like that today...had to let Mark push you right into me. . . just had to leave me hanging like nothing happened”

His teasing tone is too much, you have to keep stopping yourself from making any noise to not embarrass yourself.

He must notice your attempts at the silence and all it does is piss him off.

“Oh absolutely not baby, let me hear you.” 

His hands release yours and one goes to your thigh while the other slips under your shirt caressing your stomach a little more firm than his touch was before, cold rings on his fingers cause a chill to run through you leaving goosebumps behind

He’s being assertive and maybe a little aggressive but you know if you told him to stop he would. He knows you want this as bad as he does, if not even a little more. You had been teasing him after all, you wanted to push all his buttons until he snapped.

“I’m a man of my word baby. It’s time for you to be put in your place and learn who’s boss.”

You begin to push back against his hips with your own, feeling the bulge starting in his pants is driving you wild, you want so bad to run your mouth and get smart with him, but his hands on your bare skin feel so damn good you can’t bring yourself to say anything, not trusting your voice to not come out as a whine.

“What did I say about letting me hear you, baby?”

He grips the thigh he’s holding tightly and finally starts to slip his hand under your bra giving you some relief from your ever-growing frustrations.

He begins to toy with your nipple and knead your breast while his other hand travels closer to where you need him most.

The action causes you to finally let out a soft but deep moan, you reach back and grip his hair while your eyes close, head falling back onto his toned chest

“Oh god. . . that’s it baby, loosen up a bit” He encourages your sounds with a harder grip on your breast and contact with the point between your legs.

He begins to rub you through your pants, the sounds spilling from your lips become more frequent 

“Finally behaving and giving me what I want. . . Now be a good girl and tell me what it is you want from me huh?”

It takes all your willpower to reign yourself back in and attempt to speak despite him torturing you through your clothes like this.

You open your eyes and take in the sight of the two of you in the mirror. His hair is still being gripped by you, his eyes are on fire and he looks like it’s taking everything in him to hold back in case you change your mind.

But you finally have Johnny Suh with his hand up your shirt and down your pants offering you the night of your life, no way in hell you’re gonna tell him no.

You look back up into his eyes in the mirror while gripping his hair and wrist tighter

You challenge him with the most sultry tone you can muster “Johnny, I want you to ruin me, and show me who’s really in charge”

You can see in his eyes the exact moment he snaps while you speak, pupils blowing out and grip almost bruising he spins you around to face him.

He grips your jaw the way he did after you yelled at him, except instead of scolding you like he did then, he’s pressing his lips onto yours.

Moaning into his mouth you strain onto your tippy toes to match his ridiculous height, without much luck but neither of you was focusing on that at the moment.

He lifts you by the back of your thighs onto the makeup table, bringing a hand up to your chin again he tugs your jaw open to slip his tongue inside to run against your own.

And you’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever felt, you vocalize this to him with another rather loud moan.

He leans back and you whine at the loss of contact as his long fingers find the bottom of your shirt.

“God baby you keep making noises like that and I can’t promise to control myself. . .”

He goes back in for another kiss as his hands make their way up your shirt again much to your relief.  

“Then don’t. . .” The words are mumbled into Johnny’s mouth but he hears them nonetheless. 

He lets out a rather dark chuckle at your attitude.

“Oh baby, you have some manners to learn” With that, he cocks his hand back and lands a loud but rather pain-free smack to the part of your thigh exposed by your high waisted shorts causing the muscles to clench on contact at the warning and a noise you didn’t know you could make left your mouth much to his delight. 

He smooths over the afflicted skin with his large palms while whispering sweet sweet praises into your ear. Johnny gently lifts your shirt over your head, he begins trailing hot open-mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone and goddamn does it make you wet.

You can feel yourself get hotter the farther down his mouth travels and you feel like if he doesn’t quit teasing you with his lips and fingertips you're gonna explode

And this is when the whining starts “Johnny. . . please do something I’m gonna die” you curl your fingers back into his hair when he laughs at how desperate you sound.

“I love the way you sound when you whine my name baby.”

“I mean it, Johnny, I'm gonna die please do something, please” your begging seems to have done the trick cause now Johnny is on his knees in front of you still looking at you like you're his favorite meal.

“Lift your hips”

That definitely wasn’t a request and you are more than willing to comply. He slips your shorts down your legs (you barely register not knowing when he unbuttoned them) along with your now-soaked underwear, your thick scent sticking in the air.

He groans at the smell of your arousal and the sight of your soaked heat “Oh fuck baby look at you. . .” using both hands he spreads your legs farther causing your lips to part “Can’t believe we haven’t done this sooner”

And with that, he dives right into biting at your soft thighs causing the sweetest sound he’d ever heard to fall from your pretty lips and he knows he’s already addicted.

“Are you ready sweet baby?” You nod.

He slaps your thigh again but harder this time leaving a full outline of his long slender hand “Use your words, baby, be a good girl and answer me properly yeah?”

“Yes Johnny, yes I’m ready, please, please I’m ready” Not your most eloquent of sentences but it satisfies him to hear your smart mouth not be so smart anymore.

“Good girl. . .” That causes a shiver to run down your whole body “Aw does my baby like being told how good she is?” 

You start to nod but remember that he wants words

“Yes dear god I love it. . .” you're honestly on the verge of tears by now, he’s been so close yet so far this whole time “Good girls get rewards, so behave.” He finally leans forward and delivers a soft lick to your sensitive clit and you don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loud in your whole life, you’ve been driven shameless by him and his mouth.

His hands hold your legs open as he works over you with his mouth, tongue applying just the right amount of friction and pressure to start pushing you to climax.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer and it does nothing but boost his ego and drive him crazy, he’s so hard and trapped by his pants but he couldn’t care less when he finally has you on his tongue after months of secret pining and he isn’t gonna throw this chance away. 

He wants to make sure you keep coming back again, and again, and maybe even agree to be his.. But you’ll have that talk later, right now your fingernails are grazing his scalp making him groan into you, sending vibrations up your core.

Waves of white-hot electricity crash over your body, thighs trembling and tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

Johnny is by far the most talented man you’ve had between your legs and you're already almost about to cum, it’s so fast you’re almost embarrassed but you know that he’s doing it on purpose, proving a point to you about how you’ll now be ruined for anyone else. No one will be as good as him and you both know it.

You’re begging him to keep going but he takes it one step further by easing a slender finger into your beyond slick heat. 

“Ahhh fuck. . .” He looks up at you and the sight mixed with his tongue and fingers almost does you in right there. 

“Fuck Johnny, I’m so so close please, more please”

It’s official, he’s reduced you to nothing more than a begging, sobbing, mess.

He smirks into you while adding a third finger with the others,

“Johnnyyy” 

“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow

“Can I please, please cum? I can’t hold it anymore please”

You weren’t sure why you were asking, it just seemed like something you should do.

And you were right.

“Since you asked so nicely” He picked up the pace in all the right ways that had you falling apart right there on top of the makeup table.

You tried to stay as quiet as possible but he made that very challenging, his fingers and tongue worked you through your high in the most perfect way possible, firm but not too much to make you overly sensitive, but he knew exactly what to do to make it last as long as possible.

You're a panting sweaty mess when he stands up

“Open” remembering what he said about good girls getting rewards you immediately obey, wanting to make him pleased with you.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth and you make a point to look directly into his eyes while you clean them with your mouth, leaving little to the imagination about what you'd be doing if it wasn't his fingers..

“Fuck baby..” He groans at the sight and feeling of you “Let's get out of here yeah?” He takes a half step back and wipes his hand on his jeans,

He picks up your shirt and hands it to you. You nod and slip the light fabric over your head. 

Johnny gently lifts your chin to look at him and you aren't fully prepared for the softness in his eyes “You did so good baby, such a fast learner” Warmth spreads through you at this praise and you can't help but smile. 

You gently slip off the table onto shaky legs and go to fix your shorts when Johnny does it for you, you mumble a soft thank you, still unsure of your voice and the state it's in.

Then he surprises you again by pulling you into a hug, it's comforting but firm. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and holds your head to his chest and strokes your hair with the other. You’re quick to hold him back, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the improvised aftercare.

“Wanna head back to my place?” You feel his chest softly rumble as he lets out a sweet laugh knowing the other option is the dorm “I’d love to” 

He helps you pack up your things while making pleasant small talk, knowing a more serious conversation and more fun would be had once you get home.

You could both tell this was gonna be the start of something you both would quite enjoy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! 

Taglist - @flowerboykun @se-onghwa

[texanredrose]

Prep and Goth

Day 1: Enemies to Lovers/Secret Library Time

---

Weiss stared at the clock, mentally urging the second hand to move faster. The transition between this period and the next always took the longest- or at least it felt like time slowed down around this point in the day. She hated how the end of the period never caught her off guard; she was always keenly aware of the clock, with her work done and backpack already packed and ready for her to leave the classroom. She was usually the first one out the door.

“Hey, if I give you five lien, could you get me a redbull?”

“No, Ruby; for the last time, I don’t have a release period next, I’m a library aide.”

“Oh, come on, everyone knows you just show up, sign in, and disappear!” Her fellow senior slumped in her seat. “It’s not like you’re going to get in trouble! Ms. Goodwitch knows you ditch and she doesn’t say anything!”

How she’d become friends- perhaps even best friends- with the school’s most energetic track star was beyond her; it involved an ill fated chemistry lab and the fire department but, honestly, she couldn’t remember specific details beyond that. While Weiss would love to say she merely put up with and tolerated Ruby, the truth was that she still hadn’t entirely adjusted to the concept of having someone who would be with her through thick and thin. She was being… persuaded to open up to the young woman but she still kept more secrets than she probably should from her best friend.

“I swear, Ruby Rose, if you keep spreading such slander about my character, I’ll be forced to take drastic action!” She tore her gaze away from the clock to glare at the woman. “I do not skip class!”

Rolling her silver eyes, Ruby rested her head on her desk and groaned. “Just because you’re the Valedictorian doesn’t mean you have to be perfect, Weiss. No one’s going to care if you ditch one period.”

“I care!” The bell rang a moment later and she forgot about the argument entirely as she quickly grabbed her pack and fast walked to the door.

The walk from her class to the library was a blessedly short one, made slightly longer by classmates and underclassmen getting in her way as other students emerged into the hallway for the passing period. A cold glare managed to persuade some of them to move but not all of them- those blessedly ignorant few she stepped around or nearly barreled through if she could get away with it. It probably contributed to her reputation of being a vicious, cut throat type of person like her sister but her patience had worn too thin and she needed to get to the library.

A few steps from her goal, a hand suddenly landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and only two people in the whole school would dare put their hands on her like that, and only one of them for no good reason. “YANG-”

“Calm down, Princess, this’ll be quick, promise!” With hands on Weiss’ shoulders, she guided them away from the throng of students to a small alcove next to the library doors. “Just got something I need to say real quick.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Weiss scowled at the blonde, annoyed that she seemed to get taller every time they talked, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Last I checked, I didn’t have anything to do with the girls’ basketball team. Or the weightlifting team. Or the boxing team. Or-”

Yang clapped her hands together in front of Weiss’ face, smiling that do-you-really-think-they’ll-expel-me smile of hers. “Hey, do me a favor? Drop the frigid bitch act for, like, five minutes, okay? Because I really don’t have the time for it; if you wanna go toe-to-toe in the bitch-out-lypmics, we can schedule that another time, but right now, I need to have a serious talk with you. It’s about Blake.”

At the namedrop, her blood ran cold and her heart lodged in her throat, eyes growing wide as a genuine tendril of fear began taking root in her chest. “Is she okay?”

“Well, that depends,” Yang replied, looking around at their classmates walking past without paying them any mind. “Look. I don’t get it, okay, the whole secret girlfriends thing, I don’t even know how you two got together… but what I do know is that Blake deserves better than someone who’s ashamed of her-”

“Don’t you dare put words in my mouth,” she hissed, worry turning to fury in the blink of an eye. “I’m not ashamed to be dating Blake. If it was safe, everyone would know!”

“Yeah, can you define ‘safe’ for me in this context? Because I’m having a real hard time convincing Blake you’re being sincere when you don’t want anyone knowing the two of you are dating.”

“You know we’re dating!”

“Because I refuse to let things go and I knew she was acting weird!” Yang growled in frustration, fingers flexing as if she was seriously debating throttling Weiss. “Listen, I figured it out and I bullied her into telling me weeks ago, but not even Ruby knows beyond that. Not a fan of keeping secrets but I’ll do it for a friend. Now, answer my question, please, because with the rest of the school convinced you two hate each other, this whole ‘don’t tell anyone we’re dating thing’ is clear as mud, and it’s really starting to get to her.”

Weiss’ shoulders fell as she looked away, her anger abating in the face of the situation presented to her. “It’s… complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for me.” Yang made a gesture with one hand. “Just give me a straight answer!”

“I can’t!” She stamped her foot, speaking before she could think about her word choice. “I can only give you a gay answer!”

Yang stared at her for a long moment. “So, that’s what Blake meant when she said you have the worst sense of humor.”

“I’m done with this conversation-”

Yang grabbed her arm and stopped her, expression turning serious. “Listen, you don’t wanna talk to me? Fine. But talk to Blake. If you really care about her, she deserves to hear that.”

As the blonde stepped away, the bell rang, making both of them late- not that it would matter. Ms. Goodwitch wouldn’t count her late and even if she did, a single tardy wouldn’t be much of a blemish on her record. There was a time when it would’ve bothered her but she’d grown past that a few years ago; perfection was, in some sense, in the eye of the beholder. Blake would notice, though, and she hurried to the library to keep her ‘secret girlfriend’ from worrying.

When she got to the library, she dropped her bag behind the counter and signed in, highly aware that Blake was somewhere among the rows reshelving books. 

The librarian gave her a small nod. “I presume you have good reason for being late but don’t make a habit of it.”

“Of course, Ms. Goodwitch.” With that, she grabbed a few leftover books that needed reshelving and went into the stacks to reshelve them. As soon as she was far enough away from the front desk, she spoke in a soft voice that Blake would be able to hear regardless. “Blake? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Is everything alright?” She’d long ago grown accustomed to the faunus’ silent steps, which really shouldn’t be possible given the amount of glistening chains and bits of metal hung from her ensemble but it was one of those things Weiss had accepted about Blake at first and had grown to admire. “It’s not like you to be late.”

“I… got pulled into a conversation.” She debated, briefly, if she should mention who the conversation was with but ultimately decided against it. Yang would likely bring it up herself at some point but she didn’t want the distraction at present. “Blake… you know I care about you, right?”

“Yes, Weiss, and I care about you, too,” she replied, her voice holding that special lilt that Weiss used to think was snideness. Now, she recognized it as a gentle sort of teasing and, sometimes, a deflection. “What brought this on?”

“I’ve been thinking about some things… and I find myself curious about some… other things.”

“Truly, you have a way with words.”

“I’m trying to be serious!” Weiss whined, putting a hand to her head as she tried to think of a way to word what she wanted to say. In the next moment, Blake stepped up and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Weiss’ shoulder in a silent show of support. This was, partly, where they differed, because even when words escaped Blake, the faunus could somehow find a way to convey what she needed; Weiss, in contrast, simply clammed up entirely if she didn’t begin insulting whoever was nearest. “You know the only reason we’re not dating publicly is because of my family, right? That, the moment I turn eighteen and gain access to my funds, I’ll shout it from the rooftops… right?”

Blake took a step back but one hand lingered on Weiss’ hip, a soft assurance that she wasn’t leaving but that they should probably have a conversation like this face-to-face. When she turned around, she searched shining amber eyes and found a touch of disbelief hiding there. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think it was the only reason.”

“It really is…” Weiss sighed, running a hand through her bangs in frustration. “I… I don’t know how to prove it, I don’t know if there’s anything I could say or do that would, but… I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed of dating you… that’s… that’s the furthest from the truth.”

Feline ears flicked towards one end of the row and both of them quickly focused on shelving the few books that remained as a group of students went back to one of the study rooms. Once the coast was clear, Blake sighed heavily. “I told Yang to drop it.”

“She’s trying to help.” Begrudgingly, she continued. “Ruby’s the same way. They meddle when they can but they have the best of intentions.”

“Still… she wasn’t too… forceful, was she?”

“She only threatened to throttle me, so no, she wasn’t too forceful.” Weiss tilted her head. “And, arguably, she has a salient point. I… I perhaps took it for granted that you would… that I made my feelings about you clear to you.”

Blake ducked her head, her ears flicking back briefly to blending into midnight black hair. As per her usual, the faunus was bedecked in all black save for the silver of the chains hanging from her pants and the snake bite piercings on her bottom lip. Whenever they were making out, Weiss found that flicking either of the piercings with her tongue would always result in a soft groan from Blake.

“So… when you turn eighteen…basically, when we graduate?” Blake took a step forward. “That’s… a long time to be a secret from everyone.”

“Well… not from everyone. Yang knows.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Ruby will know… when I tell her…”

“Right.” Blake came a bit closer. “I guess that means we won’t be going to prom together.”

Weiss raised a brow, then caught onto what her girlfriend was doing, a smile tugging at her lips. “You? Go to prom?” A soft chuckle. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead at… what was it you called it? A useless party for empty headed idiots?”

“And a waste of money. I said that, too.” Blake stopped just a hair’s breadth away and very nonchalantly shelved a book just behind Weiss’ shoulder. “But you’ve got a crown to win, right? Prom Queen to go with your other honors?”

“There’s only one crown that I care to claim,” she replied, reaching up to bury her hand in midnight locks between the faunus’ ears and pulling her down into a kiss. Normally, they didn’t indulge in such outside of Ms. Goodwitch’s office, which the librarian granted them access to once they’d reshelved all the books. If she suspected what they did in there, she remained silent, probably because while reshelving the books they would also fix what other aides did incorrectly and she appreciated the help more than she cared to curtail PDAs.

The kiss didn’t last too long- just long enough to drive her point home- but the look in amber eyes almost made her too weak to move.

Weiss gathered her courage. “I do love you, Blake.”

Not ‘care about’, not ‘fond of’, not any other arrangement of words she’d used over the past year to describe how she felt. Fear that caring too much would make her careless had prevented her from saying the words before. Now, though, she couldn’t go another moment without Blake understanding exactly how much she cared.

After the shock passed, Blake smiled softly, ears canting forward. “I love you too, Weiss.”

It took a moment for them to part but they returned to the counter and finished reshelving the books.

“Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I���d look good in black?”

---

Hi, yes, please join me in picturing Blake as a late 90′s/early 00′s goth girl.

[lesbianfreyja]

hi, i’m sorry, this is probably not the right place to do this, i just really need to get this out somewhere & you seem to like. actually have some common sense, so anyway, this is about the popularized dv trial going on right now, so if you don’t want to read it/don’t have the capacity/whatever, i completely understand. it’s so disgusting bc like. even the people around me in real life have started to repeat the jd*pp talking points and it’s like i literally cannot exist anywhere in peace, even offline, i cannot exist anywhere without a reminder that these self-professed “feminists” and “supporters of victims” can and will take any opportunity to side with an abuser when the victim is imperfect and will turn cases like these, which are going to have and already have had a profound impact on the way people see victims of dv, into a joke or a series of “gotcha!” memes when the victim isn’t acting how you want her to / doesn’t look depressed and angry and upset 24/7 like. can they get a grip?? it seems like none of them even want to acknowledge that, despite all the odds being against victims, aheard has literally won case after case against him (not that court cases are a reliable marker of abuse, but as we know, it’s way harder to prove it & win a case as a victim than it is to win as a defendant) and this is literally a trial over an article that she didn’t even name him in. like it literally makes me sick because people i once called my friend are treating this as a joke and making an absolute mockery out of this whole thing, and if i say anything to them about it, i’m just hit with a “you don’t believe male victims exist?” and immediately shut down. like no, obviously male victims can & do exist, this rich man with a ton of power in hollywood who has been proven in a court of law (again, not adding this bc it’s the be-all-end-all marker of abuse, just because it’s really fucking hard to prove and she did) time and time again to have committed dv just isn’t one of them & even if she hit back at some point or stood up to him, there’s a difference between self defense and abuse! i had someone tell me that there was a recording of her going “who’s going to believe you?” to him, which, like, first of all, i don’t know if that’s true, but second of all, that definitely sounds like it could be something he could’ve said to her as he was abusing her and she could’ve repeated, so ???? i don’t understand how that’s some kind of like. definitive evidence. and like i have literally blacklisted their names on twitter and shit about the trial still slips through the cracks, and as a dv victim myself, it just makes me so fucking sick to see and have to hear about not just online or on twitter, but by people i thought i could trust. and i don’t even understand what the big deal is about this man anyway?? not that it would matter if he was actually relevant for anything, but like i do not know a single person who was batting for him this hard before these trials/this last trial in particular & whenever i ask about it, people are like “oh, i don’t even like him that much, i just ____” like i don’t get it y’all do not know this man PLEASE get a fucking grip

i’m very sorry you went through that ❤️ i think it’s an indicator that people backing amber are actively trying not to watch the case but frustrated for victims, meanwhile they’re being bombarded with meme videos from people who believe anything they read on twitter but when asked clearly don’t know the first thing about what the trial is even about. which one sounds like we actually advocate for victims??? not the one using audios of her describing her sexual assault and saying they’d love it if he did that. it’s disgusting and devastating that she goes through this every two years like clockwork since they divorced. it’s so devastating what this reveals about how men were only tolerating Me Too and i hope womankind can come back from the damage it’ll do, but my heart’s with the women who WILL feel its immediate aftereffect in the next few years

[ohheyitsokay]

first base

part 6 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: strong language, illusions to part trauma

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need ot know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the guys start to explain baseball both as a game and a career to the reader, and Frankie takes a step in the right direction instead of running.

>> 

It was Francisco’s idea for someone to walk you to your car, but Will ended up doing it, his mind too lost in thought for his usually sharp eyes to see. They missed the drop in Frankie’s shoulders, the tilt of Santi's head, and the way that even after the goodbyes, your fingers waved an extra  wave at just one of them before you turned away. He didn’t say anything as you walked and thanked him again for inviting you to his grandparents with everyone, and apologized for James’ absence.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his accent was more pronounced and you almost thought he was going to shake your hand before he pulled you into a rough hug.

“What for?” the Millers, you were learning, were physically affectionate, but there was something in the way he did it, something in the way he said it that made you pause.

“The other night, and,” he shrugged, for once not quite knowing what to say, and you could almost see the words swimming behind his deep blue eyes. With a content sigh, you perched on the edge of the hood of your car, settling in for a real conversation with William Miller. Ironhead, they told you, a golden top athlete and responsible older of Ben, and the whole group. There was a huff, as he acknowledged it, smiling a little bit.

“You guys protect him,” you offered, and he crossed his arms, leaning next to you. Will blinked, then uncrossed his arms again.

“Yeah,” his hands moved along the grooves of the car, as if he was concentrated on being open with you. “We have to.”

“You’re his big brother.” 

You didn’t ask, but they’re not? but it was implied. The sturdy first-baseman stilled, looking right at you. If this had been less of a conversation, it would have occurred to him that the prolonged time alone with you was creating a curiosity what was killing his friend inside.

“We were all him, a few years ago,” his eyes felt like they were boring into yours, intense in a comforting way, like he would ask permission before peering into your soul. “High on attention, moving too fast to think, caught up in the parties and girls and... all of it.”

Nodding while he talked, you muttered not relatable underneath his voice and he half smiled as he continued. Still, you understood what he was getting at.

“It got bad,” he said it like he had rehearsed it, or maybe had said it before. “Redfly wants it back, bigger, better. He could do it, too, if…” Will talked with his hands just enough to wave off the end of that sentence. “We all made mistakes. Did shit we aren’t proud of. Still sort of recovering from that. Just… don’t like seeing him make some of the same choices.”

“He’s got a big heart,” you said, asking not for confirmation, but out of curiosity. He grinned, breaking his frustrated reminiscing and nodded.

“You’re good for him,” he pushed off the car, a signal that he said what he needed to. Another hug, and at the same time as you said, “I like you guys,” you could’ve sworn he added, “For all of us.”

Pulling back, you stared, but he didn’t repeat himself, and you finished your goodbyes. The drive home, you forgot to turn on the radio the whole drive, thinking.

There was a place for you, with those five boys, it wasn’t a crazy once-in-a-lifetime thing. And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

-

There was nothing about Francisco that you didn’t like – except he spilled your secret.

I actually don’t know anything about baseball.

Frankie was mad he shared it, too. His daydreams of having you pressed against his side – or better yet, in his lap – as he explained the beautiful game to you dwindled before his eyes. His friends were yelling, indignant, and excited. Already the evening was being planned, to watch a game and explain it to you and with resignation he knew they were all looking forward to it.

So, two evenings later, he found himself trying to get a seat next to yours on the little couch of Santi's rental. You brought snacks and a recording James had given you, and were wearing an old team tshirt that made his heart flip over in his chest.

It was silly, how eagerly they all waited for the recording to start, just boys excited to strut their stuff and show off.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Will was on your other side, the most relaxed of the bunch, sipping something fizzy. He seemed amused, more than anything.

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” you shrugged. They were sure that wasn’t true, but it made it more fun.

“That’s me!” Santiago said, raising his eyebrows and pointing. It was, which you obviously knew, but you asked for it. Tom, who was gripping a beer while hovering by the food and texting, coughed a laugh.

“Okay, smart-ass,” you grabbed a handful of candy off the coffee table and threw one at Santi’s head. “You’re the pitcher. What do you do, other than throw the ball?”

He caught it, grinning, before Ben chimed in.

“Nothing.”

Santi made an offended noise in the back of his throat. He explained it to you – he was in control, throwing the ball in different ways to manipulate the batter.

“So, if all goes well, the batter misses and you catch it,” your eyes found Frankie’s, confirming, and he shrugged, more focused on restraining himself from pulling you against him. They then explained, strikes were good, but sometimes it was equally good to make the batter hit it badly.

“What’s a bat hit, at this level?”

Benny’s chest swelled a little with pride as he said anything he could catch. They corrected him – anything anyone could catch. That would give the other team an “out" faster than three strikes.

His voice was deep, but his laughter was lighter as Benny launched into a story like a overgrown kid trying to share. You could barely follow it as he jumped around and the others began to interject the pieces that he missed. It made you smile, how passionate they were about what they did.

Frankie saw a chance in the midst of the loud conversation, swallowed hard, and took it, sliding a little bit closer to you. He kept his voice low, as he explained that he and Pope would communicate the plan with hand signals. It was a gift from them, really, to let him show them you, your eyes alight as you looked at his broad, scarred hands.

The snap of the ball hitting a bat broke the moment, and all of you turned back towards the screen. Tom tuned in, telling you what he did in the outfield – mostly standing and running and catching and throwing – before he excused himself and slipped out. There was a joke somewhere, about the differences between infielders and outfielders, but no one made it.

You watched a tiny version of Will hit the ball, and the camera followed it as if flew all the way over the heads of the opposing team, past the fence and into the crowd.

“A home run?” That was one thing you didn’t really need to ask, but Will looked proud, anyway.

“Who has the record?” The real question, executed with raised brows and a conspiring sip of your drink as Santi made a face at you. At this point, you had their measure - jealousy wasn’t stronger that their comradery. 

Your elbow bumped Frankie’s ribs and even though it didn’t hurt, he winced. “Will,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’ll be me in a few years,” Benny added with his wide smile, not even trying to dodge the pillows and pretzels thrown at his face.

“Sore subject?” eyes in Frankie’s, it made him thaw -that you were talking just to him.

“I’m a bad batter.” It was the truth. It wasn’t really in his skill set and he normally didn’t mind because it meant he had to do it less, but… he really didn’t like letting you down. It didn’t seem like you really cared, though, he hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t hallucinating when you slid closer to him. You made a joke about how you would certainly be worse, and his daydream about teaching you returned in force.

“Actually,” Santi’s quiet voice seemed more thoughtful than teasing, and he leaned in so only Frankie could hear him. “Recently you’ve been better,” he punched his friend’s arm and added, “Because you’ve got a good luck charm.”

They both looked at you, squinting at the screen and comparing your score sheet to the correct one.

“I guess so,” Frankie’s tone was just as thoughtful.

-

Throughout the evening all the remaining men were affectionate with you, and it was weirding you out. You had just gotten used to being friends with minor celebrities, and now? 

It may have been the fact that you were just letting them show off their skills but something had definitely changed. It was like it was settled, your place with them, your value to them. Ben had sat in front of you, and asked you to run your fingers through his hair like you had before, as he explained what a shortstop did. He played it off like he didn’t do much, genuinely humble – but as it turned out, they were the most valuable player on the team, the core to communication and guidance. It was sweet, that he got so excited to share it with you, and accidentally let it all spill out.

Will remembered your drink, and teased you more than he ever had, letting himself banter with you and Santi.

Their hands were on your shoulders, ruffling your hair, on your arm, your knees, brushing or squeezing like they were trying to communicate to you how thankful they were that you actually cared. It was nice, but most of all, it was comfortable. It reinforced what Will had laid the foundation for - you really were a part of this, for the long haul.

Best of all was how close you were against the solid warmth of Francisco’s side. His arm was over the top of the couch, respectfully, and his fingers caught on your shoulder and the tips of your hair, like his restraint was crumbling. 

When the game was over and the Miller boys faked yawns and slipped out, the weight of his arm settled, finally, and you leaned into him. Soon, you would have to pull away, pretend you hadn’t wanted to cuddle him fully so you wouldn’t overstay your welcome, but it was hard when it seemed like he wanted you to stay, too. 

You made the time less awkward for Santi, though, since your final question was for the two of them, anyway.

“Will talked to me the other day, about before.” They snapped to attention, looking at you cautiously. “Would you guys… tell me, sometime? About all of it?” Knowing what you meant, the air was thick as they exchanged glances.

They didn’t have time for it all. Frankie’s hand fidgeted on your shoulder, and his grip on you tightened. You reached up and touched his hand, a reassurance, or maybe insurance for his overthinking mind, before you forced yourself to pull away. It didn’t need to be right now.

“Yeah, if you want,” Santiago was a man prone to talking, charming, working his was out of unpleasant situations. He fought the instinct. 

It came out haltingly, the high of their success, and how each one of them had crashed down in their own way. They didn’t share too many details of the other men just themselves, and how it had felt.

For Santi, he threw himself into the game, overworking his mind and body until his knees gave out. It cost him a small fortune in treatments, a lost contract with his last team, and forced him into a break with his long term girlfriend. He thought his life was over, shot straight into the ground, and ended up in continuous therapy for both his mind as well as his knees. Will dated a girl who was in it for the wrong reasons, had his proposal on tabloid covers before he saw it, and locked himself away. Tom drank himself into a quiet, secretive 30 day rebab. 

It was the hardest to share - Frankie’s drug use, his spiral as he balanced the two extreme sides of his life. He mentioned his family, his sister and he baby like weights on his shoulders, and his eyes told you and Pope both that he would tell you more later, when and if you wanted him too.

They each had been devastated by their mistakes, and you were almost in awe of them as they talked about keeping each other accountable, building and holding each other up, these past few years. There was plenty, like Will said, that was still healing, still being worked on, but it was amazing to see how far they’d come.

Francisco watched you closely, also fighting himself internally. It was a miracle you hadn’t run away, and he could see it like a sunrise on the horizon - hope. An actual real chance that he would get a shot with you, a real shot without secrets and faking it and anxiety. 

You were thanking them both, hands cleaning up as you asked them if there was anything you should be conscious of in the future. He wasn’t jealous when Pope hugged you for a beat longer than normal, and he had to smile at his friend’s excitement as he talked about what baseball had become to them, and how tight their friendships were.

“Now you’re stuck with us,” Santi really meant it, and Frankie made a sound so you knew he agreed.

His mind was running as you walked together to your cars, but the feel of you wouldn’t leave his chest and he couldn’t stop just... talking to you. 

The conversation had turned back to the game, and your growing love for it had nothing on his growing feelings for you. When you stopped at your car, he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to move past and head home. The flow of words lulled and he found himself hovering close to you, above you like he had in the kitchen of your abuelo’s home. Your eyes flickered across his face, and he watched your tongue wet your lips subconsciously, and it was all over.

 Frankie pulled you into him, kissing you as gently as he could manage. He meant for you to be able to pull away, if you wanted to - if it was too much, all of the information. You didn’t take it, kissing him back and letting him press into you until your back was against the cool metal of the car. 

When you had watched them play, really watched and understood, Frankie had loved the way you looked at him, had thought nothing would feel better than your adoration. 

He was wrong. 

Feeling you in his arms, pinned between his body and your car, kissing him back like you wanted this as much as he did was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced. 

Pulling back, his voice was rough as he asked you if you’d want to talk, sometimes soon, just you and him. You were just as breathless as he was, and your affirmation felt as good as a homerun. When he stepped fully back so you could open the driver’s side door, your head ducked as you smiled at him, and he wanted to eat you alive. 

But he let you go, and as you drove away he thought about stealing after you, but he didn’t. There was a time and place for that, but after such a  perfect moment, Frankie was content biding his time. He still had more work to do. 

>>

taglist

@fangirl-316 ​ @scribbledghost ​ @writeforfandoms ​ @beautyagegoodnesssize ​ @princess76179 ​ @mrsbentallmadge ​

hey batter batter taglist

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind  @hnt-escape @athalien  @the-witty-pen-name ​ @daffodin ​

[zeldasayer]

Futile Devices — Chapter 5

A Javier Peña/Call Me By Your Name AU

gif by @pascalplease

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since your father’s book with Javier was rejected, just as you and Javier were getting close.

Warnings: SMUT — age gap (reader is of age), inexperienced!reader themes, gagging, praise (use of “little girl”), vocal Javi, squirting. Angst. 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 4

——

Vita Murphy was born on April 9th 1963 in Milan, Italy to American architects Connie and Steve Murphy, who met your mother by chance one afternoon at a market in town. Taking a liking to Connie, Daisy invited her and her husband to one of their legendary parties. Your mother and father loved to entertain and invite interesting people into their home for cocktails and Daisy's delicious cooking. Your parents celebrated every holiday, birthday, or life event they could think of, any excuse to dress up, string lights through the fruit trees in the back yard and drink in excess to your father's extensive record collection. As a child, you missed most of the parties, having been put to bed just as they were taking off, but when Connie and Steve arrived to your mother's 35th birthday after meeting in the market, and saw you sitting alone at your piano, Connie knew that next time she would bring her daughter.

Even at 13 you felt the pull that Vita had. You watched as she floated around your home, seeming even more comfortable in it than you were, stealing sips of wine and hors d'oeuvres before noticing you and asking if you had ever had your tarot cards read.

"It's my favourite game." You spat out nervously unaware.

Vita just smiled with a nod, "Yeah. Mine, too."

And from then on, you were inseparable.

"She didn't cry, she sang!" Connie always said about her daughter's birth. "It was the happiest day of my life."

Made in her mother's stunning image, Vita had the most incredible large eyes and long blonde hair she cut only once a year. Connie knew at a young age that her daughter was special, as a believer in the universe and the infinite lives a person could have, she knew her daughter was an old soul put on Earth to love and protect the new souls, the tired souls, those who were born somewhere and didn't know why they were born there. She knew it would be quite the burden for one girl, but she saw it quickly in her daughter that it was what she was meant to do. A healer, a listener, someone who understood what many feared no one ever could. Vita attracted those who needed her, and in that, unfortunately led to a large turnover in friendships. Vita was used to strong, short bursts of complete female unity, where she loved you undyingly and provided the support that you needed to pass through a difficult period of your life. But not with you, there was no passing through with you. Not even during your extended stays in the United States or even now that you are gone most of the year in college, could your friendship be weakened.

"It's because you were siblings!" Connie exclaimed in a tipsy state on a summer night long ago. "In another life."

"Do you think?" Vita asked, turning to you.

You believed in Vita and her mother's cosmic knowing, and relied on it more than you were willing to admit. "Of course."

"You were brother and sister." Connie said before taking a sip of her wine, and going quiet.

She always goes quiet — one moment she will tell you how your whole life is going to be and the next, just as she's about to get into the details, she switches off without any explanation, claiming she "doesn't really know this stuff, anyway."

It always makes Vita roll her eyes, because she knows that's not the case for she is just like her mother. Vita saw everything and found people she couldn't read extremely frustrating. Vita has this otherworldly understanding of people and a patience unmatched by anyone you have ever met. She knows how devastating it can be to be seen, but how crucial in life it is to not only be understood, but accepted. Vita also knew how often you spent up in your head, in your make believe world where nothing could hurt you. How your lust for life was so consuming it left you unable to move, too afraid to start because it always felt like you were doing it on your own. Your best friend once told you with tears in her eyes that she wished she knew what planet you were from so you would have the peace of mind that you weren’t completely alone, and you thanked her because sometimes that is enough.

Vita is the human embodiment of home.

So why can't you tell her what is going on? Why does your throat close up every time you want to talk about Javier in any capacity? Why does your throat close up when you think about Javier at all? A part of you wants to run barefoot straight to Vita’s house and up to her room, beg her to help you understand your own emotions. Why are you so enamored by a man who always makes it so hard to breathe? How he manages to make you so hyper aware of your movements, yet he isn't even looking at you. How he's never there when you want him but you would drop everything to be close to him once more. You would drop everything just to be what he wanted again and it makes you sick to your stomach. It's like watching yourself at 15 all over again, when you believed the most important thing you could be was desired. Hell is the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and you thought those days were gone forever.

The tension in the house doesn't make it any easier. You and Daisy tiptoeing around your father and house guest. The quiet meals, that used to be your favourite parts of the day now leave you cold even in the relentless summer sun. You spend most of the time, sitting across from Javier, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at you so you can ask him what's wrong with your eyes. To let him know that he can come to you, that you want him to. But he never does.

Christian and Javier lock themselves away in the library most days and your mother tells you they still haven't come up with anything new. You're startled every night when you're woken by their raised voices traveling through the halls and you hold your breath until you hear their roaring laughter and you know they must be drunk.

You don't see Javier much these days, but you don't see anyone for that matter. Resorting to lazy floats in the pool by yourself or reading alone in the cool living room to escape the heat. It feels as though, if you can't be around Javier you can’t be around anyone at all and sometimes you can make that make sense but most of the time you ignore the irritating notion that you may really be going crazy.

But what was supposed to happen? Javier would fuck you and realize right then and there he couldn’t live without you? It’s so embarrassing because it’s true. You can't talk to Vita because you're embarrassed to admit you wanted to be more and tonight after another lonely dinner where you might as well have been eating alone — you dumped your dishes in the sink and slipped out to the back gardens for your abandoned childhood swing set. And you finally cried.

“Fuck!” You scream up at the sky and you kick your legs back.

As you create your momentum, swinging back and forth you can’t help but succumb to your own erratic emotions and you wonder why it has to be this way. Why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Why must you always need more? Why is it so goddamn exhausting to keep yourself neutral? You’ve never felt sad, only despair. Never angry, only full of rage. You’ve never been embarrassed, you only know humiliation. And you hate to think this way because you always search for your brain for a time you were truly happy, but you always come up empty.

Something is always missing. Something is always missing and you’re always alone but you can’t even be upset because you do it to yourself.

It feels like you’re taking the world on by yourself simply because you are. Because you feel like you need to, this is your burden and yours only. You must suffer to be rewarded for one day you will be able to walk in the sun and be alright.

But to what end? When will you be rewarded?

You want it to be Javier. Just being close to him feels like the reward. The energy you feel just sitting next to him, those eyes you want to swim in, the perfect angle of his nose and the voice that drips from his lips. It must be him, but he won’t even talk to you.

You spend the evening locked in this thought, the concept of the reward — you can convince yourself it isn't real but your heart aches for it knows it is the truth. Which is why Javier is so difficult. He is the one and it makes you dizzy with excitement, but you’re not sure if you can trust it. There is this pull of doubt at the corners of every thought because he still doesn’t know you. Though he could. If he just said the word, you’d spill every story, every thought, every idea you’ve ever had. How you long for more. More life. More love. More sex. More understanding. To truly be alive, not just living. Who could understand that better then him?

——

You like the way the cold ground feels under your bare feet as you walk back up to the house in the darkness. You feel lighter, now that you’ve cried and the house that sits quiet and empty is suddenly comforting. This is your life, your home. Javier is just a tourist and he should be so lucky to exist in the same space as you. But maybe this is you just channeling arrogance as to not be so sad, focusing on what he’s missing instead of your desperate need for him to actually see it.

“Claude?” You hear from the living room at the first creak of the wooden stairs.

You tiptoe through the corridor and into the living room to find Javier taming his fluffy hair with a yawn. Your jaw tightens.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I fell asleep.” He says and you just stand there, crossing your arms over your light blue summer dress. “Can you come sit?”

Shit.

“I don’t know Javi, I’m tired.” You shrug.

“Look, I just want to apologize.” He says, standing up and turning toward you, “We had sex and I haven’t spoken to you since and that’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen, but he doesn’t see because he looks down like he’s ashamed. You believe him. Gliding across the living room, you watch him in his usual ensemble — tight black t-shirt, soft cotton pants and his thick black framed glasses, and sit back down with him, on your side.

“It’s just everything with this book, I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety.” He says, his eyes cast down, resting his head on his fist propped up by the top of the couch.

You nod for you understand, but it hurt. “You didn’t even look at me this week.”

“I know.” He sighs, “I know, but I really am sorry. Please believe me when I say I’ve missed you.”

You look up at him, biting your cheek to contain your excitement.

“I miss you even while we live in the same house.” He says, looking away. His hand fidgets against his knee. “If you’re not at breakfast, or you spend your day here, reading in the living— I miss you when you aren’t around me.”

You wish there was a way to burn these words into your brain so you could have them at any time, to hear his voice say these things to you. This validation that he has felt the same after these long, horrible days of practically ignoring each other.

Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn Javier’s gaze back to you, and study him as you feel the fine hairs of his beard under your fingertips. He looks tired, even behind his glasses you can see the deep longing for rest in his eyes. You don’t think he’s used to rejection either.

Javier leans into your touch with a soft hum and you could almost lose your breath from the tenderness. You want to hold him, bury your nose in his hair and tell him to rest with you. Just laying together, his big body between your legs and head on your stomach, until the inevitable rising of the sun. You can hardly bring yourself to imagine how beautiful Javi must look by the light of the morning.

“Come here.” You whisper, though it’s barely audible, as you rise up on your knees so you are flush against his side, looking down at him. Before you kiss him, Javier kisses you, and your hand floats down from his cheek to wrap your arms around his glorious neck.

Javi wastes no time, his one big hand dragging up your spine to squeeze the back of your neck, holding your against him. And with the other, letting his thick fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass. You can feel the desperation in his skin, and you want all of it, this exquisite juxtaposition of feeling both safe in his arms but that he could also crush you with his desire.

What was life before this? Before Javier’s thick moans into your mouth, his heavy wet finger tips tracing. He takes up all the air in the room and you don’t stop him. He is everything.

You break off the kiss for a moment and remove his glasses. “I missed you too.”

“I’ve only touched you once, but I have spent every day thinking about you. Kissing you. Having you.” He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “It’s all I’ve wanted, every day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me.” You ask, and you can’t help the confused look on your face but Javier doesn’t respond. You search his face anyway longing for something heartfelt, like he was locked up in his head, consumed by his feelings for you, like you were. Instead, he kisses you again. Swallowing any upsetting feeling you’ve had since you’ve touched him last.

Kissing Javier is a soft pleasure all in its own, but you want more. More skin. More contact. To ache around him again. To show him how much you truly missed him.

“Let me take care of you.” You whisper, your palm trailing flat down the man’s chest. You get lower and lower, kissing along the beautiful exposed skin of his neck, dragging your hand down the soft black fabric until you reach the drawstring of Javi’s pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you feel his body stiffen as he looks around.

You nod, pushing your legs out from underneath you so you’re laying flat on the couch, your face practically in his lap. “Just relax.”

Javier lets all the air escape from his chest as you pull on the pants and he lifts his hips so you can get them down his thighs.

He watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth falling open as you kiss up the underside of his length, hardening under your lips. Swirling your tongue around the tip, you rest your head on Javier’s lower abdomen lazily, feeling him grow even more in your hand as you stroke him.

“Shit..” He says through his teeth, smoothing your hair back out of your face for you.

You continue to take your time teasing him. Humming in delight as Javier can barely contain himself, thrusting up into your hand shamelessly. He keeps his eyes closed, hands in your hair and you can feel the relief radiating from him. He was desperate for touch.

“Oh, Javi.” You coo, as his head falls back on to the couch, fucking up into your hand and you swear you can hear him whimper. This feeling of power over Javier is absolutely intoxicating, to feel so disconnected from him all week then to have him almost pathetically trying to relieve himself with any bit of human contact you’ll allow him.

“Look what you do to me.” He growls. “Fucking your ha-and...”

Javier reaches around, taking his length from your delicate grasp and pushes you lightly into his pelvis.

“You’re so fucking — soft.” He grunts, tapping his throbbing head against your lips before dragging his cock along your face.

You smile, letting him. Revealing your tongue for a moment to tease him once more.

“Thought you wanted to take care of me.” He says, his voice tight and you feel his hand in the back of your hair as he continues to run his length along your face. Grinning as his grip tightens, he doesn’t hurt you, it’s just about the control.

“I do.” You moan, as Javi softly pushes and pulls your head in a rhythmic motion, just hovering over him.

“Open your mouth.” He mumbles and you do what you’re told.

Javier motions your neck down, pulling you slowly over him, taking just his head in your mouth. “Is this okay sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You whimper around him, your thighs involuntarily rubbing together, searching for some kind of relief from the arousing pull of his voice.

“Yeah? F-Fuck your pretty mouth.” He grunts, thrusting up slowly, stretching your lips to accommodate his thickness. You close your eyes, focusing on the fullness, calming your breath to take him.

“Stay just like this.” Javier sighs, his other hand tangling into your hair to keep you in place and you hum in agreement. Then he thrusts — quickly like he’s actually fucking you and it comes as a surprise but the moan that drips from his mouth almost instantly is enough to make you squeeze your thighs tighter. You have never felt a high like this, being exactly what Javier wants.

You dig your finger nails into his thighs as he takes you, a blunt, bruising force to the back of the throat and you can’t help but gag.

“That’s a good girl.” He says, “Taking my dick in your hot fucking mouth. I love that sound.”

You gag once more and Javier pulls out to you gasping. Spit suspended from your mouth to his cock and you watch it for a moment before grinning up at Javi.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He shakes his head in disbelief, wiping the saliva from your mouth.

“I’ve never done that before.” You smile, looking down slightly embarrassed as you wonder if you were even any good.

“You keep saying that...” Javi’s voice trails off as he pulls your dress up to knead your behind. You love having his hands on you, playing with you. “But you’d never know...”

You try to suppress your satisfied smile, flattening your palms around the base of Javier’s shaft, you take him back in your mouth.

“Fuck...” he exhales long and slow, grabbing a rough handful of your ass before pushing you down on to him, taking him completely down your throat and keeps you there. Your eyes water, and your leg kicks out before he lets you breathe again, coming up for air with a cough you look up at him and he looks down at you like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

——

Javier pulls you back up against his side, and he looks up at you as he’s slumped down into the couch. You wrap your arms back around his neck, fluttering your fingers through his hair and he nuzzles your chest, pressing his lips into your skin. You wish he was like this always, soft in your arms.

Javi hooks a finger into the top of your dress and pulls down, freeing your breasts, nipples hard in attention and he takes one in his mouth. Your cradle his head as he sucks on the buds and you let your own fall back slowly, relishing in the feeling of his tongue and his lips, the brushing of his moustache and the digging of his nose and how sweet he looks in your arms. This is too much, you’re going dizzy.

Javier helps you pull your dress over his head and his lips quickly return to your nipples. His big warm hands squeezing your bust harshly, alternating with his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh and completely pressing his face into your chest. Even as you climb into his lap, on top of him completely nude, his tongue doesn’t give up until you pull his face up to yours for a kiss.

He tastes like everything you want to drown in and it’s heady, like a force you must fight before it completely consumes you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck.” You gasp, grinding your hips along Javi’s length, desperate for more.

“Oh, god.” He chokes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me this time, sweetheart?”

“Yeah..” You whine, reaching between your bodies.

“Yeah? You’re gonna bounce that wet little pussy on my dick?” His voice shakes into your neck, and it’s such a contrast from his stern “Get on your bed.” from days ago.

You nod, kissing up his jaw in this sudden codependency, his need to feel every inch of you as you both fall back into the couch.

“Relax, Javi. Let me do this for you.” You coo, sinking down on to him. You hum from the incredible stretch and Javier groans right into your ear.

“That pussy is so fucking tight.” He says, out of breath. “Don’t move.”

You obey him, stilling in his lap and Javier lifts his head from the safe space between your neck and your shoulder and he looks up at you.

“What if I just held you here like this.” He says, almost to himself, his hands coming up to your ass. “Stuffed full of my dick and I didn’t let you move.”

“Javi...” You whine.

“Would you still be my good little girl?”

“Javi...” You whine louder, your chest feeling like it’s going to collapse, Javier’s fingers digging into you and he gives you two small thrusts.

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” Javier whispers, pushing your hair behind your shoulders.

More than anything.

“Yes.” You gasp.

“I know you do.” He says, guiding you slowly up and down. “Just sucking my dick made this pussy a dripping mess.”

“I love it.” You groan as the sound of your skin against his gets louder as you work your hips for him.

Javier looks a moment away from possession and it just fuels you, for you have him where you always want him and you want this to be the death of him.

You still again, but only for a moment to steady yourself as you get up on your feet.

“Shit..” Javier sighs, before he turns you both with your arms wrapped around him, his back now against the arm rest and his legs straight out along the couch. “There you go, baby.”

You reach behind you, finding your balance with your grip on his knees and you pull your hips up.

“Oh my fucking god.” Javier gasps, running his hand down his face and you push your hips down slowly, watching him and in this moment he is really yours.

Fighting through the burning in your arms and your legs, you give him everything you’ve got. Mewing in the pleasure of seeing him underneath you like this, needing you like this. Submitting to the grinding of your hips and the wetness that aches around him. You wish you could see yourself on top of him, your chest bouncing, skin glowing in sweat so he knows exactly what he could have, whenever he wanted it.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Javier says, his thumb dragging across your mound and down to your clit, that is begging for attention and the moment his fingertip grazes the sensitive nerve your legs clamp together. But he doesn’t stop. Even as his length falls from your body from the increased height of your hips, Javier’s hand doesn’t retreat from the soft thighs it’s wedged between. Circling your clit over and over, your arms buckle and you hold your breath. You thought you had the power but even on top of him you’re just putty in his hand and he knows exactly what to do to make you sing.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” He rasps, his other hand pushing you down into his lap. “I want to watch this pretty little pussy squirt all over me.”

“Put it back.” You gasp, trying to force your legs open.

“Yeah, baby? Do you need my dick?” Javi teases, pushing at your thigh to open up for him again. He finally eases his dizzying pressure on your clit and holds you just above his pulsing head, slick with you. Running his tip along your folds, you try to sink down on to him, but he keeps you suspended.

“Beg me.” He demands. “You know I love the way you say my fucking name.”

“Please, Javi.” You whine, grinding your hips into nothing. “Please, I love your cock so much, give it to me.”

You push yourself up and fall forward so your hands are on his chest, “Please, Javi. Make me squirt again. Only you know how to fucking do it”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, pushing up into you sharply despite your yelp. “Anything for my good little girl.”

Javier pulls you down, flush against his chest, still clothed against your’s nude and he wraps his arms around you. He smells like amber and fresh linens as always. Summer. A sunset. The breeze off the ocean and wine. Safe.

His grip around you tightens as you inhale him, pounding up into you as he finds your ear, and his voice is like syrup, “I’m going to take care of you sweetheart. Going to make this pussy cum. You tell me okay? I want to see it. Want to see you fucking soak me. Don’t by shy, my good little girl. Give it to me.”

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You’re so fucking incredible. Taking my big dick in this perfect little pussy. Let go, Claude. Cum for me, angel.”

You groan lewdly and Javi’s hand comes down on your mouth.

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” He warns, and you sigh into his palm. Angel.

This pace is overwhelming, and as he’s restricted your limbs there really is nothing you can do but take it, trying to keep your thighs from clamping together every time Javier brushes that incredible spot within you. Your moans getting longer, from an even deeper part of your throat every time. Your core twists and tightens as he brings you there, unlike anyone else ever has.

“Javi, now!” You exclaim, barely recognizing the screech in your voice and Javier pulls out. His lap wet with you.

“Oh that’s a good fucking girl.” He says, kissing the top of your head as you fall to his side. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your house guest’s impressive length twitches in his hand as he strokes himself, his nose buried in your hair as you nuzzle his chest in hazy delight and he keeps whispering, “Fucking you is such a dream. You make it so hard not to just nut in that tight fucking pussy.”

You hum, lifting our head up and kissing him softly. “Cum for me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Please, Javi.” You sigh.

“Where?” He asks, stroking himself harder.

It takes all your strength, but you slip silently off the couch and on to your knees. “On my face.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He says, getting up quickly.

Javier takes your chin delicately in his hand, stroking himself with vigor with the other, and you display your tongue for him, feeling the weight of his cock on it instantly.

“Such a good girl, letting me cum on your pretty fucking face like this. I don’t deserve you. So fucking— pretty.” He groans, with everything left and in this moment you have him, again.

——

You wake in your bed, and you know it’s late because you’re hit by a wall of heat followed swiftly by disappointment when you realize you are, once again, alone. With your arm spread out at your side, you know you are going to be met with nothing but empty sheets and you still feel it at the pit of your stomach anyway.

You sit up with a sigh, back to normal you suppose. Another day of existing separately, but together with only your lost puppy sense of self and a fascination for this man to sustain you.

Then you see him. Javier leaning up against your balcony door with his coffee, wearing only his pyjama bottoms. He hears you stirring and looks back with a smile, “Good morning.”

——

Tags: @pascalisperfect @thefinalgurl @we-are-like-a-timebomb @ssppoorrkk @headsindreams @kehrite @nerdyknightwritersblog @tangledlove27 @chipotle-pour-moi @jokersdoll @zea-is-amazing @someplace-darker @kaylaylaylayla @spacenerdsebby @forever-rogue @fionnthebandersnacc @colourmeinblue @longitud-de-onda @dogsinspace @spitmillk @staellula @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @leo-moon @mandoandyodito @bonkybaaarnes @sadthotsonlylove @ah-callie @astrolo-galaxy @lockedoutofmyotherblog @hayley-the-comet @boybalm @casjason @mrsparknuts @blushingwueen @ignimbritetcax @benakenalove @fioccodineveautunnale @exrebelshocktrooper @pascalisthepunkest @sav-a-nna @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @solarwars @cumberbitching @rae-gar-targaryen @tabalugax @lokiaddicted @roxypeanut @ezraslittlebirdie @thisainttheway @none-of-your-bullshit @mand0-l0rian @assaultsofthought

Love, Zelda

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 5 S2)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Warnings: abductions, kidnapping, forced unconsciousness, electroshocks (non explicit).

A/N: Listen. Listen. The chronologies... we already knew those were weird in this story and we accepted that. Now, we have to also accept the whole multiverse thingy being even more weird, because, yes, I'm mentioning OSCORP. Let's deal with it like mature people *screams into abyss of no return*.

“Your dirty little secret? Oh, come on. You gotta be kidding!”, exclaimed Steve, slamming the table. He immediately looked at you, “I’m sorry”.

He said sorry because it was three in the morning, Narfi was sound asleep and you all kept bickering about the coded message. You had peeped in your room several times, only to find, the first two times, Loki and your son reading in silence, each his own book, both neatly tucked under the same weighted blanket and Narfi's head resting on his father's shoulder. The third time, Narfi was asleep and Loki kept reading. The fourth, Narfi was all alone in the king-sized bed and Loki wasn't there. But he hadn't joined the meeting either.

Nobody could figure out what the dirty little secret was, and they all thought it was something Tony did. Like, you know, selling weapons.

“It’s okay, Steve. Listen, this is getting nowhere. And Loki should be here by now, where did you send him?”.

“I didn’t send him, he just… he said he needed to do something that had something to do with… could he have mentioned an old tutor?”, said Bucky, and you furrowed your brows.

“Is he in Asgard, now?”.

“I guess”.

You took your phone out, and tried to call him again, but he didn’t answer. There wasn't any phone signal in Asgard. Why would he go in there without saying anything?

“Look, all I’m saying is, the message was through JARVIS, and you’re the one with the most filthy secrets in here”, said Thor.

“Are you serious?”, spat Tony, pointing at Bucky. “This one was a hydra assassin”, pointing at Natasha “this one is an assassin”, pointing at Thor “we have no idea what’s going on with your thousand and half long life”, and finally pointing at you “there are no records whatsoever of anything you’ve done before my internship. So, no. I’m not the only one with the dirty secrets here. And, by the way, they’re dirty but public”.

“Yes. The billions you’ve won by selling weapons are very well known”.

“Shut your mouth”.

“Listen, this will get us nowhere. We could be in danger if we don't do something about this so if anyone is under any little suspicion of what a dirty secret they could be cultivating, this is the time to say it", you mediated, still calling Loki and getting directly to the voicemail.

"What could we possibly be having, Y/n?", asked Bruce tiredly.

"Any weird and innovative lab experiment? Something that could be used as a weapon? A disease? A cure? A mutation? Anything?", and you stopped on your words immediately. "Oh, no". As you opened your eyes widely, about to run to Narfi's room, Loki picked up the phone and you put it on speaker, pausing your fear. "Love! Where are you?".

Silence. Silence in the whole room, and a flickering light kind of sound. And then the unmistakable sound of a bad microphone on the other line, white noises, whispers to which you couldn't figure out the words.

"It's easy, really", said a rusty voice from the other side of the line. Everyone put on their best panic faces. You could feel your heartbeat on your throat. Not again. Not goddamn again, someone kidnapped one of you. This wasn't the kind of mission you wanted to join to get back on your feet. "You give us what we want, Mr. Stark, and we give you the man".

You looked at Tony and he huffed in frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but on the background of the call you could hear Loki's unimpressed voice,

"The God. I'm not a man".

"Loki, are you okay? Can you hear me? Where are you?", you tried.

"I'm okay. These idiots think that they can…", he began saying, but a buzzing noise cut him off, along with a muffled screaming and something you figured was an electroshock took him out of the conversation.

"What do you want?", asked Stark. "Who are you?".

"We want money, Mr. Stark. A lot of it, to found our project", explained the voice. "And the other thing we need for the project. We could do with this one, but I'm sure you could give us a better sample".

"What is he talking about, Tony?".

"You think you can be more specific, dear?", asked Tony, losing his patience.

"Imagine a supersoldier, a superior being like that, but with ice powers, Mr. Stark. A man that's a mortal weapon itself", explained the kidnapper. "This one is particularly alright. But we will need a lot of him".

"What are you saying?".

"The frost giant. We want his blood".

They cut the conversation and Bucky grabbed your shoulder as you began to panic.

"Y/n, before jumping to this mission you should leave Narfi with someone strong enough to protect him", intervened Thor. You looked at him and sighed.

"Fine. Loki can't hear a word of this, alright?".

"Let it in my hands. I'll also ask Heimdall", he assured you and you squeezed his hand.

"Thank you", you told him, and traced the call. You did it in a few minutes and walked to Narfi’s room, to tell him where he would go. You wondered how you’d keep him calm. Usually Loki is the one that brought calmness to the situations, and this time around you had to be the one to keep calm and manage it all. You also wondered if he was capable of escaping on his own or if the kidnappers knew who they were dealing with and got him too restrained to run. Electroshocks. Loki’s weakness (anyone’s, really), so you guessed they knew better.

You knocked on Narfi’s door and he let you in with a flick of his wrist. Purple lights around the door made it disappear and he shifted his expressions from panic to disappointment really quickly.

“I’m so sorry, I…”, he began, but you walked hurriedly to him.

“Don’t worry about it, Narfi. Listen”, you said, and kneeled in front of him to reach his own height. You grabbed his tiny hand, and he paid close attention. “Daddy’s in trouble, and uncle Buck and I are going to help him come back home, alright? He’s fine, you don’t need to worry”, you explained the best you could.

“Can I come with, please, please? Daddy taught me things that could be useful, please?”.

“Don’t you wanna go with grandma, better?”, you smiled at him, hoping he’d accept and you wouldn’t have to take him against his wishes, “come on, darling, she wants to teach you some new tricks”.

Narfi smiled at those words and you sighed in relief.

“How long are you gonna take?”.

“I’m not sure. Couple of days at most”.

“Is daddy on a mission?”.

“Yeah”.

“Is he winning?”.

“I’m sure he is”.

“Is he cutting people with his new dagger?”.

“What do you mean new dag… wait, no, he’s not… hurting anyone, alright? Just… pack your things”.

“I hope he someday teaches me to throw knives like him”.

“Pack your toothbrush!”, you said from the door, and whispered to yourself, “dear Lord, I’m not letting Loki train at his sight again”.

As you left his room for him to get ready, you hurried your steps to meet the team. You tripped and fell over with someone’s leg. When you got up, hurting from the hit, you realized you tripped over Steve’s unconscious body. Looking around, the whole team seemed to have passed out completely.

“JARVIS!”, you called, your voice less calm than you would’ve liked to.

“Yes, Mx. Y/n?”.

“‘Yes, Mx. Y/n?’ What the hell happened here? Take their vitals!”, you rushed to Tony’s side and took his pulse. He seemed asleep. Just in case, you covered your nose and mouth with your sleeve.

“According to my database, they all seem to be in perfect condition. There might be some sort of a substance in the air. Should I alert Mr. Laufeyson as he comes back?”.

“Oh, God”, you realized.

Narfi.

You ran up to his room, knocking everything on your way to him. But as you didn’t even need to open an invisible door, you realized he wasn’t there. The room was completely empty.

Half an hour passed, and in the middle you ran all the way around the Tower, trying to unsuccessfully find your son hiding somewhere. But no, you were sure. You had already some theory of what could’ve happened to him and where he could be. And you didn’t like that idea at all. Oh, no. You much rather the Allfather keeping him forever than the alternative.

You poured a bit of the chemical mix you managed to prepare despite your trembling hands on the room’s vaporizer, and everyone began slowly recovering consciousness. Tony coughed up a blue liquid, and looked at it without much clue of what happened.

“Amitriptyline”, you told him, and he furrowed his brows. “In this dosage can make saliva blue, besides urine”, you explained what he hadn’t asked.

“But what for? I’m not depressed”.

“It’s for blocking whatever you’ve been given to get passed out. I know their tricks”, you vaguely explained, but, in all honesty, you really did not want to explain why you knew antidepressants blocked the effects of that substance.

“Their? What just happened?”.

“Where is my brother?!”, beamed Thor, ready to guilt him on it.

“This is not on Loki”, you said, taking a notepad out of your pocket and scribbling down some things while Bucky, Steve, Sam, Tony and Natasha got up and approached you cautiously. Thor began looking up, still trying to figure out if there was any of his brother’s magic involved. “They took Narfi. We have to act quickly, alright?”.

“Oh God, you’re not serious”, said Bucky, lowering his voice.

“They said… they said they wanted Loki’s blood”, recalled Natasha. “Loki’s blood, his heir. Not his actual blood”, she realized. You nodded.

“They want to mix human DNA with Jötun DNA and do that weird icy supersoldier mix, that terrible idea. That’s why they wanted Loki, to get his pure Jötun cells, and then get Narfi, to see how the chromosome pairs work. They want to experiment with my child”, you blurted out with your heart on your chest. “This, this right now, is an important mission. So we all better do this right now”.

“Wait, so what’s your plan of approach? Go to whatever place you think they are and go get them?”, said Steve. “I know you’re stressed and you have every right to be, but think. We need a plan”.

“We don’t need a plan, we need action, right now”, you said, unrecognizable words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/n”, mediated Tony. “Listen. We’ll figure it out. Rest of the team, to my office. You stay here and do not move even a hair, you hear me? You’re in no condition to get on board with this. Let us do this and you can help from a distance”.

“No way. There is no way you’re leaving me out of rescuing my own son”.

“Exactly because it’s your kid we’re talking about. Listen, a surgeon can’t operate on their own child. No, no. Don’t argue with me. Close your mouth. Barnes, make sure they don’t do anything stupid, wouldn’t you?”.

And with that, he left.

You and Bucky stayed in silence for about ten seconds, fidgeting with the notepad you had in between your fingers, ready to tear it to pieces out of anxiousness. After that, you said,

“Rescuing my child is not doing something stupid, right?”.

He shrugged and huffed out.

“I guess not. What’s your plan?”.

“Where would you go if you were a kidnapper with a very important child to perform very illegal experiments?”.

“I… don’t know”.

“I do”.

“What?”.

“Remember when you asked what my major was?”.

“Yes...?”.

“I… well, before the stark internship I worked in a very… odd place, it made experiments. Genetic experiments. The famous OSCORP, you know the place. They were the ones doing all the spider shit and Peter got bit by a spider in there. I worked there, and there was something that… never added up. The experiments grew worse and worse, more immoral, more dangerous. I couldn’t take them anymore and I left without leaving a trace of me in the public eye. Or so I thought”.

“You think your kid might be in OSCORP?”.

“I’m afraid so”.

“No more waiting then, let’s get the motorbike”.

“Shouldn’t we alert the team?”.

“What, so they can go by themselves, without you, without a plan and without your knowledge about that place? Besides, Loki is already in there, right?”.

“You’re the voice of reason, sometimes, Barnes”, you said, tossing him a pair of keys and his jacket. And with that, you two headed to OSCORP without warning.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson )

[sylvies-chen]

Chenford + 78

78. “I’m just looking out for you.”

Tim's yelling at Grey.

Lucy doesn't believe her eyes. He hardly even raises his voice at Grey, nevermind shouts at him. Tim preaches respect for superiors constantly, this isn't like him at all. But what she really doesn't believe is that he's doing this over her.

Someone's been following her lately. Or someone's following Nova, she should say. Her UC operation has been going pretty smoothly up until a few weeks ago when one of the members of the team trying to push drugs on the street grew suspicious of her. From relentlessly grilling her on her background to showing up at her apartment at random times in the day or night with threats, it's been a rough two weeks of more pressure and stress than usual. She's here now, risking dropping by the precinct to talk to Grey and Harper about it. Ultimately, it's Grey's decision, but Nyla's been guiding her through it so she'd told Grey that she'd side with whatever Nyla says.

And then Tim had showed up.

He'd already been on shift when she got there but was quick to get involved. Lucy knows he's always felt somewhat responsible for her, especially after what happened with Caleb. Only he's here now, arguing with Grey and Harper behind closed glass doors as Lucy waits outside, and just... wow. This is a whole other level of concern that sends her stomach churning with a dangerously wonderful flutter.

The arguing continues for a few more minutes until Tim shakes his head and walks out. Lucy can see his infamous jaw clench from a mile away.

"Hey," she calls out to him, closing the space between them.

"Hey." He meets her eye, almost surprised to see her as if he was too caught up in thought to notice Lucy's presence before.

"What the hell went on in there?" She doesn't ask it maliciously, but she's determined to get him to tell her and she lets him know as much in a simple glance alone.

As expected, he caves and lets out a heavy sigh. "I told Grey the only way to keep you safe was to get you the hell out of that operation."

"And that merited yelling at Grey?" She crosses her arms and waits expectantly for an answer.

"Yes," he grumbles meekly. "I told him and Harper what the risks are but they're set on putting you back in."

"I can take care of myself just fine, Tim," she assures him sharply, more than a little frustrated. He should know better than anyone how true that statement rings. Lucy is tough, she can do this operation regardless of the asshole that's been watching her and threatening her endlessly. She can handle it. Does Tim not see that?

"I know that, I really do," he assures her, almost as if on cue. "I trained you after all, didn't I? I know how strong you are. I just don't see the point in keeping you in this operation if it'll put your life in danger. It's minor compared to some others, it's not worth the risk. You can take your pick of operations, trust me, there's a dozen others. But keeping you in is just going to cause more trouble than it's worth."

"I'm in too deep now though, I need to finish it," she explains. "These guys are going to want me to finish the product in two days and we'll make the bust then. It's too late to pull me out, that'll grow more suspicion than just having one dealer riding my ass."

"That's what Grey said," he huffs, rubbing at his temples in frustration. "Am I the only one here who gives a damn about keeping you safe?"

She blinks at his words, the familiar flutter in her stomach returning. His eyes won't leave hers-- they're fixed, piercing. Gentle. His lips part slightly when she exhales softly. She doesn't know why or, at the very least, wants to pretend she doesn't. "You want to keep me safe?"

It shouldn't surprise her, really. They've worked together for nearly four years now and he trained her. It only makes sense that somewhere along the line, some sort of protective instinct developed between them. God knows Lucy feels protective of him at some times. But the way he says it, the aching fierceness, it makes her feel like Tim Bradford doesn't care about much else.

"Yeah," he replies, leaning in closer and swallowing hard. "I, uh-- I mean, of course I do. I'm just looking out for you."

"You always are," she nods wistfully in response.

There's a light but tense beat of silence between them where the precinct sort of fades out into a blur. All that's left is the two of them. Nova's been a pain in the ass to have to play these past few weeks and coming here to be herself has been so refreshing. But Tim, she realizes, is the only person who can make her feel more Lucy than she's ever felt.

"Besides," he says, clearing his throat and breaking the silence. "I put hard work into training you, Boot. We wouldn't want that to go to waste."

Her heart sinks, unable to fight the disappointment that comes with the end of their small but heated moment. She smiles nonetheless, taking a deep breath in and remembering how to breathe again. "Right," she laughs weakly. Nothing's truly funny about it. Maybe, in another world where she were brave enough, she'd tell him that she doesn't ever want him to stop caring about her safety-- about her. That she's missed him while undercover. But here, now, there's no courage to be found for those words. "Yeah, the training. We wouldn't want to tarnish your perfect T.O. record."

"Yeah," he chuckles meekly. It's a laugh almost as hollow and ingenuine as hers was, which sparks her attention only for a moment before she decides she could have been imagining it. "Well uh, I should get going. I need to change before leaving shift and I don't think Grey and Harper want me to stick around much longer anyway after giving them flack so..."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then," she tells him. "Or, well... soon, I guess."

"Two days," he corrects her. "I'll be there for the bust."

"Right," Lucy nods. "Two days."

Tim gives her a rare, warm smile after that and leaves. Lucy automatically slumps her shoulders, drowning in the complicated little emotions that dizzy her brain.

We wouldn't want to tarnish your record. Hah. If only he knew how much she wanted to screw up his record-- his reputation. Her reputation. It's a deep, personal admission, wanting to say screw it to the rules and do something about the indescribable pull she has toward Tim Bradford. But things aren't always meant to be broken, especially not those things. Some lines just can't be uncrossed.

But she stays extra cautious the next two days, looking over her shoulder and wondering if, at each given moment where she feels a nervous tingle on the back of her neck, Tim is worried for her too.