#lol i said i wanted to do this kind of thing but

[paracosmicka]

Primal Fears AU content but don’t worry it’s still sonadow

That last one is a repost from last year so if you saw the silly drawings but then read the thing in the bottom left corner and went “wait what the fuck”

It’s because it was an AU thing but I literally only had that drawn out and now you get some context at least:

In this universe Sonic is an assassin/bounty hunter/whatever you wanna call a guy that is hired to specifically to kill other Entities. He meets Shadow when they run into each other because they’re both following the same Avatar. Then they do the normal canon sonadow thing where the first interaction they have always ends with them fighting and beating the shit out of each other. And then they kinda calm down but then Shadow has a similar moment from the beginning of the IDW Sonic comics where he gets absolutely pissed that Sonic managed to distract him from catching the bad guy and zooms away before the two have another chance to speak again.

Here Shadow is a GUN field agent except in this universe GUN isn’t really military and it’s more focused on not only investigating (like the Magnus Institute) but also actively dealing with the Entities. Which sounds great except remember how I said they aren’t military well actually they kinda are because “dealing” with Entities and Avatars just means: throw it in the high-security prison that is guarded by other various Avarars that all work for GUN because it means they don’t have to get thrown in prison. So GUN is kinda like The Magnus Institute + Section 31 working together. So actually I guess it’s like the SCP Foundation.

One day Shadow goes into work and Sonic and there and I’m not really sure on what I’m gonna do in the plot to make him end up there (like maybe he’s undercover and just using GUN to get to his next target or maybe GUN does the “hey we’re gonna throw you in jail if you don’t agree to work for us” idk again not sure yet) but now he’s working with Shadow because they still need to catch that Avatar.

So now we’re sorta caught up, they’re at Club Rouge (and I realized I didn’t specify which Entity she serves in my drawing of her but people who guessed the Stranger ding ding ding here have some sonadow) because Sonic and Shadow need to kinda interrogate Surge and Amy, who are associated with the Slaughter. They have a band called Poison Rose and it’s basically just Grifter’s Bone but they perform rock music instead. And are also probably dating.

Anyway the Big Case™️ Sonic and Shadow are working on is investigating a bunch of spooky murders and they’re pretty sure whoever’s behind them is a Slaughter avatar. But not specifically Amy and Surge☝️ They’re kinda “allowed” to perform the Music That Makes You Die because GUN also has like an “informant” group of avatars they can rely on. These avatars don’t work for GUN, but they agree to chill out on the spooky stuff if it means they don’t get arrested for spooky crimes. So for Poison Rose, “chilling out” on the spooky stuff means that they have to force people to wear earplugs while they perform, which wasn’t specifically stated in MAG 42 if that works or not, not really sure of the magic rules of the Music That Makes You Die phenomena but yeah they gotta do that and probably some other stuff so GUN doesn’t arrest them. Like maybe no swearing or something lol.

Okay gonna stop there before this gets even longer explaining my AU because this was supposed to be just a normal sketch post but whoops.

Oh also I made a playlist for the kind of music Poison Rose performs but it was made private because I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it and be like “pshhhh this dumb person who makes public playlists of their AU that no one knows about what a loser” (me when I make up completely unrealistic scenarios in my head) but now here’s a post explaining that part of my AU so that person can’t make fun of me anymore

[hyuckiefluff]

call out my name | lee jeno

pairing: stepbrother! lee jeno x fem reader genre + wc: smut / enemies to lovers-ish | 17k+ summary: your stepbrother suddenly starts acting a bit different after fixing your laptop, and you wonder if it has anything to do with the endless posts you’ve made about wanting him to fuck you brainless. content warning: stepcest, voyeurism, masturbation, cheating, smoking and brief mentions of drug use, unprotected sex, hard dom jeno, oral (fem receiving), face riding weee, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, jeno is a bit mean (but like in a hot way), lmk if i missed any! a/n: haven’t written for jeno in soooo long and my body needed it. also, beatbox era jeno still has me in a chokehold, so i imagined him looking exactly like that while writing this. that mullet-undercut combo was LETHAL i need him to reheat his own nachos expeditiously. also the lowercase is back too, i'm still trying to figure out if i like this more lol ps: if u catch the twilight reference you’ll get a kiss from me :p

jeno stomped into your room, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, jaw tight with irritation. your voice still echoed in his head.

‘fix my laptop and i won’t tell your dad you’ve been skipping almost every class since the semester started.’

fix it? he wasn’t a damn IT guy. and how the hell did you even know he’d been skipping? what were you, a stalker?

seriously, it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t take care of your stuff. and why couldn’t you just take the damn thing to a repair shop?

“i need it for college work,’ you’d said.

yeah, right. like he didn’t hear you at night. his room was right next to yours, and those walls were way too thin. not only were you loud, but you also needed headphones, because he could hear exactly what kind of videos you watched.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, stepping up to your desk. the laptop sat there, taunting him in its sickly sweet pink case covered in hello kitty stickers.

“god, what a child,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before plopping onto your chair. the cushion was still warm from you sitting there earlier. he flipped the laptop open, and a password prompt appeared.

he tried your birthday first. denied.

with a sigh, he scanned your desk. you were forgetful, he was sure you had the password written somewhere. his eyes landed on a cluster of polaroids, mostly of you and your boyfriend. he grabbed one and flipped it over. sure enough, there was a scribbled note in your messy handwriting.

‘happy anniversary, my baby ❤️’ and a date.

jeno scoffed but typed it in anyway. the screen unlocked with a soft chime.

the moment your desktop loaded, he was met with a picture of you sprawled out on a beach towel, skin sun-kissed, in a tiny white bikini that barely covered anything. jeno swallowed.

several seconds passed before he snapped himself out of it, shaking his head and forcing his attention elsewhere.

your laptop was a disaster. it was clogged with files, random downloads, and so many pop-ups it was a miracle the thing still functioned. he clicked around, deleting error files and clearing out junk.

then a notification popped up from a browser window that was open in the background.

he opened the tab out of habit, not expecting anything interesting, but then the page loaded and he had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing right.

it was a blog called ‘horny antidotes.’

"what the hell is this?" he snorted.

he scrolled, thumb hovering before tapping on a section labeled confessions. a list of posts loaded, the oldest ones stretching back to the beginning of last year. against his better judgment, he clicked the most recent entries.

i tried it again tonight. used my fingers since the new toys i got don’t really feel good either. i think my boyfriend’s starting to suspect something. it’s kinda weird that i barely get wet when he touches me (╥_╥) we even try watching porn together, but it does nothing for me. we just scroll through hundreds of videos and i feel nothing, while he gets hard so easily. so i end up sucking him off.

jeno’s brows lifted. jesus.

i get more turned on looking at pictures of LJN. but i can’t touch myself to him… it feels wrong. so i gotta find an alternative. any tips? (>д<)

LJN?

his lips parted. those were initials. your boyfriend’s? no… his.

L. J. N.

lee jeno.

his pulse jumped. before he could think better of it, his fingers typed LJN into the blog’s search bar.

hundreds of posts popped up.

he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

no fucking way.

today LJN helped me with my homework. he looked like he hated every second of it. it was hard to focus when he sat so close… his cologne makes me feel so… hot (/ω＼).

jeno dragged a hand down his face. he’s not imagining all this? right?

my boyfriend and i broke up again (kinda) (μ_μ). same reason as always… our sex life sucks. he thinks i’m not into him, but that’s not true. he tries… i just… anyway, LJN knocked on my door today. he was only wearing a towel. i almost dropped to my knees right there and then. how does someone get abs like that? god, those arms… veiny and strong… maybe i should call my boyfriend and try again…

a slow smirk stretched across jeno’s lips. so your boyfriend can’t get you off, but i make you wet that easily? he thought.

his gaze drifted to your bed. the sheets were a tangled mess, barely clinging to the mattress. did you write that post after touching yourself last night? thinking about him?

he exhaled through his nose, head shaking like he couldn’t believe it. but god, his stomach clenched at the thought of you squirming with his name in your head.

sure, he knew people found him attractive. girls threw themselves at him all the time. but you? who argued with him over stupid shit, called him an asshole just this morning while throwing a sock at his head?

you wanted him. wanted him so bad you spilled it online for strangers to read.

his gaze flicked back to the screen, to the words where you described his cologne driving you crazy.

he should’ve stopped reading but instead, he clicked on another post.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next morning, you woke up to find your laptop working perfectly. no note, no sarcastic comment scribbled on a post-it, nothing. just fixed.

weird.

you headed downstairs, fully expecting jeno to be in his usual morning mood, grumbling about chores, throwing half-hearted jabs just to rile you up. but when you found him on the couch, he was… quiet.

"hey," you said, grabbing a drink from the fridge. "so… thanks for fixing my laptop."

he barely glanced up, his gaze flickering over your bare legs for a heartbeat before settling back on his phone.

"yeah, no problem."

...that’s it?

you waited. no snark about your messy folders? no whining about how you owed him now?

your brows knit. "you okay?"

jeno stretched his legs, shorts riding up just enough to show more of his muscular thighs. "yeah, why wouldn’t i be?"

"i dunno," you said, eyeing him. "you’re acting weird."

he chuckled, head tilting as he shot you a lazy grin. "i’m always like this in the mornings. maybe you just don’t pay enough attention to me."

"trust me," you muttered, taking a sip from your drink, "i pay plenty of attention to you."

jeno’s lips twitched almost into a smirk.

then he hummed.

"yeah, i know."

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next few days, jeno turned it over in his mind—how to play this.

sure, the whole thing was entertaining, but you were still his stepsister. technically. your parents weren’t married, but they’d been together for about four years, and you’d been living under the same roof since last year.

not that you and jeno were close. you barely crossed paths, always out with friends or holed up in your room when you were home. plus, he found you immature. spoiled. maybe it was the three-year age gap, or maybe it was how quickly you’d settled in and made this place your own. his dad had asked him to be patient with you—“it’s a big change for her”—but if you were struggling, you hid it well.

especially with how you put on that perfect little act for your parents. sweet and responsible. as if you weren’t sneaking your boyfriend in through the window at night. or slipping out when you thought no one noticed. jeno noticed.

he just never cared enough to call you out. but the hypocrisy definitely grated on him. pretending to be miss goody-two-shoes when, by your own confession, you were getting railed by a guy who couldn’t even get you off?

the irony wasn’t lost on him. neither was the opportunity.

he could confront you. he’d definitely enjoy to watch you squirm, see that spark of defiance flicker into panic. tempting.

but maybe… maybe he’d keep this to himself a little longer.

drag it out and see just how much fun he could have before you caught on.

the perfect opportunity presented itself only a few days later when your parents announced their trip to italy for valentine’s day. conveniently their anniversary was also coming up, so they’d be gone for two whole weeks.

“we’ll be back next sunday,” jeno’s dad said, ruffling your hair. “don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

you rolled your eyes, half-smiling, but then his tone shifted as he turned to jeno.

“jeno, take care of her. don’t let her get into any trouble. no parties or anything reckless.”

jeno nodded without a word, eyes flicking toward you before he turned back to your dad with a forced grin. “got it.”

you mom stepped forward, kissing your cheek, her hand lingering on your shoulder a moment longer. “be good, okay? we’re trusting you.” her gaze softened but held an unmistakable warning beneath it.

you knew exactly why. after all, it wasn’t like you had a spotless record. just three months ago, you had come home drunk after sneaking out to a friend’s party. what was supposed to be "just a few drinks" had turned into you singing on top of the table and someone posting it to their story. your parents found out the next morning, thanks to your neighbor, of all people, who’d seen the video. it hadn’t even been that scandalous, except for the fact that you were obviously drunk and under 21 at the time.

the hangover was bad, but the lecture was worse. "you’re lucky jeno was there to drag you home," your mom had said, shooting you a disappointed look. jeno had played the responsible older kid that night, carrying you out before things got worse. but that didn’t stop your parents from being more protective now. especially of you.

still, it annoyed you that all the warnings were directed your way while jeno stood there looking like a saint, when you knew he was anything but. sure, he hadn’t gotten wasted like you, but he was at the same party smoking weed on the back porch, making out with some girl whose name he probably didn’t even know, and encouraging shots like he was the party host. he was just lucky none of that was caught on camera, unlike you.

when the front door closed behind them, a strange silence settled over the house. you watched through the window as they loaded their luggage into the car and drove off. two weeks alone with jeno. what could possibly go wrong?

“guess it’s just us now,” you muttered.

jeno’s lips twitched into a small smile. "looks like it."

his gaze flickered over your body while you were distracted. this will be so much fun, he thought.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the house felt bigger without your parents around. normally, you’d take full advantage by inviting friends over, staying out late, and enjoying in the freedom. but something about being alone with jeno had you on edge.

not uncomfortable, just… wary.

he’d been acting strange lately. not openly, but enough that you noticed. it was in the way he looked at you now, like he knew something you didn’t.

you were scrolling through your phone in the kitchen that night when he strolled in.

"big plans while they’re gone?" he asked, pulling open the fridge.

"nothing crazy," you said, thumb still flicking at your screen. "just enjoying the peace and quiet."

he let out a low hum, the kind that sounded like he was holding back a laugh. "right. because you’re such a quiet, well-behaved girl."

your scrolling stopped. your gaze snapped up to him. "where’s that coming from?"

jeno didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer reaching past you for a glass in the cabinet overhead. the movement brought him close enough that his cologne hit you warm, musky, annoyingly good.

"you know," he murmured, voice just above a whisper, "you might fool them. but not me."

your heart skipped. "i have no idea what you’re talking about."

he dipped his head slightly, eyes flickering to your cleavage.

"sure you don’t."

then he was gone, leaving you in the kitchen with your pulse pounding and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

the weekend arrived quicker than expected, and despite jeno’s weirdness lately, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

until saturday.

jeno was sprawled on the couch, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his knee. his gaze drifted up just as you wandered into the living room, barefoot and still in your sleepwear—a thin tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass. you didn’t even glance his way, too focused on your phone as you padded toward the kitchen.

it was almost funny, how careless you were around him. clueless, really.

jeno bit back a smirk.

"you’re up early," he said, breaking the quiet.

you glanced over your shoulder while pouring cereal into a bowl. "uh… yeah?"

he shrugged. "figured you’d be catching up on sleep after sneaking out last night."

your hand faltered for half a second. it was subtle but enough for him to notice.

his grin widened as he leaned back against the couch cushions, arms draping lazily over the backrest. "right."

you set the cereal down with a little more force than necessary and turned to face him, arms crossed. "okay, what’s going on with you?”

"me?" he feigned innocence, eyebrows raising. "nothing, just making conversation."

your eyes narrowed, studying him. when he offered nothing else, you scoffed and turned back to the counter, muttering under your breath.

he’d never cared before. never commented on where you went or what you did. why was he suddenly so interested in you?

jeno used to treat you like background noise, a mild inconvenience at worst. now his gaze lingered longer whenever you walked into the room, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin prickle in ways you didn’t want to think about.

later that evening, you curled up on the couch with your laptop, half-heartedly scrolling through an assignment you had no intention of finishing. jeno sat across from you, phone in hand, occasionally flicking through something with the tv playing low in the background. it was peaceful enough… until he spoke.

"you know…" he stretched, shirt riding up just enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. "your boyfriend kinda sucks."

your fingers froze mid-typing.

"what?" you asked, tone clipped. you didn’t look up, but your jaw tightened on instinct.

he hummed, "if i were sneaking out every night, i’d hope it was worth it."

you shut the laptop with a snap. "why do you even care?"

jeno grinned, clearly satisfied that he’d gotten under your skin. "i don’t."

you stood abruptly, blood buzzing with irritation. "whatever. i’m going to bed."

he chuckled under his breath as you turned to leave, but the sound grated on you. it echoed in your head as you stalked halfway down the hall before…no. screw that.

you spun on your heel, storming back into the living room. "you don’t know shit," you bit out.

jeno glanced up, unconcerned. "about what?"

"me. my boyfriend."

that finally got his full attention. he set his phone down and tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "oh, you mean the boyfriend who keeps getting dumped and crawling back like a stray?"

your nostrils flared. "fuck you."

"i’m just saying—"

"no, you’re not ‘just saying’ anything," you cut him off, stepping closer. "you think you know everything about me just because we share a roof?"

"you’d be surprised," he shot back, annoyingly calm.

your fists clenched. "you don’t know what i need. so stop acting like you do."

for a split second, something flickered in his expression, gone too fast to name. then his usual smirk slid back into place.

"i don’t need to know what you need." he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "i already know what you want."

your breath hitched. you hated that, hated the way your pulse jumped at his words, at the confidence in his voice. what the hell did that even mean?

"you’re an asshole," you snapped. "i don’t owe you an explanation."

jeno nodded, like he agreed. "then why are you still standing here?"

your face burned with frustration, but you bit your tongue. there was nothing you could say that wouldn’t make this worse. so you did the next best thing, you turned on your heel and walked away, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

and yet, lying in bed later, the back of your mind replayed his words on a loop. you still felt like you’d lost.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

hours passed and you were still pissed.

your whole body ached with it, hot and restless, like something crawling under your skin. jeno’s words sunk in deep, wrapping around you like barbed wire, too sharp, too true.

‘your boyfriend kinda sucks’ his voice rang in your ears.

no, your boyfriend was nearly perfect. he had all the right looks, the right voice, the right everything and yet… somehow, even after months of trying, of letting him touch you, of trying to want it—

you never got turned on with him. not the way you were now after a simple argument with jeno.

your hand moved before you could think, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, finding that sticky warmth between your thighs. a shaky breath left you, head tipping back against the pillows. it wasn’t enough. god, it wasn’t nearly enough. you needed—fuck, you didn’t even know what you needed. just more. something to fill the ache, to drown out the way his voice echoed in your head. i don’t need to know what you need. i already know what you want.

stop.

you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to picture your boyfriend, to think about the way he kissed you, the way he whispered your name, the way he touched you.

but your body rejected it. the images blurred, twisted, morphed.

and suddenly it wasn’t his hands you were thinking about.

It was jeno’s slender fingers.

your fingertips grazed that sensitive spot, slick and throbbing, pulling a broken sound from your lips. your hips rolled up into your hand, chasing any semblance of relief. you let out a quiet, shuddering breath as your stomach clenched, your pulse kicking up as you fought it, fought him, fought the way his image took over.

but it was useless.

your body didn’t listen. it latched onto the memory of him. the way his pretty lips curled right before he was about to say something you knew would piss you off, the way his voice dipped when he was toying with you, the way his hands always fidgeted, tapping against his thigh, against his lips, always doing something.

your lips parted as your fingers moved faster, your other hand slid up your stomach, pushing up your shirt as your breath stuttered.

would he keep his rings on while touching you?

the thought sent a sharp pulse of arousal through you, your body tightening, the wetness between your thighs growing slicker.

you imagined his long fingers and the coolness of the rings against your skin. would he drag them over your stomach, trace your thighs, tease you with them first? or would he shove them inside right away?

you bit your lip, your fingers pressing down harder, teasing yourself the way he would, the way he might if he ever—

a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “jeno…”

outside your door, jeno’s world fucking stopped. his body was tight, his breath stuck in his throat as he pressed himself against the wood.

he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be standing outside your room, shouldn’t be looking through the small crack where the door hadn’t shut all the way.

but fuck.

fuck, you were so loud. did you even realize?

did you know how needy you sounded? the way your voice cracked, the way your breathing hitched, the way you whimpered when you…

jeno exhaled sharply, gripping the doorframe, trying to keep himself in check. but his mind was already too far gone. because if you were touching yourself to him, and if you were so desperate you couldn’t even keep quiet or make sure the the door was closed all the way… then maybe you wanted to get caught.

maybe you wanted him to see.

his breath came out slow and measured as he peeked through the crack, his body heating at the sight before him. the dim glow of your bedside lamp cast soft shadows over your skin, your legs spread wide, fingers buried deep inside yourself. the slick sounds of your movements, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name. fuck, it was too much.

he felt himself throbbing painfully against his sweats, already aching from just watching you. his cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

he pulled himself out, his fingers wrapping around the thick length, hot and pulsing in his palm. he let out a sharp breath as he started stroking himself, matching his pace to the rhythm of your fingers slipping in and out of your pretty cunt.

he wanted to be the one touching you.

he imagined it, his fingers stretching you open, pumping in and out, his thumb circling your clit until you were shaking, whimpering against his mouth. would you let him fuck you raw the first time? god, you’d feel so good around him, so tight, clenching down on him like you never wanted him to pull out. he let out a quiet groan, biting his lip to keep himself from making any noise, even though part of him wanted you to hear him, wanted you to know exactly what you were doing to him.

your moans were getting louder, your breaths coming faster, more frantic. you were close, he could tell, your body was begging for release, and he wished, more than anything, that he could be the one to push you over the edge.

he knew that no one else could make you feel like this. not even your boyfriend, the one you pretended was enough for you. that idiot had the privilege of touching you, of being inside you, and still you weren’t getting off on thoughts of him. no, it was jeno’s name spilling from your lips as you fucked yourself.

his hand tightened around his cock, his strokes quickening. "cum for me, baby," he whispered under his breath, his forehead pressing harder against the doorframe.

maybe you heard him, maybe you didn’t, but your moans pitched higher, your fingers moving faster, your body trembling on the other side of the door. fuck—you were close, so fucking close, and he was right there with you. his jaw went slack, his breaths coming in ragged pants as the pleasure slammed into him, hot and heavy. his cock pulsed, his body shaking, cum spilling over his fingers in thick streaks as he saw you falling apart in your bed at the same time.

his body tensed, every nerve sparking as he milked himself through the high, swallowing back the urge to moan out your name. he barely had the presence of mind to tuck himself back into his sweats before he started dripping onto the carpet. that would’ve been a dead giveaway. but even as he came down from it, the heat in his chest didn’t fade. because now he knew just how badly you wanted him.

and he wasn’t going to just let it go.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

so, he was back outside your room the following night.

your door was closed all the way this time. he swallowed hard, his pulse hammering as he curled his fingers around the doorknob, testing it. it turned just a fraction before stopping. it was locked. he expected this. he had the feeling you suspected he’d seen you or at least heard you last night because you were unusually fidgety around him earlier today.

he exhaled slowly, lowering himself down until his face was level with the keyhole, his breath shallow as he listened. the obscene sounds of your fingers working between your thighs were unmistakable, each wet stroke sending another pulse of heat straight to his cock. he knew you were thinking about him again. your boyfriend wasn’t here, who the fuck else would you be touching yourself to?

he let his hand trail down, palming himself over his sweats, but this time, it wasn’t enough. he needed more.

his fingers drifted down to his pocket, curling around the small, thin tool he’d stolen from mark’s junk drawer earlier. jeno wasn’t an idiot, he knew to be prepared this time. hearing wouldn’t do it for him, he needed to see you again.

he slid the tool into the keyhole, his other hand steadying the knob as he worked it. it wasn’t his first time picking a lock. he’d done it plenty of times as a teen, sneaking into forbidden rooms at school, usually to make out with random girls. but this was different. he was breaking into his stepsister’s room so he could watch her touch herself. his hands itched, his whole body thrumming with a dangerous kind of thrill.

the lock gave a quiet click and he held his breath trying to listen for any indication that you noticed. after he thought it was safe, he twisted the handle and pushed the door just enough to crack it open.

and fuck, what a sight it was.

you were sprawled on your bed, your legs were in a butterfly position this time, your skin glistening with sweat. your shirt was hiked up all the way giving him the perfect sight of your tits. your panties were pushed down completely and he could see the way your fingers disappeared inside you. his name started slipping from your lips again, breathy, ruined. he clenched his jaw, his cock started to throb painfully at the sight.

you were so fucking beautiful like this. needy, desperate, chasing a high that only he could truly give you.

he licked his lips, watching the way your back arched, your fingers curling inside you as you edged yourself closer. his own hand slipped into his sweats, wrapping around his length, stroking slow, lazy, savoring the moment. he should leave. should close the door and pretend this never happened. but instead, he kept watching, his lips parting in a silent exhale as he imagined once again what it would be like to replace your fingers with his own.

or better yet, his cock.

you had no idea he was here. no idea you were putting on a show just for him.

there was no way in hell he was going to stop now.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you’d been locking your door more often now. you weren’t sure why. it didn’t make sense, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. the feeling that you were being watched.

maybe it was the fact that you thought you heard a moan outside your door the other night. or maybe the fact that your panties had mysteriously gone missing from the laundry basket. and there was only one other person living with you at the moment. you tried to tell yourself it was paranoia. after all, why would jeno do something like that? he didn’t have fantasies like you, right?

still, something felt different when he was around. especially when you bumped into him in the kitchen or living room. the tension was so thick as if the space between you was charged, waiting for something, or someone, to cross the line.

you tried to distract yourself, flicking through jersey shore reruns with half your mind still on him. but as soon as you heard footsteps approaching, your pulse spiked. your body clearly not knowing the difference between riding a roller coaster, and your stepbrother entering the room.

you glanced up, trying to force a bored expression. the moment your eyes landed on him, however, everything in you froze. his damp hair stuck to his forehead, a towel draped loosely around his neck. his sweatpants hung low on his hips, his boxers peeking, and the way his white shirt clung to his chest made it feel like the room was closing in around you.

you swallowed hard.

he caught your gaze, and for a split second, it felt like he saw right through you. like he knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling. but he didn’t say anything. he just walked over, sitting close enough that his leg brushed against yours. the space between you was so small, but it felt like a chasm, a void that you couldn’t bridge. you couldn’t move. not when your body was so painfully aware of him.

“you like this trash?” his voice was casual, but his eyes were anything but. they were on you, studying you.

you blinked, the question throwing you off guard. you hadn’t even realized he was talking about the show until he nodded toward it. “uh... yeah. it’s... entertaining,” you stammered, your voice sounding foreign in your own ears. you wanted to say more, to defend it, but the words wouldn’t come. your mind was fixated on him.

you tried to focus on the screen, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. his towel slipping from his shoulders, water droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. you could feel that familiar flutter in your lower stomach.

your fingers twitched, desperate to do something, anything, to alleviate the tightness.

jeno tilted his head slightly, his lips pulling into that almost imperceptible smirk, the one that made you want to either scream or crawl into him.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft, but there was something dangerous underneath. “you look tense.”

you didn’t answer immediately. instead, you shifted uncomfortably, your pulse hammering in your ears. he didn’t push, but the way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he had you cornered.

suddenly, the doorbell rang, and you shot up from the couch like you’d been electrocuted. your pulse was still racing, your thoughts tangled in knots you didn’t want to acknowledge. this was good. maybe whoever was at the door would shake you out of this haze.

but the second you opened it, you almost wished you hadn’t.

your boyfriend…or ex? you didn’t even know anymore, stood there holding a single rose in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“happy valentine’s day,” he greeted, flashing that charming smile he knew melted you.

your eyes widened. you’d been so distracted you totally forgot the date. damn you, lee jeno.

“i’m sorry i didn’t call in advance,” he pushed the rose into your hand and leaned to kiss you “and i know we agreed to take a break… still, i couldn't just not come today…”

he lifted the bag on his other hand. “movie?”

you forced a smile, your stomach twisting guiltily for a second. even though your relationship was a bit unstable as of late, valentine’s wasn’t something you ever wanted to half-ass so it was a good thing you’d planned ahead.

you bought his gift the previous week, carefully wrapping the box yourself because you wanted it to feel special. a pair of shoes he’d been eyeing for months, a new band for his apple watch since his favorite one had broken recently, and a handwritten letter tucked inside, detailing how much you appreciated him, how much you loved him. You even spent extra time decorating the envelope, adding little doodles and stickers just to make him smile.

you should've felt some kind of relief, his presence should distract you from the wild thoughts swirling in your head. but as you stepped aside to let him in, that sense of relief never came.

because the moment you turned back, you remembered jeno was still there on the couch. you silently willed him with your mind to go to his room, maybe leave altogether.

but of course he didn’t.

“oh. hey, dude” your boyfriend said as he finally noticed him. “didn’t know your brother was here.”

you winced. that word. brother. your tongue itched to correct him, but what was the point? he knew you weren’t really siblings. he just chose to say it anyway.

jeno let the word hang in the air before he finally stood up, stretching his arms over his head before settling into a straighter posture. he never stood that straight, but he was making sure to show that he was at least two inches taller than your boyfriend. It was a subtle move, but you saw it for what it was. a challenge.

you almost scoffed at the sheer pettiness of it.

“ah, hello…” jeno drawled. “sorry, remind me of your name again?”

your boyfriend told him, his tone polite but slightly stiff.

“right,” jeno said, half-smiling. “didn’t know we’d be having visitors today…”

your boyfriend cleared his throat. “ah, that’s my bad. i didn’t tell her I was coming since I wanted to surprise her for Valentine’s”

“hm,” Jeno hummed. “well... as long as you two keep it in the living room, should be fine. gotta look out for my little sister while the parents are out, you know?”

you squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, inhaling slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. he never called you that. also, who did he think he was playing house police all of a sudden?

“sit down, babe,” you said, your tone so sweet it sounded forced.

jeno scoffed under his breath, soft enough that only you heard it.

you ignored it, settling onto the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen. your boyfriend sat beside you, oblivious, scrolling through movies, while you shoved a chip into your mouth just to distract your mind.

suddenly, you heard clattering from the kitchen followed by a curse.

“uh, y/n… can you come help me real quick?”

you squeezed your eyes shut.

“what did you break now?” you called, already exasperated.

"your mom’s china," he called back. "think i broke like two plates. maybe three. hard to say. pretty sure she’ll notice, though."

shit. you were on your feet before you could think, muttering a quick, “sorry, i’ll be right back,” as you hurried toward the kitchen.

the moment you stepped inside, irritation flared hotter in your chest.

“are you kidding me? what were you even doing near those? my mom explicitly said—” you voiced trailed off when you saw there was no broken china. no mess. nothing.

just jeno, standing there with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk so infuriating you wanted to slap it off his face.

your hands curled into fists. “what are you doing?”

“really?” he ignored your glare, tilting his head mockingly. “he brought snacks and a single rose?” he let out a dry chuckle. “it’s valentine’s day for god’s sake, he could’ve at least tried.”

“i like simple things,” you shot back. “i don’t need a big fucking production”

jeno took a step closer making your breath get stuck in your throat. he wasn’t touching you, wasn’t even crowding you, but fuck he might as well have been, with the way your body tensed.

his voice dropped lower. “are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

he clearly wanted to get a reaction out of you and you refused to give it to him.

his gaze flicked down to your lips, pursed at him, and yet so pretty. he could still remember them parting and gasping his name last night.

"bet it gets tiring to pretend so much” he leaned in slightly.

you took a sharp step back.

“just… get out of my business,” you snapped, breath uneven.

jeno’s lips curled. “sure thing.” his eyes glinted with dark amusement. “hope you have fun with mr. buzzkill.”

your jaw clenched as you spun on your heel, storming back to the living room. who the hell did he think he was? since when did he have an opinion on your love life? he’d never cared before, never questioned, never even acknowledged it. so why now?

he kept pushing, prodding, playing with you.

and the worst part was that you were letting him. you knew you should ignore him. his opinion didn’t matter anyways.

so why couldn’t you stop paying attention to him?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you decided to push jeno out of your mind, and what better way than by surrounding yourself with people you actually liked?

a pool party seemed like the perfect distraction. it was nothing too crazy, just a few close friends from college. the weather had been unusually nice all week, the kind of warmth that made everything feel a little hazy, the sun kissing your skin as you lay stretched out on a lounge chair, still damp from your swim. it was the perfect excuse to bask in the sun, let the tension ease from your body, and pretend jeno didn’t exist.

jenny, lying beside you on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and let out an exaggerated sigh. “by the way, where’s your hot brother?”

you sighed, not even bothering to open your eyes. “stop calling him that. people might actually think i'm related to that jerk.”

“honestly, though,” natty chimed in, rubbing tanning oil on her arms. “how have you not jumped his bones yet? he’s so fine.”

you scoffed, finally cracking an eye open to glare at her. “he’s really not all that. if you guys lived with him, you wouldn’t think like this.”

jenny turned onto her side, her smirk downright sinful. “girl, if i lived with him i'd let him do unspeakable things to me every night.”

you fingers tightened around your drink as something hot and unwanted curled low in your stomach. if only they knew the things you did thinking about him late at night.

belle made a face from where she sat at the edge of the pool. “you guys are gross.”

jenny just shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “why? they’re not even related.”

belle wrinkled her nose. “yes, but they live together. it’s still weird.”

jenny hummed, resting her chin on her shoulder as she eyed you knowingly. “whatever, i meant what i said.”

“does he have a girlfriend?” natty asked, stretching her legs out as she adjusted her sunglasses.

you shrugged, taking another sip of your piña colada. “i don’t know. i mean, he barely leaves the house. i doubt he has much of a social life… probably the most socially inept guy i’ve ever met.” the words left your mouth lazily, but the moment they did, a shadow loomed over you, blocking out the sun.

you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

you tilted your head back after a few seconds of silently cursing your big mouth. your heart did a million backflips as you locked eyes with jeno, who was now standing directly behind your chair. his head was tilted just slightly, a slow smirk playing at his lips.

you gulped slowly, and wished the chair would just swallow you whole. did he hear what you just said?

his gaze flickered over you, amused, but there was something heavier in the way his eyes traced over your bikini-clad figure. and then you realized he wasn’t in his usual hoodie and sweatpants. instead, he wore a fitted jean jacket over a graphic tee from a band you didn’t recognize, paired with tight black jeans. even his hair was styled, it looked like he got a fresh undercut, even added some designs on the side. he felt like an entirely different person. he looked good. too good.

“hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice deep.

your friends giggled, but you barely registered them because jeno’s attention was back on you in a second.

“does dad know you’re having a party?” he asked, his voice had a teasing lilt to it, but there was something slightly patronizing underneath.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s just a few people.” get off my ass, you almost added but bit your tongue.

his smirk didn’t falter. “mhm… hope so, ‘cause he can see everything through those.” he pointed toward the security cameras, and something about the way he said it made irritation prickle at your skin.

he had the audacity to call your boyfriend a buzzkill, yet here he was, trying to kill any potential fun you could have.

“anyway,” he continued, “this socially inept guy is heading out.”

you breath caught in your throat. so he did hear you.

his eyes flickered over your body once more, and before you could respond, his hand brushed over your shoulder in a touch so fleeting, so meaningless, it shouldn’t have made your entire body lock up the way it did.

“call me if there’s an emergency,” he said. “be good, yeah?”

the second he was out of earshot, the giggles started back up, hushed and scandalized. your skin still burned where his touch had ghosted over you, and you hated that you wanted to turn your head, watch him leave, memorize the way he looked just now.

you swallowed hard, pressing your cold glass against your lips and forcing yourself to pretend that none of it affected you.

after several minutes of listening to your friends gush about jeno, how good he looked, how he smelled like expensive cologne, blah blah blah, you decided you’d had enough. you pushed yourself up from the lounge chair and made your way inside with the excuse of refilling your drink.

as you passed through the living room, a flicker of movement outside caught your eye. jeno was still there, standing near the edge of the sidewalk. his fingers dipped into his pocket, retrieving something small, and curiosity got the better of you. you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding.

despite knowing better, you grabbed a lightweight cover-up dress from the hook by the door and slipped it over your shoulders before stepping outside. the afternoon air carried the scent of chlorine and the faintest trace of citrus from the trees lining the house.

“since when do you smoke?” you asked, approaching him cautiously.

jeno turned his head slightly. the corner of his lips curled in that maddening way of his. without breaking eye contact, he placed the cigarette between his lips, the unlit end resting against the soft curve of his mouth.

“i don’t,” he said dismissively but then, he struck a match against his finger and the tiny flame came to life. the sight of it held your attention for just a second too long. probably because you’d never seen anyone light a match like that, or the fact that he was gaslighting you so casually.

“i thought you said you were going to hang out with friends,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you watched the flame kiss the tip of the cigarette.

“i said i was going to hang out,” he corrected, taking a slow drag before exhaling it in your direction, the smoke curling between you. “i didn't say with friends.”

you barely resisted the urge to cough, your throat tightening at the thick scent of tobacco. before you could call him out on this, the low rumble of an engine broke through the silence.

a black jeep screeched to a stop at the foot of your driveway, tires skidding slightly against the pavement. you instinctively took a step back as the vehicle came to a jarring halt. the tinted window rolled down, revealing a girl with jet-black hair that framed her face in glossy waves. he lips, painted a deep cherry red, curved into a smile that was just a little too perfect.

“sorry, i’m late!” she said, her voice airy, with a sing-song quality that immediately set your teeth on edge “there was so much traffic.”

“sure you didn’t just get pulled over for reckless driving?” jeno chuckled before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.

“mo, silly!” she giggled, her voice turning annoyingly flirtatious as she leaned a little closer over the window. “did you doll up just for me?”

“sure,” jeno replied casually. you didn’t catch the way his eyes flicked to you for just a split second because you were busy trying to mask the seething annoyance that was threatening to show in your expression. you didn’t even know this girl, and yet, the way she was acting was irritating you deeply.

“let me drive,” jeno said, pulling the door open for her to step out. you noticed the way she purposely wobbled slightly to fall directly into his arms.

“careful,” he said, his voice deep and resonant as he steadied her, the sound of it sending a heavy vibration through your chest.

“if your wet blanket of a boyfriend shows up later,” he continued once inside the car, his words laced with a hint of condescension, “just try not to fuck around in the pool, okay? remember, someone’s always watching.” the way he said that left a strange, uneasy knot in your stomach, the implication of his words lingering far too long.

before you could even muster a response, he slammed the jeep into gear and drove off.

it was around 9 pm when you decided to call it a night. your boyfriend hadn’t even shown up. he claimed he had to help his dad with “stuff” but you hadn’t really paid attention to the details. you weren’t interested in hearing excuses anyway.

your friends pouted, complaining that you should let them stay and have a sleepover, but you weren’t in the mood. they only left after you promised to do it another time.

you wandered upstairs, feeling the fatigue from the evening settle in your bones. the water from the shower was almost too hot, but you welcomed the burn as it stripped the chlorine from your skin. you lingered under the steam, savoring the quiet of the house.

once you were done, you meticulously moisturized your skin with extra attention to the dryness that clung to your arms after the pool and the heat of the shower. you threw on your usual pjs, a loose tank top and shorts. you thought of the way jeno’s dark eyes followed you whenever you wore them.

you made your way to the living room and sank onto the couch to watch tv, hyper aware of the ticking sound of the clock. the hands crept closer to 11 p.m. and you found your thoughts drifting despite your best attempts to focus. jeno’s face floated into your mind, his dark eyes flickering with amusement whenever he saw you. you tried to push it away but your mind kept returning to him and that girl with jet-black hair.

the sting of your nails digging into the palsn of your hands is what snapped you out of it. the thought of him with her… doing what? it didn’t even matter. why should it matter?

you decided to go to bed after realizing it was stupid to wait for him to come back.

it was around 2 am when you were jerked awake by the sound of shuffling outside your door. you heard a giggle followed by a hushed voice right before your door creaked open, and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again.

"shit, wrong room," you heard jeno whisper, and your breath caught in your throat. you opened one eye just enough to see him standing in the doorway, the girl with jet-black hair practically draped around his neck.

she pulled him down into a kiss, and you watched, frozen, as they made out right there in front of your door. her soft moans echoed through the space along with the sounds of their hands fondling each other’s bodies.

they continued, oblivious to the fact that you were very much awake, until jeno finally pulled the door closed behind him, muffling the noises just enough for you to breathe again.

the anger hit you immediately, and the indignation that followed was almost comical in its intensity. with what face had he told you not to "mess around" at home because your parents were always watching, only to go and do this? right in front of your room, no less?

you heard the shuffle of movement in his room next door, and a chilling realization sank in.

they were about to have sex, and you’d hear every damn second of it.

it wasn’t like you’d never snuck your boyfriend in late at night before. But all you ever did was suck him off or let him finger you. you never actually had proper sex. not for lack of trying, but rather the issues you’d been having getting… aroused with him.

the moans started, soft at first, then louder. each sound felt like a needle, digging deeper into the pit of your stomach. you squeezed your eyes shut again, wishing, begging to be anywhere but within earshot of the noise that now felt like it was tearing your insides apart.

you could hear everything. the soft thuds of their clothes hitting the floor, the creak of the mattress as they fell onto it. jeno’s rough groans, the breathless whimpers he tried and failed to suppress. the wet, obscene sounds of him moving inside her. the desperate gasps, the frantic whisper of his name from her lips. their mouths meeting over and over again, the muffled, needy sounds of them colliding filling the space.

every movement, every noise, was painfully clear, as if you were right there in the room with them.

you wanted to disappear. crawl under your bed. evaporate into the walls. oh, the walls. the godforsaken, paper-thin walls that some sadistic architect clearly designed just to ruin your life.

you pressed a pillow over your head, begging for the sounds to stop, but it was useless. they only grew louder.

“jeno… i’m close,” she whimpered, voice high and shaking.

“cum for me…” he responded, breathless.

and suddenly, amidst the debauchery of sounds, you heard it.

your name.

spoken in a broken moan.

your breath stilled. for a second, you thought you must have imagined it, that your mind was playing a cruel trick on you. but then—

you heard it again. louder. needier.

jeno was calling your name as he came.

a paralyzing shock shot through you, pinning you to the mattress. your pulse hammering so hard you thought your heart might bruise your chest cavity. you stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as his moans settled over you like a suffocating weight.

silence followed, broken only by their uneven breaths. then you heard the rustle of sheets as they untangled from each other.

“can i stay the night?” the girl asked, her voice still heavy with satisfaction.

“no,” jeno said, voice oddly cold and detached. “my parents are gonna be here in the morning.”

that was a lie. your parents weren’t coming back until the following weekend.

you were still too shocked to move, too shaken to process what had just happened. but as you listened to her gather her things, to the sound of jeno walking her to the door without so much as an ounce of warmth in his tone, one thing became terrifyingly clear...

he hadn’t just used her. he’d been thinking about you while doing so.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you didn’t sleep. not for a single minute.

the shadows in your room shifted as the hours crawled by. it felt impossible to close your eyes without hearing it all over again. your name on his lips.

when your phone screen finally read 6:00 a.m, you gave up on sleep entirely, throwing off the sheets and slipping out of bed like a ghost.

you tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, fingers numb as you grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim. the cold water slid down your throat in greedy gulps, but it did nothing to cool yourself.

then, a breathless laugh tore from your lips, unhinged and bitter. the sheer absurdity of it all crashed into you at once, like a sick joke the universe decided to play on you. jeno had been inside another girl, and yet, it was your name that spilled out of his lips.

the laughter bubbled up harder. it must have been loud enough to wake him, because a few moments later, footsteps padded into the kitchen.

jeno stood in the doorway, eyes heavy with sleep, brows pinched together as he took in the sight of you, your back was turned to him, shoulders trembling with laughter that didn’t seem to belong to you.

“the hell is wrong with you?” his voice was groggy.

you stopped, forcing the manic grin off your face before turning slightly away, shielding yourself from his scrutiny. god, if he saw the way you were smiling right now, he really would think you lost your mind.

“are you high?” he asked, a little more forcefully this time.

you let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. i wish. maybe if you were high, this wouldn’t feel so real. maybe you wouldn’t still hear his voice in your head from the night before, broken and desperate, calling for you.

a shiver ran down your spine when you felt jeno move closer behind you. you could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, the faint smell of sleep and last night’s scent clinging to him. his hand clamped down on your shoulder, turning you around with an impatient tug.

“no, seriously.” his voice was lower now, forcing you to meet his gaze. “did you do drugs last night?”

your breath hitched when his chest brushed against yours, and that’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. the thin fabric of your tank top did nothing to hide the way your nipples hardened at the contact.

you saw the flicker in his expression, the brief second of realization when his gaze dropped.

“what do you care?” you shot back instead, tilting your chin up defiantly.

you liked the way his jaw ticked when you pushed him.

his grip on your chin was sudden, firm, tilting your face until your eyes locked with his. his fingers were rough and the touch sent something dark and electric crackling under your skin.

you ripped yourself from his grasp, grimacing. “don’t touch me. i know where that hand has been.”

jeno laughed, a rich sound that made your throat close.

“oh, so you heard.”

you scoffed. “of course i heard. it was impossible not to when you were being so loud.”

his smirk deepened. “then you know my struggle.”

he stepped forward, pressed you further against the counter until there was barely any air between your bodies. this was the closest you had ever been to him.

your heart slammed against your ribs, but you refused to shrink away. if anything, it only made you glare harder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

“i hear everything you do in your room too.”

he paused, letting his finger curl around a stray hair falling over your face.

“every night.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out except a sharp inhale.

his eyes fluttered across your features, lingering on your lips, still wet from the water you just drank.

“wh-what…”

“yeah.” his grin grew sharper, his perfect teeth peeking out to tug at his lower lip. “every time you sneak your dumbass boyfriend in.”

his fingers brushed against the counter beside you, caging you in completely.

“every time you touch yourself…”

you swallowed, looking between his neck and shoulder, unable to meet his dark eyes.

“and you do that a lot lately.”

you gulped to soothe your dry throat, wishing he couldn’t somehow smell how aroused you were getting. you hated the way your body reacted to him, how your thighs pressed together on instinct. he noticed. the bastard always noticed everything.

he was still pressed so close you could feel the steady rise and fall of his hard chest against yours, the heat of his skin bleeding into yours like fire licking at gasoline.

“i—” you started, but your voice cracked.

jeno tilted his head, “what?” his voice was a murmur meant for just the two of you. his lips curved, but the smile wasn’t kind, it was wicked. “got nothing to say now?”

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your stomach twisted into knots. “fuck you.”

his smile widened. “i mean, that’s what you always think about, isn’t it?” he murmured.

your breath caught in your throat. he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that you felt the ghost of them graze your skin.

“you touch yourself thinking about me.”

a wave of heat crawled up your neck. you shouldn’t be reacting this way. shouldn’t be giving yourself away this easily.

you inhaled sharply, gathering every ounce of strength left in your body before shoving at his chest, pushing him away. he let you, barely stumbling back.

“go to hell, jeno.”

you turned on your heel, ready to storm out, to get as far away from him as possible—

but you barely made it two steps before his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. he yanked you back against him, spinning you around so fast that you barely had time to register the shift before your back was against the counter again, his body crowding yours.

his grip tightened, but not enough to hurt just enough to hold you there.

"what are you doing?" you demanded, pressing a hand to his chest. "i have a boyfriend."

he laughed bitterly "oh, please. we both know he doesn’t even make you wet."

“how do you—?” you swallowed, barely able to get the words out.

the realization suddenly settled like lead in your gut. he read it. your blog. the one you used to vent frustrations you couldn’t say out loud, the one that held every unspoken insecurity, every late-night confession you never meant for anyone to see. every filthy thought about him.

and jeno of all people had gotten his hands on it. that’s why he’d been acting so strange lately.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, not pulling him closer, but gripping like you needed something to hold onto before you lost your mind.

his smirk deepened as he saw the expression of horror in your face.

“you should really clear your browser history,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “or, better yet…maybe don’t keep the tabs open on a laptop you asked me to fix.”

the bastard wasn’t even sorry for invading your privacy.

your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to school your expression, trying to make it seem like you weren't two seconds away from spiraling.

“i don’t—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

he leaned in, voice dipping lower. “oh don’t quit on me now. you had plenty to say in that little blog of yours.”

his fingers traced your jaw softly.

“especially about me.”

he grinned, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he watched your reaction unfold in real time. “what was it you said?” he pretended to think. “oh, right. he pisses me off more than anyone else, but i bet he fucks like a god.’”

you shoved him again but he barely stumbled, just let out a low chuckle like he was thrilled by your anger.

“what’s wrong?” he taunted. “embarrassed?”

“shut up.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be shy now. i read the whole thing, you’ve definitely thought about this exact moment before.”

you wanted to die. right there on the kitchen floor. just disintegrate and never have to endure the smug, self-satisfied look on his face ever again.

but worse than the embarrassment? worse than the rage twisting inside you like a coil ready to snap?

was the terrifying, undeniable truth.

he knew you wanted him.

jeno moved closer, and you instinctively backed into the counter, your hands gripping the cool edge.

his smirk was insufferable. giddy, almost.

“god, you should see your face right now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “all pink and flustered. just like i imagined.”

your eyes darted across his face in shock.

“oh yeah,” he continued, watching the realization flicker in your eyes. “you’re not the only one who’s fantasized about this, baby”

“i don’t fantasize,” you said quickly, hoping to salvage some dignity.

jeno just laughed. “save it.”

he reached up, tucking another stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way someone might handle something delicate, except the glint in his eye was anything but soft.

“i said i read everything,” he reminded you, voice dripping with satisfaction. “i even memorized that one post, the one where you talk about my fingers—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence.

bad move. because now his lips were pressed against your palm, his breath hot against your skin. and he didn’t pull away.

instead, his dark eyes locked onto yours making your pulse stutter. he reached up, prying your hand away from his mouth, but instead of letting it go, he brought it lower flat against his bare chest, over the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“i like knowing your secrets,” he murmured. “i like knowing what gets in that pretty little head of yours late at night.”

your stomach flipped.

“and you know what i like the most?” he dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “i like knowing that no matter how much you fight me on this,” he whispered, “you’ve already given yourself to me.”

his lips brushed from your ear down to the corner of your mouth, until finally, they met yours. you barely registered how easily your lips parted for him until his tongue slid in, claiming you. a groan slipped out before you could stop it.

you knew you should push him away. you should. but the thought barely even formed before it was gone, lost in the heat of his mouth.

"aren’t you gonna stop me?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to make you chase his lips.

you didn’t move, didn’t shove him away, didn’t say a damn thing.

his lips curled. "didn’t think so.”

then he kissed you harder, rougher. his fingers cradling your face while his other hand slid lower, gripping a handful of your ass. you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

his knee pressed between your legs, shifting just right, and you moaned. his lips curved against yours. "there’s my good girl."

heat flared up your spine, equal parts humiliation and arousal. some semblance of reason came over you and you pushed at his chest, but he caught your wrist, pinning it against the counter.

"you wrote about how bad you wanted me to take you right here in this kitchen," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "want me to remind you?"

"shut up," you groaned, twisting your wrist free and shoving at him properly this time.

he didn’t budge. he only laughed, nipping at your lower lip before angling your face up, kissing you deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world. his hand slid from your ass to your thigh, hiking it higher around his hip.

the new angle made you feel him, every inch of his hard length pressing right against your core, and you gasped. he thrust against you and the groan he let out sent a pulse of heat straight to your stomach.

"fuck," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, his hips rolling again. "you feel that?"

your fingers curled into his shirt, whimpers spilling out of you as he kept humping you.

jeno’s grip tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked against you, his breath hot against your lips. “look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something darker. “clinging to me like this when you were just pretending to hate me a few minutes ago.”

you opened your mouth to argue, to deny, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as his hands slid under your tank top, fingers tracing lazy patterns up your ribs until they found your perked nipple. his knee pressed more insistently between your legs.

“jen—”

“shh.” he breathed against your lips. “you don’t have to say anything. your body’s already telling me everything i need to know.”

the way his lips ghosted over your jaw, then down your throat, made your breath hitch. you felt like you were drowning in the way he touched you, just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to give you what you really wanted.

“you’ve thought about this,” he mused, voice laced with satisfaction as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. “haven’t you? late at night, when you’re all alone…”

your nails dug into his shoulders as he ground against you again, harder this time. he was right. and that infuriated you.

“jeno,” you hissed, half warning, half plea.

“say it,” he murmured against your skin, hands slipping lower. “say you want me.”

you couldn’t do that. you still wanted to cling to some semblance of dignity. but then his fingers slipped inside your shorts, and the illusion that you ever stood a chance shattered.

your gasp turned into a strangled moan as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds, tracing slow circles, teasing you with featherlight strokes that had you melting against him. his breath was hot against your temple.

“if you don’t want this,” he murmured, “then maybe we should stop.”

and just like that, he started to retreat, his touch vanishing like a cruel tease.

“no,” you choked out, your hand gripping his wrist before he could pull away completely. “don’t stop… please.”

he tilted his head, savoring every ounce of your desperation. “you sure?” he mused, feigning innocence even as his lips, swollen and slick, curled into something devilish. “because if you think this is wrong, we really should stop.”

the bastard was toying with you, and worst of all, you found it maddeningly hot.

your nails dug into his arm, your body thrumming with frustration and need. “jeno,” you warned, voice dangerously low. “if you don’t touch me right now, i’ll go upstairs and do it myself.”

you saw the moment his pupils dilated, a dark, almost feral hunger flashing in his eyes.

“oh, princess,” he crooned, his hand slipping back into your shorts in an instant, fingers resuming their torment with renewed urgency. “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

but instead of touching you like you needed, he yanked your shorts down, your panties dragging along with them in one swift motion. before you could form a single word, he hoisted you onto the counter with ease, the hard surface pressing into the backs of your thighs. your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip tightened, keeping you open for him.

and then he dropped to his knees.

your stomach plummeted, anticipation coiling so tightly inside you that you felt dizzy. he looked up at you from beneath his thick lashes, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with hunger. his hands dragged slowly up the inside of your thighs, spreading them further. his tongue darted out, wetting his lips like he was about to devour the best meal ever.

your walls clenched around nothing.

“jeno—” his name came out in a broken gasp.

“you’re shaking,” his breath ghosted over your core, making you jolt, making you ache. "what’s wrong, baby? nervous?"

the way his voice curled around the word baby, sent a fresh wave of heat straight between your legs. but you didn’t get the chance to answer.

because then he dove between your thighs.

the first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, hands flying to his hair as your head snapped back against the cabinets. the heat of his mouth had your body jerking before you could stop yourself, pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

his hands flexed against your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you still as he licked deep into you. and when he groaned you nearly lost it. the vibration shot straight through you, your stomach clenching, your thighs twitching against his grip.

“jeno—” his name was barely a breath, a desperate sound that made him hum against you, pleased. he pulled back just enough for his lips to brush over your skin.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined” he rasped.

and then he was back on you, tongue working faster, fingers digging into your thighs like he needed this, like he was getting off on the way you gasped, the way your body trembled under his mouth.

he wasn’t just eating you out. he was devouring you.

his tongue moved in slow strokes, drawing out every whimper that spilled from your lips. you tugged at his hair, grinding down harder, but he just chuckled against you. cocky bastard.

“needy, huh?” he murmured between licks. “thought you could handle it.”

you barely registered his words, too caught up in the way he worked you open. but then he pulled away, making you gasp at the loss.

“jeno—” you started to protest, but he was already grabbing you by the waist.

“quit whining,” he smirked, hoisting you up easily. you yelped, legs locking around his hips as he strode toward the stairs. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

your back hit the mattress a second later. you barely caught your breath before he tugged his pants down, the outline of his dick straining against his boxers.

jeno climbed onto the bed, gaze flicking over you with heat. you expected him to take you right then but he leaned back instead, hands behind his head.

“ride my face,” he said.

you froze, thinking he was joking for a second, but then you saw his his eyes and realized he was being completely serious. panic came over you, you’d never done this before, your boyfriend had never even eaten your out before, only fingered you. this was way more than that though.

“jeno—”

he raised a brow. “what, shy now?” his hands shot out, dragging you toward him. “c’mon, don’t start getting all sweet on me now.”

he positioned you right above his face. you swallowed, “jeno… i-i don’t know—“

“don’t worry baby, trust me”

and then he was spreading your legs further apart so you sank on his face slowly. his nose nuzzled between your folds first, the sharp line of it pushing against your core and making a guttural moan escape you.

his tongue followed, licking up and down, and prodding your entrance with insistence.

“oh, fuck—me” you whimpered, his hands on your hips guided you to press even harder against his face and even in your pleasure you worried he would drown in your cunt.

but when you looked down, there was nothing but pure bliss on his face, his eyes rolling back and his brows furrowed as he lapped relentlessly. it looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

as your orgasm approached again, you couldn’t help but roll your hips against his face. the movement made his nose press further as his tongue continued licking long greedy strips against your clit.

“jeno—i...i’m—“ you moaned,

and your orgasm crashed over you with such a violent force it made you lean forward barely catching yourself with your arms before you could actually suffocate the boy under you.

you crawled down his body, your breath hitching as you took in the sight of his face glistening with your juices. his tongue swept out as he licked up every trace, dark eyes fixed on you.

his hands remained anchored on your hips, fingers flexing just enough to press you down against his body. you could feel him hard and burning through the thin fabric of his sweats. the instinctive grind of your hips had him exhaling a low chuckle. you wanted this, he wanted this, but something held you back. if you crossed this line… would you really be able to turn back?

you didn’t have time to find out because the sound of the doorbell ringing snapped you both out of your daze.

jeno blinked, looking toward the bedroom door. “seriously...?”

“shit—” you scrambled off him, tripping over your own limbs in the process.

“i’ll get it,” he offered, starting to sit up.

“no!” you shoved at his chest, pushing him back down. “your face, jeno— it’s covered in my—just—go wash it off!”

he grinned lazily. “didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

“not the time!” you hissed, picking up your discarded clothes and putting them on.

jeno started, “i read somewhere that cum is really good for your skin—”

you didn’t dignify that with a response, slamming the door shut on your way out. your reflection in the living room mirror was a disaster: hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen, fresh marks blooming along your neck. you tugged your collar up and plastered on what you hoped passed for a normal expression before opening the door.

and promptly felt the ground vanish under you when you saw who was standing outside.

“hey, beautiful” your boyfriend said.

your mouth went dry. “oh. wow. hi—”

he held up a bouquet. “i realized we didn’t really do anything special for valentine’s, and you were so thoughtful with your gifts…” his other hand revealed a small box.

your heart twisted at the sight.

“figured you deserved something nice after everything you’ve done for me.” he opened the box to reveal a delicate necklace, your initial glinting in tiny diamonds. “also, i wanna take you out today”

you swallowed. “it’s... beautiful, thanks.”

“here.” he stepped forward, gently brushing your hair aside to fasten it around your neck. his fingers grazed your skin then stopped.

“you’ve got a mark,” he said, frowning. his thumb skimmed over the hickey, sending your pulse into overdrive.

“mosquito bite,” you blurted.

he raised an eyebrow. “looks... aggressive.”

“it was a big mosquito,” you managed with a nervous laugh.

“massive, actually” came jeno’s voice.

you turned just as he was descending the stairs, towel-drying his face and now dressed in…god help you, only sweatpants. fresh hickeys also peppered his collarbone and chest.

your boyfriend’s smile tightened. “hi, man. hope i didn’t wake you.”

jeno shrugged. “nah, i was just eating a delicious meal.” his gaze flicked to you with something too close to amusement.

you fought the urge to kick him in the balls. “so! you said something about... going out?” you blurted, trying to shift the topic.

“uh... yeah. a new amusement park opened up nearby. thought we could check it out.”

“sounds amazing! i’m in!” anything to get out of this situation.

“i’ll just… shower real quick,” you said, stepping back.

“i’ll put the flowers in water,” your boyfriend offered, heading toward the kitchen.

as soon as he disappeared, you turned to jeno and hissed, “are you insane?”

he chuckled. “i didn’t even do anything.”

“you’re standing there shirtless covered in hickeys i don’t even remember giving you!” you whisper-yelled.

“yeah you went a little crazy, who knew you wanted me this bad?”

you shot him a glare. “this isn’t funny.”

“it’s a little funny.”

you let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing your face. “god, you’re impossible.”

jeno leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of him. “wouldn’t be nearly as fun if i wasn’t.”

you shook your head and darted upstairs, pulse still racing. what the hell was your life right now?

you gave yourself only twenty minutes to get ready, worried about leaving your boyfriend alone with jeno for too long. god only knew what kind of things jeno might say if left unchecked. you quickly threw on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a knitted sweater, keeping it simple with just a swipe of lip gloss and a touch of mascara.

when you came downstairs, you found them sitting at opposite ends of the couch. jeno was scrolling through his phone, legs spread out, a bored look on his face. your boyfriend was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, glancing around as if searching for a conversation topic that didn’t involve glaring across the room.

“i’m ready,” you announced, trying to break the awkward tension hanging in the air. both boys looked up.

you noticed Jeno had changed into fitted jeans and a black t-shirt.

“i hope you don’t mind,” your boyfriend said, his smile too stiff to be genuine, “but i invited jeno to come with us.”

“what?” your head snapped to jeno, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

“yeah,” jeno said, casually running a hand through his hair. “a few of my friends are heading there too, so i figured we could all hang out.”

“oh… how nice,” you muttered through clenched teeth. jeno just smirked, waiting for you to snap in front of your boyfriend but you held back, drawing in a calming breath and turning toward the door instead.

outside, your boyfriend wiped a tiny smudge off the driver’s side door of his car with meticulous care. jeno scoffed audibly.

your boyfriend paused, glancing over his shoulder. “jeno, do you have a car... or do you wanna ride with us?”

“my car’s in the shop,” Jeno replied without missing a beat.

“oh yeah? what do you drive?”

“a ’69 mustang fastback,” jeno said smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

your boyfriend’s lips parted slightly. you knew he was impressed—he loved cars—and even if he tried to play it cool, the way his eyes widened gave him away. “that’s a classic. was it your dad’s?”

“nope.” jeno grinned. “saved up since high school and bought it myself at the barrett-jackson auction last year.”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows shot up. “that’s... actually really impressive.”

yeah, jeno thought, satisfaction bubbling in his chest. he lived for moments like this, when people looked at him like he was something special. he just couldn’t let it slip that his dad had footed most of the bill for the car’s custom work. it wasn’t like he asked for that help, but there was no way he was turning it down either. and he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit that in front of your boyfriend. not when the guy was looking at him with something close to respect. honestly, jeno kind of liked having that edge over him.

you could practically see the mental competition unfolding in front of you. jeno stood there like he’d just scored a point, while your boyfriend’s jaw tightened, clearly thinking of how to reclaim the upper hand.

“are you guys done with the dick-measuring contest, or should i grab a ruler?” you asked, arms crossed.

jeno laughed under his breath. your boyfriend glanced away, muttering, “yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

the ride was somehow worse than you expected. normally, when you’d ride with your boyfriend, the car was filled with pleasant conversation. he’d ask about your day and tell you about his… but now, with jeno in the backseat, the air felt suffocating. not even the faint music playing on the radio could ease your discomfort.

“were you sleeping before i came?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

you tensed. sleeping? far from it. you’d most definitely come before he arrived, and now your face burned with the memory. you shot a quick look over your shoulder at jeno, hoping to gauge if he was going to say something incriminating. he was scrolling through his phone, but the corner of his mouth curled up in that stupid smirk of his.

“uh… no,” you said, clearing your throat. “i couldn’t sleep very well last night, so i just had an early breakfast.”

“ah,” your boyfriend hummed. “and your parents are back sunday, right?”

“yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in subject.

the silence that followed wasn’t comfortable. your boyfriend tapped the steering wheel rhythmically, occasionally glancing at you like he was expecting conversation but you were too busy trying not to spontaneously combust from how tense everything felt.

he reached over and turned on the car’s bluetooth. “let’s put on some music,” he muttered, scrolling through his playlist. he settled on a song, and you relaxed until you recognized the beat a split second before the lyrics started.

"thoughts of you keep me up at night..."

heat immediately started creeping up your neck. of all the songs... and of all the lyrics to play right now.

"i think about all of the ways you turn me on... and my bed gets lonely whenever you’re gone..."

you stiffened, eyes wide as you stared out the window. you could feel jeno’s gaze burning into the side of your face, and when you dared to glance back, you saw his eyes fixed on you, an eyebrow raised like this was the funniest thing to ever happen. your boyfriend, oblivious to the lyrical implications, simply tapped along to the beat.

you reached for the phone. “let’s put something else—”

“what? you don’t like this song?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you with a smile.

“it’s… just—” you floundered. jeno chuckled under his breath.

“leave it,” Jeno said. “I think it’s pretty relatable.”

your boyfriend shot him a look through the rearview mirror probably wondering what he meant.

you squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the ground to swallow you whole. why did the drive feel like it was taking forever?

when you arrived at the amusement park, you were pleasantly surprised to see jenny and natty waiting near the entrance, drinks already in hand.

“we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing, by the way” jenny grinned, looping her arm through yours when you reached her.

“yeah,” Natty added, slipping in on your other side. “we told him he was an idiot for not doing something nice for you on saturday, so this is his redemption, and we’re here as the judges.”

the revelation should’ve surprised you—maybe even disappointed you—but it didn’t. things with your boyfriend had been...off lately. neither of you was really trying, and you couldn’t blame him for that when you weren’t putting in much effort yourself.

still, you plastered on a smile. this is supposed to be fun, you reminded yourself. and it was, you went on nearly every ride. your boyfriend, though, wasn’t a big fan of fast rides due to his motion sickness, and you didn’t miss the way jeno scoffed every time he turned down your suggestions to ride together.

you were heading toward the food stalls when something caught your eye. “ooh! let’s do that one!” you pointed to a shabby building draped in fake cobwebs and flickering lights. a crooked sign above the entrance read bloody encounter in dripping red letters.

jenny made a face. “why would you willingly do that to yourself?”

“come on,” you urged, tugging her arm. “it’ll be fun! i saw a video of it on instagram! it looks insane.”

“that’s exactly why i don’t want to go,” jenny shot back, glancing warily at the entrance.

natty, wide-eyed, whispered, “have you seen that movie where a group of friends goes into a haunted house, and there’s an actual killer inside?”

“that’s literally a movie,” you said, but your attempt at sounding confident fell flat when natty added, “it was based on real-life events.”

you rolled your eyes but glanced over your shoulder at your boyfriend trailing behind. he looked at the ride and grimaced.

“eh... i don’t know, babe,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “you know i hate this kind of stuff.”

you visibly deflated and before you could respond, another voice cut in. “i’ll go with you,” jeno said, stepping forward, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“I—” you started to object, nerves twisting in your stomach. jeno? alone? no way. that felt like walking into a trap. “weren’t you going to meet up with your friends?” you tried, hoping to backpedal.

“they texted that they got a flat on the way here, so it’ll be a while before they arrive” he shrugged.

“you two have fun,” jenny said, already pulling natty away. “we’ll grab food in the meantime.” natty threw you a look that screamed good luck before disappearing into the crowd.

your boyfriend lingered. “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asked, eyes darting to jeno, whose expression remained unreadable except for the subtle roll of his eyes.

“yeah,” you lied, forcing a reassuring smile. “i’ll be fine. see you in a bit.”

stepping through the entrance, you were swallowed by darkness. the air was thick with the artificial scent of fog machines and that weird plasticky smell of cheap props. distorted laughter and screams echoed through the narrow halls, looping over speakers that crackled with static.

beside you, jeno looked about as thrilled as someone waiting in line at the dmv. he glanced around, gaze skimming lazily over the walls. "spooky," he deadpanned.

"wow, you're really committing to the whole fun-hater thing," you shot back, glancing over your shoulder. you knew something was about to jump out, it was just a matter of when. "if you hate this so much, why'd you come?"

“figured your dumbass boyfriend wouldn’t,” he shrugged, mouth quirking into something between a smirk and a sneer. "someone had to make sure you didn’t cry."

“excuse me—”

BANG!

a hidden panel to your left slammed open and a clown with cracked white paint on its face and red bulging eyes lunged out, blaring a horn right in your face. your soul practically left your body as you screamed and instinctively grabbed onto the nearest thing which, unfortunately, was jeno.

he didn’t even flinch, his arm simply went around your shoulders, comforting you even as your heart tried to beat out of your chest. you looked up, breath catching when you met his gaze. his eyes flicked down to where you were clutching his hoodie before lifting back to yours.

you pushed away, but his hand didn’t fall away immediately. it trailed from your shoulder down to the small of your back, you felt his warmth seep through the fabric of your sweater.

"so," he drawled, "should i hold your hand for the rest of this?"

“i swear to god…”

“—because i don’t mind”

“keep talking and i’ll feed you to the next clown,” you shot back.

he snorted. "like you’d make it through this without me."

you flipped him off without looking back, which earned a low chuckle in response. you stalked ahead, determined to focus on not tripping over the uneven floor, but his footsteps stayed close behind. annoyingly close.

the mirror maze was where things went downhill. everywhere you turned, warped reflections of you and jeno stretched and twisted in the glass. dark shapes flickered just out of sight, and the speakers just made everything worse by echoing whispers that felt like they were breathing down your neck.

your reflection twisted, making your head look three times too big. jeno snorted. “look, they got your good side.”

“bite me” you said, peering around a corner. your reflection multiplied into a dozen versions of you, all looking equally pissed.

“tempting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

jeno’s fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you in the opposite direction.

“it’s this way,” he said.

“how would you know?”

“we’ve been stuck in here for like ten minutes,” he cut in. “you’re clearly not the best guide.”

you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

jeno pointed at a door partially concealed by a tangle of fake cobwebs. “that’s gotta be the exit.”

“that looks deliberately hidden,” you said, eyeing it warily. something about it seemed off.

“well,” he shrugged, “either we try that or we keep wandering in circles. your call.”

fine. you followed him, trusting—against better judgment—that his instincts were better than yours.

they weren’t.

the door creaked open to reveal a forgotten section of the attraction with dust-covered boxes, broken props tossed in corners, and walls lined with peeling fake blood. the air smelled like damp cardboard and stale fog machine fluid.

“...okay,” he said, unfazed. “so not the exit.”

“wow. color me shocked.”

he shot you a look. “didn’t hear you coming up with better options.”

you rolled your eyes and turned back to the door. “whatever, let’s just—”

it didn’t budge. frowning, you tried again, putting more weight into it. nothing.

your pulse quickened. “uh... jeno?”

“what?”

“the door’s stuck.”

“just turn the handle—”

“i am!” frustration and panic crept into your voice. “i know how to open a damn door!”

“move.” he gently nudged you aside, grabbing the handle. he twisted while shoving his shoulder into it but the door held firm “...shit.”

your stomach dropped. this wasn’t funny anymore. “no, no, no… this can’t be happening.” you raked a hand through your hair.

jeno stepped back, scanning the room like there might be another way out. “it’s gotta be part of the attraction… like some escape room or…”

“yeah? you really think they’d make a whole escape room and hide it behind a side door that was clearly not supposed to be opened?” your voice cracked, breath coming quicker now.

he glanced at you, expression shifting. “hey.” his tone dropped, calmer. “don’t freak out.”

easy for him to say. your brain was already spiraling. you were locked in some creepy back room of a haunted house... with him.

you leaned back against the door, shutting your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“do you have your phone?” you asked, voice tight as you pushed away from the door and walked toward him.

he patted his back pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it up before showing the dead screen. “no battery.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “of course.”

“the staff will probably notice we never came out,” he said, glancing around the dimly lit room. “they’ll be looking for us soon.”

“i didn’t even see anyone else besides that clown,” you muttered. “this is what i get for coming in here with you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” his voice dropped a note lower, and when you looked up, he’d stepped closer. your back nearly hit the door again, tension sparking between you like static electricity.

“you’ve clearly upset some kind of energy around me, and that’s why all these things keep happening,” you snapped, trying to push away the sudden awareness of how little space there was between your bodies.

“are you being for real right now?” he chucked bitterly, dark eyes flicking to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. “you’ve been writing dirty fantasies about me for months but i’m the one somehow upsetting your energy?”

heat surged to your face, both from anger and embarrassment. “and that’s all they were! fantasies!” you shot back, voice rising. “i never wanted you to read those.” your breath came quicker. his proximity was messing with your ability to think straight.

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. the playful glint in his eyes burned away, leaving something far more dangerous. “you say that like you didn’t mean every goddamn word.”

your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "is now really the time for this?"

“how come my presence didn't bother you when my mouth was between your legs?” he growled.

your hand shot up, ready to shove him away but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head. your heart kicked into overdrive.

“not here,” you breathed, but it was weak, barely convincing.

“nobody’s around,” he rasped, chest flush against yours. “and you don’t really want me to stop.”

his lips dragged along your neck greedily, teeth scraping your skin before his tongue soothed the sting. your knees nearly gave out.

“jeno—fuck—we can’t,” you gasped, even as your hips arched toward him, desperate for friction.

“i’m sure i can make you cum before anyone shows up,” he promised, voice like rough velvet.

then he grabbed your thigh, hauling your leg around his waist and shoving his hips against you. the contact had you gasping, heat blooming everywhere at once. his grip was bruising, grounding you and shattering you all at once.

“you have no idea—” his breath was ragged, words spoken between gritted teeth, “—how fucking hard it was to sit back and watch you with him. i wanted to drag you away and remind you exactly whose tongue had you shaking mere hours ago.”

that snapped something inside you. your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him in as his mouth crashed against yours. his hips rolled, grinding against you in rough motions that stole every coherent thought from your brain.

you should stop. you should care about where you were or the fact that your boyfriend was waiting for you outside, but the way he was touching you, kissing you, claiming you.

he pressed you hard against the wall, hands pulling at your sweater with urgency. the second it was off, his mouth was on you, sucking against the lace of your bra. his groan was barely controlled.

“fuck, so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words shaky. his gaze was hungry as he tore your bra off, his lips tracing the curve of your chest.

his mouth found your nipple, sucking hard. your back arched and a gasp slipped from you.

“god, perfect tits,” he growled. his hands were shaking now, and there was no control in his voice, just raw need.

without warning, he pulled your pants off, almost knocking you off balance. you barely steadied yourself before he turned you around, shoving you forward. Your hands gripped the wall for support, and you felt him push his erection against your ass.

“fuck, gonna make you feel so good. better than your fingers ever could. let me fill you up” he groaned, his voice desperate. you could feel how hard he was even through his jeans.

you bit your lip, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much you wanted him. before you could look back, his hand was on your jaw, turning your head to face forward.

“be good and i’ll let you look,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear.

he pulled your panties aside, the fabric stretching tight against you. it felt like it might snap any second, but before the thought could even settle, his finger was buried in your folds. the cool touch of his rings against your heat made you gasp, your body shuddering in response.

“oh god,” you mewled.

if your mind was clear enough to process anything, you’d laugh at how absurd this was. your fantasies, the ones you’d written about in your blog, were unfolding before your eyes, all within a day.

“barely even touched you, and you’re already dripping like this?” his voice was laced with amusement, though there was a growl beneath it.

“jeno, please don’t… tease me.” the words barely left your mouth, a plea you couldn’t hold back.

he smirked, his thumb brushing over your sensitive spot as he circled your clit. “i thought you were the one who didn’t want to do this here,” he taunted.

“please,” you whispered, barely able to form a coherent thought.

he chuckled, drawing another slow circle, teasing you, making you ache. every motion of his finger made your body respond, pushing your hips back instinctively. “so eager,” he muttered, his mouth hot against your shoulder.

his finger plunged inside you, and before you could adjust, another joined. he pulled them out slowly, spreading the slickness of your folds across your skin, making you squirm in desperation. you felt the pressure of his cock growing against your ass, and you clenched around his fingers, your walls yearning for more.

“ready for me, baby?” his voice was low, dark, almost a growl, and you nodded, mind too fogged to say anything.

he spread your legs wider, forcing you open for him, giving him better access. you felt the tip of his cock swipe against your folds, teasing the entrance, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance down. his pre-cum smeared against you, mixing with your slickness.

“when i’m done with you, you won’t even remember who came before me…” his words were gruff, hot against your hair.

and then, just like that, he thrust inside. you heard him inhale sharply as your gummy walls welcomed him, stretching around him, pulling him deeper. he felt thick, too thick, and you weren’t sure if he was all the way in, but the fullness was overwhelming. his body pushed against yours, your legs trembling under the weight of him, but he wasn’t stopping.

one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as jeno continued to push deeper. your moans grew louder, and with each thrust your inhibition was slipping away. it felt too good to care about being caught, to think about anything else but the feeling of being so full.

but then, just as you were losing yourself completely, the sound of footsteps and distant voices jerked you back to reality.

“guys, they probably already came out,” you recognized jenny’s voice, and you froze.

“y/n isn’t picking up her phone,” your boyfriend’s voice followed, too close, so close you could practically feel him in the room.

you pushed weakly against jeno, trying to make him pull out, but he wasn’t paying attention. instead, he thrust into you again, harder, his cock pressing into you so deeply that you bit your tongue to hold back the moan threatening to slip out.

“that’s cause i have it,” natty’s voice rang out, innocently. “she gave it to me when she went on the roller coaster earlier.”

jeno’s hand moved to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds you couldn’t stop from escaping. he continued to pound into you, relentless, while pulling you flush against his chest, his pace steady but punishing. panic clawed at your throat as your breath quickened.

“when were you gonna tell us that...?” jenny’s voice sounded sharp, you could even picture the scowl that came with it.

“did you try jeno?” your boyfriend asked, the concern in his tone making the situation even more unbearable.

“we don’t have his phone number,” natty replied casually.

“i do,” Jenny said, her voice almost sheepish.

jeno’s hips stuttered for a brief moment, the pace slowing as he briefly pulled away from you. you thought he was stopping but before you could even react, he spun you around, forcing you to face him. his forehead glistened with sweat, his lips swollen from how hard he’d bitten them, his breath labored.

“what? since when?” natty asked, her voice sounding confused but amused.

“i stole it from y/n’s phone,” jenny muttered quickly. “don’t tell her, though.”

before you could even process her words, jeno thrust back into you, pressing you into the wall with each brutal stroke. the wall rattled violently with every movement and you could barely form the words to warn him.

“j-jeno, stop… they… they’re gonna hear us,” you gasped. your whole body felt like it was being torn apart in the best way, but the fear of being caught made it impossible to enjoy it fully.

“let them,” he growled against your ear, his grip tightening on your waist. “let your boyfriend know i’m the only one who can make you cum.”

you couldn’t help the loud whimper that came out when he said that.

“did you guys hear that?” your boyfriend’s voice rang out, sharp with suspicion.

your eyes widened in sheer panic, your body stiffening around jeno. but instead of stopping, he only smirked, still buried deep inside you. the bastard was enjoying this.

his hand trailed down, fingers finding your clit, and the second he started rubbing tight circles, your head lolled back involuntarily. another strangled whimper escaped before you could stop it. the feeling of his fingers working you over while he continued driving into you relentlessly had you seeing white.

“what?” natty asked, her voice tinged with unease.

jeno didn’t stop, his movements staying controlled except for the way his breath hitched when your walls fluttered around him. his lips parted slightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought to keep from moaning out loud.

“it sounded like… a person?” your boyfriend said, his voice closer now.

your head snapped up in terror, eyes locking onto jeno’s, silently pleading with him to stop. but he wasn’t even looking at you. his teeth were digging into his lower lip, dark eyes fixed on where your bodies were joined, watching the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“it’s probably just the scary audio replaying on the speakers,” Jenny suggested.

“and that rattling sound?”

jeno’s eyes flicked up at that, finally registering your panic. without pulling out, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you off the wall effortlessly, carrying you a few paces away before pressing you down onto an old, dusty table.

before you could even think to protest, he shoved your knees up and entered you again, deeper this time, making you arch off the surface with a muffled cry. your teeth sank into the flesh of your hand to keep the noises in.

the table creaked with each sharp thrust, dust kicking up into the air around you. tears pricked your eyes, whether from pleasure, mortification, or both, you weren’t sure.

“maybe rats or something,” jenny suggested, her voice fading as she moved further away. “who cares? let’s just go. they’re not here anymore.”

the moment the voices started retreating, jeno leaned over you.

“we almost got caught,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe “...and you’re still fucking dripping around me.”

you didn't even get to feel embarrassed by his words because soon he was already moving again harder, deeper, like he needed to make up for the interruption. the table kept creaking under the force of his thrusts, and your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto.

when you looked down, your breath hitched at the sight of his cock drilling into you over and over, slick coating both of you in a wet mess. you were mesmerized by the sharpness of his hip bones, the way his veins bulged with every flex of his muscles.

you wanted to touch. you needed to.

your fingers twitched with the urge. why is he still so covered? you’d seen him shirtless before, had spent far too long secretly admiring the cut of his abs, but seeing and feeling were entirely different. you wanted to feel them ripple under your hands, to feel the heat of his skin against your palms.

driven by that need, you pushed up on your elbows, reaching for the hem of his shirt. he didn’t stop you, just watched with dark eyes and parted lips as you dragged the fabric up, exposing smooth skin and the taut muscles beneath. your fingers splayed over his stomach, feeling how hard he was clenching, how his body responded to you.

jeno tensed the moment your hands made contact with his skin, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth. his hips faltered for a second before slamming back into you with even more force. your breath stuttered, and when you looked up, his eyes were already locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with something wild.

suddenly, he leaned forward and his lips crashed into yours, all-consuming. a deep grunt rumbled from his chest as he licked into your mouth, greedy and desperate, sucking at your tongue like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. you gasped, clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the sweaty skin under his shirt.

he groaned against your lips, voice ragged. “you—” another thrust, deeper this time, knocking the air from your lungs. “—are driving me fucking crazy.”

you felt your orgasm building fast, your breath catching as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. words tumbled out of your mouth, barely coherent, dissolving into soft gasps as your body clenched around him. jeno moaned against your lips, his hand sliding back to your chest, fingers toying with your nipple. his hips didn’t slow, driving into you with almost manic thrusts that had your head spinning.

“fuck, i’m close,” he breathed out, voice rough in your ear. “where do you want it?”

you blinked through the pleasure, brain too sluggish to register the question. when it did, warmth flooded your cheeks. you were on the pill and the thought of him stuffing you up with his cum, just like you’d written about, made your walls flutter instinctively. “inside,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

jeno’s jaw flexed, his gaze darkening. “yeah?” his pace quickened, rougher now, his lips brushing against your neck. “couldn’t wait for me to fill you up, hm?” his words melted into a groan when you clenched around him.

“jeno—i—” the rest of the sentence dissolved into a cry as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your body arched into him, trembling.

he wasn’t far behind. you felt his rhythm stutter before warmth flooded you, his hips pressing deep as he let out a low, drawn-out moan. his lips found yours again, kissing you slowly, even as both of you tried to catch your breath.

when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours for a while. you wanted to ask what he was thinking, but the words stuck in your throat.

you felt him slip out of you along with the slow drip of hia cum trailing down your thighs. he reached for your discarded underwear, swiping it between your legs with surprising gentleness before, without hesitation, tucking it into his back pocket.

“hey—” you started to protest, but the look he shot you shut you up fast. apparently, those were his now.

a few quiet minutes passed, both of you fixing your clothes, when the door groaned open. you flinched as an older staff member peeked in, eyes widening upon spotting you two.

“what on earth are you two doing in here?”

you quickly stepped forward, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “so sorry, sir! we got lost trying to find the exit, and then the door jammed. thank you for helping us”

“yeah. where’s the way out?” jeno added, right behind you.

“just head left twice. you’ll see the exit sign.” the man shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he waved you off.

“thanks again!” you called, already pulling jeno with you. once outside, the cool night air hit your flushed skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver.

“if we’d followed my directions,” you said, glancing sideways at him, “we would’ve been out a while ago.”

jeno’s jacket appeared over your shoulders before you could argue further. “yeah,” he smirked, eyes glinting under the neon lights. “but then we wouldn’t’ve had all that fun, would we?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 my inbox is always open for any feedback about the fic or if you just wanna talk

support me here if you want (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[hollowed-theory-hall]

This is purely a headcanon of mine, but I love the idea of Harry looking a bit.. uncanny. His scar is more of a lichtenberg figure, his eyes look avada kedavra green in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of way, he usually slouches, but when he straightens, he looks rather intimidating. Maybe if we go far enough, a couple of white streaks in his hair due to his death experiences. If you stand close enough to him when he performs magic, you feel it crackling around you, and the area just gets a bit chilly. Just little things that take a while to get used to, but it's easy bc Harry is actually a chill dude lol

I love it, honestly. I think I mentioned it in my HP headcanons, but I love an AK-eyed Harry with some white in his hair and a very visible scar. I love a slightly unsettling Harry. And I think the AK eyes, which look like a normal green unless you see them from a very specific angle and then they gleam like a killing curse don't actively contradict canon either (the white hair and the obvious scar are not canon though, as he can hide his scar with his hair usually, so it's likely on the smaller side. I think they're cool concepts though and make for a striking image). Also, canonically, Harry has some strange reactions to the veil and the Killing Curse and I love connecting him with death when I can in headcanon and fic.

Also, canonically, Harry isn't short. I believe he's around 5'11-ish in HBP and DH, and we know he can look intimidating when he straightens up and glares at you:

“You never really tried!” she said hotly. “I don’t get it, Harry—do you like having this special connection or relationship or what whatever—” She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up. “Like it?” he said quietly. “Would you like it?” “I—no—I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean—”

(DH)

That's canon.

I also love the idea of his magic being powerful enough to be felt. And considering how instinctively it reacts to Harry's emotions, it's halfway canon as well. His magic sort of just does things when Harry's upset or wants something enough. I think it's loads of fun and has tons of potential for fic purposes. (God knows I overuse the AK-green to describe Harry's eyes from Theo's POV in my fic)

Also, canonically, characters who don't know him think he is powerful, capable, and confident (which he is, he's also just more awkward inside his head and has low self-esteem), so he acts colder than we know him from inside his head, which I think would work well with a slightly unsettling aura for Harry.

[darlingstarkey]

think later - pt 20

series masterlist

summary - y/n, formerly a pogue princess, finally had her big breakthrough and got signed to a record label in LA. little did she, her boyfriend rafe cameron and the rest of her friends know how things would really change as soon as she becomes famous.

anything in dark mode is rafe's phone!

authors note: i really enjoyed writing/doing this part and getting back into the swing of writing this fic!! a few of my old readers are inactive and it makes me so sad to see my bbys gone but thank you to the new readers who are reading now! lowkey a three week break is insane of me lol

warnings: swearing, anger, fighting, stealing, long word fic!

-

with that text from topper, rafe stood from the couch and grabbed the keys to his ferrari. all he saw was red in this moment, what the fuck could jj possibly do to try to get you? he gave his truce to this crush he had on you when rafe had texted him about you. what the fuck could he possibly want? would he be able to get you? thousands of questions ran through rafes head as he practically ran to his car and got into it as quickly as possible.

the engine roar echoed throughout the neighborhood along with the sound of tires screeching, signaling rafe's departure.

white knuckling the wheel, going a steady 65 mph in a 25 mph, rafe sped past the neighborhood in mere seconds. he sped through the bridge that connected figure eight and the cut, almost nauseous at the thought of being here. sure, he had been down this road multiple times back when he would pick you up or bring you flowers. but this time, it was different.

this time it was to track down that pogue boy who always preyed over you. who always took your kindness and in his mind would twist it into something more. but of course, you being you, you let him do it because you simply didn't know he felt that way. but there was no way to know, the only person who did know was jj himself and rafe.

he always had.

rafe was close enough to see jj's stolen glances at your perfect lips, the soft grazes of the back of your arm, how he would hold onto your hand just a second too long when you did your handshake that was made up by the 5 year old versions of yourselves, the way jj made you laugh so hard you snorted, your inside jokes, your secret code words and signals, the way you two could just make eye contact and just know what the other was thinking.

rafe knew he couldn't compare to that.

"no. no. no.no. no. no." you yelped as you scurried between the two boys. rafe has already had his hand planted on jj's shoulder, a dark look in his eye as he stared at the pogue boy while gripping his boney shoulder sharply.

"guys. get away from eachother. now." you demanded as the boys continued their feral eye-contact. the silence is deafening as they stood, still as statues, while you try to break them apart.

"y/n, step away." rafe said between gritted teeth. "no!" you shot back,heat racing. . "leave eachother alone. god, what is with you two lately? can you just fucking stop for once and listen to me?"

for the first time, they both blinked. simultaneously, they looked down at you as you fumbled for your phone, which would not stop buzzing in your pocket.

"i-i- have to go.." your voice wavered you look up at the two boys, only to quickly turn and jolt instinctively back to your car.

rafe and jj could have sworn that you disappeared into thin air. they had never seen anything like it. they had seen your face turn white, immediately squeak words of utter nonsense, then bolt away.

confused and also terrified, the two boys were left standing there, a truce in their war for your devotion.

-

HOW AMAZINGLY FUN THIS WAS TO WRITE! next part tmrrw! do we like?!

taglist: taglist: @madkohi, @yesshewrites1, @grapejuice32, @leotapes , @givemylovetoall, @inlovewrafe, @bee-43, @larvalerius, @masongetinmybed, @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not, @mystargirl-interlude, @eddxemxnson, @sqfewrd, @pogueprincesa, @frankoceanluvr11, @raeven-marie43, @marleymarleymarleymarley, @mindfulmesses, @akobx, @spenceatiny18, @fluoxetinys, @lolxdswag123, @st8rkey, @ethanthequeefqueen, @drewrry, @jjmaybankmylovee, @disaster-rose, @sunshinedaisy21, @chillgal135, @amterasuu, @wtfisastiles, @sassyvillaintrophy, @bananaminn, @barnesboo1967, @pi4st81, @stvrkeysgal, @yktayy9669, @yesterdaysproblemm, @rafesbuzzcutseason, @dylsdaily, @jjasmiineee, @imjustagirl713, @voidangxls

xo, dylan

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x pregnant reader head cannons

Note: I’m not doing any more pregnant reader stuff after this or at least I don’t plan to anytime soon but I have a couple of head cannons I want to get out of my system before I start planning another fic lol. I have way too many I’m working on right now.

On the off chance I do make more pregnant reader content and that kind of content makes you uncomfortable I will tag it with # shadow x pregnant reader so you can block that tag

Anyway to the head cannons!

Shadow is the first to sense something is going on he doesn’t know why but all of a sudden he feels very protective of you not wanting to leave your side no matter what

He becomes very clingy and cuddly before you even miss your first period wrapping you in his arms at any chance he gets

You smell amazing to him he can’t help but take a whiff whenever he can, much to your chagrin

Once you do find out your expecting he is full of pride he has laid claim to you permanently marking you as his territory for now and evermore

Just because you are pregnant does not mean that he will not take every opportunity to pleasure you no matter how far along you are after all it is healthy for the baby according to some studies and who is he to argue with science

He won’t miss a single appointment no matter how routine it is he will be by your side every step of the way

He will make sure you eat healthy even going as far as taking cooking lessons to make sure you and his offspring are getting the best nutrients

After you feel the baby kick for the first time his hands are constantly on your stomach trying to feel for himself

If you are feeling self conscious about your body and all the changes it’s going through shadow will comfort you immediately

He will remind you how much he loves you and how you are carrying the descendant of the ultimate life form your body is incredible for adapting to it’s challenges and safely nurturing your small but growing family

He loves your baby bump (the larger breasts aren’t half bad either) and how amazing you look carrying both of your offspring it’s even better than he pictured

He studies HARD about your pregnancy often knowing more about what is going on than you do he helps explain things that you’re too embarrassed to ask the doctor about

When it’s time for the baby to arrive he is glued to your side holding your hand every step of the way

It kills him to see you in so much pain but he admires you for being able to get through it

He constantly reminds you of how strong you are and how much he loves you

When all is said and done and you’re holding the newest addition to your family in your arms he can’t help but tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you and the newest addition

He is grateful for you carrying his child and will do everything in his power to care for you and the baby

He wants to fill you with as many babies as possible as long as you’re willing and it isn’t too long before he’s at it again his next goal: giving you twins

[baphometsss]

(i was gonna send this in an ask but it got too long lol sorry) @mythalism re: your tags i'm not esp into the idea of the madonna complex re: mythal bc i think, like a lot of freudian ideas, it's insufficient at best and downright harmful at worst

like YES he did put her on a pedestal and yes that's part of the madonna complex, but i think it kind of does solas a disservice when it comes to his intellect bc his thinking is not really black and white enough for that imo. i think he was deluded about her but that was mainly borne from extreme devotion, and that level of devotion can only come from someone who is deeply emotionally unfulfilled

i think it's a lot more likely that he grew to distrust so many people during the war that the only person he really felt he could trust was mythal. mythal used him and kept him on a string so she could use his intellect as a weapon. he was a tool that she believed to be obedient and unconditionally loyal to her. then she went and betrayed him too, which was too much for him to accept, because it meant that he really couldn't trust anyone at all, and that screwed him up majorly and 'broke' him.

unfortunately it's similar to a really common thing that men do w/their emotions irl. i'm not trying to make a 1:1 comparison here because the context is wildly different, but we know that the ancient elves were highly emotional beings so i think it tracks. men have this culture of being emotionally shut off from their friends because vulnerability is seen as a weakness, so they put all their emotional vulnerability into their romantic and family relationships w/women. they see women as the kind of epitome of emotional vulnerability, so they unload on them in this really unhealthy way that leads to more emotional turmoil bc it's just too much. they bottle things up and don't share it with any of their male friends, and so they overwhelm the women in their lives with their emotional needs. when that woman inevitably fails to be able to meet them, she falls off the pedestal and she turns into the awful she-devil for not being there for him. or god forbid she has needs of her own that take precedent or are put on him to fulfil bc that's not allowed for someone with no autonomy. it is partly madonna complex but there's a lot more to it on the guy's part too.

like i said it's not a 1:1 comparison bc we're talking about a war and a genocide and mythal was probably never as 'good' as solas wants to remember her being, but it really makes me think of that. rather than toxic masculinity however it's a matter of repeated betrayals and traumas that fosters his behaviour re: mythal. solas didn't have anyone he could trust with his most intimate thoughts and feelings like he once did with mythal and other spirits long passed, and he's desperately clinging to that relationship bc his ability to trust has been broken so completely and he can't handle the trauma and guilt of the war alone. and ofc unlike mythal and the evanuris, solas holds a LOT of guilt about the titans and the blight. so no matter how much she screwed him over, she always stayed on that pedestal bc the alternative (dealing with it alone) was so much worse. (there's also the fact that mythal understood him as wisdom unlike the others who brought out the worst in him, and that mirror is important for him to retain his nature as wisdom and not pride, the latter of which which his trauma pushes him towards more and more)

essentially he's put all his emotional eggs in one basket regarding mythal. by the time inquisition rolls around, he's also been betrayed by his general and close friend, and he really doesn't trust anyone at all, so he's regressing even further. it makes the romance/friendship all the more special because the inquisitor shows him that it's only by opening yourself up to trust other people (the key being multiple people) again that you can really start to heal and move on instead of wallowing alone forever in your pain and grief.

The whole 'refuge for Mythal' thing is really interesting bc it shows that Solas really saw Mythal as being on his side when it couldn't be more obvious that she enjoyed the power of being queen of the Evanuris. He calls it a 'struggle' in the regret memory, but I don't think she was struggling as much as he thinks. Even Felassan realises how delusional he is about her. It's one of many things Solas is in denial about.

That said, it does seem like he was much more aware of Elgar'nan's evil than she was; I truly believe that Mythal found a kindred spirit in Elgar'nan and thought that she was the right one for him. She tempered him and mitigated the harm he did as much as she could (which doesnt seem to be that much, in all honesty). Whether or not they had romantic feelings for each other is up for debate, but I think it's very possible. There was likely an element of tension at being evenly matched in the way they were that gave their relationship a pathological edge. It was only when Solas told her about the Evanuris using the power of the Blight that she finally decided to take him seriously and challenge her husband and the rest of the Evanuris head-on.

It's also really revealing that the Blight was her final straw. Mythal obviously had no issue with slavery as long as her slaves were treated well. It's very reminiscent of real world attitudes some had towards their slaves ie that as long as you don't abuse them it's okay. They don't understand the fundamentally unethical nature of owning another person. It's why I don't buy the benevolence retcon because slavery is inherently cruel--something that both Solas and an elven Inquisitor can argue with Dorian about.

Yeah, Solas really is an unreliable narrator with Mythal and I really wish we'd had more perspectives other than his. I long to see Mythal in all her cunty glory but alas it will never be

[elf-trash]

I've been watching the AI drama as an outsider and I've gotta say from the perspective of someone who's barely in the fandom the behavior is kind of disturbing. The Solas critical tag is completely clogged with one person's unhinged meltdown about people using AI detectors. Yeah I totally want to go into fandom tags to watch someone scream about AI detectors while posting screenshots of chats without editing out people's names, talking about Gen AI fanfic drama on other sites, bringing things like politics into a convo that had nothing to do with politics and making vague threats about how there's more coming down the pipe because they "totally have more information and so many unpublished ANONS."/s Literally none of these posts have anything to do with Solas or Dragon age but for some reason they want that audience in particular to see their weird behavior. Meanwhile, despite all the anons and support they're supposedly getting only like 2-5 people are liking their posts and on at least a few of those one of the likes is from themself. "Stop fandom bullying!!!" - said by the person who's behavior could definitely be considered a kind of bullying and at this point if there's a witch hunt they aren't the target, they're the leader.

i already said basically the same thing on another reblog but i'll say it here again: if these people were really interested in keeping AI out of fandom spaces, why would they be dedicating so much energy to discrediting every possible way of identifying AI? if AI detectors are fallible and therefore useless, if analyzing the text of someone's writing is bullying and mean, and if confronting the person directly leads to being blocked and publicly smeared, then what is left?

and despite what certain people may claim, this has always and ONLY ever been about using AI to create fanworks and not tagging it appropriately. none of this has ever been driven by any sort of personal vendetta. all of these cries of bullying and witch hunts are a painfully obvious attempt to deflect and obfuscate and redirect the conversation into something it is not and has never been.

and it should go without saying, but don't tag your weird personal tirades with fandom tags lol no one is there to see that shit

[lorata]

I feel like the hitler youth vs regular gymnastics thing exactly encapsulates the point of your D2 series. People want to think that only an organisation that’s considered the embodiment of brainwashing and evil could produce child killers whereas it’s far more harrowing to accept that actually the educational tools we already use could be warped and used to turn children into child soldiers without anyone feeling they’re doing anything wrong. The point of the HG and particularly of the careers is how normal people can be warped / how the capital can be fine with the hunger games and careers can be trained to win and everyone forgets who the enemy is and it’s that idea that’s carried in the centre being modelled on institutions that we currently have accept and wouldn’t even consider fundamentally evil sorry for the long ramble but just love the series

🙌🏻

i want to print this out and tape it to my mirror. i want to pin it to the top of this blog. you and i are prancing through the daisy fields our minds are in sync this is exactly my point

i am an educator and i think that's why it's very easy for me to write this angle, not just in the terms of like ...... taking how i do things from a Not Evil POV irl and twisting it to make it Dystopian, but also constantly thinking critically and reflecting and quite often calling out the system that we are actually in right now. like yes lol sometimes when i'm dealing with a kiddo i have the tiny Career Trainer voice in my head like, and this is what i'd do if i wanted to make them a child murderer and i do the opposite of that, and that's kind of funny, but also even in normal every day life i have to be very aware of power dynamics and racism and propaganda and all the harmful stuff that is constantly perpetuated by the system AND CATCH MYSELF AS WELL like this is ongoing work!

a tangential point to this is how many people point to high fashion / couture as being emblematic of the capitol but forget the other very clear parallel which is professional sports -- the panopticon, the sense of ownership over athletes' bodies/lives, the constant escalation of expectations / entertainment to the point where athletes need to do drugs and/or injure themselves in order to consistently innovate and excite audiences, traumatic brain injuries and death, racism, TBI and its links to erratic behaviour / assault / etc

i could write a LOT more about propaganda in education but i'm going to restrain myself, so suffice to say that you're right. the whole point of the hunger games is that it's about us, it's always been about us, we're the victims in the story AND we're the perpetrators and we're meant to examine ourselves and our choices and see how we are complicit and how we can be better

sometimes my careers worldbuilding is about the armed forces recruitment vans that would park behind our school and we had to walk through listening to the spiel every year

sometimes it's about how i did TKD and one time an 8yo boy broke his arm in a bad block and everyone praised him for not crying and when his dad came he said "i'm gonna go to the adult class and then i'll take you to the hospital, okay buddy?"

and sometimes it's a bunch of other things in the general miasma of growing up in a conservative rural town during the gulf war and 9/11

but yeah. it's not about hitler. it doesn't need to be

[yanderedrabbles]

hey,

you've probably answered this before and I just haven't seen or read it yet. But, why do you hate pregnancies and babies so much? lol i love ur stories and u dont need to answer this, but im curious and wanted a more specified answer

seriously long rant under the line:

I'll be the first to admit it, I'm not a maternal person. I don't like kids. They're loud, they're sticky, they're overwhelming. I don't know how to talk to them without feeling idiotic and fake. I just... stay away from them as much as I can. Little cousins? Nieces and nephews? They probably know me as the relative who'll offer them some sweets and then dissappear.

Babies are especially bad. I don't really find them cute or endearing. Whenever I'm around one, I'm always terrified of messing up somehow and hurting them. Even if I'm like all the way across the room. I have such an admiration for parents but I know myself and I know I absolutely can't handle a baby.

I'm a person who gets overwhelmed and angry pretty easily. I try really hard to work on it, but that's not the sort of personality that goes well with kids. What am I, a deadbeat dad that makes people flinch with every sudden move? No thank you.

Pregnancy has always been particularly disturbing to me. Whenever I think of myself in that role, I feel this kind of visceral disgust. It feels parasitic. It feels like a leech in my body. It makes me want to claw at my stomach and get it out.

And don't take this as me hating on kids and pregnancy in other people. It's just when I apply it to myself, I can't help the way I feel. It's instinctive. And it's been this way my whole life.

I think as a society we think of marriage and kids as the default, the expected path. Whenever I tell people I'm never doing either, I'm always met with the "You'll change your mind someday!" I won't, I promise you.

I take issue with it. I feel like we should consider things a lot more before starting a family. A child is such a huge commitment, a life you'll be responsible for in every way. I feel like I see a lot of patents who might have been happier without kids.

I don't ever want to be like that. I don't ever want a kid to feel for a second that I regret them. I'd rather just not have one at all.

Anyway, some people just don't want that kind of life. I'm one of them. I've never once felt the urge or ever had the fantasy about a family, about being a mother. I have other goals for myself, another path to take.

I have the utmost respect for parents. Like I said, it's a terrifying, exhausting job. And one I'm never going to do.

[kerink]

I hope it’s okay to just drop some thoughts I was having about Dipper and Stan for your au here! I was just thinking about them isolated in that little apartment and how I’m sure they weren’t provided with any like entertainment. I think it would be a really rough adjustment for dipper who would want to immediately be working on an escape plan. But I think Stan would probably be the best equipped of the family to handle the situation. He’s been to jail and eaten his way out of the trunk of a car. Like, he’d know how to plan escapes under a warden’s nose and keep himself somewhat entertained in the process. I think they’d argue at first but eventually dipper would realize that Stan is also trying to help them escape, he’s just going about it more subtly.

To pass the time maybe they play games that don’t need too many pieces for. Maybe dipper comes up with like an augmented D&D&MD that’s mostly verbal or maybe Stan gets his hands on some cards. They’d probably feel guilty if they start having too much fun though.

I know they are being watched but Bill is distracted by other things so maybe they can get away with a little more than the others, especially if they play up giving up. But it’s a real panopticon situation. They could come up with some kind of code that they can communicate through the games they play. Like playing a certain card means something or they use the plots of D&D&MD to talk about what’s going on in real life.

Thanks for letting me ramble and for making this au it’s so fun!

i seriously love this!

i was also thinking about what they could do for fun too, and was thinking about stan trying to teach dipper to box lol not just because it's something they can do and it fits in with stan and dipper's existing relationship arc, but also because it calls back to dipper's previous character development: him thinking he's useless without the journals, but once gideon kidnaps mabel he's like i don't need magic i can just beat your ass. so dipper already knows the value in having a good left hook, knowing he can be smart and strong, cunning and violent.

i love stan seeming like he's flippant, like he's given up, like he doesn't care about what's going on when it's really just a facade he's putting on to keep everyone calm and relaxed. he's trying to be the stable rock the kids and ford can cling to. stan believing there isn't much he can practically contribute in this situation, so settling for the emotional home base, the place where busy minds can rest.

but i hadn't even considered what you said about stan having been to jail before and how that would impact him. it's sooo incredible it has me feeling a bit crazy. because you're RIGHT. he knows what it's like to sit in a box and stare at a wall. he knows what it's like to play verbal chess with a mob boss. he knows what it's like to be two-faced with an unjust warden. as much as ford is teaching mabel to steel her heart and have a poker face and dance along with bills game, stan can teach dipper the exact same thing

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

prev post inspired by reading brandon taylor's filthy animals, which is, like, fine i guess, which is kind of simultaneously not surprising bc i've never read a collection of allegedly well observed stories focused on the minutiae of human interaction that i actually liked and also disappointing because i like his writing in his newsletter so much lol. (and to be fair i also really liked his story "prophets" which is not in the collection.) and actually for the most part the dialogue feels more or less human which stood out to me because of how much i fuckin hated severance (novel, not currently buzzy apple TV show i have also complained about lmao). but then you get an exchange like this:

"I do like him," Sophie said after a moment, and it startled Charles.

"How? You don't know him. I don't know him."

"There's something good and wounded about him. Like you."

and it just instantly pings my bullshit-dar. i'm like, she would not fucking say that, where "she" is "any human ever to live, ever." and for whatever reason when it comes to this kind of thing (literary short stories invested in the minutiae of human interaction) my instinct is then to be like, well i guess i am a dummy. i guess i am being stupid and unfair to read this and be like, girl what? and maybe i am, i don't know. maybe when on the next page charles says "So I cleaned it, swept the glass, you know? And it was the weirdest thing. I don't think I've ever seen a person more exposed." i am also being stupid to be like, you've never seen a what? what? who talks like this? i don't know. a lot of people love this writing, according to goodreads, which as we all know is an unfiltered and objective accounting of human opinion. maybe lots of people talk like this and i just happen not to know any of them. or maybe, again, i'm totally missing the point of literary fiction and there's some kind of reason i'm just not sophisticated enough to understand for why you would write texts as naturalistically as "u there?" and also have this emotionally repressed dancer say "i don't think i've ever seen a person more exposed" like that is a normal, not weird thing to say, a thing that would just come out of your mouth naturally. like obviously i am not so stupid as to believe literary dialogue ever actually is "naturalistic" or should be... but perhaps i am barking up the wrong tree if i want it to convincing? if i want my disbelief to be suspended?

(tw in the next paragraph for suicide & ED stuff discussed in the book)

the thing that compelled me to post mid-book comes from a story later on that also concerns these characters (sophie, charles, and lionel, who is the "him" they have met the previous night and that charles has slept with and sophie is... befriending? ish?) lionel is the POV character in the first story, and i liked that one actually partly because it's about a guy trying to have a normal time at a campus party at the school where he is proctoring while on leave of absence which he has been taking since his suicide attempt last year. none of these exact biographical particulars apply to me but the general vibe has some overlap with my college years for sure lol and so i was like, well true. anyway. so in a later story we're back with lionel and sophie is like, are you with someone, and he said no, god no, and she asks why not, and he............. rolls up his sleeve to show his suicide attempt scars? and she asks what happened and he tells her, and then he gives this little monologue essentially describing what it's like to be depressed which is fine and they talk about that and his recent self-hospitalization, and then she's like... ok i'm actually going to type this one out too:

"My parents died. And then my sister, a few years ago, died. Overdose. And sometimes, I think, Fuck. Enough. Or sometimes, it's like, Why not make it a full set?"

"Yeah," he said.

"I used to purge. Everybody thinks it's about being skinny and being light for ballet. They think it's to look a certain way. But I think most of us purge because of the control. Like, there's a moment when you go from feeling full and awful to feeling clean and clear and bright. There's just a moment, right before you get it all out, before you're burning up and convulsing, when you feel something go ping and you know it'll be all right. Thats what it's about. That little ping of clarity. Anyway, I used to purge. When I lived with my grandma. All the other girls in ballet did, too. It's not special or anything, but I did. And then I got these awful ulcers. And I couldn't dance because I had no energy and my vision started to get weird? I felt like my body was betraying me."

Lionel sat up then. Sophie's thumb traced his knuckles.

"Then my sister died, and I thought, I can keep doing this or I can try to fucking live. Really live. Dance is awful, don't get me wrong--if your foot is too big or your shoulder doesn't bend a certain way. There are fewer than zero jobs. And everyone is on coke or a serial rapist. But when I'm dancing, sometimes, I feel that little ping. I know where I am in the world. I can feel myself. And, like, yeah, my technique is not classical. Come on. I learned to dance in Arkansas. But as long as I can dance, I'll be okay. I don't need ABT. Or Royal Ballet or anything. I just want to dance for as long as I can."

"It's your something," Lionel said.

"Everybody deserves a something, right?"

Lionel nodded, and Sophie blotted the corners of her eyes with a sleeve.

and i........ uh.............. fucking hated this lol??? i fucking hated this entire scene. like it really activated my "oh fuck OFF" instinct." and i hated it in a way that felt unusual and unexpected because i think of my problem with literary fiction, when i have a problem with literary fiction, is that it is too, like, withholding or afraid of emotion or afraid of seeming sentimental or whatever, but this..... is....... fucking sentimental. this feels really actually quite fucking cheap to me? i DON'T UNDERSTAND why this collection of short stories is giving me an EATING DISORDERS 101 POST FROM HEALTHLINE.COM???? like i... ok. not everyone in the world has spent as many hours of their lives reading about eating disorders as i have "lol." but this literally feels like Very Special Episode dialogue. including the part where the connection between these two people feels too easy. which, again, up this point i was like, well this is just a mode of developing relationships i don't understand because of my intellectual deficiencies... but now i'm like, actually maybe it's just bullshit, because this degrassi ass monologue is bullshit. the scars thing, also bullshit - bullshit in a specific way i found irritating because, lmao, back when i was drafting a certain wildly self-indulgent fanfiction of mine, there was a period of time in which i entertained the concept of a character dropping the same kind of reveal with the same scar-revealing gesture, and then i opted not to do that, because i was like, "on reflection, this feels like a bullshit." like this feels stupid! it feels actually stupid! hollow and melodramatic and unearned! not, like, not to my taste or too sophisticated for me to get or too subtle for me (an idiot) to be into... and actually not even just "not that good." like this is actively bad, to me. maudlin! distasteful! cliché! cheap!!!

anyway. idk. i guess i was just startled by this because it seemed so obviously self-indulgent and unserious that i was really unprepared to find it in a book by, like, a serious author, that people take seriously. i want there to be a lesson here but i'm not sure that there is one except maybe that i gotta get more comfortable with embracing being a hater even if i'm worried it will make me look dumb. but, like, having a character say out loud, in dialogue, "i know everybody thinks it's about being skinny, but it's actually about control," in a book published in 2021? flowers for spring... groundbreaking....

[luckypunklemonade]

| Again

| "You, you'll get close, but you'll still miss / standing right next to it / You're not gone, but you're far from there / I would have showed, but you didn't care / It’s life, it’s heavy / tears at your sleeves sometimes / it’s gold, it’s glory / after the battle lines / and you’ll love too soon, too soon it’ll be removed / Let's go at this again / again and again."

[Smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; oral (fem receiving); sequel?; post-sex pollen; not proofread, lol; 5k words!?] Pt. 2 to Temptation Greets You. Stiles Stilinski is grappling with his guilt. Good thing you're there to reassure him.

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

Stiles felt like he’d been shot clean through the stomach. From exhaustion, from embarrassment, from guilt–holy shit, the guilt. Every question he had, of which there were millions, felt rotten in his mind. No way he’d ask. He was sure it had happened, that the memory might never leave him, but he wished it hadn’t. No–he wanted it–but… not like that. He didn’t remember his head being this heavy. He could still feel the fatigue, the headache, the vanishing and unrecognizable pain, or maybe just discomfort. He’d read somewhere that when the human body goes through unprecedented pain, it has to forget to keep living. Hell, he wasn’t even remembering the feeling of pain correctly, but he still felt the ache of you. He’d gotten almost an hour of sleep after you took him back to his house. You asked if he wanted you there, and he said no. He actually looked at you after everything and said no to your sweet, concerned, caring face. He crashed into his bed and slept a pitiful amount solely due to tiredness from the comedown of the pollen. 

It was waking him up, though. He swore he felt your lips pressed against his shoulder, the warmth of your breath alongside as you mewled underneath him, but he leaned towards the phantom feeling and was met with cool sheets and more shame. You helped him; you more than helped him. Sure, he would’ve survived in pain in the woods if you had listened to him and driven off until dusk, but what you did was as good as saving his life. He could blink away the image for a few seconds, but he couldn’t brush your hands off of him or the feeling he let spill out as he kissed your neck in a desperate tribute. He thought he’d forget the feeling, the discomfort melting away and replaced with an unmanageable amount of emotion, but, god, it’s like it won’t go away. His nails dug into his palms, and the humiliation got to be so intense he thought he might throw up.

No, he was really going to throw up.

All the thoughts, they were indecent and unreal, and he wasn’t sure you’d ever really forgive him. He couldn’t take you at your word, standing outside of the Jeep, holding his face and telling him it was okay. Sure, you understood, it was consensual, it was something he’d dreamed about. He would’ve loved the images of you grabbing his arms erratically and the disbelief he experienced hearing you say his name in the kind of tone guys like him dream of. Really, you were good. But something wasn’t right about how it went down, even with your reassurance, you wiping his tears, you kissing him, making sure he was okay to spend the night alone—anxiety still encircled him, coming to a head as his hands felt the cold tile of the bathroom, and did the closest thing it could to gutting him. Truly, it was because he lost control with the one person it mattered with. After the Nogitsune, that was something he might never forgive himself for.

Your hair between his fingers, empty air between his teeth, trying not to be too rough, it all seized him at once. His cheek dizzily met the tile, taking the minutes he could to cool off. He shut his eyes, cursing himself for being so attentive, for noticing everything you did, said, and breathed. It couldn’t have been as nearly as ruining as he was thinking if you comforted him like that, right? Stiles couldn’t clench his hands in fists anymore. They were shaking too much. As mortified and despondent he was, he wanted you to walk in and fix him. Sit him up, smile at him, and find a way to calm his nerves and mind. He wanted to feel your hands again, hear your voice answer every question he was sure he was never going to ask. You’d go the extra mile for him. You always did. He needed that reassurance right now. 

He could smell your shampoo. Or was it body wash? Perfume? He wasn’t sure, but he was kind of freaking out, and you were too busy being a good person to notice. Cookies. You brought him cookies and your own controller, suggesting you could both play one of his favorite video games. You’d remembered how he was complaining to Scott about not having time to do fun things. You’d remembered the brand of chocolate chips he preferred because they were perfectly shaped for cookie-to-chocolate ratio, an actual debate between him and Scott that ended in a mathematical equation with consultation from Lydia. You remembered to bring them in a Tupperware container you had borrowed a few weeks ago. He wondered if you remembered him kissing your neck.

He cringed again at the memory. Him mumbling desperately, thanking you. He wondered if that made you uncomfortable. Crowding you into him selfishly and muttering nonsense into your ear. He couldn’t help it, right? He wasn’t himself; it was the pollen. He wanted to test it out and be close to you again, but he wasn’t sure you were ever going to let him that close after last night. Whatever happened to your friendship felt suffocating, but you were standing in his kitchen, unloading the cookies. 

Stiles awkwardly stood, looking at the wood grain of the chairs and the corners of the counter instead of your fingers zipping up your bag or your constantly reassuring smile or your piercings or your neck where he wished, regardless of how it would haunt him, he’d left a hickey. 

“We should talk.” The words made his heart drop. “The other night, when you told me to leave…I didn’t respect what you wanted. I didn’t listen. And since I value our relationship, I need to tell you everything I felt. I was selfish.”

Stiles’s demeanor was still awkward.

“You brought me cookies.”

You tilted your head, making it a little easier to look at you. Stiles’s eyes circled the container of cookies, drawing your attention to it as well. “You brought me cookies, and you’re telling me you were selfish.”

“I crossed a line,” You pinched the hem of your shirt in between your fingers. “and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you being upset after…”

You took a deep breath. Stiles’s eyes followed the line of your bra strap to the dead end under the collar of your shirt. 

“I didn’t think about why you would be upset until last night after I dropped you off. You weren’t able to make a decision like that and I just–”

The same type of anxiety he experienced last night. It doubled when he heard your voice crack. You took a deep breath, “I can’t stop thinking about you being upset— I can’t stop thinking about how I could have hurt you. You’re my best friend.”

Stiles swallowed, walked a few feet to you, and, in that specific way that he always seemed to speak up, he murmured. “I think you’re too good of a person. That’s why I was upset.”

Why he was crying. 

“Because you saw me hurting, you put the pieces together, you knew what was happening, how I felt, what the choices were, and you chose to stay. I was…” He turned his cheek to look anywhere but you; he needed to get this out first. “I was crying because I thought I ruined everything. Because you’re perfect, everything was perfect, and I kept my distance. I wasn’t thinking right because of the pollen and—“

“And you made a mistake.”

“And I acted on urges I’ve been ignoring for months now. The only real mistake was being stupid enough to accidentally inhale something I found in the woods. Everything else was just me doing the first thing I could think of: calling you. When you got there, I thought it was fine because of how little there was and…I saw you, and I couldn’t tell what I wanted. Then, I thought I had hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I had hurt you. That’s why I was upset.” Stiles made the conscious effort to look at you, eyes watching you fret,  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I feel like a shitty person.” 

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “I can’t complain. A guy like me manages to get a girl like you to do something like that for him? I should be bringing you cookies.”

You tried to shut down the laugh, but it came out softly anyway. ‘A girl like you.’ You wondered what he meant by that and why it didn’t make you feel better.

“The cookies are cause I don’t regret anything.”

Stiles let his eyes meet yours again, drawn to what your microexpressions could tell him. You pulled at the inside of your lip with your teeth, and he questioned one thing: “Not even anything I did?”

You confidently shook your head. In the time he took to really think the situation over in the context of you being okay with it–really okay with it, even liking it–you had worked yourself up so much that the room was spinning. His face fit so easily in your hands that you felt a little numb when it caught his attention. It might have been the most awkward and scary step you had ever taken if not for how the surprise on Stiles’s face made you feel. At first, he was a little scared of the contact. You knew he would be in his head all night, not just for making a mistake, but for the feeling he had when he lost himself. You knew he’d never want to feel like that again. Then, his eyes softened to searching. Questioning what he was supposed to feel from this. That’s when you wanted to kiss him the most, so you tried leaning closer. Testing the waters, you made a point of going slow. There was a pulse of anxiety in Stiles that made him need more air, and before you could kiss him, he had to speak. “You’re sure?”

You nodded, close enough that the tilt of your head was enough to press your lips to his. His eyes snapped shut quickly, only relaxing when you first moved your jaw. His hands coaxed yours from his face and squeezed them softly. When you pulled away, taking seconds to do so, it took him a minute to open his eyes again. You had spent all night researching what kinds of pollen there were, rituals, tribes, and covens. Trying somehow to stifle your guilt and confusion with productivity. Thinking it’d be easier to forgive you for kinda-sorta crossing a line and maybe ignoring that you kinda-sorta liked it if you could give him information. His words were hot against your neck, even at the desk in front of the computer. How could anyone blame you, though, really? Years of friendship, getting closer, and surviving awkward life events and supernatural trials. It built up a sort of emotional scar tissue, so when that line was finally crossed, whatever feelings got through had to be honest. That look on his face, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, made you want to close your eyes, too. See it how he’s seeing it. 

You swallowed, realizing his eyes were open, and your voice was so quiet it rasped a little at the first word. You had this look on your face that told him you were about to be so, so good to him. “Can we try again?”

You found yourself yielding more of your rigidity to Stiles while he guided you into his room. It was more like you were guiding him to his room, the way you held his hand and offered reassuring glances. He looked at you like he wasn’t really sure how it was going to happen. As if, even without the pollen, it still wouldn’t turn out how it should. But his confidence grew as you shut the door and placed his hands on your hips. He had to lower his shoulders, and he had to breathe. Mumbling an “okay” to calm himself down, he looked at you to try to stay in the moment. 

“I’m gonna do this right.”

You opened your mouth to stop that thought. You wanted to tell him that the other night, it wasn’t ‘wrong,’ it was different. Sure, every time you’d imagined sleeping with Stiles, which was admittedly far too often, it had nothing to do with a weird ritual sex powder, but that didn’t mean that, since you both were on the same page, you couldn’t try again. You wanted him to see just how willing you were to be on the same page as him. To say something like, “I’d do it again.” Before you could work up anything to articulate that, he shook his head, already seeing the protest in your face.

“I gotta make it up to you.”

You stopped thinking to play the sentence back, and you looked up to see him smiling a little. Not in a cocky way, but one that made damn sure you knew what he meant. He stammered out the rest of his nerves, “Remem–remember?”

He didn’t want you to think he was uncontrollable or desperate like he was the other day. That’s how he felt with you in the moment, but he could do better than to lose it. He had to remember that it was always easy with you. He was always talking, but with you, it felt like he never had to find a time to stop or a time to start again. He never had a version of himself to maintain in your eyes. You always spoke your mind for him; he never had to do the work of wondering. Inside jokes, sleepovers, weekend road trips into the cities, awkward conversations, growing into more of yourselves and more excited to find out what these versions of yourselves thought about each other. 

You had said that, with each other’s best interests in mind, neither of you had to worry. And you always had his best interest in mind. From when you dragged him, tipsy and loud, out of another underage party to sober him up for the ACT in the morning or when you gave him the pep talk he needed to apply for the college he wanted to go to instead of letting him worry about the town or his dad or leaving his friends, to shaking him by the shoulders to recite good things about him when he started to sink into dark places and making sure he never felt like he was losing his mind during dark times. He knows your voice by heart, especially the tone you drop to when you find him in panic attacks. He knows because he replays it in his head at night when he wakes up, grasping for something real and counting his fingers. 

 To you, he wasn’t scrawny; he was lean and fit. He wasn’t just sarcastic; he was ribs-hurting-embarrassing-laugh funny. He wasn’t annoying; he was informed and passionate. You made sure to tell him preseason lacrosse conditioning was doing wonders, especially since the new routine Coach put them on, because you knew how he could fail to see his own improvement. You saw something in him that made you comfort him after making a stupid decision that led to him doing something risky. Something that made you okay with that. So, when he saw the smile on your face telling him you remembered how he had insisted on making it up to you, he felt his chest lighten. Even if you looked just about as nervous as him, though you looked up at him with a promising curiosity. Stiles’s fingers found your bra strap where it curved over your shoulder and hooked his fingers underneath in an attempt to soothe you. There was a more assured look in his eyes. His hands were gentle, constantly asking you for the authority he took so intensely before. It felt more like you were really giving him something, not just letting him have it. He liked this more.

Then, he paused. It settled in. That night, when he was sweating the remnants of the pollen’s effect out on the tile of the bathroom, he wasn’t really sure if he could figure this out in a way that your friendship remained. The pollen made everything more intense, so he still wasn’t thinking straight, and his mind wouldn’t let him explore the possibility of what he’d do without you. So, he just didn’t. Now, you had held his hand and kissed him and touched him all in a world where he’d done something wrong. And he wanted to lean into it. His blank face as he realized this made you falter, head tilted at him.

Stiles broke out into the biggest smile you think you’d ever seen as he leaned forward, cupping your face in order to catch your mouth in his ardent attempt to kiss you. He couldn’t stop grinning against your lips, clashing teeth and messy grazes that called for a break just so that he could rest his forehead against yours and laugh. He was really gonna lean into this. 

You grinned back, impatiently staring at his lips. You felt his thumbs come up to wipe the corner of your mouth. “That’s my bad.”

”There’s nothing bad about you,” You softly retorted.

He looked up at the ceiling, chewing on the smile that his humility wouldn’t let him show you, “You saying that says more about you than me.”

You had a proud kind of grin on your face, just like the one you had that first lacrosse game he scored in. He slowly guided you onto his bed, leaning you back and kissing your neck, migrating back up to your mouth. When you pulled away to take a breath, his head followed, taking a few kisses for himself as you breathed. His hand seemed to find yours without trying, like he’d had enough practice or thought about it enough to know exactly where it would be. Your hand, entangled with his, brought his to the hemline of your shirt and, before he had realized, snuck his hand underneath. Stiles pushed out a breath. “I thought you were gonna hate me.” He whispered as he lifted the fabric slowly.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.” You felt his hands go on without yours up the expanse of your torso, just ghosting his fingertips across your ribcage. “I think I was waiting for something to happen between us. I wasn’t expecting something like that, but…I actually wanted something to happen.” 

 Stiles’s hands were paused on the cups of your bra, listening to your voice nervously fluctuate. “I know that might make me a bad person, but I think I’ve felt like our friendship was more for a while. Not like I was yearning or anything cause, well, it was perfect. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Stiles’s eyes were on you.

“I was comfortable. We were already close, and we were busy enough. I was just scared to change anything, so it felt right to let it be. I liked it when you tried to make me laugh, and when you tried to braid my hair, and how you always cheered me up, and when you invited me over to watch movies as soon as you had free time, and that was it, I guess.”

“Me, too.” His smile hooked downward in a smile, almost surprised to hear himself say it while he felt the pattern that lined your bra. He started to broaden his smile when his fingers felt skin. You mirrored him with your own unique smile, the one you wore in the picture of the whole friend group in summer that he’s got saved in his phone. The first time you wore a bikini in front of anyone, but that wasn’t why he spent so long looking at it. Well—partly— but it was because that smile was one he didn’t have too many pictures of. He was lifting you up from behind, antics the group had been up to all day at the lake, and you were laughing so hard you didn’t fight back. You knew he’d set you back down safely because you trusted him. It was every other boy who would have thrown you off the dock, but not Stiles. That smile meant trust and comfort.

“And,” He mumbled, eye line shifting to your shoulders as he pulled your shirt over them. You hummed, and he tried to keep talking even though he could finally put an image to the feeling of your bra. “I like it when you wear low-cut tops.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at the sound of him continuing, “And when you come over just to drag me out of bed and make lunch with me. And when you sing in the car. And when you do your makeup, and I get to watch.”

You felt the intensity deepen as Stiles tilted his head and kissed the curve between your neck and shoulders. “I like it when you try to make me feel cool for wearing Star Wars T-shirts. I like…”

His tongue pressed warmly against your skin as if he was distracted and needed to do it quickly before he lost the chance. “I like it when you fix my hair and let me drive and laugh at my jokes. I like when you get defensive for me and how, when you talk, you look at me like you care what I’ll say back. I like how good you are to me and–”

All said while he lapped at the column of your throat and his hand cradled your head. Your hands softly reached down and, provoked by the vigor of his kisses, slid underneath his waistband. It shut him up in a verbal sense, but his mouth opened wider if anything. He moaned against your neck as you palmed at him, more bold than even you anticipated. But once you could feel him, you felt need when you swallowed and blinked and pushed your hips up. It got worse when he started to grind against your hand, inspired by the way your palm pressed against his happy trail. Willing himself to take the initiative, Stiles sat up on his knees. His eyes took you in as a whole, not in bites. He was more vocal, animated, curious rather than desperate and determined. He was still smiling down at you, though it faded so he could seriously ask if he could take your pants off. 

“Unless that’s not–”

“Stiles, don’t make me beg.”

Nodding vigorously, his hands pulled you by your waist closer to him and began sliding your jeans off. Once they were inside-out on the floor, Stiles had to think before deciding it was okay to let his eyes wander. You wanted to let him have the time to think everything through, but he didn’t realize his knee was pressed against your underwear, and you had built up a demand for him. Your thoughts were flooded with his actions that night, but worse because of how different it could be this time. With his gentle hands and nervous excitement. He’d get to take his time, and you’d get to appreciate it. You grinned at the potential and breathed out the words so he could hear them, maybe get him out of his head.

“You can touch me.”

As you pushed your hips up, trying to get his attention, Stiles’s eyes fell, audibly approving of the dark spot between your legs. It felt like you were giving him a gift, not like that night, but he wanted this much, much more than perfect cookies. He went straight for his reward, pressing the pads of his fingers against the wet fabric, echoing your curiosity, and slid his thumb underneath the side of your underwear to find the source. He’d never been more focused–or harder–in his life. Your voice caught his attention. A needy “take 'em off.”

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

You had a proud kind of grin on your face, just like the one you had that first lacrosse game he scored in. Bringing his head up, Stiles kissed your neck again, migrating back up to your mouth. When you pulled away to take a breath, his head followed, taking a few kisses for himself as you breathed. His hand seemed to find yours without trying, like he’d had enough practice or thought about it enough to know exactly where it would be. He trusted himself now, at least more than he would have an hour earlier. 

Once your underwear was buried somewhere in the mess of discarded clothing, he paused. He wanted to try something, justifying it before your eyes. The gears turned, deciding he’d try his best to really thank you. Gently leaning down, Stiles rested his forehead on your chest and spoke with heavy breath, “Y’can stop me. F’you want.”

 Adjusting his body so he could move down to his goal smoothly, he began kissing in a pattern so anticipatory you weren’t prepared for when you felt him press his tongue into your clit. Your breath hitched, not having much time to breathe before he was fully committed. Stiles liked this way of thanking you, not just the taste or the way you felt gasping for more air to moan out, but because it felt like an altar. It was a physically fitting position to thank you. Sure, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing, but from your reactions and his view of them from between your legs, he could do some inferring. He had an urge, he acted on it and watched to see if you liked it. You liked it. A lot. You were sucking in deep breaths while his hand reached up to find yours and encourage you to keep whining his name. He was sucking and licking and pressing his mouth into you, looking up every so often. His eyes found yours, and you let your head lull back. 

“Stiles—“ you whimpered.

Without thinking, he asked, “Hm?” against you, eyes shooting up at the view as you whined needily. Curiosity was one of your favorite things about Stiles. He was always studying things like everything was something yet to be taken apart, learned, and put back together. With a hand gently set on his head, you asked him to stop. His head bolted up, “Why?” But you were already pulling him back to you. He eagerly complied, kissing you again, his head clearing when he realized what you could taste on his lips. “Oh, fuck.”

Stiles had himself lined up with your entrance, eyes jumping from one place to another. He was halted above you, looking into your eyes. He could see the need you were radiating, but he needed a little more than a look. “Stiles?” He could hear the fear in your voice. That he was having second thoughts or changed his mind.

“I need something.” His hand brushed back and forth on your thigh, comforting you.

You nodded, “Yeah?”

“Tell me you want this.”

Your face softened, taking your next words very seriously. “Stiles, I want this. I really want this. Please.”

This time, Stiles was focused on more than how it felt to be inside you. He watched your face contort, then come to rest with your mouth open in pleasure, lips wrapped around his name. He started to smile, leaning down, letting his arms slide beneath you, getting rid of the space between the both of you and tucking his face beside yours. You could hear how deep his breaths were, how they hitched when he mumbled, how they mixed with his words along with whines, so it all came out as needy as he felt. As needy as you felt. His smile was concentrated as he remembered he could just kiss you. He could just move his head above yours and kiss you, the pace he set with his hips undemanding until he swallowed one of your moans at the feeling of him pausing so deep inside you. 

Stiles was no doubt awkward in most things, but his keenness to just know things was what made him so good at sex, you deduced. He’d study something for hours, noting everything. He did the same as his fingers found motion just above where he pumped himself into you slow enough so that he could also focus on how much pressure you liked. Even with this knowledge, you still didn’t feel like an experiment. You think it was because he kept looking up into your eyes, including you, arousal pooling in his nervous mouth, held open and ready to groan when you inevitably clenched around him. It was definitely because he wouldn’t shut up. The first time, because of the pollen, he was silent, driven, guilty. Now, he was a mess of words, thanks, and curses. This mix of behavior, words, and sensations had you closer and closer to finishing than you could vocalize. Stiles watched you watch him use his thumb to swipe more of your slick up and down your clit, his thrusts still slow and steady. He smiled and applied more pressure, still fascinated by the way your back arched and your mouth opened every time. When it did, he murmured without thinking.

“You like that?”

It was innocent–genuine–but the implication made your head spin. Your whines preceded a very positive answer before your grip on his arm got tighter, and you urged him to move faster. The way your voice pitched up a little and your words lost the spaces between them, Stiles obeyed and braced himself with an arm, stiff from holding his position above you. His stomach tightened when you came around him, unaware of how your muscles would squeeze him, and he came with an unexpectedly deep groan. His chest was heaving as if he was monumentally tired and content with why. He nosed himself into hugging you, fully pressed against you, pressing would-be kisses into your shoulder, your chest, your jaw. Thankful for the condom you messily rolled on him, you let your hands gently explore his back, digging a little bit as you felt him pull out. Gently ghosting your nails up and down his torso and shoulder blades, he hummed as the feeling made him shiver. 

“I should,” he didn’t have the strength to kiss your cheek, so it was more of him pressing his face into yours. His voice was a half-assed pronunciation of what he wanted to say. “Help clean you up.”

To be fair, you felt just as tired, yet you responded. “I think I’ll take a shower. Might need you to carry me, though.”

He laughed, making the conscious mental and physical effort to sit up. You closed your eyes when his weight left the bed, relying on sound to tell you that, down the hall, he started a bath. He came back and offered one of his T-shirts, which you let him put on you before pulling him over you for his warmth. He’d found his boxers and his other T-shirt, wrapping its softness around you and letting you both give in to the exhaustion so comfortably multiplying by the minute. He knew you’d probably be asleep by the time the bath was full, but having you cling to him felt like the greatest idea in the world. He resolved himself to the idea of just carrying you to the bathroom when the time came and washing your half-asleep body if it made you happy. Knowing your standards, you’d never forgive him if he just let you forget about washing yourself tonight. The sun was setting behind his curtains, and you felt him slide his arm underneath you.

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Something I noticed in my Yellowjackets rewatch is that, whether she intended to or not, Laura Lee is the one who sent them into chaos? Coach Ben tried to stop her from flying the plane, which, you know, he was right, but it was also what he had to say/do as the Adult Authority Figure. But by getting on the plane anyway Laura Lee fully ended the illusion of his authority and any kind of adherence to the kind of civilized hierarchy they'd been trying to cling to, and all hell broke loose almost immediately after. Probably the things everybody does after that are not what she would have wanted lol but by telling Coach Ben to politely go fuck himself Laura Lee empowered everybody else to go wild.

yes!! this!! i know i'm biased because she's my favorite character but Laura Lee's influence on the yellowjackets entire plot is so so significant. the obvious thing is the way she encouraged Lottie to believe in her visions -> Lottie started believing in the wilderness -> literally everything that's happened because of that. but!! this thing about Coach Scott is sooo real too. she really was the first one to defy and actually full on disregard his authority. that absolutely was the the beginning of his downfall

and there's so much to consider about it too! like. the cutest, nicest, least threatening member of the team standing up to him and winning? oh that ruined him. but also! uh. she very much died. you can't blame him because she really insisted and nobody else stopped her either but... what if you can blame him a little? he's even more ruined!

and now i'm thinking about previous interactions between these two. there's obviously the scene in the pilot where she smoothly manipulates him into letting her make the whole team pray with her. but also there's the moment before she basically exorcises lottie. to be fair he was drugged by misty. but there was a crisis in the cabin, the girls might have been in danger, she asked him to help, and he just threw up. so useless... again, i know it wasn't his fault. but i'm thinking maybe it was then that she lost her respect for him and that emboldened her to stand up to him the way she did about that plane. "what are you going to do to stop me, coach? (because last time you didn't do anything at all)"

and one last thought! as if laura lee defying him and even dying to make it worse wasn't enough to completely ruin his reputation and authority, what happens next with him? who's next to brush him off? lottie! lottie, who believed everything laura lee said and in turn will make everyone believe what she says. he tries to step in during jackie and shauna's fight, lottie tells him to stay out of it, he does, and then another girl dies! final nail in his coffin (and that's without even going on s2 and how he didn't participate in the jackie feast and didn't help when shauna was giving birth. but that's another subject)

[qoldenskies]

OUGH thank you so much for answering- this fic haunts my mind in the best possible way.. I'm looking forward to the epilogue, no pressure to finish quickly!! I had another thought pop up, since he said he didn't want to lose April too in cc, does that mean he'd never have that app installed to keep April from downloading that app, since he wouldn't want her to be upset?

And you mentioned Donnie only wanting to go to Raph if it's something worth going to him for, what does Donnie consider worthy?

Does Leo ever once think to himself that all of it could have been avoided if they'd just listened to him and not gone to that new place to eat?

This one might seem odd, I apologize for that- Is Donnie sensitive to being yelled at in general, or just from his brothers specifically? Like if an audio is shouting at the screen, is he triggered?

How did the showing of the sheet of Donnie's mistakes go down? I might have missed this somehow- apologies about that. /gen

Okay I have to say this again. I GENUINELY LOVE HOW YOU WRITE I feel exactly like I'm in the story it's crazy... If it were a hardbook I would buy it /pos

YIPPEEEEEE MORE!!! :DDDD

does that mean he'd never have that app installed to keep April from downloading that app, since he wouldn't want her to be upset?

it's already said and done at this point and there's a VERY good chance donnie has forgotten about it lol. i think he'd needed access to april's phone in order to install it so there's a good chance he'd nabbed it and done that when she wasnt looking at some point (the little shit lmao) so he cant go and remove it remotely, and if he ever ends up remembering i think she'd kinda shut him down because its convenient. it WAS right when it went off and im sure they've already had a discussion about it where april thanked him for the sentiment and agreed to keep it because an antivirus was a good thing, but made a point about donnie doing shit like that behind her back lmao. dont touch her stuff without permission!!

donnie definitely wouldn't end up putting trackers in them, though! its mentioned as something he's considering pretty early in CL but it doesnt end up happening, and i think he'd be worried about it being too big an invasion of privacy. he wouldn't want them to be upset if they found out-- although there's a chance they might voluntarily go with the idea if he ever brings it up. ironically, that'd probably be a post-invasion conversation, because i could see the paranoia of them being hurt again spurring him into it.

And you mentioned Donnie only wanting to go to Raph if it's something worth going to him for, what does Donnie consider worthy?

donnie would very rarely approach raph unless its kind of paired with a real "reason", which usually means most talks they have are utilitarian and productive. things about the team, mostly, or something in relation to one of the others. or maybe donnie's bringing up an idea for team support, or offering to fix something for him (the weight rack haunts him, and he doesn't even remember it), or just wanting him to give a gift and needing an idea of what to scope out first. things like that.

he looks for raph's pride and appreciation more than anything. he wants to hear a "good job" and raph is increasingly more reluctant to give it, mostly because he knows donnie is prone to overworking behind their backs and he doesn't want to validate self-destructive behavior like that. its really hard to find the line especially because donnie will freak out if he gets too confrontational. "we dont want you to do good, helpful things if it hurts you to do them" is a concept that is REALLY hard for him to grasp. you know how in coming undone he hears "we dont want you to" and thinks it means "we dont want you"? yeah

raph works around it by being the one to initiate, usually. even if donnie needs something from him he's not going to be the one to come to him, so raph tries his hardest to bridge the gap and seem approachable. it's kind of awkward when they just hang out one by one, doing something together instead of just engaging in parallel play, because its been so long and both of them are so careful about appeasing the other, but they figure it out slowly.

Does Leo ever once think to himself that all of it could have been avoided if they'd just listened to him and not gone to that new place to eat?

to this day they do not know it was because they went there,,, leo mentions the night after where they cuddle up together only because its the last time they ever really do something like that, but they mention a lot that they dont remember exactly when it started (and the weight rack is earlier than their earliest estimate!), with the onset being so slow and with their thought processes being so clouded by all these excuses and rationalizations, its hard to say for sure. what's an extension of how they already acted and what isnt? they'll never really know.

if he learned about it though, oh yeah. this time he would not be reveling in being right, and if he was the only one who learned about it he would NEVER tell mikey, considering he was the one who was so pushy about going there in the first place.

leo thinks the most about how witch town was caused by what he perceives as his own negligence. i think all of them have a tendency to see their old selves as a lot worse than they actually were-- because they cared about donnie a lot and they did take care of him when he needed it. leo's the worst about it, because while raph and mikey will get caught up on the idea of knowing about witch town at all, leo's quicker to cut to the core of the problem-- would have donnie ever lashed out like that if they'd just known, and been able to reassure him, before it ever got to that point? why did leo's stupid younger self have to dismiss all of the signs?? miner's eulogy heavily features this thought process, which is why learning about witch town makes him react so badly in the first place.

Is Donnie sensitive to being yelled at in general, or just from his brothers specifically? Like if an audio is shouting at the screen, is he triggered?

donnie was already bad with yelling even before the Horrors and that's just because he's incredibly sound-sensitive and jumpy. if strangers yell he's bound to fall over like a baby goat regardless, which i think is just kind of intensified in cc!donnie. more likely he'll bolt like a skittish cat if he's shocked by a sudden noise like that. where is he even going? who knows. he just took off LMAO

otherwise i think it just really depends. there's bound to be a lot of shouting in battle so i think after a while he'll become desensitized to it, but i think if he was watching something that hit a little too close to home he'd probably just kind of freeze. i dont think he'd go fully dissociative but his breath would catch and he'd be slow to respond if they talked to him, and they honestly just might mistake it as him being drowsy/falling asleep until they notice him shaking. for some reason my brain went to tangled,, certain parts around the end there might hit a little close to home for obvious reasons.

How did the showing of the sheet of Donnie's mistakes go down? I might have missed this somehow- apologies about that. /gen

it happened specifically away from donnie because raph knew it was going to upset leo and mikey a LOT, especially because both of them would demand details, it's just the type of people they are-- idk i've always just kind of assumed in my head that raph would physically be able to show it to them since he was already given donnie's permission to, dont think about logistics too hard. it was a really rough conversation though, especially tangibly seeing the way that the curse pre-closet fucked him up. it just gets worse the more you think about it.

a wall was probably punched. and it was probably leo (and donnie never sees this, the way that it affected him, because leo keeps such a tight hold on his anger and despair for his sake). and raph knew something like that was going to happen, which is why he kept it away from him. there's multiple times especially early in cw where they do things like this, talk about things that donnie expressed privately (or things they only witnessed, like raph catching donnie sleep on the floor), it's just the only time it's shown in donnie's perspective and he really ruminates on it. it was probably the right choice to make, raph just should've been more clear it was what he meant. mikey the mvp for being so open about things tbh

mwah mwah <33

[killerlittlerejects]

@ellzilla @xxsweetoothxx THEY’RE FINALLY DONE FINALLY HERE AHHHH

These are SO overdue, I’m so sorry 😭 but here are your pretty clowns for your goofy goobers! There’s so much more I wanted to do, but the sickness said no lol.

Oh grumpy Jill, my beloved ❤️ god, I never actually thought we’d get grumpy Jill, but after everything that’s happened to her in this universe? I don’t blame her.

Jack and her… well, they have pretty complicated relationship. There’s still levels of care and love there, but she absolutely hates his guts at the same time. He isn’t the same Jack that she’d fallen for all that time ago, and she isn’t the Jill he knew anymore. Most of their interactions would be them insulting/yelling at each other, as mean as that sounds, but every now and then… ya get those very rare, silent moments of affection.

The best way I can describe her is that grumpy old neighbor across the street that everyone is afraid of, but is actually really sweet and kind when you cut through that stony exterior (granted she still mean as fuck LMAO). She def beats up Jack for dragging poor Will into his shenanigans.

Next we have the wonderful Daz/Dazzle! AKA Jill/Julian

I recall that (please correct me if I’m wrong) that Jack/Jill are kinda the same entity, and with Ragz haveing a more feminine form, I wanted to do the same with Daz. As the centuries moved on, they really developed a love for the Gyaru fashion and really loves to doll themselves up. I picture there’s and Ragz’s relationship completely platonic, they’re more like siblings than anything else. Dazzle is very protective over him and will do anything to make them happy.

I headcanon that they have a drag act called ✨razzle dazzle✨(see what I did there?). I also think they have a thing for Jeff LMAO

Finally, here are so cute head shots! I showed them before, but I wanted to show them again because I think they’re so cute >W<

I really hope you guys like them! 

[amalthea-13]

The Octavia Dilemma (Vent/Rant Post)

TW: Divorce

I want to make it abundantly clear that this post is about myself and my feelings on Via. This does not reflect the greater fandom or all Stolas Stans.

This is a reflection of my feelings and my feelings alone. Do not utilize this post to generalize all Stolas Stans since many of them are going to agree with about 60% of my post and I'm fine with that.

Moving on,

Hello everyone! It is I, Amalthea, the Ultimate Stolas Kinnie and Stan, reporting to you live on a topic I was initially going to not talk about, but became more compelled to talk about since well- I didn't want to talk about Stella. (I'd rather not lol)

When it comes to Octavia and her rejecting Stolas I have very, very mixed feelings on the topic. While many of you may think she was right or wrong, I'm going to give you the perspective from a person who lived this stuff during my preteens.

I won't go into details, but my parental unit picked another person over my family. Parent A decided to pick Person C over Parent B and that will never not mess me up till this day.

When Parent A left, I was alone without the only thing I wanted, closure. I didn't understand why I was abandoned. I didn't understand how Parent A just thought I didn't matter anymore.

Parent B had to struggle and I just had to- watch morbidly as my world fell apart.

One of the things I absolutely can't agree with Octavia doing is walking away from Stolas when he came back to her.

She has this entire speech, victimizing herself solely(not faulting her for it, just stating it), and not asking the question why and that is where I will say the Hellaverse team failed. Kids of divorce always ask the question why. We seek a reason and yet Octavia just makes baseless accusations at Stolas that hold no water.

I mean your father, the man who has stood by your side, and loved on you for ages suddenly has an affair with a strange imp from his past and you don't even- think to ask why? Or let him explain?

Octavia willingly parentified herself to cope, which again as someone who is parentified, that makes no sense to me. Parentification happens when no one is around to help you or support you, but Octavia had her dad right fucking there. She rejected him, and seemingly can't understand he's depressed???

Again, I am speaking for myself, but this entire rant of hers makes no sense to me. She's seen him light up around Blitz, be more open (maybe to open), and be happier, but doesn't acknowledge it???

My issue, a reminder I am talking about myself , with Octavia is she makes everything solely about herself and asks no important questions about her father. I know she is a rich girl, but she is shown to be empathetic and kind overall, so it feels out of character she doesn't even- try to understand. Even if it's hard.

When Parent A came back into my life I begged for a reason why. Why the hell did you leave!? What did Person C have that I didn't!? Why did you raise their child you didn't birth but not me!? What did I do wrong!? What was so bad you left!?

None of these questions were asked, Octavia goes straight to making accusations which makes no sense. The fact she expected Blitz to die??? Like Loona wasn't going to be fatherless??? Like she's 17. Via is a bright and smart girl. Did she really look down on Blitz that much??? (genuine question, not tryna be a smart ass)

Octavia: You lied to me.

Stolas: What?

Octavia: *pushes Stolas away* You lied to me! You said you would never leave me! You promised!

Stolas: Via. I-I didn't leave you I-I- I would never, it wasn't my choice.

Octavia: It was your choice. You chose HIM!

I also think this whole scene is why Stolas made the choice he made. While he had an inclination he could die- he knew his privilege could possibly save him. It's why he was a bit confused and not sure of what was going to happen.

He was hanging onto the hope he'd not die. Afterwards the reality sets in as to what he had just done and what he truly lost. Stolas took a risk on a hunch.

The man had no choice. As a father, as a person, as a soulmate, he was in an impossible situation where he had to use his privilege. He had no other option or Loona would be fatherless.

Stolas: Via, no! I didn't I just- I had to. You don't understand.

Octavia: *clenches fist as magic forms* I do understand! I understand that we were never enough for you! You never loved mother, and you don't love me, you love him. *holds up happy pills* And you needed THESE! Was this my fault that you needed these?

Stolas: No! No, never Via! *grabs Octavia's hands* Sweetie, please. You have always been the only good thing in my life!

Octavia: So does that mean you just stayed miserable because of me? *tearing up* Was I some fucking obligation? Is that why you didn't even hesitate when you got a chance to leave?

This next part always pisses me off because Via's expectation of her father are so high. That he cannot have autonomy outside of their family. She is so attached at the hip to him that anytime he deviates from loving her entirely it is a slight against her.

Also the obligation part of that statement boils my blood, because girl- you don't even know what it is like to have your parent look at you and tell you to your face "you're just a responsibility to me". Because I lived that shit. I lived knowing Parent A didn't want me because I was just to much.

Stolas stayed and loved on this girl. He gave her the whole universe and more and somehow that isn't enough.

Of course I sympathize with the sentiment, but nothing in Stolas's behavior nor him being with Blitz suggests she was ever solely an obligation to him.

If Stolas truly viewed her as a responsibility he wouldn't show any concern for her. Parent A in my life acted distant and emotionally withdrawn. They didn't take care of me anymore, acting like a ghost of their former self. They took care of my most basiepc and fundamental needs while Octavia is borderline spoiled and-

FUCK why couldn't I have that!? She sits there and complains but her parent came back for her?! She had a chance at closure and denied it! What kid of divorce does that!? What person does that?!

I know I shouldn't have this much turmoil over this. I really shouldn't. If anything I should be sympathizing with her entirely. Theoretically I should hate Stolas, but I can't because I know what it's like to be guilted for choosing yourself! I know what it's like to be forced to feel bad for being depressed! It's why I love Stolas so much and understand him completely.

But when it comes to Via, the character who borderline mimics my trauma I just- can't fully empathize. I can rationalize her thinking and- understand where it may stem from, but it still leaves me aggravated and unsatisfied.

While I may be ranting and rambling at this point- I may just be projecting and it's why I said to not take this post as something to generalize the collective- but I am thoroughly dissatisfied with Octavia's writing.

So much of it tries to mimic divorce related trauma, but none of what she has been through would initiate such a response.

She hasn't been abandoned, her father is right there.

She isn't an obligation, all of her needs are met and she gets all she wants along with a nurturing environement.

She was enough for her father, he came back for her. If she wasn't enough he'd never come back.

All of the claims she makes are easily debunked with rational thinking and do not make sense when you have lived through divorce yourself. Again, I can be projecting, but FUCK I needed to vent about this.

It just feels like such a fickle iteration of what real divorce looks like for us.

Ask Box is Open ofc.