#mind you this is shit I never would have encountered on my own but a very sweet person shared it in her Insta story

[hauntedfalcon]

my desire to tell people I know when they circulate AI art

VERSUS

my knowledge that telling them will, at best, be a little downer in their day

VERSUS

my burning need to not see AI art circulated on my feed and dash and stories because it’s so fucking ugly and annoying

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Constantine Is Having Fae Problems

Not as in 'problems with the fae', but as in 'the Batfam don't understand shit about fae and it is somehow Constantine's problem'

"Thank you."

Whatever thoughts Constantine had before come to a screeching halt. He slowly turns around, praying he's misheard, but, unfortunately, no. He heard that right.

The black-haired kid - he looks like a kid, but, really, he is not, and he is not even human to begin with - is smiling at Nightwing, who just laughs and ruffles the boy's hair.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," the moronic eldest batkid says, like it's not a big deal, and Constantine just... can't. He is not dealing with this right now. He needs a drink.

And then it happens again. Not with the Nightwing, though. This time, it's Black Bat. Now, in all honesty, Constantine is not so sure about her being human either, what with her appearing out of goddamn aether and being silent as a ghost, but the point still stands. The new addition to Bat's menagerie of children, the fae boy, the changeling who insists he is Robin's brother, thanks her.

It's quick and easy, just like a human would say it, and Black Bat just nods back at him, but Constantine knows what it means. He knows the weight of fae gratitude.

The big question is, do the Bats know it?

He promises himself to address this issue later with the Big Bat himself. But every time he encounters the man, he just forgets to bring it up. Constantine strongly suspects it's not his bad memory at fault here, but a certain fae. Not that he is going to outright go and blame the damned creature, of course, Constantine values his life, mind, and consciousness. Also, he is very aware of the consequences of talking to the fae, unlike the furry brigade.

Alas, he can't forget something if he witnesses with his own eyes. So the next time he is in the Batcave, he makes it a point to wait until the same thing eventually happens. And, score for Constantine, it does.

"Thank you," the kid - again, not a kid, not a human, but whatever - tells Red Robin, and Constantine immediately snaps his head to him, pointing a finger at the smiling fae.

"I mean no disrespect, but what are you doing?"

The kid - Danny, as he insists to be called, although Constantine knows better than to call a fae by any name - tilts his head to the side. He looks confused, but there's a sly glint to his blue eyes. Oh, the fucker knows exactly what he means. He just doesn't want to admit to it.

"What do you mean?" It's not him, but Red Robin asking, and Constantine turns to look him in the eyes. Mask. Whatever.

"He is thanking-" a terrible thought crosses Constantine's mind, and he stares at Red Robin with horror, "Oh, don't tell me you were all thanking him and apologizing to him like he is a human being."

"I don't see how this is your business," Red Robin scolds, and his eyes narrow. Constantine can't see his actual eyes through the mask, but he knows the Bats well enough to know the kid looks as deadpan as he can.

"You can't do that!" He reaches down to the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but stops halfway. Right, no smoking in the Batcave. Wait, he never obeyed that rule! Constantine turns to glare at the fae boy. Danny appears as innocent as a newborn baby. Little bastard.

"Quit making a scene," comes another voice, and this one John recognizes, turning to look at little Robin. Now that he thinks about it, the demonic child claimed the fae as his brother, and he definitely should know how to talk to fae!

"Why didn't you tell them about the rules?!" He asks Robin, and the kid doesn't even bat an eye at him.

"You will not accuse me of incompetence in front of my brother," Robin huffs, not stepping closer and keeping one hand on his hip, "I did."

"You-"

"Okay, how about you calm down?" Danny interjects, and John is positive this is the first time he's heard the boy say anything other than 'thank you'. He turns to the fae, facing him, and, oh, Jesus, those are not human eyes. Or teeth. Or face. Holy fuck how do Bats live with this, it's like uncanny valley but hundreds times worse.

"If I tell you I use it for easier access, will you leave it be?" The fae tilts his head again, and this time it is not in confusion, but in the eerie manner of how all very much not human beings do it. Constantine swallows, but doesn't back down.

"Access to what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Transportation," Danny provides. This does not explain shit and he knows it. Red Robin groans and rolls his eyes.

"We use it to summon Danny if we need him. It's faster than calling or texting."

Constantine freezes.

These fucking kids. Are using the fae debts. To summon him. Because they don't like texting.

Do they know that they can literally ask a fae to destroy a small country to fulfill a debt like that? It's not just a small favor, it's a gratitude. Fae take their gratitude very seriously. They value it. A lot.

Actually, you know what, no. John is not going to be explaining that part to them because God knows the batkids are all batshit crazy and this is an opportunity he is not willing to give them.

So he just nods stiffly, turns around, and heads to the zeta tube.

"Thank you for caring about my family," he hears a voice behind him, full of mischief and joy. Constantine feels the weight of the newly acquired debt, or better call it a favor, bind itself to his soul, and, great, he now has the power to part the sea like Moses, but only once.

He needs a drink. No, correction, he needs a whole bar to himself.

Wait, that's an idea.

"Get me a bottle of good bourbon, and we're even," he throws around his shoulder, stepping into a zeta tube.

When he steps out of it, there's an unlabeled bottle in his hand. John sighs and opens it, foregoing the glass or cup and drinking straight from the neck.

...It's good bourbon.

Inspired by @blackfoxsposts

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[marril96]

Reasons

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha wants to know why you wanted to go on the Road.

You knew you were in trouble when Agatha left the rest of the coven huddled around a fire and joined you in the forest area, away from prying ears.

You needed some peace and quiet. The trials were emotionally tasking. Risking your life day by day, doing things such as drinking poison and performing a song while fire raged around you…

It was a lot.

But this was your life now.You knew full well what you were signing up for. Agatha had warned you, loud and clear.

The choice to come here was yours, and you would make it all over again if given a chance for what you wanted — what you needed — from the Road wasn't something easily attainable. You'd be damned if you were to give up now.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

"Y/N," Agatha said as she approached you, casual, hands in the pockets of her coat. Like she were on a walk in a park rather than a dangerous and deadly Road.

"Yeah?" You weren't really in the mood to talk, your batteries still low from the latest trial. It didn't help that you didn't feel fully at ease with the others. The kid was fine, but the other witches made you nervous. You didn't trust them. You didn't know them.

The only one you really knew was Agatha. Which was why you just stood there instead of moving away or feigning sleepiness as she walked over, something clearly on her mind. It paid off to have befriended her back in the day. It was by pure chance, an encounter neither one of you expected, but, in hindsight, you were both glad it had happened.

She had earned a listening ear, someone to confide in, who wouldn't judge her no matter what. Someone who would have her back even if the rest of the world were to turn against her.

You had earned a protector in a world that was dangerous for your kind.

"We need to talk," Agatha said. Her tone didn't reveal much; you didn't know what to expect.

You turned to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy."

"Is Jen talking shit about you again? My offer to punch her in the face still stands," you said. You'd nearly done so a couple days back, but Agatha had held you back. She could handle Jen, she'd said. Her words had meant nothing to her.

It didn't make hearing lies and slander about your friend feel any better, but if she said she was okay, then that was that. Agatha was centuries old; much older than you. She may have been powerless now, but she could still hold her own. She'd heard worse. She'd lived through worse. Some random witch's petty insults didn't bother her.

Agatha chuckled. "Jen is… Jen. But no, she hasn't said anything."

"Then what's up?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" you said, nervous. You forced a smile. "Are you back in your true crime mode? Are you gonna manhandle me until I confess?"

"That's cute," Agatha said, rolling her eyes, prompting you to laugh.

If you'd known Wanda Maximoff had cast a spell on her, you would have come and gotten her out of it sooner — or tried to, at the very least. That was the thing about friendships that lasted for centuries; a lot of time was spent apart. It wasn't unusual for one of you to disappear for a few years and then pop back into the other's life. You missed her when she was gone, of course you did, but she had her life, and you had yours.

It was only when she'd showed up at your door with Teen in tow that you'd finally found out why she'd gone radio silent for three years. And, much to your disappointment, the witch who'd done it to her was dead, so you couldn't even punch her for it, or call her a bitch to her face.

Such was life.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, taken aback.

"On the Road," she clarified. "Why are you here?"

Because you wanted something you could never have without it. Simple as that. "You asked me to come."

"No, I didn't. I told you I was going. You demanded I take you with me."

Right. You'd hoped that little detail would slip by her. You should've known by now she kept track of everything; her mind was as sharp as her magic.

"I haven't seen you in three years," you said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. "I wanted to hang out with you. And, like, maybe get some more power along the way."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Yes. She did. Multiple times in the past. Which was why, whenever the two of you needed to swindle someone — for whatever reason — she was the one doing the talking and you just nodded along and smiled.

"You did."

"Yes," Agatha said. "I did. Because you are."

You sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"There's nothing to say."

There was a lot, actually, but you didn't dare open up that particular can of worms. Once it was said, it could never be taken back. So why say anything at all?

"Oh, is there?" Agatha said sarcastically.

"Don't do that," you said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Because you're my friend. Because I don't want to ruin this. "Because I'm asking you not to. That used to mean something."

"It still does." Her voice was soft. Tender. Gone was the sarcasm, the defensive sharpness. It was just her now. Your friend.

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Leave it alone." You knew she wouldn't. She never did.

"Y/N," Agatha said, your name but a whisper on her lips.

You sighed. Was she really going to do this now? Why couldn't she just take you at your word and put up with a little white lie? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"Why did you want to come here?" She wasn't demanding. She wasn't prodding. She was just asking.

She knew you couldn't resist her for too long.

The perks of allowing Agatha Harkness to be your close friend. She knew you too well for your own good.

A lump formed in your throat. Heat bit at the back of your neck like a curse about to swallow you whole. Your heart raced, a marathon booming in your chest.

There was a silence, long, drawn out. Then, in your quietest, softest voice, you said, "You know why."

She always did.

She always knew everything.

Secrets weren't secrets for long around Agatha Harkness.

You tried to tell yourself that you were being careful, that your emotions were in check at all times, but the truth was, your poker face was worse than your lying skills. You just pretended you were doing a good job, and Agatha went along with it.

To her credit, she never tried to take advantage. She never made fun of you for it, or played games. The deal was friendship, and that's what she gave you. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"I want to hear it from you."

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. Your cheek burned like a fireplace. Your mouth trembled, holding the words back, wanting to keep them trapped forever. But what would be the point, really? The truth was bound to come out eventually.

The truth had been out for a long time, written all over your face. A big, scarlet letter for all the world to know how you really felt. What you really wanted, but never felt like you could have.

"You." It felt almost freeing to say it out loud, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe in a way you hadn't for years. "I came here because I want you."

Really, what else could you have possibly wanted? You were satisfied with the power you had. You got by. Your life wasn't in danger. There was nothing for you to ask for, that you didn't already have.

Except for one thing you thought — you knew — was unattainable.

Agatha Harkness. One of the most powerful witches you'd ever gotten to know. Rumored to be cruel and ruthless, heartless. A remorseless monster. A serial killer of witches. Your best — and only — friend. The love of your life.

"Go on," you said after a few moments of silence. "Make fun of me."

"Now, why would I do that?" Agatha asked, appalled at the suggestion. Offended for sbe thought you knew her better than that.

Which was exactly why you were so afraid. She hid her feelings expertly. Rather than admit vulnerability, she preferred to go on the offensive. A scorpion stinging with its venom where it hurt the most. She cared about you, and she trusted you, but there was no telling how she would react to something like this out in the open.

You saw how she treated people. You watched her murder witch after witch and discard the bodies as if they were nothing. You watch her climb over others to prop herself up, to rise to the top.

What was to stop her from doing the same to you?

What made you so different?

Why had she never treated you any different than one would a friend? Why had she always had your back, without you even having to ask? Why had she taken lives — many, many lives — to save yours?

Why did she trust you with her story, with memories of her son and the failed romance with Rio?

Why did she feel comfortable to bare her soul to you and let the tears flow freely, a salty river down her face each and every time she revealed a piece of her history?

"I just…" You were nervous. You were scared. You wanted to die.

"You know, honey, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Agatha said, perking up. Teasing you like she usually did; a bit mean, but with no real malice behind it. Playful. A cat throwing around a mouse it had caught. "You went on the Road to score a date? Really?"

It wasn't really a date you were after, but her point stood.

You were stupid.

This was a stupid idea, and it had backfired, and now she was going to mock you for it until the day one of you died.

"You do know all you had to do was ask, right?" she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever give me the time of day."

Agatha pressed her hands to her hips, elbows sticking out. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"

Now she was definitely taking the piss. "Come on," you said, putting on your fakest smile you knew would never fool her. "You're this amazing, badass, smoking hot witch."

She preened at the compliments. The surefire way to feel heart. She was nothing if not an attention whore.

"You-you're everything." Your everything, and more. So much more. "And I'm a nobody."

"Don't you ever say that," Agatha said in her stern, no nonsense tone. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. All daggers and sharp edges. She grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and looked into sour eyes so intently it sent chills down your spine. "Don't you ever think you're a nobody."

"Everyone else thinks that," you said quietly.

It was obvious the others didn't think much of you. You could see it on their faces; the lack of respect, the underestimation. Jen had called you Agatha's pitbull to your face.

That was all you were to them. A pathetic witch whose only purpose was to speak up for Agatha. She may have joked about Teen being her pet, but it was clear to them all that that was your job. Agatha's witch familiar who was hopelessly in love with her and barked — but never bit — at every perceived slight against her.

"Who cares what they think?" Agatha said. "You're an exceptional witch, Y/N. They are nobodies."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

No. It did not. She might use those words to manipulate some poor, unfortunate soul, but not you. Never you.

She always said it to you like it was.

"I mean, you do like to manipulate people," you joked. "And you lie better than I do."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Everyone lies better than you do."

"True." There was no denying that.

She sighed, exasperated. "You really are an idiot."

And then her mouth was on yours, and she was kissing you, and your entire world exploded into fireworks and sparks and electricity, and, for a few short moments, you weren't in a dirty, creepy forest but rather somewhere warm and welcoming, and you never wanted to leave.

Agatha was everything you had imagined, and much, much more. Fire and ice all in one. Sugar and spice and everything nice and cozy and so fucking delicious.

Hers was the taste you never wanted to give up.

She tried to lean her head back, to take a break for breath, but you grabbed her chin and kissed her again, and again, and again. Hunger like you'd never felt before overtook you. Your nerves were on fire, legs weak underneath you, but you held on, forced yourself to remain standing. To remain kissing her for you never knew when you would get another chance.

If you would get another chance.

"Honey, I may be immortal, but I still need to breathe," Agatha said with a chuckle, right against your lips. Playful. Teasing.

Deciding it was enough, you backed away. Your lips were swollen, tingling. The taste of her, all of her, still on them, lingering like a ghost of your past. Forever imprinted on your mouth, a tattoo you hoped would never fade. You never wanted to lose it. Never wanted to forget what it felt like to be kissing her.

"Sorry," you said, blushing, nervous to hell and back.

Agatha looked you in the eye once again with the same fire as earlier. "Never apologize for taking what you want. You're a witch. The world is yours for the taking."

"I don't want the world," you said. "I just want you."

"Done." She said it so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You didn't buy it.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You knew I was…" Completely and totally in love with her. "...into you."

"You have a tell," she said simply. She always could read people like an open book.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for it."

"But why?"

Agatha sighed. "Y/N, what is it that I've been teaching you since the moment we met?"

"Fuck the rules?"

She nodded. "Fuck the rules."

"To be unapologetically me," you said.

"Because…?" she prompted.

"I'm a witch, and I've got nothing to be ashamed of. If I fuck up, that's fine. Shit happens. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of magic."

Agatha grinned, brimming with pride. "That's my girl."

That's what you really were now. Her girl.

A part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. That it wasn't some dream or a hallucination the Road had inflicted on you as part of some fucked up trial.

The other part wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let go.

"Can I kiss you again?" you said, uncertain. Still not used to this new situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"You don't even have to ask," Agatha told you.

So you went for it. You kissed her. Once. Twice. Three times.

An infinite amount of times.

Later on, when it came time to get some shut eye, you kissed her goodnight, and she wrapped her arms around you. A protective cocoon, warm and safe.

And, in the morning, she was the one to wake you with a kiss of her own.

It was only fair.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans

[feelingbat-ty]

This is inspired by @aflamboyanceofflamingos post about Tim choosing to publicly hate Robin as Tim Drake, cause to love or hate someone is the best way to hide a secret identity.

I started thinking about Tim coming into contact with his teammates as a civilian and Tim using this as an opportunity to take out all the grievances he has for his team in a way, that 1) Won't cause tension and fights. And 2) let him get away with being a petty arsehole, cause it's not like superheros can just go and beat up random civilians.

And well... my hand slipped.

--- You Can't Spell Spite Without Timothy Jackson Drake ---

The amount of times YJ comes across Tim Drake in the wild would be concerning if Tim didn't stalk them as often as his busy schedule allows (which turns out to be quite often). The Beta tube in the Batcave and another secret Beta tube in the bowls of Wayne enterprise's Francisco building allows Tim easy and direct access whenever he so desires.

And well, Tim never did grow out of his stalking phase.

It would be comical - if it wasn't maddening - how often they don't realise he's there. Most of the time he's stalking trailing a member of the team he's not trying to hide his presence, it wouldn't make sense for him to, not as Tim Drake.

The team have a tally board that sits in the common room, it's at 85.

85.

His team's situational awareness is absolutely appalling. 85, they've noticed him only 85 of the hundreds of times he's followed them around?

He complains to Dick about it, a lot. He's hoping Dick will give him some tips on how to beat situational awareness into his teammates thick skulls. He was the leader of the Titans, so he has to have something!

Dick - like the asshole he secretly is - just laughs at him.

He asks Cassie about it once. Why they don't find it concerning that they encounter Tim Drake: famous for being the civilian who 'beat Robin in a fight' every other week?

"I mean, You're usually right about these sorts of things, Rob. If you don't think Drakes an issue, then we trust you."

Tim can't figure out whether to feel warm and giddy at the fact that they apparently trust him, or to be annoyed at the fact that they follow after him like sheep. Not even doing their own research and recon (Cassie probably did. Kon and Bart? Yeah, hell would have a better chance at freezing over).

The first time was a coincidence. Tim had needed some space (from Bruce. From his deadlines. From his own mind...) and ended up wondering the streets of San Francisco with no real destination in mind.

An impulse turn led him onto the boardwalk and from there right to Superboy.

It was a bright and sunny day in Fran and Kon was glowing. Literally, because of the sun and figuratively from pride after he stopped a would-be pick pocket-er from pick pocketing an elderly lady.

He shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't, not when the team know of Tim Drake, know his face and all about how he hates Robin and makes it his whole personality. Not when the only thing that stops them putting Tim Drake on Baby Super villain watch is Tims general blasé attitude about, well... himself.

But is it oh, so tempting.

Especially because the month before, Kon had accidentally smashed Tim's favourite coffee mug in a series of event's (involving a yoga ball, shearing scissors, laser vision and a will from God himself) so convoluted that Tim was convinced it had been orchestrated for a solid week.

Was it a cheap mug from Kmart? Yes, but it's the principle of the matter!

As Tim’s left shoe impacts the side of Superboys face, a sense of manic glee overtakes him. Tim takes special care to seer this memory of Superboy getting hit in the head with Tim's shoe and the stupid face he makes as the ratty converse collides with his cheek, into his brain.

It's not much, but it's justice all the same for his once beloved mug.

Tim... might just be a tad sleep-deprived.

Superboy startles and lets out a frantic “Shit!” Assuming he’s being attacked by a surprise enemy (the kind that isn’t just civilians throwing shoes) he looks around, taking stock of his surroundings and looking for any immediate threats before glancing down at the shoe and visibly doing a double take.

His face is blank as he stares - undoubtably confused - at the shoe. A second later he's lifting his gaze, following the direction the show came from and staring right at Tim.

Tim, who (like an idiot) is still, for some reason, positioned how he was when he threw the shoe - arm outstretched and leg back to brace himself.

There is absolutely no way he wasn't the one who threw the shoe. If the stance didn't give it away, then him having one shoe (that shoe being a near identical ratty rad converse) probably did.

“What?” Superboy asks. He looks befuddled. A little amused, but mostly just confused. He's got a small, polite smile on his face that just reeks of Clark Kent's influence. Kon is obviously trying to model himself off of Superman - specifically Superman's polite and approachable "Grandma pinching worthy" vibe and not his fashion choices, since he's still got the leather jacket and sunglasses.

Tim makes a mental note to tell Kon that he has a really expressive face. Tim is literally reading all his emotions in 4K. They should probably work on that, it could be a liability in the field.

Tim briefly considers playing dumb and acting like it wasn’t him that threw the shoe, before dismissing that idea, Kon can be clueless at times, but he’s not a complete idiot.

So instead, he says, “that was a very open-ended question.”

And well, it was.

At the look Superboy gives him, he elaborates, “What, when said in that context, could mean literally anything! Like, ‘what was the purpose of that?’ ‘What’s your name, so I can in-prison you’ ‘What shoe size was that?’ Seriously, dude, be more specific!”

Superboy’s befuddlement takes a sudden nosedive to incredulity. “Okay, fine. Why did you throw a shoe at me?”

“Cause you work with Robin.” He says simply. He'd say 'justice' but then he'd sound like batman and like, thanks but no thanks.

“Cause I- what? You physically assaulted me with a shoe because I work on the same team as Robin?”

Tim, personally, thinks assault is a strong word to use for this situation, but he’s glad that at least some of his lessons on the proper terms and vocabulary are paying off.

He nods, cause that is indeed what he just did, he crosses his arms across his chest, and stares Superboy down.

Superboy who, looks like he’s regretting everything that led him to this moment. Tim relishes in that for just a little too long to be healthy. Probably.

Tim doesn’t really care. He told Kon (as Robin) that he’d regret breaking Tim’s favourite mug (accident or not, he's still not over it.) yeah, this might not be how either of them envisioned it, but Tim thinks this might just be better than beating Kon up as Robin in their next team training session. What better way to get someone back than to publicly humiliate them in front of all their peers? Shame he can't do that anymore.

Eh, who is he kidding? He’s still going to do that anyway.

“You’re only gonna throw one?” Superboy has a look on his face that’s similar to the one Bruce gets when he’s decided to give up and play along with the crazy. The one where he'll smile and nod, slowly inching out of the room, as Duke and Damian (There has truly never been a more terrifying duo) explain to him in vivid detail how they're going to use psychological warfare to make a shitty teacher at their school resign.

“Yes.” Why’d he throw both his shoes? He’d have no shoes!

“… Right. Why did you throw this one?”

All these questions!

“I like that one the least,” he shrugs, and it's true, the converse on his right foot has a little bi flag that Steph sewed into it back when they were dating. A throw pillow was the closest thing in reach at the time, so he sewed a little pan flag on it for her (he later did one on the breast pocket of one of her denim jackets).

“You are so freakin’ weird, dude! You throw a shoe at me! Because I work with Robin!”

Uh, yeah, we've already established that.

“How did you even get it off that fast!”

To be Honest, Tim is also surprised at how fast he was able to get his shoe off. One second he’s looking at Superboy the next he’s lobbing a shoe at his thick head.

Instead of saying any of that, Tim channels his inner Janet Drake, sticking his nose into the air and scoffing like Kon is the literal gum stuck on the sole of his shoe.

Kon, - because he’s no longer Superboy, he’s too fired up to hold onto the mask - shakes his head. It’s mocking, when he says, “You must be really shitty at throwing a punch if you had to resort to throwing shoes.”

Tim shrugs, “Well, I woulda thrown a fist, but you’re not worth a fist.”

Kon is silent and doing an amazing impression of a blobfish.

Tim turns and struts away before Kon has the chance to come up with a rebuttal, or just decides to punch him in the face.

He’ll grab his shoe later, after Kon leaves.

The basted incinerated his shoe.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

i'm soooo glad you're back!!! love your writting so much, was thinking about some ghostface¡ tate or shit yk...like everyone who flirts with reader end murdered

i’m sorry this took me so long to do 😔 but i sorta did my own twist on this request, hope you don’t mind… i love it… anyway… :)

~~~

Lovefool

Tate Langdon x f!reader

warnings: murder, smut, stalking, obsession, very toxic, manipulation, very minor talk of drug use… virgins, yeah idk what else it’s just stalker tate being crazy for you

summary: tate’s loved you since the first moment you met, and he would do anything to be with you… anything…

word count: 4.4

~~~

2011

You stare at the boy in front of you, a mix of emotions stirring inside you. He’s your age still, you aren’t too surprised at that. You’re more surprised at the fact that he’s in front of you. It’s been so long since the last time you saw him. You remember the pain, the pure fear that paralyzed your body the last time the two of you had an encounter. It still makes you uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice weak.

He shrugs. “It’s Halloween.”

“There’s been plenty of Halloweens Tate and this is the first time I’ve seen you here. What do you want?” You reply in a harsher tone than.

Tate shrugs again and starts to play with the sleeves of his sweater. You can’t believe this is real. You want to close your eyes and pretend this is all a sick dream, though you haven’t slept in years. After a few seconds, you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Tate the fact you even have the balls to try to find me is crazy, what happened? Did you suddenly feel some sense of guilt? Are you finally sorry for what you did to me? I don’t even care if you are sorry, I don’t care about anything except the one question I’ve wondered since the night it happened,” you say.

“What question?” He responds.

“Why?” Your eyes start to burn. “Why did you kill me?”

~~~

1993

Tate had never seen any girl as beautiful as you. Never. Not in a movie, not in a magazine, nothing. From the first time he saw you in kindergarten, he knew there was something special about you. Of course, he didn’t know it would grow into what it did until middle school when his hormones took over. His feelings for you quickly transitioned from a pure crush to a sick obsession. And the best and worst part of it all was that you had no idea.

You never really spoke to him. He was out of your league. You were popular, but not braindead popular like the people you surrounded yourself with. Tate had seen you in some of your classes. You were smart, you got the best grades in those classes. You had plans for yourself after high school, unlike your friends. That knowledge only made him admire you more.

The problems began when you started going out with one of the popular boys in your group, David. He was awful for you; Tate didn’t understand why you chose to have such a relationship with someone like that. He’d watch how David would wrap his arms around you in the hallways, leave small kisses on your cheeks, and whisper words in your ears that made your face turn bright red. It made him furious.

What did David have that he didn’t? Why was he so special? Tate knew he could give you more than David ever could. So, why were you with him?

Tate quickly became blinded by rage and jealousy.

At night he’d lie awake, the knowledge that you might’ve been out there opening your legs for another boy making him sick. That’s when the fantasies began. He imagined killing David. How would he do it? Where? In what way would leave the least amount of blood on his clothes? The image of his mutilated body consumed Tate’s thoughts. He liked it.

It was around that time that he had found the mask.

It was a strange mask he found in the basement. It had a long white face with black holes for the eyes and a long mouth. He wondered which resident of his house had left it there for him. He didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care. All he knew from the second his eyes fell upon that mask was that bad things were going to happen.

He started going out at night and driving by David’s house. The mask he wore gave him a sense of power he never knew he could feel. At first, it was innocent. He’d simply drive down the other boy's road and look through his window for a few minutes before leaving. But all it took was one second of seeing you inside to blow the whole thing up. He was livid, seeing red. He decided he needed to bring his fantasies to life and get rid of David for good.

Halloween was when the opportunity to kill David became undeniable. By that point, Tate had been stalking the two of you for a month so he knew the basics. Which room was Davids, how to get into his house, and where his parents were most likely going to be. He had it all planned out. So, on Halloween night he put on the mask along with black robes that covered his entire body and ventured to the other boy's house, ready to kill.

He brought a knife, and when the time was just right, he snuck in through one of David’s open windows and started his game. He crept through the empty house, not making a sound. Getting to David’s room only took him a few minutes and what he heard from outside the door made him not regret his choice at all.

“Yeah, I know, listen she’s so close to finally giving it up to me and that’s what I’ve been working for this whole time. Once it happens, I’ll dump her, easy,” David spoke into his phone. His voice was cocky. It made Tate clench his jaw in frustration.

“Because dude, do you know how many girls from school I’ve already got under my belt? Y/N is just gonna be a name on my list. Yeah, whatever, I gotta go anyway I need to shower for the party, maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll drink too much. Okay bye.”

Before David could even get up from his chair, Tate kicked the door down and stormed in, too overpowered by his rage to think about anything but slitting the other boy's throat. He pounced on him, stabbing the knife into any part of his body he could reach. David screamed, but Tate quickly silenced him by shoving the knife down his throat. He felt empowered, he felt thrilled at the sight of his dead peer. It was amazing.

Tate didn’t waste much time gawking over his achievement, however. Once he was sure David was dead, he quickly pulled the knife out of the boy and fled out the window and back to his car. As he drove through the small neighborhoods of your guys' town, he wondered how big the news would be. Would you cry? He hoped you wouldn’t. Not over that asshole. You would move on, and Tate would wait however long it took.

~~~

The news of David’s death spread faster than wildfire and consumed Westfield High’s drama for weeks. Out of all the kids in the school, you took his death hardest. Seeing you so depressed almost made Tate regret his actions. He couldn’t bear seeing you tear up in class or show up to school two periods late. You weren’t like that.

However, as the days turned into weeks, you started to appear healthier and happier, and soon enough you were back to your normal self. Tate was glad, you were always so much prettier when you paid attention in class. He decided it was time for the second part of his plan to finally act. Though he was incredibly nervous, he knew it was then or never. He couldn’t risk you getting a new boyfriend that he’d have to kill again.

So, one day, he followed you into the library when the two of you coincidently had a study hall during the same period. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. There you were. sitting at one of the tables alone studying, and he was going to speak to you. He’d thought up conversation starters all morning along with taking a few extra hits off his bong to help with the anxiety.

He shook the nervous thoughts from his head and grabbed his notebook from his backpack before walking in your direction. Your head was down, your hand moved aggressively across the paper as you wrote your notes. Tate stood at the other side of the table for a few seconds simply admiring you. His hands were shaky, his breathing uneasy. God, you made him lose his composure by existing. It was excruciating.

After he was done staring, he spoke, his voice quiet. “Hey y/n, do you mind maybe helping me with some of that psych homework?”

Your head shot up, your eyes instantly meeting his. He swore he couldn’t breathe. You, y/n, were looking at him on purpose. At that moment he didn’t care about what you were going to say, he didn’t care if you completely rejected him. All he cared about was how good it felt to have your eyes on him. Such innocent, loving eyes.

“Oh, yeah of course Tate that’s actually what I’m working on right now. Just sit, we can do it together. Unless you’re like super behind,” you answered.

“Are- Are you sure?” He couldn’t help the uncertainty. Did you really say yes to him?

“Yeah... should I not be?” You replied with a smile.

“No- sorry.” He sat down across from you. He could smell your perfume; he’d never been this close to you. “I just wasn’t sure if you even knew who I was.”

You chuckled. “How could I not know who you are? We’ve literally been in the same school system together since kindergarten.”

“I don’t know. You’re you know popular and stuff,” he said as he opened his notebook.

“Not really, besides even if I was that wouldn’t automatically make me forget anyone. But anyway, you can use my notes in a second, I’m almost done with the page,” you responded. You looked back down at your work and started writing again.

Tate nodded despite you not paying attention and watched as you wrote. He felt like that whole conversation was another one of his daydreams about you. Was he really sitting across from you? Or was it another mid-class nap? He cracked his knuckles to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and thankfully, he wasn’t. It was all real life.

“Sorry if this comes out as creepy, but I feel like I haven’t seen you around in a while. I mean, when was the last time we even spoke?” You suddenly spoke, your eyes back on his.

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough to see me,” he said with a shrug. All his confidence was a facade because on the inside he was losing his mind.

He noticed the way your cheeks slightly turned pink before you replied. “Yeah, I guess I wasn’t. But I should have been.”

He knew deep down you were going to be his for so long, but at that point, he knew he had already achieved his goal. You were his.

~~~

“What is this place?” You asked as you clutched your cardigan around your body.

Tate smiled and grabbed both of your hands in his. “I told you it’s a surprise. Patience is a virtue.”

“I have patience, but I also have a lower body temperature than usual and it’s bothering me so I would really appreciate it if you’d just take me to the surprise already,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It’s seventy degrees.”

“Yeah, but it’s also windy at the beach and it’s probably colder than seventy because of the ocean’s temperature.”

Tate sighed and leaned his head down to press a small kiss on your lips, a feeling he still hadn’t gotten over. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Terrible, naughty things I hope,” you replied, kissing him again. “But please lead me to your special surprise beach spot.”

Though he wanted to stand there and kiss you all night, Tate obeyed your request and began to lead you further down the beach. It had been a few months since the two of you started talking, and to say it progressed would be an understatement. Tate had truly underestimated how easy it would be to capture your attention. All you wanted was a sweet, caring, genuine boy and he could be all those things easily.

So, after a month of being friends, he asked you out and you said yes. The relationship grew deeper with each day, and it didn’t disappoint him one bit. He loved everything about you. The way you’d lie on your bed with him and talk for hours, the way you’d make your relationship with him public by holding his hand in the halls, and most importantly the way you never expected or wanted him to change to fit in with your friends. You liked him for who he was, and it melted his heart.

It was your three-month anniversary, and Tate wanted to make it special. Even though he knew before the two of you got together that you were a virgin, he didn’t know to what extent you were. He quickly became aware you had done most things already, just not full sex. At first, he was annoyed at the fact that you weren’t completely his because he had never done anything with a girl before you. But after the first night, you went down on him, he wasn’t that upset anymore.

On this night he planned to take the next step with you. He had it all set up. The blankets, the lights, all of it. As the sight of his setup came into view, he watched your face light up. You squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.

“Is this really for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, do you like it?” He replied.

You nodded and sped up to reach it, dragging him with you. Once you made it you dropped down to sit on the blanket, urging Tate to do the same. “This is so cool. You’re the first boy to ever do something like this for me. I love it.”

“I’m glad, I know how you like sentimental things,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “And I’ve been wanting to show you this spot for a while. I used to come here a lot as a kid and watch the waves with my dad... before he left. I wanted to make it special with you because you’re not like my dad. Right?”

“No, I’m not. I won’t ever do anything to hurt you like that. I lo- I like you Tate, a lot.”

Tate only stared into your eyes, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life. You almost said you loved him. He knew then that night was going to be the night you finally gave yourself to him. Something in your eyes made him certain. Your eyes were dark. You stared up at him as if he were the only boy in the world. There was a feeling in the air, one of lust and fear.

“I’ll never want to hurt you either,” he mumbled after a few seconds. “I doubt I ever could.”

You gave him a small smile and placed one of your hands on his cheek. You caressed the skin with your thumb as you slowly started to lean your face toward his. He accepted your lips on him, kissing back instantly. It was the moment he’d been working up to for years. He was finally going to lose his virginity to you, and you to him. Nothing would ever compare.

~~~

The sound of Nirvana mixed with skin slapping filled Tate’s room. He couldn’t help the moan that left his lips when he looked down at you. Your back was arched so perfectly, your waist looked impossibly small, and your ass looked incredibly big. The side of your face was smushed against one of Tate’s pillows. You were so red, so loud you had to bite your hand to spare the whole house from hearing. Tate took in a deep breath and slapped your ass, his thrusts not faltering for even a second.

“Fuck baby, you look so pretty right now. You take me so well,” he whispered. He wrapped some of your hair around his hand and yanked you up, making you practically scream. “Yeah, you like that. You like being manhandled y/n?”

You let out another moan but didn’t reply. Tate slapped your ass again and threw you back down to the mattress. He leaned over you, your sweaty body feeling perfect against his. He was close to finishing. He’d already made you cum a few times that day, so he wasn’t too concerned about where you were. All he was concerned about was getting closer to you before he came.

“I love controlling you, you’re so helpless. Fuck I’m so close,” he mumbled in your ear. “You’re mine, all fucking mine forever. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to take you away from me.”

You made a noise and Tate couldn’t hold back any longer. He came inside you, his cock pulsing heavily. You groaned; his cock was hitting your cervix too hard it hurt. He waited a minute or so before finally pulling out and moving to the spot next to you on the bed. He’d never felt anything as amazing as having sex with you. He was breathless.

He was so caught up in his thoughts about what just happened that he didn’t notice your sad expression. When he eventually looked at you, he saw your frown. Immediately he turned to his side and faced you, reaching out one of his hands to brush a few of your hairs behind your ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing you look sad; you can tell me whatever it is.”

You sighed and turned your head to meet his gaze. “Why do you like hurting me? Like during sex and stuff. You’re always so rough and I don’t know you’re really mean and sometimes the stuff you say is… scary.”

“How is it scary?” He laughed.

“You said you’d kill anyone who would try to take me away from you,” you said.

“Yeah, I would. I swear I’ve said this shit to you before. I would do anything for you, or to keep you,” he responded.

“Don’t joke about that Tate, you know I’m scared of killers because of what happened.”

“Oh, so this is about David? Why are you even thinking about him y/n he’s been dead for months. Do you miss him, or something is that it?” He questioned; his tone harsher than before.

You scoffed and sat up. “You’re seriously making this about me missing David?”

“Well, is that what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered before you stood up and started to get dressed.

“Oh, my fucking God y/n I’m sorry for whatever I said wrong while we were fucking. Can we just move on already? I don’t see what the big deal is,” he snapped.

“No, we can’t just move on. You scare me sometimes Tate like genuinely. I know you mean it all in a sweet way but it’s weird. I love you but you don’t hear me saying I’d kill people if they talked to you or looked at you a certain way. That’s not normal.”

Tate sat up. “I wish you would say those things. I wish you loved me as much as I love you. I’d do anything you ask; I would shoot up the fucking school if you wanted me to.”

You looked at him, he could see the terror and fear in your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. I don’t get why you’re acting so scared. I’d never hurt you I don’t even think I could if I wanted to, you mean more to me than any person alive or dead,” he answered.

“You’re sick,” you mumbled. You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I think we need some time apart; you aren’t sane.”

His heart practically stopped. “What?”

“We need to stop seeing each other for a little while, I can’t take this insane shit Tate. I’m sorry. You know I love you, but I need you to get some help before I can be with you.”

Before Tate could reply, you left. All he could do was stare at the door, a million thoughts roaming his head. Did you really just break up with him? Was that it? Did you just throw away everything the two of you had because you felt his love was too strong? It didn’t feel real.

As the night progressed, he tried to call you, dozens of times. But each call was either declined or rang out. His anxiety grew with each ring of the phone. Why weren’t you replying? Who were you seeing? Did he really mean so little to you that you could leave so easily? His mind spun with scenarios, each one worse than the last. By the end of the night, he had convinced himself you were cheating on him, and the following days only worsened his state of madness.

You ignored him completely in school. Every time he tried to talk to you, you either turned away or walked away completely. It hurt him terribly. He couldn’t understand what had changed so fast. He chased you around the halls for days, trying his hardest to get your attention. But it never worked. And so, his love for you began to fade into an awful rage.

He couldn’t let you just walk away from everything the two of you shared. You were his. Only his. He couldn’t let you leave him, not like his dad. He hadn’t spent his entire life chasing you just to end up losing you. No. So, he began to formulate a plan. He’d leave you alone for a few days then calmly ask you to meet him at the beach, in the special spot he once made for you.

He wasn’t surprised that his plan worked. You were predictable.

When the night came, he made sure he was prepared. He snorted a line, packed his bag full of your favorite things, and set off. As he walked down the beach, he made sure the knife he hid was secure in his pocket. It was smaller than the one he’d used on David, but it would do the job just as efficiently.

You arrived a few minutes after him, a sad expression on your pretty face. He fought the urge to run to you with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. Only a few feet separated your bodies, he wished he could close it. But he needed to be patient.

You took a deep breath, you looked nervous. “Yeah, look Tate I... I’ve thought about it and I... I really think we should stop seeing each other for some time.”

“Why Y/N? I love you, so fucking much. I’m sorry for what I said, I can change, I won’t say shit like that ever again. I’ll be gentle, I swear. Just give me the chance I can be whatever you need me to be,” he replied desperately. He opened his bag and pulled out your favorite candy. “I love you; I really do. Please give me another chance.”

He watched your eyes fill with tears. You wanted to give in, he could see it in your eyes. But you only shook your head and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek.

“No. I’m sorry. Tate, you aren’t gentle, that’s not who you are. And I don’t want you to pretend to be someone you aren’t.”

Tate swallowed hard. “You promised me you’d never leave me; you said you were nothing like my dad. Was it all a lie?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed and took a step closer to him. “I love you; I really do. That’s why this is so hard.”

“If you love me, why can’t we work this out? Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from watering, nor could he stop his lips from quivering. He dug the bouquet of your favorite flowers out from his bag and held them out to you.

“Please,” he mumbled. “I need you.”

You caved. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight. He could feel your muffled cries on his chest, it pained him. You were a sensitive sweet girl; it was both your blessing and curse.

“Maybe in a few months, we can try again, I don’t know.” You looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. “We just can’t be together right now. And I mean we’re going to graduate soon, and I might go to a college far away, how would that even work? But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that Y/N, you’ve already hurt me.” He dropped what he was holding and dug one of his hands into his pocket. He touched your face with his other hand, your tears covering his palm. “You’ve planned on leaving me this whole time. I wanted to give it another try you’ve made up your mind. I guess it just comes down to one thing.”

“What?” You asked.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” he whispered before he pulled out the knife and plunged it into the side of your neck.

~~~

2011

“I killed you because I loved you,” he answers. “Because you were going to leave me and find someone else.”

All you can do is stare at him in silence. You think back to everything that happened. How could you have been so blind? It couldn’t have been your fault though. He would’ve killed you anyway. You think back to all the times Tate made you uneasy, all the times he would say things that creeped you out. Deep down you must’ve known that’s who he is. Maybe you knew all along.

Maybe you loved him because of his darkness.

You exhale a long breath. “We don’t have that long till midnight.”

“So?”

You shrug. “Wanna hook up?”

[goldfades]

★ ALWAYS AN ANGEL, NEVER A GOD ─── CC²² (part 2/2)

❪ requested -> "Can you write something about cc and reader being enemies and hating eachother. but they are on two different teams so they play against eachother and something happens during one of their games and they take their hate out on eachother with smut?" ❫ part one!

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at your own discretion. lots of shit talking, just rivals shit yk how it is. fingering but it's kinda soft (like the actual fucking part), lots of praise and a sprinkle of degradation (if u can even call it that) cause u know me.

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

EVER SINCE THE GAME AGAINST Iowa, you were determined to keep up the keep up the momentum and prove that your victory was no fluke.

In the weeks that followed, you poured your heart and soul into every practice, honing your skills with a relentless intensity that left your teammates in awe. Every drill, every scrimmage, every mere second on the court was a chance to improve, to get one step closer to your ultimate goal (you weren't sure what it was at this point, to prove yourself to Caitlin or the world).

But it wasn't just about proving yourself on the court. Caitlin's words lingered in your mind, a constant reminder of the unresolved tension between you. The memory of that heated encounter in the hotel hallway replayed in your thoughts, the desire and frustration mixing into a potent cocktail that fueled your determination.

You found yourself replaying the moments of that game over and over in your head ─ the way you intercepted Caitlin's pass, the exhilaration of your dunk, and the look of pure rage in her eyes (and of course, the kiss that followed). You thrived on those memories, using them as motivation to push yourself beyond your limits.

"Good job, Y/N!" Hailey called out during one particularly grueling scrimmage, her admiration evident in her voice. "What, did you have an energy drink before or what?"

You gave her a playful shove as you shrugged, wiping the sweat from your brow as you walked toward your water bottle. "Just trying to stay ahead,"

Hailey shot you a knowing look, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "This isn't just about staying ahead, is it?" she teased. "It's about Caitlin."

"You can't say her name out loud like that," you joked as Hailey laughed. You didn't bother denying it, the truth too obvious to ignore. "Maybe," you admitted, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

As the season progressed, your hard work began to pay off. You dominated the court with a newfound confidence, your skills shining brighter than ever before. The media took notice, your name becoming synonymous with excellence, just like Caitlin's.

But even as you basked in the glory of your success, you couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Caitlin. You wondered how she was doing, whether she was training just as hard, whether she thought about you as often as you thought about her.

You kept repeating the moment in your mind, over and over again, feeling some kind of weird excitement at her words.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

However, you knew that pushing her buttons would make the hook-up a whole lot more satisfying. You thought about that particular part a lot more than you should have, the challenge in her voice igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

Then, one day, the schedule for the next season was released, and there it was ─ the match against Iowa, the game that would determine once and for all who would come out on top. The date was set, and you felt a surge of excitement and nerves at the prospect of facing Caitlin again.

The weeks leading up to the game were a whirlwind of preparation and anticipation. Your coach pushed you harder than ever, knowing how much was riding on this matchup. And through it all, Caitlin's words continued to echo in your mind, a constant source of "motivation", if you could even call it that.

Finally, the day arrived. The arena was packed, the energy palpable as fans from both sides filled the stands. As you stepped onto the court, your heart pounded with adrenaline, and your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Caitlin.

She stood across from you, her dark gaze intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat of her stare, a silent promise of the battle to come. As the referee signaled the start of the game, you took a deep breath, centering yourself for what was about to unfold.

From the very first whistle, the game was a fierce clash of skill and determination. You and Caitlin matched each other move for move, your rivalry playing out in a series of fast breaks, sharp passes, and contested shots. The tension was palpable, the crowd hanging on every moment as the score remained neck and neck.

As the clock wound down, the score was tied, and the pressure mounted. You found yourself with the ball, Caitlin guarding you closely, her eyes locked onto yours with a mix of challenge and desire. With a quick move, you faked left, then darted right, driving towards the basket with all the speed and agility you could muster.

As you drove towards the basket, Caitlin moved to intercept your path. With a swift motion, she blocked your shot, sending the ball ricocheting off the backboard. The force of her block knocked you off balance, and you stumbled, falling hard onto the court.

You hit the ground with a thud, the impact jolting through your body as you landed awkwardly on the hardwood floor. Pain shot through your limbs, but it was nothing compared to the sting of defeat that washed over you in that moment.

Caitlin stood over you, her dark gaze intense and unyielding as she glared down at you with satisfaction and you hated it. There was a silent challenge in her eyes, a reminder of the relentless rivalry that defined your relationship both on and off the court ─ you could practically read her mind, "I'm getting the trophy."

As the referee blew the whistle to signal a turnover, Caitlin offered you a hand, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Good try, Y/N," she taunted, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Maybe you should uh, stick to defense."

As Caitlin extended her hand towards you, a smirk dancing on her lips, something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the sting of defeat or the frustration and anger that had been building within you throughout the game, and you couldn't hold it any longer.

With a scowl, you swatted Caitlin's hand away, ignoring the lingering pain in your limbs as you rose to your feet on your own. "Shut up, Caitlin," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you glared up at her. "You're just a self entitled bitch who thinks she owns the court,"

"I do," Caitlin stepped so she was directly in front of you. You looked up at the brunette, suddenly feeling small under the weight of her imposing presence. Despite the anger that simmered beneath the surface, you couldn't deny the intensity of the moment as Caitlin's dark eyes bore into yours.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," she continued, her voice low and dangerous, a warning laced with barely contained fury. "And didn't I tell you to cut the fucking attitude?"

You just scoffed, however some sick part of you liked this, the way she was talking to you. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was a certain allure in the challenge she presented, the promise of tonight making the whole thing a lot harder to resist.

Caitlin's proximity was overwhelming, her presence towering over you. You felt a surge of defiance rising within you, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"And what if I don't?" you shot back, your voice laced with defiance as you met her intense gaze head-on. "What are you gonna do about it, Caitlin?"

Caitlin's jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes before she regained her composure. "You wanna find out?" she retorted, her tone sharp and cutting as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin.

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, a mixture of fear and excitement swirling in the pit of your stomach. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable thrill in the air, a palpable energy that crackled between you like electricity.

But before anything could escalate, Hailey's arm yanked you away, breaking the charged moment between you and Caitlin. The sudden interruption jolted you back to reality, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you were pulled back into the flow of the game.

With a sharp exhale, you forced yourself to focus, pushing aside the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The game had resumed as quickly as it had been interrupted, the intensity of the match returning with renewed vigor.

But despite your best efforts, Iowa proved to be a formidable opponent, their skill and determination matching your own at every turn. As the final seconds ticked away, the score remained neck and neck, the outcome of the game hanging in the balance.

And then, with a final buzzer, it was over ─ Iowa emerged as the winners, the thrill of victory evident on their faces as they celebrated their hard-fought win. As the reality of defeat sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, the bitter taste of loss lingering on your tongue.

"God fucking damn it," you muttered under your breath as you glared toward them.

As if on cue, Caitlin turned around and met your gaze. Her expression was satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of the victory she had secured over you and your team. You felt a surge of frustration rise within you, the bitterness of defeat stinging like a fresh wound.

──

"Y/N?" The reporter's voice pulled you back into reality as you shook your head, opening your eyes with a very forced smile.

You nodded your head. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out, uh... can you repeat the question?"

The reporter gave you a sympathetic smile before repeating the question. "I was just asking for your thoughts on the game and the performance of both teams, particularly Caitlin Clark. She had a standout performance tonight."

Yeah, of course she fucking did, you wanted to shout but you just nodded. "Yeah, she played a great game," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "She's a talented player. Iowa put up a tough fight, and they deserved the win tonight."

The interview was slow and it felt every answer you were giving was fake but you were livid. As soon as it was over, you practically ran out of there. You needed to blow off some steam, and you had no idea how–

Oh.

"I'm not fucking you until we win," she replied, her voice low and husky, the words a mere whisper against the charged silence that enveloped you both. "Until I get the trophy, until your team loses."

You had forgotten about the entire thing until that moment and despite all the anger, your stomach twisted in excitement. However, it was a year ago and you weren't even sure if Caitlin meant what she said, she was probably just really angry because of how the game ended, much like how you were feeling right now.

As you mulled over the memory, a sense of longing washed over you, mingling with the lingering anger and frustration that still simmered beneath the surface. Despite everything, despite the rivalry and the animosity, there was an undeniable attraction between you and Caitlin, a magnetic pull that defied your comprehension.

Then, your phone buzzed inside your pocket.

Cait: got the trophy 🥇 Cait: did you think i forgot?

You had forgotten you even had her number, it was from so long ago. The text made your stomach drop (in a very, very good way) as a rush of emotions flooded through you. Surprise, excitement, and a hint of apprehension all mingled together as you read Caitlin's messages.

It was as if the past year had been condensed into those few simple words, reigniting the unresolved tension between you with startling clarity. However, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of your mind ─ was this just another game to her? Another way to assert her dominance and superiority over you?

Cait: where u at?

And that was all it took for her to win you over. You knew you were letting your heart do all the talking but right now, you just wanted to feel good. Was that so bad?

──

The knock on the door shouldn't have startled you as much as it did, especially since you had been waiting for it. But still, when the knock echoed through the room, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine.

You took a moment to steady yourself, to quell the fluttering nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, before crossing the room to answer the door.

As you swung it open, Caitlin stood before you, her presence commanding and intoxicating all at once. She was wearing a black hoodie and sweats, the hood was up and she looked too good. Your eyes scanned her body and you saw her lips quirk up into a smirk.

You felt your stomach leap out of your body at the sight, and you felt like you were gonna go insane, were you ovulating?

"Hey," she greeted, her voice husky with desire as she stepped closer, closing the distance between you with deliberate intent.

"Hey," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you met her gaze head-on. Despite the tension that lingered in the air, there was an undeniable pull between you, a magnetic force that drew you together like moths to a flame.

And as Caitlin's lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, all doubts and fears melted away. In that moment, nothing else mattered ─ not the rivalry, and certainly not the consequences, nothing except the intoxicating desire that pulsed between you and Caitlin.

Caitlin's hands gripped your hips as she closed the hotel door with her leg, effortlessly. Her lips stayed on yours as her hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. The heat of her touch seared through you, igniting a fire that blazed hotter with each passing moment.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you pressed closer to her, your body molding to hers. With a low growl, Caitlin lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around her waist as she carried you further into the room. Every touch, every kiss, only fueled the pure need that raged between you, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy.

And as you surrendered yourself to her, you knew that this was just the beginning ─ the beginning of something that would consume you fully despite resisting it for so long.

She dropped you onto the bed and broke the kiss, her eyes dark as she gazed at you. You were both breathing heavily as you tried your best to maintain eye contact, despite the pressure that was building your lower stomach.

"Didn't think you'd answer," Caitlin finally spoke, her voice breathless as she began climbing on top of you.

"Why?" You asked as she latched her lips to your neck, sucking harshly as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

"Because you're stubborn," Caitlin murmured against your skin, her breath hot and heavy as she trailed kisses along your jawline. "But I knew eventually, you'd realize that there's no point in all that whining,"

You let out a shaky breath, her words igniting a fierce hunger within you as you arched into her touch, craving more of her intoxicating presence.

"I knew all you wanted was for me to show you why I'm better," Caitlin teased as she began stroking your sides.

You wanted to counter, to say anything back to her but you couldn't ─ she already had consumed you and you couldn't of any reason why you'd want to resist her any longer.

Caitlin pulled your lips into another harsh kiss, pulling a moan out of your lips. That seemed to encourage her because next thing you know, she's pulling your shorts off. Her hands eventually found your neck, pushing you into the mattress as you both moaned into the kiss.

Caitlin pulled away for a second, pulling her hoodie over her head and gazed at you, expectantly. You mirrored her actions and you were left only in your bra and underwear, you felt embarrassed under her gaze until she pulled you into a deeper kiss.

Her hands gripped your face and pulled you from the kiss, earning a disappointed whimper from you. "Look at me,"

You met her gaze, the intensity of her dark eyes holding you captive.

"You're fucking beautiful," Caitlin murmured, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw.

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, the sincerity in her voice disarming you completely. You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady your breathing.

Caitlin's hands moved to the clasp of your bra, her touch gentle yet deliberate as she unhooked it, letting it fall away. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, you're gonna forget how much you hate me."

A soft moan escaped your lips as her hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of your skin with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of her gaze. You arched into her touch, your body responding to her every move with an urgency that left you breathless.

As she trailed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, you felt the last of your doubts melt away, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Her hands found your thighs and squeezed them, her fingers slowly drawing closer to the place you'd wanted her all night. Caitlin's finger slowly began stroking your clothed pussy, her eyes watching your every movement.

You let out a broken whimper, your head falling back on to the mattress before her other hand gripped your face, guiding your gaze back to hers.

"What did I fucking say? Look at me," Caitlin spat, her voice a mix of authority and desire. You forced your eyes open, meeting her intense stare, the heat between you building with every passing second.

"So fucking wet, all for me," she murmured, as continued stroking your clothed heat; she could feel it pulsing all because of her and it made her ego skyrocket even more.

Caitlin's finger moved and before you could voice your disapproval, she slowly slid your underwear off. You were completely naked now, you could feel her eyes rake over you fondly. She spread your legs again, further this time ─ each leg was placed at her sides, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable under her gaze. Caitlin's eyes darkened with desire as she took in the sight of you, her breath hitching slightly.

"So pretty," she murmured, almost to herself, as she trailed her fingers lightly up your inner thigh, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

You squirmed beneath her touch, a mix of excitement and impatience coursing through you. "Cait," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with need.

She looked up at you, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I want you to remember this," she said, her voice low. "Every time you think you can challenge me, every time you think you can beat me, I want you to remember how I make you feel right now."

With that, she leaned down, her lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss that almost knocked the breath out of you. Her hands continued their exploration, moving with a confidence that left you trembling with anticipation.

"Do you still think I'm a bitch?" she murmured against your lips, a teasing edge to her voice.

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response, but managed to shake your head, a breathless, "No," escaping your lips.

"Good," Caitlin replied, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Because I want you to know exactly who's in control here."

And with that, her finger slid into you perfectly. You let out a surprised moan, your back arching against the mattress. "Oh, fu-fuck."

Her finger began thrusting in and out of you, swiftly. You were so soaked, her finger was moving easily in and out of you. Caitlin's hand gripped your hip, pulling you closer into her.

She slowed down her movements and you let out an disapproving huff, her gaze intense as she looked down at you. "Why did you hate me? Were you jealous?"

Did: as in, past tense.

Her tone sounded almost amused but there was an edge of seriousness to it. "What?"

"I thought that's what it was," her finger slowly began moving again, causing your breath to hitch. "I don't think that's what it was now," she continued, her voice contemplative. "I think it was something else."

You could barely focus, your mind clouded with the sensation of her touch, but her words cut through the haze, making you confront something you'd been avoiding. "I don't hate you," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I never hated you."

Caitlin's smirk grew, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her finger continuing their slow, torturous rhythm. "Then what was it, Y/N? Why all the anger?"

"Because," you gasped, struggling to form coherent thoughts under her relentless pace. "Because you always got to me. You always made me feel... things I didn't want to feel."

Her movements stilled for a moment, her eyes searching yours. "And now?"

"Now," you swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Now, I can't stop thinking about you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Caitlin's face, her fingers resuming their movement. "Good," she murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Because I don't plan on letting you forget this anytime soon."

Her touch became more quick, driving you closer and closer to the edge once again. The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, the culmination of all the pent-up anger and unresolved tension between you. She added another finger slowly, causing you to let out another breathless moan as your back arched.

"Take it, come on. I know you can," Caitlin's fingers never faltered as she gazed down at you. "Fuck, who's the princess now, huh?" she spat as she finger-fucked you, your legs beginning to shake.

As the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you felt yourself letting go of everything ─ the rivalry, the anger, the fear ─ and surrendering completely to the sensation.

"Cait," you moaned, your hands gripping her shoulders as you reached the brink, your body trembling with anticipation.

"That's it, fuck," she whispered against your lips, her breath hot and ragged. "Let go for me."

And with a final, shattering wave of pleasure, you did, your body convulsing in her arms as you cried out her name. Her finger rode you through it, your chest heaving as you slowly came down from your high.

"Can't believe I did that with just my fingers, baby." The pet-name left her lips effortlessly as she broke you out of your reverie. You couldn't believe it, either.

Her fingers slid out of you and she pushed your lips open, forcing them into your mouth. You sucked them clean as she looked down at you, her shitfaced smirk was back.

You rolled your eyes as she removed her finger with a pop. "Yeah, well, don't get too cocky," you shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control even though your body was still trembling.

She laughed, the sound was unfamiliar but genuine; it made your heart flip. "How can I not? I mean, Jesus, I had you literally tell me you never hated me while I was knuckles deep inside you. It was one finger too-"

You groaned loudly, cutting her off as her laughter slowly died down. "I just wanted to cum,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," you countered, finally meeting her gaze. She had the same cocky ass expression, the one you've always hated ─ but now felt different, somehow.

"Thought I told you to cut the attitude, Y/N," she teased, her fingers trailing along your arm, sending shivers down your spine. Her eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt a surge of defiance rise within you, refusing to back down. "And what if I don't?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Caitlin's smirk widened, a glint of amusement and something deeper flickering in her eyes. "Then I'll just have to remind you why you shouldn't,"

She leaned in and pressed her lips against lips in another heated kiss, her hands roaming your body with a renewed sense of purpose. The teasing edge in her touch drove you wild, a tantalizing reminder of the power she held over you.

"You're impossible," you muttered against her lips.

"And you love it," she shot back, her breath hot against your skin as she moved to kiss along your jawline, her hands exploring every inch of you. The sensation was intoxicating, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body.

As she continued her relentless assault on your jaw, you couldn't help but surrender to the moment, letting go of all the anger and frustration that had once defined your relationship. In that instant, all that mattered was the connection between you, the raw, unfiltered desire that pulsed through your veins.

"Do you regret it?" Caitlin's voice was softer now, almost vulnerable, as she paused to look into your eyes.

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips. "No," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I don't."

Caitlin's eyes softened, her expression shifting from playful to something more tender. "Good," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Cause neither do I."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[weemietime]

https://www.tumblr.com/weemietime/767670429687152640?source=share

I suppose it was easy for me to fall into the Hamasnik trap due to my habit of black and white thinking, which I wish I could blame on my autism, my ocd, or my horrible mental state, but I’m just incredibly stupid lol. But yeah, I was very much a hamasnik myself.

For some reason my mind refused to accept or recognise the nuance of a history that I wasn't even well versed on in the first place. I also think that the constant reductionism presented to me played a part. There’s a lot of reductionism that goes on within the Hamasnik circles, and it goes hand in hand with anti intellectualism. Statements like “this isn’t complex! How can you see these videos of these Palestinian children (videos that I later found out were actually from Syria, but I couldn’t tell, I just ate it up) and think that Israel/Palestine is complex!”

The whole thing of blocking everyone who has a different opinion or ideology (the ideology in question being Zionism, or at least what hamasniks consider to be Zionism) from you and refusing to follow certain news channels because they’ve shown sympathy for those who have a different ideology from you, refusing to read certain books from authors who have expressed empathy for those same people, all of this together effectively creates an echo chamber of the same opinions and views being regurgitated over and over and over again constantly.

Then sprinkle in constant videos of people dying and blood everywhere, videos that you don’t even know where the people are from, whether they be from Gaza, from Syria, Lebanon, or Yemen, but it doesn’t matter because they speak Arabic so it MUST be about the Gazans specifically according to the Hamasnik group you’re apart of, all of these videos you’re being told to constantly watch over and over again because according to the Hamasnik cult you’re in, “if you look away from the violence even ONCE, you’re complicit in genocide! You’re personally responsible for genocide if you look away! The people in Gaza never get a mental health break or comfort so why should you?”

That very same rhetoric is the reason why a lot of you Jewish people can’t find yourself able to escape on fandom spaces and shit like that, the antisemitism you encounter in spaces you thought you were safe in? Yeah it’s because these people are being told that they have to constantly talk about what’s going on in every single space they’re in and that they can’t look away because if they do, they’re considered complicit in the killing of Gazans so they have to let everyone else know the same.

There are a lot of people who are purposefully antisemitic, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me excusing anyone. I’m just saying that a number of these people genuinely believe that they’re doing something for the greater good by constantly being antisemitic. They don’t consider themselves antisemitic because the echo chamber they’re in has convinced them that Jewish people aren’t experiencing anything, that Jewish people are fine. That it’s the “big bad” that they’re hurting, not the Jews. It’s the “big and scary Zionists!” At least that’s what happened in my case. Constantly told that if I took a break even once, the blood of the Gazans, the blood of every. single. person in Gaza, would be on my own two hands.

You might not believe me, but when you’ve trapped a person in an echo chamber like that, it’s very easy to convince them that an entire country is evil, that every single Israeli is wicked and corrupt and should die and that anyone who expresses an ounce of empathy for them is a “Zionist” and should die as well.

You could’ve told me anything a few months ago. Absolutely anything bad about Israelis and I would’ve believed you. Because I’d scroll social media and see videos of children dying, people being beaten, buildings being destroyed, everything. Then I’d scroll some more and see videos of Israelis doing everyday things, videos of people having fun, videos of people eating, etc, and I found it so unfair that they (according to hamasnik rhetoric) were living in absolute peace while Palestinians are dying right next to them. Then I’d scroll some more and see videos of the IDF (I actually don’t even know if the videos were even of the IDF or not, but as I said, you could’ve told me anything and I’d have believed you. I genuinely believed that it was the IDF) shooting people, beating people, etc. And I was told to look at these videos everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. A lot of the Hamasnik mouthpieces take advantage of the average westerner’s inability to understand Arabic or Hebrew, so there’s a lot of mistranslated videos of Israelis saying they want every Arab dead, a lot of mistranslated Al Jazeera videos of people in Amsterdam for example, saying “يهودي قذر" (dirty Jew) with the wrong captions on and then us non Arabic speaking cult trapped people are none the wiser to what that means because we refuse to engage with any sources that won’t fit our narrative, because we’re complicit in death if we step outside the narrative.

I don’t believe that Zionists should die, but I did. I don’t believe that the hostages should suffer, but I did. I truly believed the worst of things, and perpetuated horrible antisemitism, because I genuinely believed that I was doing good. I found myself justifying unspeakable acts, and saying unspeakable things, things that I would have whole heartedly condemned prior, because I genuinely thought I was doing something right. For example, prior to me falling into that cultish trap, I would’ve wholeheartedly condemned saying a slur coined by David fucking Duke. But after? As I said, I was doing and saying unspeakable things.

I would watch videos from Hamasniks everyday, perpetuate antisemitism everyday, go to sleep and dream about that stuff, and wake up and do it all again, first thing in the morning. A vicious cycle.

And unknowingly somewhere else around the world, some Jewish or Israeli person would wake up, witness antisemitism everyday, witness people wishing the worst upon the hostages, the Jews, the Israelis, the Zionists, everyday, go to sleep terrified for what’s happening to their people, and wake up and see it all again first thing in the morning. Another vicious cycle.

I wish I had a better answer for you, I do. An answer that’s more digestible and less disturbing. I wish I could undo everything that I’ve said and done to the people I’ve hurt whether that be in real life or online. I truly am sorry, and I wish that an apology would fix everything, but it won’t. I wish that all the pain I inflicted on all the Jewish people and Israeli people could be taken away and that I would feel that pain tenfold.

If it’s any consolation or solace, I hate myself more than any of you combined. There is nobody who hates me more than me at this current moment in time and I absolutely do deserve every ounce of pain inflicted upon me, whether it be mental or physical. If you wish death upon me, just know that I do agree with you, but unfortunately previous attempts have failed.

I deleted all of my old posts from that period of time to avoid people getting hurt by them anymore, but I think I’ve done too much damage for me to be a good ally, so I just say nothing now, but I truly do wish the best for all of you and I wish that all of this would stop and that the hostages will be found, hopefully alive.

My apologies for writing a whole Bible in your asks, I truly didn’t mean to.

TLDR - reductionism and anti-intellectualism combined with trapping yourself in an echo chamber of regurgitated rhetoric and constantly regurgitating said rhetoric is a quick way to find yourself dabbling in extremism.

To avoid falling into a trap such as this, avoid generalisations of races, ethnic groups, and the like, look for nuance, try hear people out even when you don’t understand them, instead of blocking them (this is in reference to me blocking every single person who opposed my hamasnik ideology at the time. You should probably block hamasniks, they tend to harass Jewish people a lot), and remember that if someone tells you that a whole war isn’t complex, they’re lying. It absolutely is.

I hope you've been able to see the other responses your other ask has gotten as well! Truly, you aren't someone who I hate. Personally, I do forgive you. Other people may not, and that's their right. But I know first-hand what it's like to be radicalized and to not only commit to extreme rhetoric but also extreme actions. I've learned to have compassion for myself, and I hope that with time you will undergo a similar process.

Someone else said it, "you can't hate yourself into being a better person." All of us, as beings, grow with love and kindness. War is hard it's horrific, and hellish. You're constantly exposed to this violent imagery, this extreme rhetoric, and your whole friend groups are getting in on it. I understand exactly how it happens, and I do have sympathy for it.

To me, the most important part of your story isn't the worst shit you've ever done. It's this part. The part where you learn how to be better, and so you do better, and reach out across the divides and bridge those gaps that have formed. That is a very human story.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Would Bill also rationalize that weridmagedeon could be apart of the twin’s birthday party?

Would one of Bill’s henchmaniacs accidentally try to kill one of the Pines family by accident and Bill just incinerates that said henchmaniac?

Food for thought, Bill and Stan have known eachother for 30 years. Stanley and Ford have known eachother for 17 until they broke off contact. Meaning that Bill has known Stanley and has been with Stanley longer than Ford has.

Like man, that must sting on Ford’s side of things.

Another thing do Bill and Stanley read fanfic together? Idk why but it kinda seems like something they would do. I also like how Stanley and Bill are agents of chaos, Gravity falls will not survive them.

I know you said that Stanley’s past comes back to haunt him, but how much does Bill know about Stanley’s past, like in general and because of drunk nights. You said that they’re in a unspoken game of chicken on who is going to admit who cares for who first but who is the one who actually admits it out loud first?

Also about that Gideon rivalry with Stan and Stanfraud pls tell me more I AM INTRIGUED BECAUSE YES GO MAKE ENEMIES WITH THAT 10 YEAR OLD BOY

How far does the rivalry go?

Also also also also does Stanfraud also participate in the catching a dozen eggs thingy like Stan? Idk why I can just imagine Stanfraud being pelted in the face with eggs.

What is Stanfraud’s opinions on Pioneer Day? I know Stanley hates it.

Cracking my knuckles. Okay. Let’s go:

— Oh absolutely. And it’s the best kind of birthday party too! Not to mention, it means they never have to go home, back to a house where everything feels like stepping on eggshells, and they hear their parents argue at night. Obviously it’s better here — a party that never ends, forever free from all human restriction and fear.

He finds himself feeling genuinely hurt when they act ‘ungrateful’ about it. He put a lot of thought into making it as comfortable for their tiny, human brains!

And as for the Henchmaniacs, if one were to be cocky, and go against Bill’s direct orders… yeah. They wouldn’t be around much longer.

— I was thinking about this. It’s genuinely so fucked up. Bill knows Stan better than Ford does, and not because of his all-knowing capabilities, but because Bill has spent more time around Stan, time that Ford missed. It’s the little things. Stan has a nickname for Bill that he let slip around Ford. There’s photos around the shack that Bill — in Ford’s body — is a part of, and he doesn’t seem out of place at all. As a whole, Ford feels like a stranger to his brother, and his brother is a stranger to him. His own twin, and someone else has played the role better than he did.

— They’ve definitely read the same fanfic before. Though, it tends to be more like Stan reading fanfic and Bill being annoying and leaning over his shoulder making unnecessary commentary. Stan has pushed him off the arm of the chair before and will dos so again.

— Initially, Bill knows a LOT about Stan’s past courtesy of being, you know, Bill. He wasn’t stuck in Ford’s body when Stan was travelling the US, and so his all-knowing capabilities were still the same and not weakened. Courtesy of the drunken nights though, he’s gotten to know Stan’s past from a different perspective, and Stan has in turn, gotten to know scraps about him. The longer he possesses Ford though, the more his mind begins to adapt to the human brain, and he can’t remember as much as he once did on a grander scale, but, he still knows a lot about Stan thanks to said drunken nights and the fact they do talk somewhat openly… on the rare occasion.

Also, Stan is the one to break the game of chicken and admit he gives a shit about Bill first. Not sure when or why yet, but It’ll come to me in a divine vision at 2am I’m sure.

— The rivalry is so hysterical to me. Two old men are this kid’s biggest haters. Thinking more on it, Gideon really does try his best to only piss off and encounter Stan. He has gradually become more and more terrified of Stanfraud who has shown he isn’t afraid to threaten taxidermying a child. Mabel is okay with this threat being used in her defence because she knows it isn’t genuine. Her Grunkle has gone on a ten minute rant before about why taxidermying a human is near impossible if you want to do it right, and it isn’t the law stopping him, it’s that.

The rivalry would probably end up very intense if it weren’t for Stan shooting down all of Bill’s ideas on how to deal with Gideon. No, Bill, they can’t dangle the child from a cliffside and make him answer five questions, then drop him if he gets one wrong. That’s too far, even for Stan.

Bill comments they could ‘always do to Gideon what they did to the Llama’, and Stan shoots him such a look that he goes completely quiet.

Basically Bill is being put on a metaphorical leash here courtesy of Stan and the kids, and if he had his way, he would drop kick the child.

— He participates if he’s out shopping with Stan, but by participate I mean he tries to make Stan drop the eggs on purpose. He’s a secondary obstacle for Stan to deal with.

— He loves pioneer day. He thinks it’s hilarious. He loves going around and telling people historically accurate facts — specifically the disturbing ones. He also gets a front row seat to Stan’s suffering!

There’s the whole conspiracy about the Northwests too, which he definitely knows about. He’s just saving it for the perfect moment when it will cause the most disruption.

… Then Pacifica insults Mabel, and all bets are off. He’s coming for the Northwest’s bloodline and reputation.

Hopefully I didn’t miss anything!

[chloe-caulfield94]

The theme of sexual violence in Life is Strange S1

A very important theme of Season 1, present in the Dark Room plot, is the theme of sexual violence and of women being objectified, turned into inanimate objects by cruel men. This is what Jefferson and Nathan did to their victims - quite literally deprived them of all agency and posed their bodies for their own pleasure.

Chloe was also a victim of the Dark Room. Nathan lured her into his dorm, slipped her date rape drugs and attempted to assault her. She barely escaped before he began his photo session of her, which likely would've ended the same way as it did for Rachel, with Nathan overdosing his model.

By the way, this shows that the remorse expressed by Nathan over Rachel’s death and his complicity in Jefferson’s crimes in his voice mail to Max was completely phoney. Because after he had already murdered Rachel with an overdose, he attempted to perform a “photo session” on Chloe, clearly not minding the possibility of overdosing yet another girl. But why would he mind it? This time it wouldn’t be a friend of his, just some “whore”.

Nathan: “That whore in the bathroom!”

Chloe: “He dosed my drink with some shit ...”

Chloe: “I know I passed out on the floor. I woke up and that perv was smiling, crawling towards me with a camera ...��

When you first heard Chloe describe her encounter with Nathan, how he invited her to his dorm room and roofied her, how he stood over her with a camera when she regained consciousness, what was your reaction? What did you assume Nathan wanted to do to Chloe?

Kate: “I swear to God I had one sip of red wine. I remember ... I remember getting sick and dizzy ... Then Nathan Prescott said he would take me to the hospital ... All I recall is driving for a long time ... then I woke up in a room ... I don't know what happened ... I woke up outside my dorm room the next day. I felt gross”.

When you first heard Kate describe her encounter with Nathan, how she immediately felt drowsy after tasting her drink, how Nathan removed her from the party under the pretext of helping her but instead he took her to some secluded place where he did something to her, what was your reaction?

At that point, was there any reasonable explanation for Nathan’s behaviour apart from him being a date rapist? Spiking a girl’s drink, removing her from the party to a secluded place, taking pictures to keep as souvenirs and to blackmail the victim into silence – that’s textbook date rapist MO.

The sexual undertone of the violence perpetrated by Jefferson and Nathan against their unwilling models is obvious. Explaining his “art” to Max, Jefferson said he’s obsessed with “the moment innocence turns into corruption”. He also said that all his models have “the same doe-eyed look” once they realize what is about to happen to them.

Jefferson: “I’m obsessed with the idea of capturing that moment innocence evolves into corruption”.

Jefferson: “You all have the same doe-eyed look when you wake up here, replaced by fear as you realize what’s about to happen”.

But Jefferson’s usual MO didn’t involve him murdering his victims. He murdered Chloe and possibly Victoria as well as attempted to murder Max, because they were witnesses that needed to be removed. He usually dumped his unconscious victims somewhere after performing a photo session on them, still alive. So if the thing that made his victims supposedly lose innocence wasn’t impending death, what was it? Mark Jefferson strikes me as the kind of person who holds the reprehensible belief that being subjected to certain kinds of violence can cause a person to lose their innocence and become “corrupted”. That is of course not true. The only way a person can become corrupted is by embracing evil with their heart. Suffering violence at someone else’s hands can never deprive you of your innocence or corrupt you. But it seems that obvious truth was lost on Mark Jefferson.

When you first heard Chloe and Kate describe their encounters with Nathan, when you first heard Jefferson, a grown man, talk how he is obsessed with taking away the innocence and corrupting the teenage girls he kidnaps, weren’t the implications of what they did to their victims obvious? I think the writers wanted to leave what exactly happened to victims of the Dark Room ambiguous, but when all the voice lines for Episode 5 had already been recorded, they realized that the fate of the victims was anything but ambiguous, so they decided to add a newspaper clipping Max can find in the San Fransisco timeline, which states that no signs of violence going beyond drugging, kidnapping and posing of the victims was found. I am deeply grateful that they decided to add this bit of information, because I am very fond of all the characters who had the misfortune to be subjected to Jefferson’s and Nathan’s violence – Rachel, Kate, Chloe, Max. But even after we learn that the perpetrators “only” posed their victims and took their pictures, I still maintain that what Jefferson and Nathan did was sexual assault. They drugged their victims unconscious. They at least partially undressed them. On the pictures Max finds in the Dark Room, Rachel is missing her shoes and Kate is missing her black jacket, which they would've been wearing the moment they were kidnapped. And those were just the first photos in their respective albums. Thankfully, we weren’t shown the rest. Jefferson and Nathan exercised complete control over their victims’ limp bodies, posing them in ways they found pleasing.

In her diary, Max describes that some of the photographs of Kate and Rachel she saw in the Dark Room portrayed them posed with Nathan. Rachel’s photographs depicted her “all over” Nathan. This goes to show that the photo sessions done by Jefferson and Nathan involved a lot more physical contact than simply needed to pose the unconscious models and that Nathan got particularly handsy with his victims, both during photo sessions he performed with Jefferson and during those he performed alone.

And why did they only target pretty teenage girls? If Jefferson and Nathan wanted to capture the moment “innocence turns into corruption”, why not target young boys as well? Why go through all the trouble of kidnapping students from an expensive private school that would be searched for if they went missing? Why not target people that nobody would come looking for, like the homeless, or truckers on long hauls? Because they lusted for a very specific type of innocence and a very specific type of corruption. Finally, notice how they talked about their victims. Nathan kept calling Chloe a “whore”.

When Max lamented Chloe’s murder, Jefferson responded by saying she had to be silenced because she knew too much but he wasn’t interested in Chloe as a model because he’d already had his fill of faux punk sluts like that in his Seattle days.

Jefferson: “And don’t get me started on your late partner. I had enough of those faux punk sluts in my Seattle days”.

This is such a bizarre answer. Jefferson, when accused of murdering Chloe, felt the need to clarify that he was not interested in her, because he’d already had numerous flings with girls similar to her in the past. Why say that? If his lack of interest in Chloe stemmed from the fact that he’d had relations with similar girls in the past, then that clearly implies that the interest in his models was at least partially sexual in nature, even if he “only” satiated his desire by taking photographs. Talking about his “art”, Jefferson felt the need to bring up his taste in girls, explaining that he’d had enough of sluts and he was now after pure girls from good homes that he could corrupt to his evil heart’s desire.

Later, Jefferson said that Rachel and Chloe are fucking in heaven.

Max: “Chloe and Rachel! You killed both of them!”

Jefferson: “They’re fucking together in heaven right now. Is that what you want to hear?”

This is a grown man talking about high school kids using language like that – sluts, fucking. All that proves that Jefferson’s and Nathan’s disgusting crimes had a sexual dimension to them.

Look at it from Chloe’s perspective. Nathan lured her into a secluded location and slipped her date rape drugs. She barely escaped whatever he wanted to do to her. If this happened to you or someone you cared about, what would you assume? The only reasonable assumption would be that it was an attempted date rape. And the reality of Nathan’s photo sessions, seeing how they sometimes ended with the model suffering a deadly overdose, while different, was no better than that.

Chloe knew she would never get justice by going to the cops. Her word against the word of the local oligarch’s son? The Arcadia Bay Police Department was so notoriously corrupt that its members would openly admit to taking bribes from the Prescotts to teenage girls they just met for the first time.

Max: “I heard a rumour you were working for the Prescott family on the side”.

ABPD cop: “Look, sometimes I check up on the Prescott family to make sure they’re doing alright. Nathan included”.

Chloe figured that the only way for her to get any semblance of justice was to confront the boy who attempted to assault her and demand compensation. Now, riddle me this. Which ending concludes the theme of sexual violence and objectification of women in a better way? The victim being murdered by her would-be assaulter upon confronting him? Or the victim getting away alive? Murder is the ultimate form of objectification. It turns you into an inanimate object, forever. Should the story of the Dark Room end with it claiming one more victim, objectified irreversibly? Or with the victim reclaiming her agency, breaking free from the objectification and remaining animated?

[littlefireball]

ᴡʏ|ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʟᴘ ꜰ**ᴋ ᴍᴇ? (ᴍ)

ᴘʟᴀʏʙᴏʏ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 

ꜰᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴄᴀʀ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ɴᴇᴄᴋ ᴋɪꜱꜱ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ|ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ|ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ|

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.7ᴋ

Summary: You hate him and he hates you. But what if the alcohol makes you beg for him? Well, that's not good.

It was a chilly autumn evening, and the streets were painted with hues of orange and red as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. You walked briskly through the familiar alleys, your steps echoing off the cobblestones, each one carrying the weight of a heart heavy with resentment.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" You blamed yourself. The mere idea of encountering someone you despise again later darkened your mood even further─originally, your mood soured because of menstruation. If your friend hadn't begged over and over again, you would never have said yes. "It'll be fun," she said, with a smile that masked the underlying tension in the air. "You two need to let go of your differences and just enjoy each other's company for once." 

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. No way could you ever go through with it, especially when it came to Wooyoung. He was a playboy you had known for years—once a friend, now a rival. You chuckled at the absurdity of having ever thought you could be friends or even fall for him. He was charming, handsome, and caring, seemingly the perfect match for you. But on the very day you planned to confess your feelings, you overheard him chatting with his friends—"Y/N? I'm just having fun. Who would actually want her, honestly?" In that moment, your dreams shattered, and all the love was gone, replaced by hatred. 

Of course, you didn't tell your mutual friend the truth. You could never let Wooyoung know. 

"Finally, you're here!" Your friend hurried to swing the door open as soon as the knock echoed through the hallway. "And look, Wooyoung's here too."

"I get it, you don't need to remind me" you replied, managing a strained smile while slipping off your shoes. You deliberately averted your eyes from Wooyoung as you spotted him. "I won't stay long." 

"Why not? I'm heading overseas next week, so just hang out with me a bit longer!!"

"Fine."

The party was a blur of loud music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. People milled around, their faces lit up with excitement and the promise of a good time. You found yourself standing in a corner, nursing a drink and trying to ignore the buzz of conversation around you. 

It was then that you saw him, across the room, standing alone, looking as out of place as you felt. Your eyes met briefly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in them—perhaps regret, or even a longing for better days. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar scowl of contempt.

The air crackled with tension between the two of you, a storm brewing just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. It happened sooner than you expected. As you headed toward the bar for another drink, he stepped in your path, his voice a dark whisper. 

"What are you doing here?" he spat, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Ugh. If you can't handle your drink, just head home, jerk." 

"Mind your own business, idiot," You countered, your voice spoke up. "Why don't you just leave if you're so bothered? Your face is just grossing me out." 

"That's rich coming from you," He snapped, stepping closer. "I'm here to care for you and you blame me?" 

"Ha!Funny!Is this how you care for others?" You sneered, giving him a scornful look. "Just get out of my face."

"It's no doubt why you have no boyfriend, huh? You period everyday?" 

"So what about you? Did you eat shit everyday so that your mouth is fucking smelly?"　

Once more, the two of you found yourselves caught in a fierce dispute, words slicing through the air like sharp blades. The onlookers around you two blurred into the background, leaving only the two of you engaged in a fierce clash of determination. 

"Hey you two just stop!" Your shared friend finally stepped in, breaking the tension. "Can't you guys just keep in peace for one second?"

"Never." You two yelped at the same time.

"I'm done." You grabbed your things and made your way to the door, ignoring your friend. "I could never talk with this asshole anymore." 

"Me either. Fuck you, asshole." Wooyoung roared, giving you a middle finger. 

"Fuck you, dickhead." You stormed out of the party, a whirlwind of humiliation and fury swirling within you. The cool night air wrapped around you like a brisk embrace, yet it did nothing to calm your frayed nerves. As you meandered through the streets, your mind raced with a chaotic mix of anger and bewilderment. Eventually, you found yourself at a bar, a shadowy refuge where you could immerse yourself in the comforting haze of drink.

The hours passed in a blur of drinks and solitude. you lost count of how many you had consumed, but you knew you were drunk. Your head was spinning. You were not exactly built for it, and even a small amount made your face flush bright red. 

"Damn it…" You placed your palm on your forehead as a wave of dizziness swept over you. A grimace appeared on your face as the throbbing pain intensified, with beads of sweat running down your brow. You were on your period right now, that fierce argument earlier was only going to make things worse. You ended up feeling intense pain, like a hammer pounding on your lower abdomen, leaving you doubled over and unable to stand.

"I need someone to help…" You murmured, struggling to find your phone. 

—--

"Where did she go?" Your friend called you several times but you missed them all. The loud music in the bar completely drowned out your ringtone.

"Hey, Wooyoung. Could you help me to find her?" Your friend asked. 

"What?Me?Nope." Wooyoung took a sip from his drink, not caring for your safety. 

"You're the one who pissed her off, damn it." 

"Tsk, fine." Wooyoung rolled his eyes, reluctantly setting down his glass and dialing your phone. 

In truth, he didn't harbor any real hatred for you, at least not to the extent that you loathed him. He's known as a playboy, notorious for his flings with numerous female classmates, and countless girls have bared their hearts to him. Yet, he turned them all down, unable to feel a spark with any of them—until you came along. Your warmth, your radiant smile, everything about you captivated him. He's convinced that you must have feelings for him too; after all, you wouldn't go out of your way to gather the little tokens he gifted you, nor would you blush so deeply when speaking with him.

But then, everything took a turn.

He confided in his friends about wanting a serious relationship with you, only to be met with laughter from those he called friends. To save face, he brushed it off as a joke. Yet, that single remark shattered all the good moments you had shared. He contemplated making another move on you, but your sudden shift in demeanor ignited a fury within him, leading to arguments every time you crossed paths.

"Tsk…why do I need to find her?" Wooyoung complained, walking on the street aimlessly. He sighed, the cold wind outside made him sober. In fact, he missed the good times you'd shared, the laughter and camaraderie that had once defined your friendship, or even love. He wished with all his might that things could go back to the way they were, but he knew it was impossible.

—--

Out of nowhere, you found yourself reaching for your phone. Your fingers dialed Wooyoung's number almost instinctively, as if your subconscious mind knew what your heart desired. The phone rang a few times before he picked up, his voice sounding distant and wary.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone guarded.

"I...I need help," You stumbled, your words slurring together.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then he said, "Where are you?"

You told him the name of the bar, and within minutes, he was there. 

"Why did you drink that much?!I told you just go back home and you come to the bar?" Wooyoung blamed you while helping you out of your seat, but you suddenly hissed in pain.

"What's wrong?" 

"It hurts!" 

"Where?" 

"Cunt." Wooyoung nearly let out a shout of astonishment, but quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. He was taken aback by how candid you were in your drunken state.

"What…What??" 

"I said period ~pain!" 

"Ugh…" He helplessly rolled his eyes, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he tried to pick you up. But instead of rising, you leaned back, seizing his collar and sending him tumbling onto you. He caught himself with both hands on the back of the chair, leaning in so close that he could feel the warmth of your breath, laced with the intoxicating scent of alcohol, brush against his face.

"Fuck me, Wooyoung." You whispered, barely opened your eyes. You had no idea what you were doing but just followed your inner desire. 

"What the heck are you talking about?" Wooyoung's fist tightened, his heart pounding wildly at the sound of your pleas. He caught a glimpse of your chest, the neckline dipping enticingly from the earlier movement. As he swallowed hard, a rush of desire surged through him, getting an erection. But he tried to keep calm;he didn't want to take advantage of you. 

"I said fuck me!Make your cock inside me!" 

"Fuck you, bitch." He couldn't resist the lust within him anymore, all the rationale faded away as you begged with moan. He wanted to fuck you, fuck you so hard until you ask him to stop. "You beg for it." 

With your legs entwined around his waist, he effortlessly hoisted you up, gathering you close. Luckily, the car was just a short distance from the bar. He fished out the keys, started the engine, swung open the door, and gently set you down in the back seat. He put your gathering on the front seat and took out a condom from the box, climbing over you. 

"I ask you one more time, dear. Do you want me to fuck you, huh?" He tucked your hair at the back, watching your every detail until his hand stopped at your chin. "It's the last chance to say no." 

"I want you, Wooyoung." Emotions surged within you, and tears began to brim in your eyes, leaving you puzzled about their origin. Perhaps it was the weight of finally revealing your deepest emotions that overwhelmed you, making it impossible to hold back. 

Your eyes met in a moment of unspoken understanding, as if the world around you faded into obscurity. "Please, it hurts." Your gaze was hazy with alcohol's gentle embrace, yet it sparkled with a mischievous light that drew him in. 

"Fuck." Before Wooyoung finished his words, his lips pressed against yours. The kiss was nothing you had ever experienced before. It was clumsy, yet passionate, fueled by the reckless abandon that only liquor can bring. Your lips met with a soft thud, then parted, only to find yourselves drawn back together in a desperate embrace. You both tasted of sweet wine and each other, of bitter beer, their flavours mingling in a dance of sensation. 

"I never hated you." Wooyoung said between the kisses, his head divided into the crook of your neck. You arched your neck, feeling his lips trailed up and down along the curve of it.  The kiss became more intense, each passionate press of lips a testament to the depth of your connection.

Sliding down your sleeve to expose your bra, the cold sensation sent shivers down your spine. He buried his head in your chest, his hand grabbed the hem of your bra and pulled it down, wrapping around your nipple with his warm mouth. You opened your mouth for better breathing as his tongue went rough on your nipple, the wet muscle moved in a circle way and tapped your skin at a fast pace, making you moan at shyness. 

Lips parted, he sat up straight to unzip his pants. The tightness underneath made him feel uncomfortable, he needed to release. "Please don't stop." "Hang on, princess. How horny are you? Aren't you in your period?" Before you whined at discomfort, he leaned back to suck you breast, making you squirm as if an electricity passed through your body. 

"You like it?" A soft laugh escaped his lips as he lifted your dress, planting a series of tender kisses that journeyed from your chest to your stomach. Your upper body arched and fell rhythmically, each breath coming in heavy gasps, the thrill he ignited within you sending your mind into a delightful whirl. 

Lifting up your thighs, he pulled down your panties, finding your blood was not that much as he expected. Maybe thanks to the help of alcohol, he didn't feel too disgusted. 

"Maybe we need a towel." He extended his hand to grab a towel from the car trunk, grabbing your thighs up and placing it under both of your bodies. "I'll make you squirt after all." 

Smiled, he wrapped up a condom and positioned himself between your thighs. "Beg me one more time, y/n." "Please, woo─oh fuck!" His big fat cock slipped into your cunt in one go, making you arch your back and moan so loud. The blood was just like a lube, he could move in and out easily without feeling hurt. 

"Woo…oh fuck…" Your hands found their way to your clit, caressing the fold slightly as Wooyoung pulsed into your cunt without mercy. It was so good; the period pain gradually subsided each time his length skimmed your velvet wall, kissed your spot with his hard tip. The sounds of the night—distant laughter, cars passing by—melted into the background, replaced by the thundering of your hearts and the gentle skin slapping sound. 

"Need deeper, honey." He placed your legs on his shoulder, folding you as a mating press, leaning over to go deeper until the limitation. "Shit, hurt…" "Relax, it'll be good." His fingers clutched onto your bare shoulder, grasping it tightly as he collided with your deepest spot. "Here?" He hit it once again, a loud moan flew from your lips instead of a verbal answer. Without a second thought, he aimed at the same place and surged. 

The vehicle trembled violently under Wooyoung's throbbed thrusting; it was likely catching the eyes of passersby, but he was indifferent to their stares. All he wanted was to proclaim to the world that you were finally his. "Fuckkk, slow slow slow….!!" You moaned messily and grasped his arms, feeling he was going to ruin you. Something strange gathered in your stomach, urging you to release it without care. The moan muffled as all the strength gathered on releasing, you squirted hard and wetted all Wooyoung's clothes. 

"Shit, babe. I told you." He felt his ego grow to see you squirt under him, his cock twitched at the time your wall squeezed hard when squirting. "Goodness, wooyoung…" You could sense that your second peak was drawing near; that familiar sensation had returned once more. 

"Wanna cum, huh? Cum for me again, Y/N. I love how you moan out my name when you cum." His dirty words broke your limitation and you came again, arching your back and moaning out the name of the man above you. "Shit." All the heat rushed to the tip, making his cock twitch. His thrusting lost its rhythm;he pumped into you harshly and let out a long-throaty moan as he came all in his condom. The warmth of his seed spread in your cunt and he pulled out slowly to make you feel every vein of his cock. 

"Wait," He brushed his lips against yours in a tender peck before carefully taking off his condom and tidying up the both of you. With a gentle touch, he assisted you in getting dressed, his demeanor always soft and considerate. You had already drifted into a deep slumber, overwhelmed by the intensity of the night and the effects of the alcohol, sleeping peacefully. 

The back seat offered just enough room for him to spoon you; he slid his arm beneath your shoulder while the other wrapped securely around your waist, inhaling the sweet fragrance that lingered around you. "Let me drive you home tomorrow; I can't do it right now." He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, his eyes tracing the curve of your back, lost in a sea of contemplation. He pondered how you might react if the truth came to light; perhaps you would loathe him even more or wish him harm. A chill of fear coursed through him, the anxiety that you might abandon him again, even though you had never truly belonged to him. Regret washed over him like a tide, and he tightened his embrace, feeling the weight of his emotions.  

—--

The dawn slowly crept in, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, yet you remained unaware, nestled in his warmth. He gazed out the window, the city waking up around them, as he contemplated the path ahead. His heart was heavy with last night, but he cherished these stolen moments, knowing they could be fleeting.

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, as if trying to memorize every detail. As the sun fully rose, casting a golden glow on your peaceful face, he decided to cherish this moment, letting go of the worry for a while. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to absorb the scent of you, the feeling of your body pressed against his, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from you, soothing his troubled soul.

But the reality of the situation loomed, and he knew he couldn't keep hiding forever. The thought of facing the consequences, of losing your trust, sent a shiver down his spine. 

With a heavy heart, he gently disentangled himself from your embrace, leaving a kiss on your forehead before slipping out of the car. Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the convenient shop to buy some breakfast, only to find that you had already woken up and stood in front of the car door when he came back. 

"You wake up?" He said, trying to hide his nervousness. 

"Is it truly how you care for others?" You complained slightly, but your voice was not harsh at all, it was soft. 

"Ugh…I brought some food, hangover medicine, and also a pad…I think you need it." He stammered, making you let out a soft chuckle. 

"Thanks." You managed to say.

He didn't reply, but he handed you the food, your favourite bread. You couldn't believe he still remembered your love. You ate in silence for a while, the only sounds were the chewing and the distant hum of city life. 

The silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. He watched you eat, a small smile playing on his lips. He was grateful for these simple moments, even if he still didn't know what you thought after last night.

As you finished your breakfast, he spoke up, his voice gentle. "Are you still hurt?" 

"No." You looked up at him with no smile, your expression guarded. 

"I know what I did was wrong. I never meant to hurt you. I was just…lost."He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I'll take responsibility, I promise." 

You were surprised at his words, expecting he would say 'Let's pretend nothing happened' and drive away. Maybe you misunderstood him? 

"Then how?" You met his gaze, your eyes softening.

"Can we start over?" He approached you, his voice firm. "I never really hated you… it's just that I get really frustrated whenever you say something mean to me. I know I fucked up, and it makes sense that you'd be upset with me. Can you forgive me?" 

Your gaze softened further as he spoke, the weight of his apology hanging heavily in the air. You hesitated, not wanting to let go of the hurt so easily but also recognizing the sincerity in his eyes.

"It's not just about last night," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's about you wooing me just for fun. That's what you said."

"No, Y/N." He denied immediately, feeling nervous. "It was just a lie. I never meant to play with your feelings. I'm not wooing you just for kicks; I really do like you. I'm sorry for what I said to cover my tracks. Please, can we try again? Together?" 

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Forgiveness wasn't something that came easily, but the way he looked at you, with such earnestness and vulnerability, made it harder to resist.

"Okay," you said, finally. "But only if you're not lying." 

He smiled, relief etched across his face. "I promise. Let me make up for you, babe."

"Who is your babe?" 

"What?Aren't you to be my girlfriend?" 

"Who said that?" 

He pouted, acting like a child. 

"Not now." 

"So in the future?" 

"I don't know. Just give me some time." 

"Okay then. I'll wait for you." He reached out and took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. 

And just like that, you began to rebuild your relationship, one small step at a time.

—--

(little side story)

(several months after that night)

"It's good to hear you two finally reconcile." Your mutual friend said happily. "So what did you do, wooyoung?" 

"Ugh…nothing. Just apologize and drive her home. That's it." Wooyoung said nervously. 

"You're lying, Wooyoung." 

"No!I didn't!" 

"Hey, babe. Who're you talking with?" You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pecking at his lips and leaning on his chest. The kissing sound and your voice rang in the phone, making your friend gasp in shock. 

"YOU…YOU?!WHAT HAPPENED AT THAT NIGHT??"

"Not your business." Wooyoung smirked, hanging up the phone before flipping you over to draw you into a passionate kiss. 

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 5- Party O’ Clock ☕️

As you, Hu Tao, and Ayaka were done getting ready, you all piled up in the Kamisato family car. Which happens to be a Rolls Royce. These damn rich people and their fancy cars.

Ayato, Ayaka’s brother, was designated driver. Ayaka has yet to acquire her license.

“Damn girl!” Hu Tao looked around the car with amazement, “If you would’ve told me you had one of these I would have been coming over every day.”

Ayaka only giggled. You felt like an actual celebrity in this car. Not like you aren’t one, it just never hit you till now. You’re going to one of the biggest parties in the entertainment industry that was kept on the low from the public.

It all felt so surreal. As you were having this realization, Ayaka handed her phone to you to play some music. You stared at her phone trying to come up with something to play.

A moment passes and still being indecisive, you handed the phone to Hu Tao. You can be aux in someone’s car another day.

Hu Tao was always good at aux. She selected Sundress by Asap Rocky first. Hu Tao then queued up a few more songs before handing the phone back to Ayaka.

The car ride was mostly filled with Ayaka and Hu Tao talking. You or Ayato would sometimes chime in. Usually you’re a yapper, however, you had this sense of dread in you.

You didn’t know what it was. Was it because it was your first time going to one of these things? Or was it because you knew you were going to have to encounter the one person you wish you wouldn’t have to see after high school.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the car had stopped. It was only when Hu Tao tapped your shoulder that you realized you had arrived.

You stepped out of the car and got a good look at the place. A giant manor appeared in front of you. A beautiful fountain made out of marble centered in the middle. Greenery hugged the perimeter. How was THIS kept from the public? Furina must’ve used your Espresso money to pay for all this.

Honesty, it felt like you didn’t belong here.

Hu Tao grabbed your hand and led you inside. A lot of high end celebrities were here. Some of them you were a big fan of. Nonetheless, this wasn’t the place to be asking them for pictures. In the corner you spotted Lyney, Lynette, and Mona who were all at the bar.

“There you guys are!” Mona exclaimed.

She hugged you, Hu Tao, and Ayaka.

“Can we take some shots already??” Hu Tao questioned.

She was very eager to get wasted. Ironic because she was telling you not to a few days ago.

The bartender poured everyone a shot of Soju.

Then another.

Another.

One more.

Now you, Hu Tao, Lyney, and Mona were all four shots deep. Lynette doesn’t drink and Ayaka only had one since she’s a lightweight. You could handle a few more but you didn’t want to get blackout hammered. Hu Tao’s warning was still in the back of your mind. You only picked up a White Claw to be drinking throughout the night.

You left your friends at the bar and decided to explore on your own. That was, until you noticed a familiar orange hair in the distance.

It seemed to notice you to.

“Holy shit! Is that Y/n?” It was Childe. Who appeared to be very drunk already.

“Holy shit! Is that my prom mosh pit buddy?” You responded. He couldn’t help but laugh.

During your senior prom you spent the entire time in the dance circle/mosh pit with Childe. It was fun but very unexpected.

You and Childe exchanged a reunion hug. He smelled of alcohol and sweat.

“Dude how many shots have you taken?” You begin to ask. It was a bit concerning he was already fucked up this early.

“Uhh only like 7??” Childe chuckled. His speech slurring a bit.

“What the fuck?” It impressed you.

“How have you been though? We barely spoke at the grad party. Your new song is honestly really good.” Childe commented on. He was always nice to you. Never had any malicious intent, which was surprising considering who his friends are.

You hesitated before responding, “I’ve been good. I barely saw you at the party that was my bad! I liked your movie with Lumine. Anyone but You right?”

“Thank you! I had a fun time filming it. I didn’t know you watched my movies.” Childe simply responded. He always had a flirty tone whenever he talked to people.

Childe then pulled out a geek bar and took a hit. The smell of candy filled the air. He then offered it to you.

You stared at it for a moment. Fuck it. You took a hit of the blowpop flavored vape. Of course you inhaled wrong and began coughing up a storm. Childe started laughing his ass off.

“This is why I hate nic. Fucking fein.” You barely formed the sentence. Hacking and coughing up your lungs. You took a sip of your White Claw to bring back moisture to your throat.

“Y/n, you good?” Childe asked while continuing to laugh.

Before you could even respond, he was whisked away by Venti. You both said your goodbyes and you were on your own once again.

Sipping your White Claw you began to feel a little tipsy, so you decide to sit down somewhere. You always underestimate alcohol. As soon as you sat down, it felt like the whole world was spinning. You felt dizzy but in a good way. It felt good to be drunk.

It took you a minute to notice someone was next to you, until you smelled a joint being sparked up. Obviously you turned to the source of the smell.

It was none other than Xiao and the singer Albedo from Mondstadt Entertainment. How did they know each other? Who knows. Albedo was the first one to notice you though.

“Hello. Aren’t you Y/n?” He questioned.

You got a little shy. It was weird to have one of your favorite artists know your existence. Damn. No more parasocial relationships for you.

Xiao responded for you, “They’re the one who has a twitter feud with Scaramouche.”

“You didn’t have to tell him all that.” You responded with embarrassment. It was true though, currently you’re trending for fighting with the most popular person under Inazuma Entertainment.

“Shits funny though. We always laugh about it in the group chat.” Xiao mentioned as he took a hit from the joint.

They talk about you in the Inazuma group chat?

“Oh so am I like a household name there?” You joked. You were always intimidated by him. Xiao always looks so mad. However, the alcohol is making your fears go away.

“Yeah kinda. By the way, do you smoke?” Xiao asked nonchalantly, his body shifted to look at you. It felt like his eyes were piercing through your soul.

This caught you off guard, “I sometimes do when I have stuff.”

Xiao then handed you the joint and you took a long hit. You didn’t cough this time. If you were being honest, you preferred weed over nicotine, It doesn’t smell as great but it also doesn’t make you feel sick.

You passed it to Albedo, who took a long inhale. This could be seen as a dream blunt rotation or a nightmare blunt rotation. However, it wasn’t until the end where you felt the weed hit. Mix with the alcohol, you began to feel crossed. You began to feel so giggly and everything moved so slow.

You turned to the both of them, “What the hell was in this?”

“Don’t worry it’s not laced. It’s just weed imported from Snezhnaya. My plug is from there.” Albedo reassured you.

“You have a plug?” Your question came out more of a surprise than you have intended.

“Yes. He’s the best. Here let me give you my number so we can smoke again. Xiao give them yours too.” Albedo grabbed your phone from you to type in his number. Xiao then grabbed the phone from Albedo and typed in his number as well.

You felt proud of yourself for scoring two hot guy’s numbers. Were you actually going to text them? Who knows!

The more you sat down, the more you realized how stuffy and hot the place was becoming. You excused yourself and went out onto the balcony to get some fresh air.

The cold air stung as you had exited the warm party. It quickly felt nice though. As you hung your head over the balcony, you heard footsteps approaching behind you.

Turning around, you saw the person you wanted to avoid the most tonight. Scara fucking mouche.

As you guys made eye contact he scoffed and looked away. He looked the same as ever. Fortunately, still good looking. Unfortunately, still short.

There was a bit of awkward silence before you began to spoke.

“Can’t you see I was here first?” Alcohol makes you appear more bolder.

“How fucking drunk are you?” Scara asked in a harsh tone. “And are you high too? You smell like weed.”

“That’s none of your business.” You retorted.

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t change do you?”

He walked next to you on the balcony. There was still a decent amount of space between you guys. You glanced over to him. Scara’s hair looks grown out but still healthy, despite often dying it purple. His violet eyes were looking out into the outside portion of the party. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’d be someone who’s the opposite of what he actually is.

Scara then took out a pack of cigarettes and began lighting one. You stared at it hoping he’d offer it to you. You love smoking cigs when drunk. For someone who sings, you sure do smoke a lot.

“You’re not sharing this with me.” Scara said plainly. Not even glancing at you.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You looked away from him. The cool air felt pleasant against your skin. You could hear the music blaring from the inside and the people mingling down below. It was better than any other party you had attended.

There was another long silence between you guys. It didn’t feel awkward anymore. It was more nostalgic and comforting than anything. So you began to talk once again.

“Do you still talk to Aether or Kazuha?” The question always lingered in your mind. Those were some of the mutual friends you guys had shared. You haven’t spoken to either of them since graduation.

“Yes, sometimes” Scara responded in a monotone voice. He didn’t seem interested to talk to you. You didn’t care though.

There was yet again another long silence. This time, he stuck out his hand to you. Offering the cigarette.

“Take it before I change my mind.” He mumbled.

You took the cigarette from his hand, now sharing it with him. You were too out of it to notice the bitter taste. Perhaps, it was the liquor masking the true taste of the cigarette. Perhaps, it was the liquor that was the real reason you were feeling more bold to ask this certain question. One that has been lingering in your mind the longest. The question you were worried about the answer the most.

“Did you ever like talking to me?”

The question shifted the tension in the air.

Scara was calculating his response. The longer he took to respond, the more anxious you felt.

“You were a nice friend to talk to.” He finally answered.

The answer disappointed you.

Just a friend? Seriously? After all those nights on facetime, him listening to you rant, him getting upset when you took too long to respond, him sending you over 20 tiktoks a day, him recommending you songs or movies, and him getting jealous over random guys. That was just him being a friend?

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You snapped at him. You turned your body to face his.

“What??” Scara retorted, barely glancing in your direction.

“If I was just a friend then why were you so ashamed of me? Why did you never tell anyone we would talk on the daily?” You began to press into him.

“You never told anyone either! You barely even told Hu Tao.” Scara argued back, finally facing you.

“And you only told Childe! I didn’t know what we were. You always seemed embarrassed to talk to me at school. We rarely hung out outside of school. And you let your friends harass me.” Your feelings from the past year gushed out of you. You weren’t holding back.

“Yeah you’re right. I was embarrassed of you. Everyone at school made fun of you because you were a trainee. Your personality made it unbearable and that’s why you only had a few friends. Anyone associated with you was questioned and also made fun of. I at least wanted to keep my connections.” Scara’s words felt like a knife to the heart.

Deep down, you knew that most people around you felt like you were a burden for pursuing your idol dreams. Everytime you would apologize for flaking because you were practicing, how you would talk about what happened at practice, and how hard you tried to fit in. It never seemed good enough for people. You tried your best being friendly but people often thought you were fake. It just hurt coming from someone you thought cared about you.

“You seriously considered how people felt? I thought you didn’t care what people thought about you. I thought you were different.” Your voice cracked as you tried to hold back tears.

“It’s different when it came to you. You were the joke of the grade. You may have had some friends but did you ever wonder what people thought of them? For being associated with you?” His questions grilled into you like an interrogation.

Your friends always comforted you. Not once did they ever mention their image getting tarnished. Sure they would sometimes get teased for even speaking to you, but they never seemed to care. Right?

“Then what about Childe?” You finally argued back, “He was always nice to me. I don’t recall anyone teasing him for texting or speaking to me.”

“That’s because he’s respected enough. No one dared to bully him or even say anything to him about his friends.” Scara replied nonchalantly.

It was irritating to see him not care about how his words would affect you. You had enough.

“Whatever. Fuck you and fuck your friend group. You never deserved me or everything I did for you, you little ungrateful cunt. You’re dead to me.“ Those were your final words to him before storming off. All the emotions began to pour out of you as you began to walk away.

As Scara saw you walk off, he turned back to face the night sky. “What a dramatic bitch.” He muttered before finally finishing the cigarette you two had shared. As he threw it on the ground, he felt a sort of guilt. Did he really need to tell you all that?

Whatever.

You deserved to know.

Scara looked around at the people in attendance. He then noticed something in the corner of his eye. Someone was throwing up in a bush. Someone familiar….for fucks sake it’s Venti. Kokomi at his side comforting him. Scara groaned not believing what he is seeing. He walked back into the party so he could help his somewhat friend.

Meanwhile, you were trying your best to find your friends. You wanted to leave this party asap. You dialed Ayaka’s number and luckily she picked up. They were by the snack table. You hurriedly met up with them.

When you got there, Lyney, Mona, and Hu Tao were wasted out of their minds. It was an amusing sight.

What wasn’t an amusing sight, was you visibly shaken up. Naturally, it didn’t take long before they noticed.

“Hey Y/n are you alright?” Lynette asked. She always had a keen eye for people’s body language.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I ran into Scaramouche and we had this giant argument.” You hesitated in answering. Nervous on how the others might react.

“YOU WHAT? NAH where is he?! Lemme go beat his ass!” Hu Tao tried standing up but she fell on top of Lyney.

“Get your fat ass off of me!” Lyney slurred.

“Y/n do you want to leave? We were about to head out right now and text you.” Ayaka mentioned.

You nodded. This party was fun until you had a run in with him.

“Lynette, do you and the others want to sleepover at my place with us?” Ayaka offered.

Lynette glanced over at Lyney and Mona, who were fighting over the last cookie. She then looked at Ayaka and nodded.

Lynette, Lyney, and Mona got into Lynette’s car meanwhile you, Hu Tao, Ayaka, and Ayato got into the car you arrived in. The car ride was silent. You were still drunk and angry at what had happened earlier so you whipped out your phone to send a few texts.

You closed your eyes for the remainder of the car ride. When you opened them, had finally arrived to the Kamisato Estate. It’s as big inside as it is outside.

Ayaka showed you all to your rooms and you all began to unwind for the night. You immediately collapsed onto the bed. The world still spinning around you and memories from the party flood your brain. You tried your best to repress those thoughts and fall asleep.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Chapter 5 done!! This is my first written chapter so I apologize if it’s really long. I was too lazy to split it up into two parts. (That’s pretty much why I lowk rushed the ending) I know this chapter was a bit dramatic but I lowk had a fun time writing it. This isn’t even all the lore between Scara and Y/n 🤫 Also let’s pretend the Kamisato Estate is close to where the party is being held 💔 I’m bad at geography.

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3

[chiaraanatra]

Lavender Girl

Summary: JJ was never one to believe in fate but one chance encounter may have him changing his mind. (Or the one where JJ helps Kook!reader through a panic attack and neither one of them can get the other off their mind.)

Warnings: vague descriptions of a panic attack, reader is an anxious wreck, reader tends to bite the skin on her fingers when anxious (don't mind me and my self-inserts), swearing feelings of distrust on JJ's part, nick-/pet names (pretty girl, lavender girl). one use of Y/N.

WC: 2.1k

AN: I'm not sure what this is or where its going! If anyone has any ideas/would like a part two let me know! I hope you like!

Song: Loosely based on Lavender Girl by Caamp

《 m.list || ao3 》

JJ POV

Why do I do this to myself?

Are pity tips from old ladies worth it?

This stupid getup is bad enough, let alone having to wait hand & foot on these fucking Kooks.

Do these people have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning than sit around bitching and drinking mimosas?

JJ made my way back inside, empty tray under his arm. Thank god it was nice out. It meant that the main bar inside the club was completely empty, giving him a minute of peace away from out-of-touch members of 'high society'.

Or so he thought…

When he turned the corner, he was met with soft sobs and lavender fabric pooled delicately on the floor under the bar. "Um… You okay…?" He didn't want to be rude, but heavy emotions weren't exactly his specialty, and he didn't have much experience with girls crying on the floor. At least not like this...

“Oh God, I'm so sorry…" you mumbled.

You looked up at him with teary eyes and in that moment, JJ was sure he had never been met with a more beautiful sight. Even glossed with tears, JJ was positive he had never looked into eyes as clear as yours. He watched as you scrambled to wipe away the tears that were still spilling over and mask the sounds of sniffling.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay." JJ set down the tray and crouched to be at eye level with you. "Wha's gotcha so upset? Far too pretty to be crying like that…" His last statement was barely above a whisper, brought into existence before JJ even knew he was saying it.

You glanced away, biting the skin of your thumb, "It’s all too much, it's just… I-I just couldn't…" You were trembling, shaking like a leaf. JJ knew if you kept this up you would probably pass out from lack of oxygen and/or gnaw straight through your finger.

"Hey, look at me." He reached out, gently taking your hand away from your mouth and bringing your attention to him. "Deep breaths." For a moment JJ thought he may be overstepping, but something in him had switched to autopilot, set on helping you, comforting you. "Breathe with me. In." He paused to take a deep breath, "And out." He slowly blew the air out of his lungs before repeating the process and the mantra. "In… and out…"

He watched as your trembling slowed and your body seemed to relax at his words. "There she is." He gave you a smile and you reciprocated with a small one of your own, "See? Knew you were far too pretty to be cryin’ like that," JJ helped you to stand. He thought you were about to say something before his name caught his attention.

"JJ, what the fuck are you doing man?" JJ looked behind him to see Ben peek his head out from the hallway. "If Mr. Burton sees you fucking around again, he’s gonna cut your ass."

"Shit…" his attention was brought back to you. "Sorry pretty girl, I gotta go." he grabbed his tray before giving you one last glance. "It’ll be okay. Don't let anyone make you believe otherwise. That includes yourself!"

And with that he was gone, leaving you with puffy eyes and a soft smile. JJ didn't know that he also left you wondering why anyone would be so sweet to you and that soon you would be clamoring to know more about the dirty blonde that went by JJ.

After his shift, JJ went straight to the Chateau, where he now found himself hanging off one of the chairs on the porch and regretting just about every word he had said in the last 15 minutes. He didn’t know how you got brought up and he certainly as hell didn’t know why, considering the two of you had barely a 10-minute interaction and you only said 5 words to him.

Regardless of circumstances, he was now getting berated with questions from two of his best friends, fearing it would only get worse when Kie and Sarah made their way back out onto the porch.

"Shit man you should have at least asked for her name!" John B exclaimed almost tipping over the beer bottle that was haphazardly perched on the arm of his chair.

JJ rolled his eyes, "I wasn't exactly thinking about that!"

"Yeah, I can only imagine what you were thinking about." Pope chuckled to himself. "Speaking of, what did she look like?"

JJ didn't want to tell his friends that you were the most gorgeous human he had ever seen "I don't know man, she looked like every other Kook princess running around." JJ could only shake his head at how unconvincing his voice sounded.

"Bullshit!" John B laughed at his best friend's failed attempts to mask his budding feelings.

"What are you halfwits arguing about?" The three boys looked up to find Kie and Sarah stepping out of the Chateau. Sarah made herself comfortable on John B's lap while Kie sat on the couch next to Pope.

"JJ's in love."

"Wha- fuck you, Pope!"

"With a mystery Kook," John B added.

"Oooo! Tell me more!" Sarah loved gossip and loved the idea of JJ showing interest in a girl that went beyond the realm of a one-night stand.

JJ stood from his seat, "I'm just gonna go walk into the ocean while y'all have fun."

"Oh, sit down," John B waved his hand and JJ returned to his seat. "We're just fucking around, JJ."

"So how did we meet this mysterious Kook Princess?" Kie leaned in, her elbows on her knees.

"Don't matter. For all I know, she's some rich bitch Touron and I'll never see her again."

With that, the conversation fell to other topics, but JJ's thoughts were still on you. Your soft smile. Your puffy eyes. Your lavender dress. He would never admit it, but he was hoping that he was wrong and that he would be lucky enough to see you again.

It had been a week since JJ’s interaction with you and with no signs of you at the club, he feared that he was right. You were gone and he was left with only the memory of your lavender dress and beautiful eyes.

Or so he thought…

Little did he know that you had been looking for him whenever you entered the country club. You just so happened to miss each other, just barely, every time.

He was walking back from the kitchen when he heard his name being called from down the hallway. “JJ?” The voice sounded small and apprehensive but familiar.

When he turned around, he was greeted by the same beauty from the week before, only you had shed your fancy lavender dress for something a bit more casual, shorts and a flowy white shirt.

When he didn’t respond she continued, "That's your name, right? JJ?"

"Uh yeah. That's me. Um, how can I help you?" A look of confusion danced across his face. He half expected you not to remember him and was waiting for you to ask him for a drink or complain about the hors d'oeuvres.

"I wanted to thank you for the other day…" When his confused look didn’t cease, you couldn't help but continue, "I was the girl in the dress, crying her eyes out on the floor under the bar…" Your hair twirled around your finger in what JJ’s eyes looked to be nervousness.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly and shake his head. Of course, he remembered you; how could he forget, you plagued almost every thought he had had in the last week. He was more taken aback by your kindness.

"I get like that sometimes…" you continued. "Sorta like a tidal wave, once it starts it's hard to stop… but you helped me calm down and you didn't even know me… don’t even know me. So, I-I just wanted to thank you…" your voice faded out as you looked down at your pristine, white Converse.

"No problem." JJ watched as you turned to walk away. Wishing he could bring himself to say something, anything that would make you stay for just a second longer. But JJ knew a girl like you would never go for a guy like him.

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, not noticing that you had turned to face him once more, "Would you like to hang out, sometime?"

Disbelief flashed over his features, "You wanna hang out with me?" This had to be some kind of trick, at any moment some Kook fucks would jump him for thinking he could so much as look at you.

"If not that's fine! It's probably super weird that I asked that! You don't even know me…"

JJ heard the increased anxiousness in your voice and noticed you starting to gnaw nervously at your fingers once again. "Hey, calm down." He made his way closer to you and gently pulled your hand away once more. "Deep breath for me." He watched as you did what you were told. He released your hand before speaking again, "You really want to hang out with me? You realize I'm not like your kook friends, right? I don't have a pretty Benz to drive you around in and I barely have 20 bucks to my name."

"I just moved here, and I don't really have any friends." A look of embarrassment washed over your face, "not that we have to be friends!" You paused, taking another deep breath. JJ could see you trying to fight off the waves of anxiety as they hit you, "It's just- you seem genuinely nice and that seems a bit hard to come by around here…"

JJ's tongue pressed against his cheek as he smiled. "Got your phone?"

You nodded, pulling the device out from the back pocket of your shorts. You unlocked it and handed it to the blonde where he proceeded to put his number in. You looked at the new contact name when he handed your phone back.

JJ Maybank 🌊

You couldn’t help but smile.

"I’m off all day tomorrow, maybe I could show you around the island or something?”

You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. “That would be great! Um, I should get going, but I’ll text you?”

“Sounds like a plan, lavender girl.” He gave you a parting smile and a wink before returning to work.

"No need to ask. He's a smooth operator!" Pope’s voice rang out as the three boys made their way down the dock to the HMS Pogue.

John B was quick to join the other man in song, as the three jumped on board, "Smooth operator!"

JJ made his way to the bow looking like he was about to jump into the murky water below, “That's it! I'm never telling you guys shit ever again!"

“Relax, J!” John B pulled his friend off the edge, “Like you didn't give me this much shit with Sarah."

"If not more," Pope laughed as he started the boat.

While that was definitely true the blonde rolled his eyes.

"So, what's the plan?" Pope continued as he lowered the anchor. "This doesn't feel like your usual catch-and-release."

“Man, I don’t know, she’s a fuckin’ Kook. I told her I could show her around the island since she just moved here but I’m not sure she’s gunnin’ to see how the other half lives.”

“Hey, you never know. She might surprise you,” John B had a look in his eyes that told the world that he was thinking about Sarah in that moment.

“Sounds like she has so far,” Pope couldn't help but take a couple more jabs at his friend's expense, never having seen the blonde like this before.

With that, JJ’s mind ran through all the possible things the two of you could do tomorrow. Only to be interrupted by the ping of his phone.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Hey it’s Y/N.

*PING*

Unknown Number - Lavender girl…

JJ felt his heart skip a beat. Part of him didn’t think you would actually contact him.

*PING*

Unknown Number – Are you still free tomorrow?

Contacting him was one thing but actually wanting to hang out with him? He quickly saved your contact in his phone, the nickname he gave you seemed appropriate. He ignored the small flips in his stomach brought on by the thought of you.

*PING*

Lavender Girl - If you still want to hang out, that is.

JJ couldn’t help but smirk and shake his head at your nervousness, not noticing Pope glancing at the digital exchange.

“She uses commas when she texts? Girl after my own heart.”

JJ pushed the other boy, “Fuck off, Pope!”

Do we like? Do we want a part 2? If the answer is yes, do we have suggestions/ideas for part 2? If the answer is also yes please share!

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @daisydark @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @lillyxlillian @jjsfavgirl

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[spiceywawa]

@boolger <-

I couldn't help myself and had to try doing this shite again and write my little idea inspired heavily? by their fic.

Kitty♡

Current -> Next

John price moved from the city and bought a farm with all the works. Cows, pigs, chickens, etc. He previously considered getting a hybrid kitten along his other hybrids but never did due to living deep in the city with not a lot of room. After his abrupt retirement, John decided why not to help make the farming/food industry just a little better.

He decided to start his farm, and funny enough, the farm came with its own kitty hybrid. A beautiful stone Grey short haired kitty that took care of rodents and smaller predators. Kitty would laze wherever they pleased and previously had the freedom to come and go around the property and house as they saw fit.

John never minded them, and on the listing for the farm, the hybrid was in the description as a poor kitty that was left behind. It took quite a bit of time to get the skittish kitty used to him and even let him close enough to smell him. It's not entirely surprising the cautious and skeptical looks kitty gives him because while their owner left kitty, and the seller forgot to mention the many working hybrid dogs they owned went with them Abandoning poor kitty, leaving them all alone with not one to cuddle with at night.

Sweet farm kitty hybrid only met John price at first, but little did they know John had his own three dog hybrids. All retired from military after many years of admirable service. Before John thought you were ready to meet his three boys, he set up your own room and safe spots around the giant farmhouse. Giving you your own designated space when you decided to stay in the house with him. Of course, at some point, when john gently lured you into your new room, it was somewhat of a shit show. You went as far as deciding using the window to the roof to come in, and out of the house was a better option than using the actual doors.

You eventually settled and decided the room was better than the hay loft and tried out being a couch potato. When you quietly and cautiously joined John on the new couch for the first time, he immediately froze to not deter you from approaching him. He watched you out of his peripheral lay next to him, resting your head on his thigh. Only when you relaxed and began quietly purring did he attempt to stroke your head, petting your fuzzy ears watching them flick at his gentle touch. After that encounter and many positive moments, john decided it was time to bring the boys home for good.

The boys often dog piled in John's room, so separate rooms for them were pretty much unnecessary unless they asked for it. They had freedom to roam and wouldnt be allowed in your room without permission, he doubted you would so he would make sure the boys knew if was off limits until otherwise said. But considering they had all the space they needed and john has the biggest room and bathroom amenities in the house, the boys had their own section of the room, including a corner cubby with their stuff and combined beds.

Of course, after being out of a strict military environment for so long the moment the boys arrived when they got a whiff of your scent, johnny and gaz scattered trying to find you and simon ended up chasing after johnny trying to get him to quit it. Gaz beat johnny to the punch, chasing you up above the fridge on top of the cabinets. He was leaning against the fridge, wagging his tail sniffing the air, trying to get closer to you, curiosity and excitement emanating from him. When johnny heard the commotion, he wriggled away from simons grip toward gaz. John yelled stop, and all his hybrids looked at him.

You were less amused than the three behemoths before you. Johnny and gaz both whined, saying they only wanted to meet their new friend, and simon was glaring at the two having more self-control of his instincts and curiosity. John cringed at the poor first introduction. The low growl in your throat brought everyone's attention back to you. John shooed the three away simon, grabbing the two by their harnesses being the most dominant out of the three.

You glared at John as he began trying to coax you in getting down. "It's alright, my pretty girl. You're ok. Those two aren't gonna get ya, I promise." He coos at you. In John's defense, he told the three to behave simon was indifferent, but gaz and johnny were the ones he was worried about. You watch him with your ears pinned down and tail flicking rapidly in annoyance as he is trying to get you down with treats and your favorite toy your, very first toy ever. But you don't budge for a solid 20 minutes. "Come on, sweet kitty, there are all a bunch of big ol teddy bears they aren't gonna hurt ya." He says to you, running his finger down the bridge of your nose as you won't let him pet you.

Johnny and Gaz are sitting a few feet away patiently waiting for you to come down and allow them to scent you and say hello, their tails swishing excitedly behind them. They are all definitely German Shepard or a mix of one you can see that much, and they are all ridiculously large compared to you.

Simon is standing next to John, watching you with a curious expression. You eye him, taking in his scared face and equally battered fuzzy ears nestles in blond hair. Much to everyone's surprise, simon reaches up and grabs you gently, taking you off the fridge and into his big arms. You freeze from shock as simon settles you against his chest, holding you with one arm. You latch onto him to prevent yourself from falling, watching his face suspiciously.

Simon traces the scars on your face and arms from fending of other critters around the farm. "That's simon Kitty." John says, trying not to laugh as your frozen form clutches to simon. You frown as johnny and Gaz laugh, simons low chuckle vibrating through you. "You're a stubborn little thing." Simon says as he sits down next to the other two, positioning you in his lap, keeping a protective distance from gaz and johnny.

His tail swishes behind him as you let him hold you, unsure if you're gonna bolt or stay. You settle to johns surprise, holding onto simons arm, watching the other two scoot closer. You did miss your pack mates, so you tolerated the curiosity for a bit unsure if this was even gonna be permanent. Simon watches gaz close as he scents you first, seeing as he did find you first. He sniffs for a bit, his nose gently bumping your chin as he sniffs higherup your neck, simon lets out a low growl, telling gaz that's enough. Johnny takes that as his cue that it's his turn and bounds in face first into your neck. Simon reaches for johnny, pulling him away. "Careful with the lil thing, johnny. Don't wanna break em do you?" He shakes his head rapidly tail going a mile a minute. John chimes in watching this interaction unfold. "Gentle boys." He says, watching your face for any discomfort.

The only feeling you have is confusion. Have they never seen a cat hybrid before? And why are you letting them so close so quickly?

Simon lets Johnny's scruff go, and he gently smells you for a bit. Then simon tells them you're done, and it's his turn. He breathes in your scent, enjoying the sweet, subtle scent holding you closer

You sigh, giving up, seeing as much simon claimed you technically it seems they all did, and this is your life now. It doesn't seem so bad, really, you could get used to this.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 8

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; explicit sexual content; unprotected sex;

Chapter Summary: In which Simon and his neighbour exchange confessions (and bodily fluids).

Word Count: 3.9K

Come Monday evening, Simon Riley found himself facing his hardwood floors, strong, firm biceps holding him steady in a strong plank. 

The heavy rain splattered loudly against his windows, the howling winter wind unrelenting against the building’s edges. He had turned the small heater on hours ago, but he knew if he wasn’t settling his daily score of push-ups he would be freezing regardless.

Johnny had left the previous evening, taking the overly excited pup out of his neighbor’s hands, and Simon had busied himself with deep cleaning the flat, finishing the day with some much needed exercise to take the edge off. He both loathed and yearned for the anxious nerves bubbling in his stomach everytime he thought about his last encounter with the young woman next door.

He had found no relief in the familiar touch of his own hand, nothing nearly satisfying enough to keep his mind from wandering back to her kitchen, and the wetness coating his fingers inside her warmth. 

He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants once again, permanently hard with the worst case of blue balls he had ever experienced, since he first felt her eager grip around his base, and the languid strokes that had almost brought him over the edge. Johnny hadn’t shut up about having caught them in the middle of something, despite Simon’s unyielding denial and threats to dump his corpse over the canal, and he knew he would never let it go.

He pulled himself off the floor, joints popping semi-painfully as he checked his watch.Simon couldn’t deny the unsettling concern twisting in his stomach as he checked the time again: Riley should have been home at least an hour ago. He admonished himself for having studied her routine so well, knowing she would most likely find it creepy, but as soon as he pulled his hoodie over his head, he heard her keys jiggle in the hallway.

As per their usual routine, he waited for her to be ready to spend some time with him, putting on his face mask and walking over to the stove, beginning to heat up dinner as he heard her move about. 

Was that…sniffling? 

He knew something was off the moment she meekly knocked on the door, and he wasn’t surprised to find tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, hair messy from the wind, still in her oversized scrubs reeking of cat piss.

“Bloody hell…” He recoiled from the stench. “Wha’ happened to you?”

“I had the worst day ever!” She cried weakly, shoulders slouched in defeat as Simon softly pulled her inside.

“I can see that, love.” He cocked his head to the right “Wanna talk about it?”

“I had to put down a puppy.” She sobbed into her hands and his heart broke at the pain in her voice, the way she trembled. “Then we got two feral cats to spay and one of them pissed all over me, I stepped on dog shit on the way home, got soaked from the rain because I forgot my umbrella and my hot water isn't working.”

She sighed, exhausted, and Simon waited patiently for her breaths to slow down, stepping closer carefully.

Then he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, engulfing her in a loving embrace that had her head buried in his chest. At first she had resisted, palms pressed against the muscled span of his broad shoulders.

“Simon…I stink.” 

“So do I, love.” He muttered into her hair, holding her tighter until eventually she relaxed, sighing deeply at the comforting touch, her hands holding onto his hoodie as if she was afraid he would let go too soon. He wouldn’t.

“I ain’t very good with words.” He admitted, arms still secured around her back as she inhaled his scent, his chin propped up on her head. “But how about you take a shower here while I fix yours, and then we eat some dinner, yeah?”

“You can’t always be the one cooking, you know.” She frowned, lifting her head up to look at him.

“Nonsense. M’ home all day anyway.” His thumb wiped away stray tears, a gesture he had so quickly become accustomed to. “Besides, we both know I do it much better.”

“Asshole.” Riley giggled, wiping her nose, and Simon smiled under his mask in genuine happiness.

***

Riley Thomas crossed her arm over her chest, fully naked in her neighbor’s bathroom as she reached for the fluffy towel he had arranged for her. Her scrubs and underwear were discarded on a messy pile on the impressively clean tiles, and she grimaced at the view.

She shivered, freezing, despite the heater Simon had bothered to move to warm up the small space while she washed, quickly realizing she had forgotten to ask him to retrieve some of her own clothes.

“Simon?” She called out nervously from behind the door, but got no response. She sighed deeply before walking out into the hallway, towel wrapped tight around her body as she walked around the flat, trying to find him.

The decorations were overall scarce, most of the rooms in desperate need of a woman’s touch, but she couldn’t help being surprised at how immaculate he had left his home, so in contrast with the constant layer of dust and pet fur in her apartment.

She slowly walked into the last room at the end of the corridor, feeling vulnerable as she found his bedroom, just as tidy as the rest of the house. Simon was nowhere to be seen, but she felt oddly watched as she noticed a picture on top of a dresser, the dim light coming from the window barely enough to make out the silhouettes. She stepped closer, curiously.

Two very young boys smiling brightly, sitting on a young woman’s lap. A scrawny, odd looking man behind the three of them. The father, she figured. 

Riley marveled at the chubby blonde boy’s face, frozen in permanent happiness, big brown eyes so innocent and endearing. She lifted a finger absentmindedly, eager to touch the family portrait.

As her skin neared the cool glass, cased between the frame, a deep, gravely voice spoke, like a ghost in the shadows:

“I was 8. Tommy was still a little lad.” 

She startled, eyes snapping back to him, gripping the towel closer to her frame.

“I was looking for you.” She muttered, as a form of apology, but he didn’t seem even remotely upset.

“Just fixed your shower.” He lifted her apartment keys, turning on a small lamp and stepping closer, setting them down on top of the dresser.

“Did you check on Milo?”

“‘Course. Big geezer. Sleeping on your pillow.” Simon kept a respectful distance, but frowned at her bare feet on the cold floors.

“I forgot to ask you for my clothes.”

“Thought about’it. Didn't wanna touch your stuff without your permission, though.” He shrugged apologetically before pointing at his dresser. “Make yourself at home, take whatever you need.”

Riley turned away from his gaze shyly, looking over her shoulder at his room.

“Your bed is huge.”

“I’m a big man.”

“That you are.” Her eyebrow rose in delight as she quickly looked him up and down, and Simon didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes at the double meaning of her words.

He blushed, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face, taking the initiative to pick warm, comfortable clothes for her to wear.

“Your mother is beautiful.” She spoke softly, careful of what her words might trigger.

Simon froze, silent for a whole minute, before he replied:

“That she was.” His heart ached at the thought, but Riley’s presence seemed to somewhat soothe the deep, unforgiving pain of grief. 

She went quiet, afraid she had overstepped some unspoken boundary, but Simon was quick to dismiss it as he passed her a pair of thick woolen socks.

“Put those on, before you catch yourself a cold.” 

“You know…I didn’t expect you to own face wash.” She tried to change the subject as she sat on his bed, dismissing his command.

Simon turned, offended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know…big, broody, mysterious guy…just didn’t seem like the type to worry about skin care.” She shrugged, teasing him.

“I’ll let you know I have wonderful skin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Who taught you about skin care?” Riley leaned back on her arms, less worried about holding the towel as she relaxed further into his bed.

“Why? You jealous?” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Maybe.”

“Hm.” Simon stepped closer, slowly kneeling in front of her bare legs. Her heart skipped a beat as his calloused fingers casually wrapped around her cold ankles, grabbing the socks and pulling them gently over each of her feet. 

“I’m not the one going on dates.” He fired back, and she felt her cheeks heat at the accusation, removing a foot from his grasp.

“Never thought it’d bother you.” 

“Never said it did.” He countered, heavy gaze challenging hers.

“Well, did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Bother you?”

He cocked his head to the right, considering his next words carefully. He was about to stand up, but she pressed her foot into his shoulder, holding him down. Simon’s breath quickened at the bold gesture, fingers digging deeper into her calf, teetering on the edge of self control.

“You’re a single woman.” He grumbled, noncommittally. “You’re free to do whatever you please.”

“That right?”

“Of course.”

“What if I want to do you?”

The tension between the two only deepened as she leaned forward, chest heaving under that damn towel he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“Choices have consequences.” He muttered, gaze unfaltering as he gently grabbed her ankle and slowly lowered it from his shoulder. Instead, he yanked it forward, pulling the young woman closer to the edge of his mattress. If he so much as looked down he would have the perfect view of her naked sex, kneeling there so menacingly between her parted knees. His eyes, however, wouldn’t leave hers as he awaited for her next move.

Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she quickly held the towel against her breasts, legs trembling slightly. Goosebumps littered her skin as she bit her lip, considering his words.

“I want you.” She whispered, as if afraid the words would force him to retreat and hide behind his cold and detached demeanor. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“You should.” He leaned closer, fingers trailing up her calves and the back of her knees. “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”

She cradled his face carefully, looking down into his eyes so adoringly Simon felt his heart skip a beat. And then her fingers were hooked on the sides of his mask, pulling it down ever so carefully. He saw her hold her breath in anticipation.

A strong nose, probably broken one too many times, Riley noticed as she traced the small bump with her pointer finger. A massive scar that went all the way from his left ear to the underside of his chin, splitting the side of his chapped lips in a pinkish and white trail of skin. She felt her hand tremble as she softly grazed it with her nail, feeling his fingers gripping her legs tighter. Her thumbs caressed the sides of his stubbled, strong jaw as she admired his features in a trance.

“Then tell me.” She begged, face so close to his they were sharing avid breaths.

“For starters” His dark brown eyes finally moved down to her lips, incapable of facing her potential judgment “I’m 35 and I ain’t never been in a serious relationship. Not that there haven’t been any deserving women. I just thought they deserved better than me.”

Riley opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her with a gentle finger to the lips, silently willing her to listen.

“Don’t have much of an education either. After I was done with school I was a butcher’s apprentice, and then I joined the army. All I was ever good for was a night of quick fun. No strings attached.” Simon admitted, large hands now back on her legs, rubbing soothing circles on the cooling skin.

“I don’t care.” She whispered, joining her forehead to his, fingers delving into his blonde locks.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am! I just-”

“I’ve killed people, Riley.”

Simon could physically feel the change in demeanor. He expected it. He noticed how her shoulders slouched, how dozens of questions flashed through her mind and her fiery persistence was considerably doused when faced with reality. People always preferred to ignore what being a soldier actually meant.

“I’m damn good at what I do.” Her fingers tightened in his scalp. “And my performance solely relies on the premise that I have nothing to lose. If I allow myself to indulge in this, as much as I’d love to - and trust me, I fuckin’ want to - I won’t be able to keep doin’ my job. And the job is all I know, all I’ve ever had.”

A long minute of silence ensued, their foreheads still joined together.

Simon’s stomach twisted with anxiety, and he could feel cold sweat starting to bead on his back. He was trying to mentally prepare for her rejection, but he realized he couldn’t. He had never cared this much about anyone before.

What he wasn’t expecting was the feel of her soft, tentative lips pressed against his own, cold on warm skin as her fingers locked him into place in a determined kiss. Simon groaned into her mouth, blood immediately rushing down as her tongue slowly explored his parted lips, fingers pulling on his scalp.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fight it any longer as Riley pulled him impossibly close, hands descending into the hem of his hoodie and tentatively roaming under the fabric. She sighed contently into his lips, feeling the firm muscle and the soft trail of hair she was so eager to explore.

She gasped, tilting her head back as his warm lips moved to her neck, calloused hands secured around her thighs, kneading the flesh slowly. With eyes shut, thoughts lost in the bliss of finally feeling his tender touch, Riley pulled down the towel, baring her round breasts and letting it pool on her navel.

Simon’s lustful gaze darkened, descending his trail of wet kisses all the way down to her collarbone, lovebites marked upon her cooling skin as his hand reached up to knead her tit.

“You sure about this?” he murmured against her skin.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” She sighed deeply in pleasure as his thumb and pointer finger rolled her peaked nipple carefully. He licked a long stripe between the valley of her breasts, humming softly with eyes shut as if he was savoring her taste, before his lips left sloppy kisses along her other mound.

“Maybe.” He teased, tongue darting out to circle her left nipple, wetting it for a few seconds before retreating as soon as he felt her fisting the comforter, a strangled moan barely having left her pretty lips. “I think I’d enjoy the sound of that.”

“Simon, please…”She whispered as he licked the other one, this time for longer, before suckling on it, a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

“I was right, I do enjoy it.” He taunted before sucking her tits patiently, and agonizingly slow.

Riley trembled under his touch, trying not to seem too desperate as warm slick pooled between her naked thighs, fingers tangling in his scalp and pulling roughly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot that made her walls clench.

“Fuck” She moaned as his mouth parted from her chest, thumbs rubbing circles on her nipples, coated in his saliva. “Please…”

“Please what, love?” She sighed in desperate frustration, grinding her hips into the air when he pinched her sensitive skin.

“I need more.” She pawed at his hoodie, trying to pull it over his head.

“Greedy little thing.” Simon rumbled as he helped her strip his torso, a mass of muscle, scars and tattoos that left her breathless as her hands eagerly reached for his abdomen. But Simon wasn’t done yet, palm pressing against her chest, softly coaxing her to lay back down on the mattress.

“Simon…”

“Hm.” He grunted, lips already pressed into her inner thigh as he lifted her knees, placing her calves on each of his shoulders. He felt her legs tremble uncontrollably as he removed the towel from her lower body at once, exposing her glistening cunt, and making his half-hard cock twitch in his briefs.

“You don’t have to” She muttered as he sucked a hickey into her supple flesh, nearing the apex of her thighs, stubble tickling her sensitive skin. Riley’s fingers dug into the comforter, eyes shut in anticipation and nervousness as she felt his open mouthed kisses almost reach her folds.

“Don’ worry, love. This will be the best meal you’ll ever serve me.” She smiled shyly, cheeks heating at his gravely words.

Simon stuck out his tongue, but instead of placing it where she needed him most, he gave a series of slow, calculated licks to the delicate skin right next to her folds, as if he mimicked what he would do to her bundle of nerves in a few seconds. Riley whimpered at the tease, trying to wiggle her hips to reposition them under his mouth, but his hands held her down firmly.

“Where were we?”

“Huh?” She groaned in frustration, and he chuckled against her skin.

“With the begging.”

“Simon!” She whined as he licked around her folds once again, humming contently as he avoided the center of her sex. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, eat me out!” She sighed deeply, cheeks bright red at the filthy words, but the embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he placed a delicate kiss on her clit, slowly building it up with languid movements of his tongue, side to side, as if he was making out with her cunt.

Riley let out a strangled moan, slack jawed and back arching from the bed as he carefully kissed, licked, and sucked on her soaked folds, tongue circling the small bud expertly, before moving down and teasing her entrance. Her hand reached down blindly, and he was quick to hold it with his own, fingers interlacing as he lapped at her sex hungrily.

The young woman was burning up under his touch, breath quickening too soon, too easily, and she felt embarrassed at how fast she’d crumble if he kept up his ministrations.

“Simon..”A warning.

“Hm.” He grunted into her, lost in her pleasure before he aimed his tongue lower and licked her from hole to hole, and then hole to hole to clit.

“Oh fuck.” She moaned loudly, and he hummed in approval, repeating the action again and again until he felt her tightening her grip on his hand, the other hand firmly gripping his locks.

“Please.” She begged, and he couldn’t refuse, using his thumb to collect the wetness at her entrance and sinking it into her tight hole slowly.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her voice broke, chest heaving.

“I know.” He latched his mouth onto her swollen clit, tongue gliding on it from side to side in quick movements as his calloused thumb slowly massaged her inside.

The pleasure blinded her as she reached her peak. The way her whole body trembled at once, toes curling and breath caught in her throat, back arched as she fisted his hair painfully tight. Simon didn’t care, he didn’t stop for one second, even when his tongue began cramping.

At last, Riley grabbed his shoulders, still panting as she reached for him, and he made an effort to get off his knees.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned as his joints popped painfully.

She was already grinning and giggling as he held her gaze.

“Not a word, kid.” He warned and she laughed even harder, reaching her arms up for him to join her.

Simon pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, rock hard cock springing free before he carefully placed his body on top of hers, forearms bracing his weight.

“Hello, love.” He kissed her nose tenderly, before kissing her cheeks, her chin and her forehead, as she had once done to him on that drunken night. She smiled happily, before pulling him in for a passionate kiss that tasted like her pleasure, legs spread to accommodate him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” She teased and he nibbled on the side of her neck playfully, making her giggle. “Getting a little too old to stay on your knees for so long?”

“I didn’ hear ya complainin’ two minutes ago.” He taunted, hands rubbing the sides of her thighs as her nails grazed his muscled back. 

“Fair enough.” She reached down between their bodies, pumping his thick cock with a lustful gaze.

“Still up for it, love?” Simon tried to not act as eager as he felt, so close to his peak that he’d be lucky if he gave her three good pumps.

“Get inside of me.” She commanded firmly, spreading further.

“Yes m’am.” 

Simon Riley obeyed, always good at following orders. 

He rubbed his leaking tip on her sensitive clit, eliciting a low moan from her pretty lips, before trying to sink it in slowly.

“Bloody hell…you’re so tight.” He groaned into her ear, stopping slightly as he heard her hiss in pain at the stretch of his thick shaft.

 “You okay, love?”

“It hurts…” She whispered, legs trembling at the intrusion once he penetrated a few inches deeper deeper. “It’s okay, I’ll get used to it.”

“If you need to stop, we stop, yeah? No questions asked.” He reassured, kissing her sweaty brow.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged, readjusting her hips for a smoother entrance.

Simon kissed her neck tenderly, letting his cock sink into her wet heat a little deeper, feeling her breath quicken with his own.

“Relax, love. It’ll make it easier.” He coaxed into her ear, feeling her nod against his skin as her body slowly loosened up under him.

He began a series of shallow thrusts, working his way inside her tight hole inch by inch, feeling his meaty length get progressively wetter, movements becoming sloppier as he finally bottomed out, the sound of skin slapping on skin almost drowning out their moans.

“Oh. My. God.” She whimpered in between thrusts, Simon’s pace quicking as he felt her moving past the pain and into that fucked out expression he had dreamt of seeing so many nights.

“If you keep moaning like that, this is gonna be over sooner than expected, sweetheart.” He panted, body now slamming forcefully into hers, her tits bouncing with each rut of his hips.

“I hope your pullout game is good” She blurted out, eyes rolling back as he hit a lovely spot inside her walls, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Yeah, princess, me too.” 

Simon couldn’t take it anymore. Her breathy moans, the headboard slamming, his heavy sack sticking to her sweaty skin each time he moved, the tight grip of her walls around his fat cock and the vulgarity of her spread legs were sending him spiraling.

But it was the adoring way in which she looked at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, before looking at him with hazy eyes and uttering the four most terrifying words he had ever heard, that made him shoot a load inside of her.

“I love you, Simon.”

Fuck. 

He came apart.

A/N: You guys already know the drill...so sorry for taking forever to post! As always I love your feedback, messages and asks, so please keep them coming <3

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

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[oh-katsuki]

a little zombie apocalypse katsuki!au drabble. my twd rewatch is giving me many thoughts...

cw: apocalypse au, reader is alone, mentions of death, implications of child death, grief mentions, reader is described as a "little thing" but that's more just the way katsuki talks, katsuki is a little gruff but he means well, guns, weapons, general apocalypse thoughts, mentions of zombies but we follow the "never call them a zombie" rule, katsuki and reader meeting for the first time, etc

the light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. you've got a metal spatula in your hand. you're not sure why you grabbed it when things went to shit, but panic does weird things to the mind. this, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

the night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

your head is on a swivel. it has been for months. ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. a paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. you swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

a branch cracks just behind you. a swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. you stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a a figure a few feet away from you. they move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. their eyes, most importantly. you can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes. in this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

you make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a gun directly between your eyes. the living. this person is alive. you're not sure at this point if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. it's aggressive and threatening. it comes from deep in his chest.

you raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut as if looking in theirs would be a cause for attack.

"i-it's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "it's- it's a sp-spatula. it's a spatula."

the words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. the firelight glints off of it and you can make out the person behind the barrel's features. he's big, blonde under the grime, you think. a man. not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

you see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. you drop it quickly.

"do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

you shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair. there's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. you're a poor shot and you'd run out of ammo the previous week. he glances to it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab them. when he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon. you start to lower your trembling hands.

then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"the fuck are you doing lighting a fire?" he says angrily. "those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. that's a good way to get yourself killed."

he stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"i- i didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"and that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. you wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"what do you want?" you snap, "my food? weapons? life? what is it?"

the man scoffs, "jesus, none of that."

you narrow your eyes and take a step back.

"not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "but i sure as shit didn't expect to find some little thing like you alone lighting a damn fire. stupid."

"there were more," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "force of habit, i guess."

the man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. it's a relatable feeling. everyone has lost someone now. you just happened to lose everyone.

"got a name?" he asks.

you hesitate in giving it to him before deciding what it could hurt. the man nods as if he likes the sound of it.

"i'm katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "you're alone?"

you nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. now i am."

he nods his understanding.

"come with me."

"where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. katsuki looks at you like your stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. probably both.

"where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "we've got a camp a little ways from here. i saw your fire from one of the watch posts we have stationed around the place."

you look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you there.

he scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "look, we've got men and women," then he pauses, "used to have children. we're not gonna hurt you. world's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

he's probably right. you've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of community is far too tempting. you nod and glance back to your camp. a measly collection of supplies.

"we'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "i don't know about you, but i'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than i have to."

"okay," you say. the presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the fatigue even more. a gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? you must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "do you take in a lot of strays?"

katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"if that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. "me less than the rest." then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "i'm sure the others won't mind one more."

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 12

Hello!! This lovely story is completed. And next week will be almost all getting this story out to you. So Sunday, Monday, and Friday will be the last three chapters of this story. So you're all in for a treat.

In this Eddie is horny on main, gets into some trouble, and vows to find out if it's connected to Steve.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

Steve walked away from that first meet with Billy feeling more than a little smug. Billy’s two athletes had done well enough. Chrissy Cunningham winning bronze over all in her division and Jason Carver winning silver in his.

But the thing that really made Steve’s day was that Jason’s time for the silver, was slower in masters than Eddie’s time in intermediate.

Steve made sure to focus on getting Eddie’s time in the backstroke as close as he could to the current record.

He wasn’t sure if Eddie’s coaches had lucked out in middle school, or if training Eddie on the backstroke that young was why he was as good at it as he was, but in Steve’s mind it didn’t matter. With Eddie’s arms and longer torso, he was like a knife in the water, just slicing through it.

When Eddie showed up at the next meet, Jason was sure to get in his face. Eddie had changed into his black Speedo and was braiding his hair the way Steve taught him. His was never as tight as Steve’s but at the Olympics Steve wouldn’t be his coach and wouldn’t be able to do it for him.

“You must think you’re pretty special after that performance from last time, huh?” Jason huffed. “With the judges falling all over themselves to put you in the higher division, but now you’re playing with the big boys now. I will wipe the floor with you.”

Eddie looked up at the other swimmer. Jason cut the all-American boy next door stereotype to a tee. His perfect tan, white teeth, blond hair and blue eyes. His toned body barely contained by his red Speedo.

If Jason hadn’t started shit, Eddie wouldn’t have said no to tapping that ass. But as it was, he was refraining. He knew what Billy was going for with this guy. He was the replacement Steve Harrington. Like original wasn’t one of a kind.

Eddie finished braiding his hair and stood up, meeting Jason eye to eye. “You can’t even wipe the floor with your own ass, man. My time was better than yours and it’s going to be again.” He patted Jason on his chest and then turned around. He grabbed his cap and goggles throwing the rest of his stuff in the locker and slammed it shut. He pulled on his team jacket, shoving the goggles and cap in one of the pockets.

“All you are is a one trick pony,” Jason sneered. “You might beat me in the backstroke but I am the better swimmer all around.” He gave Eddie a little push before shouldering past him.

Eddie just shook his head and followed the idiot out.

He walked right up to Steve with the biggest grin. “Looks like I got them against the lane ropes, coach. They’re running scared.”

Steve frowned, but when Eddie told him about his encounter with Jason just now, he grinned. “Certainly sounds like it. So I looked into who his charges were.”

“Yeah?” Max asked eagerly. She had just finished her heat and was going over her times with Steve when Eddie came out of the locker room.

“He is Jason Carver,” Steve explained, “been all over the country with all the best coaches and tutors. But he’s twenty-two and never made it to the Olympics so people were starting to say he was washed up, until Billy got his claws in him. If he wasn’t so Sunday school vibes, I would suspect doping with the sudden change.”

“I hope it shrinks his penis,” Max said darkly.

Robin and Eddie giggled and Eddie high-fived her.

Steve rolled his eyes. “The girl is Chrissy Cunningham. She’s only eighteen and she barely missed getting on the women’s team in the last Olympics, having come in seventh. She is highly favored on getting on the team for London. She didn’t need Billy’s help, she just came as a packaged deal with Jason as he’s her boyfriend.”

Robin rolled her eyes and scoffed under her breath, “Straights!”

Max squawked in outrage. “Hey, we’re not all weirdos like that.”

They all laughed.

Then it was time for Eddie’s first match of the day. Thankfully he had been placed at the other end of the pool from Jason as Steve wasn’t sure the guy wouldn’t try and push Eddie off or something.

Then the gun went off. Eddie arched backwards into the pool as graceful as a butterfly and just as beautiful. Eddie was focused on his stroke as he whirled around to make his way back through his lane.

He touched the pad and yanked off his goggles. He saw his time and hollered. It was even better than last time and there was no doubt he had beaten Jason.

And immediately as soon as Jason got out of the pool he ran right up to the the judges screaming about how Eddie must be doping.

The judge, a poor belabored man in his fifties pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Carver, Mr. Munson has already submitted to a drug test after his last outstanding performance and he has passed with flying colors. Please go sit down.”

Billy came up and led a very upset Jason away from the judges murmuring things about how easy it is to fake a urine test.

Eddie just scoffed and turned to Steve as they walked passed them. “If he wanted to see my dick so bad, all he had to do was ask nicely.”

Jason whirled around to start something, Billy held him back. “He’s just saying that to get you riled up. Just ignore him.”

Jason walked backwards, glaring at Eddie. Eddie waved his fingers at him and then turned back to Steve and them.

“Some people take these things too seriously,” he huffed, putting his hands on his hips dramatically. “You should be able to have little fun outside of the pool.”

Steve grinned up at him. “As long as your head remains in the game in the pool, I really don’t care what you do out of it. Drugs and smoking aside. If it’s legal and ain’t hurting anyone, have fun, go nuts.”

Eddie grinned back.

All the men finished their heats, Eddie winning gold again.

“Next up are the state competitions,” Steve said after they had come back out from getting changed. “I expect you’ll both do really well there as well. The real challenge will come on the national level. Billy just brought his team out here to fuck with me and is really pissed it didn’t work the way he thought it would.”

“Also,” Robin said, “I’ve hearing around that since the Olympic trials are being held in Nebraska this time round and is trying to horn in on our facility because it’s been where the trials have been held in the past.”

“Joyce would laugh him out of her office if he tried that,” Max said rolling her eyes.

Robin put her hands over her mouth and giggled. “What if she already has and that’s why he’s so pissed?”

They all shared gleeful glances and then all agreed that without any evidence one way or the other that that was exactly what happened and no one was going to convince them otherwise.

Steve turned to Eddie. “Do you need a ride home? Wayne caught me before he left to say that he had to go to work.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a sigh of relief. “If you could. I was going to try and call Jeff to come get me, but if you’re willing, I’m ready.”

Steve nodded and turned to Robin, “Susan said she was driving both of you girls home, is that still okay?”

Robin nodded and then left with Max to go find her mom, leaving Eddie and Steve alone.

Eddie reached out and touched Steve’s elbow. “Hey are you okay? I saw that you were much further from the pool than you usually are.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. He scratched his cheek as he pursed his lips to stop their quivering. He nodded.

“I need you to breathe with me, Stevie,” Eddie cooed, taking both of his wrists and rubbing them with his thumb. “In for five, hold, and out for seven. The water isn’t close enough for you to fall in. It’s ten feet away. You can’t fall in. In for five, hold, and out for seven.”

Steve closed his eyes and did as Eddie bid, relaxing into the warmth of the younger man’s timbre. Slowly he opened his eyes. “Thank you.”

Eddie grinned back at him. “No problem!”

Steve coughed, and looked away. “I should probably get you home, before you turn into a pumpkin.”

“Sure thing, Stevie,” his voice was warm and tender, taking the suddenly change as the dodge it was.

They walked out to Steve’s car and Eddie kept an eye on him all the way there.

“This isn’t a setback you know?” he murmured.

Steve let out a shuddering sigh and stopped a moment to close his eyes. “I do know that, but at same time whenever this happens I just feel like I failed.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. “Dr. Hughes would probably say it’s because of my father constantly hounding me to be the best all the time...”

“I know what it feels like to have that voice in your head,” Eddie said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, “telling you everything you do is a failure and you’ll never be good enough. But it’s like breaking your leg. Sometimes you’ll have bad days, but you’ve just got to keep moving forward. Okay?”

He nodded and just buried his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, sobbing. Eddie wrapped his arms around him and held him as he cried.

~

Eddie couldn’t win every meet, but even when he didn’t, he at least made the podium each time. He was brilliant in the water.

Max was doing well, too. Susan had given her permission to practice with Steve more days out of the week. Provided of course she kept her grades up. Eddie had opted to train with Steve and Robin twice a day.

He really wanted to put in the work required to be the best.

The Ghastly Ghouls, as Eddie had taken to calling the stuck up coaches and their charges who looked down on Eddie and Steve, started avoiding them all together. Bitter and angry that not only was Steve the better coach, despite being afraid of the pool, but Eddie was more dedicated to the sport then their athletes were.

Hannah and Lisa would often complain about how hard it was and how much the swimming time ate into their social lives.

Eddie wanted to laugh. He still hung out with his friends, had Sunday dinner with Wayne, and practiced with his band around his swimming schedule.

Hell, a lot of the times the stands would have more than just Wayne and Susan in them. Joyce and her sons, their friends, too. To root Steve on as well as Eddie and Max. Jeff, Gareth, and Brian would come as well.

He would never tell Steve this, but once he ran into Tommy and Carol outside one of their meets. The conservation was stilted and awkward as fuck, but he thought it was cute that they were trying to support Steve even if it was surreptitiously.

It was the last match of the season and Eddie was hyped. Bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his hands to stay warmed.

A couple of judges approached him with a jacket in the one’s hand.

“Is this your jacket?” the one asked, holding up a brand new, black bomber style jacket instead of the motorcycle leather that was so worn that it was brown along the cuffs and the zipper.

Eddie shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’ve never seen that jacket before in my life.”

Robin and Steve immediately dashed over.

“You’re saying that this isn’t your jacket?” the other judge growled. “It was found in your locker.” He put his hands into the front pocket and pulled out a little plastic baggy with what Eddie presumed was steroids. One thing he wouldn’t sell to his classmates, though many a jock asked. The risk was just too high.

Eddie shook his head. “My jacket is out in my van. I don’t bring in anymore because it’s too hot.”

“That’s not his jacket,” Steve snapped. “Robin grab me my phone. Eddie go get your jacket.”

“I’ll come with you,” the first judge growled and followed Eddie out to the parking lot.

Robin slapped the phone into Steve’s hand. He pulled up his contacts and dialed a number. “Hello, is Dr. Owens available. Yes, it’s urgent. Dr. Owens. Has Eddie tested positive for steroids, ever? No? Would you please tell that to these judges please?”

The remain judge’s eyes went wide. “Why do you have an Olympic doctor on speed dial?”

Steve just started him straight in the eye with the phone held out. The judge shakily took the phone and listened to Dr. Owens berate him for his idiocy and incompetence.

Eddie and the judge came back with Eddie’s jacket. Further cementing Eddie’s innocence.

“I think someone is trying to get Eddie out of the running,” Robin said, voice dripping with malice. “I think you’ll find whoever told to search Eddie’s locker is the one that put that there.”

“It was anonymous,” the second judge huffed.

“Convenient,” she said, darkly folding her arms in front of her chest.

“Can I swim now?” Eddie asked, his lip quivering and his voice breaking.

The judges shared defeated glances, but agreed he was allowed to compete.

Eddie made sure to get gold in every one of events that day, just further piss whoever had tried to sabotage him off.

After he stepped off the winner podium, he scanned the crowd wondering if whoever was out to get him was also the one who sabotaged Steve in ‘08.

And he was going to find out.

~

Part 13 Part 14

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