#my brother in christ i just want a day counter

[tchaikovskym]

Enjoying the luxury of no pressing deadlines by taking a nap during harsh period cramps instead of chugging down ibuprofen

[irishmammonagenda]

How I Think The Obey Me Boys Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: haha great question Content Warnings: probably just swearing tbh Disclamer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[dateables & co version]

post dividers by @cafekitsune their post dividers r really cool check them out! (also sorry for the tag!!)

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💙LUCIFER💙💙

When Lucifer heard the news from Beel, he was in the student council room, he turnt his D.D.D off and just placed his head in his hands.

Was this some elaborate scheme by Solomon to gain a pact with him?

Lucifer wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

Sighing; he pulled on his coat and traversed to Purgatory Hall where Michael was staying.

"Michael." The Avatar of Pride stood leaning against the kitchen counter, everyone else in Purgatory Hall was at RAD, so the Angel and Demon were alone. "Oh Jesus Christ!" The Angel in question brings a hand to his heart in mock dramatics, "Warn a guy next time Lucikins!" "..." The Silence was palpable. "...Lucikins?" Lucifer gritted out, his eye twitching. "Michael. This is not the time for your games. I am the Avatar of Pride and a Prince of Hell, show me some respect." Michael merely raised an arched eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face as he quickly closed the distance between them, pulling the Avatar of Pride into an ironclad headlock, bringing his other arm over with a clenched fist and messing up Lucifer's hair. "I'm sure you are Lucikins, but you're still my adorable little brother." Lucifer pushes his hands out in an attempt to get away, but even he had to admit, Michael had always been stronger than him. "Michael." The younger protests, "I swear to Lord Diavolo if you do not let me go, I will-" Michael interrupts him, pausing his brotherly tormenting to wipe a tear from his ruby red eyes. "-Ahh! You must've missed me so much, poor Wittle Wucifer! Always so heavy on the teenage angst!" Lucifer growled in a way too similar to Satan when he first fell. Like father, like son. "I don't have teenage angst. Now unhand me you bastard!" "Oh please! The amount of times I caught you in the Celestial Realm listening to My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco on repeat speaks for itself! And the eyeliner! Just because the others were too young to remember doesn't mean I was baby brother! Don't think I don't remember the wolf-cut!" Lucifer's eye twitches so hard he worries for his socket. He cab't even refute it. "You are two minutes older than me! And besides! I came here to talk about the rumours of you dating Solomon!" "The What." Michael immediately ceases all noogie-ing, his grip loose enough for Lucifer to slip through his arm. He scowls, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit and beginning to fix his hair. He moves a safe distance away from his older (estranged) brother. "The rumours of you showing up during a Sorcerers' Society meeting and making out with Solomon on his lap. Ring a bell?" Michael, for the love of him, just looks confused. "But I've never even-" He blinks slowly a few times. "I am going to kill MC." Lucifer, even with the ego bruising he had just endured, laughs, partly out of sheer relief, he doesn't want to imagine what a Solomon Michael duo could be capable of. But of course it was you. It always was.

💛💛MAMMON💛💛

HUH???!!!

This poor man's confusion is so strong.

He doesn't want to think about Michael's lovelife. Or Solomon's for that matter.

He immediately rushes to tell you.

"Oi! MC!" Mammon shoves his way into your room like he was auditioning for the walking dead, as per usual, he wasn't aware of the marvellous invention of knocking yet. You quickly closed you laptop lid, and placed the device down beside you on the bed, lest he saw the Archangel Michael/King Solomon 100k, Slowburn, Angst with a Happy Ending you were writing on HellO3. “Hi Mams!” Mammon scurries onto your bed like the floor is lava, resting his chin on your thigh and looking up at you with his usual puppy eyes. “Yer not gonna believe this MC.” He says seriously. "What's up?" You tilt your head, bringing a one of your hands to ruffle your First Man's hair, he leans into the touch happily before jumping up and acting like he wasn't. "Well, 'pparently Michael's after starting te date Solomon. Can ye believe it?" Mammon makes a face. "Michael...wi' Solomon...I don' wanna believe it...just...its mingin'..." You laugh nervously, "I don't think Michael's dating Solomon, Mams....someone must've uhh..." You hold in a laugh. "It's probably just a succubi or someone looking for chaos." Mammon nods seriously, laying his head back on your lap. "Yer prolly righ' MC." You pet his hair again, "Wanna watch a movie or something, Mams?" "Pffft- Of course ya would wanna watch a movie wi' the Great Mammon...alrigh' huma-...Angel...I'll allow it...!" He says with his usual bravado, it was almost convincing, if he hadn't nuzzled further into your hand, and he wasn't looking at you like you were the one reason his pulse was still going.

🧡🧡LEVIATHAN🧡🧡

He finds out after the first chapter to a certain Archangel Michael/King Solomon fanfic was published. Yes he is subscribed to your HellO3 account, and yes! he has emails turnt on.

What kind of person would he be if he didn't read his Henry's fanfics?!

He throws his phone across the room.

When he finally wills himself to get up and retrieve it, he takes a screenshot and starts texting you frantically.

You're lazing about on your bed dong nothing, you'd just posted the first chapter of THE FORBIDDEN FRUITS: A GAY ROMANCE STORY THAT TRANSCENDS REALMS five minutes previous when your DDD began vibrating at such a speed you almost made a very unfunny sex joke. You pick up your DDD and sure enough, its Levi, heh; so he is subscribed to your HellO3 account! Leviachan <3: MC WHAT IS THIS NDVNRO DID YOU WRIT E FNAFICTION AOBOUT MCIAHEL AND SOLOMOMN You grinned. You: Fnaf fiction? Good idea for an AU! Leviachan <3: VFIBNODNORNGVNO MC IM LOOKING ON FORUMS WDYM THERES A RUMOU R ABORUT SOLOMON AND MICHAEL DATING You: In my defense, it was Solomon's fault. There's no response for 10 minutes, until your DDD pings again. Leviachan <3: Why is the fanfic good Leviachan <3: I MEAN OFC ITD BE GOOD, YOU WROTE IT BUT Leviachan <3: ITS SO Leviachan <3: THE CHARACTERS ARE SO COMPELLING AND THE PLOT IS SO GOOD RJRGNVDON Leviachan <3: AND THE TENSION??!! You grinned, you could always count on your Lord of Shadows to hype up your degenerate fanfics. You: thanks <3 satan's helping me write it, wanna help? Leviachan <3: I don't think I could write as good as you guys, im just a stinky smelly worthless otaku :( You: nuhuh. >:( Leviachan <3: But if you wanted... I could maybe beta-read??? You: OFC YOU CAN LEVI TANK YOU <33333 Leviachan <3: Haha tank LMAO ROFL You: I can never mispell anything around anyone in this house You kicked your feet like a catholic school girl holding hands with a boy for the first time in her life, knowing Levi probably was too.

💚💚SATAN💚💚

This man has a web of connections.

He found out almost as soon as the rumour started.

Like Mammon, he immediately finds you to tell you

Unlike Mammon, he actually knocks

granted he knocks for a second before just opening your door so he could've just not knocked and it would've had the same affect.

"Hello MC" "Mornin' Satie...What time's it?" You rub your eyes tiredly, having just woken up from a nap, you sit up and blink at him slowly with sleepy eyes. Satan can't stop himself from cooing, he movies towards your bed and ruffles your hair like you're a cat, you lean into the touch. "Sorry for waking you, dear..." You yawn. "You're fine Satie...what'd you need?" "Have you heard the rumours that Michael and Solomon are secret lovers-" Suddenly you're wide awake. "Oh no. Oh no no no." Satan raises a brow, "What's wrong, MC?" You grin sheepishly, "I maybe might've accidentally not on purpose started that rumour?..." Satan laughs in your face. Handsome bastard. "It's not funny!" "It is a little funny..." You gasp, eyes lighting up mischievously, "We should write a fanfic!" Satan tilts his head, "And why would we do that?" "Because the world deserves a Slowburn Michael x Solomon fic?" "Nope." "Pleaseee Satan! I'll pay you!" "Nope." "It'll annoy Luci?" "Tempting..." "I'll give you a kiss?" "I'm in. Let's write the best Michael x Solomon the Devildom's ever seen." You shake Satan's hand. Maybe you should've been reincarnated as a demon.

🩷🩷ASMODEUS 🩷🩷

Finds out through one of his gossip circles relatively fast.

He wants to get more details so he can tell you later! <3

By far one of the more supportive brothers

So he finds Solomon, who knows maybe he could give some advice!

Michael was strange, but he was always nice to Asmo growing up in the celestial realm, he might as well make sure one of his best friends is treating his former brother right <3

"Hiya Sol!~" Asmo smiles excitedly, pulling the sorcerer in for a hug, pouting when he pulled away again. "I cant believe you never told me! Ugh~...you must've been scared I wouldn't accept you!~ Poor thing...~" Solomon blinks slowly, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with pure confusion, lost in his own rant, Asmo doesn't notice. "Well! You have my blessing!~" "For what?" "For your relationship with Michael, silly!~" Asmo giggles, Solomon takes a deep breath. "For my what." A pause pauses all sound for a moment, only for a moment, before like all other moments, they begin the cycle of movemnt again. Solomon nods rather calmly, "Maybe I shouldn't have turnt MC into a sheep....or maybe I should do it again as payback...." He says to himself Asmo sighs, so it was just a rumour then....

He does still post a link to your fanfic on his Devilgram story, because he's so supportive! <3

No one tell Michael, or Lucifer pretty please

❤️❤️BEELZEBUB❤️❤️ & 💜💜BELPHEGOR💜💜

Being a member of the Anti-Lucifer League, Satan told Belphie who told Beel after taking a nap.

Beel, being the absolute legend that he is didn't really have any opinions on it. As long as they're happy :)

Belphie sits in on the fanfic plot planning sessions you and Satan host, with Beel sometimes joining and giving surprisingly interesting plot twists.

Belphie cackles when Beel tells Lucifer of the rumours, shortly before the first chapter of Forbidden Fruits is published.

Satan and You stand by the whiteboard in the attic, various spider diagrams and bullet points are written messily upon it, only this time, it's not a plan to 'prank' Lucifer. (Are they really pranks if they never succeed?) The sound of munching can be heard as Beel works away happily on a bag of crisps, offering everyone some as you work. "What if we made Solomon run after Michael in the rain." Belphie drawls out lazily, not even looking up from where he lies beside Beel. You stare at Belphie, "What is with you and the people chasing after people in the rain trope?" Belphie sticks his tongue out at you in response. Beel shakes his head. "That wouldn't be accurate. Michael hates getting his hair wet." Belphie smiles, "Good point Beel." Satan makes a sound of contemplation. "What if...we had Michael chase Solomon in the rain instead? The fact he hates getting his hair wet could show just how much he loves Solomon..." You laugh, imagining the scene in your head. "But why is Michael chasing Solomon?" Belphie smirks, "Because Michael said something bad about humans during a fight, Solomon got upset and ran like a maiden." Beel stops munching on his snacks, looking down approvingly at his twin. "That's really smart Belphie." "Thanks Beel." Belphie grins. "Yeah Belph, your angstiness is really paying off." You tease. "Oh shut up MC." He glares at you, but there's no real weight behind it. "Theyre right you know." Satan smirks. "I heard you blasting Paramore and MCR earlier." "Its good music!"Belphie says definsively. "Besides, it keeps me awake. Goodnight." He mutters, laying his head on his twins lap before closing his eyes. Five minutes of silence later, Beel opens his mouth, "He does wear eyeliner a lot when he's in our room y'know?" "Beel!" You and Satan laugh, Beel just smiles happily at everyone getting along. Belphie devises a plan to make you dream pigeons are going to take over the world tonight as payback.

im on a Lucifer being bullied by Michael spree rn 🧍‍♂️ also you can't convince me that Satan and Belphie aren't soso similar to Lucifer bc at the end of the day they're all just angsty emo teens &lt;3

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

let the plot bunnies run wild babes

"Eat, guys," you tell them. "I'm just going to change real quick."

"You don't have to-" Vanessa started to protest but you wave off her concerns.

"I like this shirt and I wanna get it in cold water anyway." You answer shrugging. "Eat," you press, "Christ I'm not dying and I refuse to have people go hungry after I cooked all day." You start towards the bedroom and call over your shoulder, "Logan, help yourself to the beer in the fridge. I'd tell Wade to get it but he's shit with bottle openers."

"I have delicate hands," Wade protested.

Logan rolled his eyes but took you up on the offer. It felt weird eating food you cooked while you weren't sitting there. Even if you clearly didn't mind. And it gave him a chance to see more of your space without being weird.

Younger than Wade but more mature somehow. Wade wasn't a slob exactly. But it was clear you were more settled. You wanted stability. Your kitchen wasn't large but you made do and made the most of the space. Photos on the fridge. You with friends. With your brother. Some pretty old. Wade had you on his shoulders in one. You would have been maybe 6 or 7 and you look sick. But at least for then you're beaming. Another is a birthday, Logan assumes. Wade's. You're on one side and Vanessa is on the other kissing his cheeks. You're older. Grown. The childish roundness is gone from your features but there's still puppy fat- you haven't quite grown into yourself yet.

Friends. Parents. Trigger. Wade. All there. But no boyfriends? He heard Vanessa ask about a date but Wade's yammering drowned out your answer. Weird that there wasn't one. You're a cute kid.

He shook his head and grabbed a beer popping the top and putting it in the cup marked "tops only" on the counter that had pop tabs and bottle caps in it. And went back to his seat, relieved when you walked out of the bedroom.

"Much better now that I don't feel like a horror movie extra," you declare, taking a seat.

"Extra?" Wade scoffed. "Butterbean, you're final girl material."

"If I didn't trip and bleed out on a curb first," you muse. "Also I'm not funny and I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Jamie Lee Curtis made it work," Vanessa pointed out.

"Who?" Logan asked.

"You're not the worst Logan, you're just from the worst timeline," you tell him. "Who was in your Halloween movies?"

"In what?"

You blink at him, "Logan, I- I'm stunned. Halloween is only one of the BEST horror movies of all time."

"Bullshit," Wade said.

"Fuck you," you snort, "You think the Warrens actually fought a Ragedy Ann doll."

Logan caught Vanessa's eye when she raised her glass in mock toast with a wink and dug into her own plate and snorted. Taking advantage of the bickering to eat. And he thought, for just a second, that it might kill him. It took actual effort to stifle a moan.

How Wade could talk between bites was baffling. Logan could tell everything was made from scratch- even the noodles. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something like that.

Even more impressive was how you managed to argue with your brother and keep plates and glasses full- and keep him from feeling excluded. Even if he never spoke. Your body was never fully angled away and you glanced towards him, unobtrusively fussing. Hostessing properly, he supposed.

"I guess," he said, clearing his throat as he helped you clear plates to make room for the dessert and coffee, "I can stop stabbing Wade in the head."

"I appreciate it," you tell him, smiling a little as you take the plates from his hands.

[yukimiyaz]

THANKFUL

miya osamu x gn!reader

includes: bf osamu. afab!reader. smut lol. he uses a shit ton of pet names. he might have a bit of an oral fixation if you squint.

notes: old fic. wanted it here lol

You were just trying to bring your boyfriend lunch. 

Walking in with your sweet smile and warm eyes and the packed container that Osamu had left on the kitchen counter this morning from running late. Granted, he does work at his own restaurant, so it’s not like he would’ve gone hungry (or been ridiculed for his tardiness) but still. You know how fussy he gets when he is looking forward to a certain meal and you didn’t want his poor employees to have to be subjected to that. 

So in you came—like the absolutely great partner you are, regardless of what his brother (your annoyance) says—saving the day yet again with your boyfriend’s lunch in hand. 

And it was damn near sickening, how his eyes lit up the instant he heard that bell jingle and saw it was you, the immediate softening of his face as a smile spread across his lips. He was pouting too, so yeah, you really did save his poor employees.  

“Aw, baby. Ya didn’t have to do that,” he had cooed as you walked behind the counter to give it to him, letting him pull you into a big hug as he swayed you both side to side. 

(But the thankful, knowing look his cashier had given you only confirmed your suspicions as you returned the embrace and let him peck your lips). 

It was that same cashier that smiled at you both, waved you away, shooed you off. “You can go boss, don’t worry. I’ve got this covered. Rush time is over.” 

Now normally, it would take a bit more convincing for Osamu to leave one of his workers manning the front all by themselves. Normally, he’d wait until one of the others returned from their own lunch before he deserted them and took his own. Normally, he puts his boss priorities first by a smidge in situations like this. 

Normally, you don’t end up with your back arching off his hardwood desk with your muted moans echoing off his walls. 

“What. A fuckin’. Sweetheart ,” Osamu grunts, each word punctuated by the pistoning of his hips as his hands grip onto your waist.  

You grapple for him, for something, anything to hold onto as he mercilessly fucks into you. One hand wrapping around his wrist, the other trying to reach around his shoulders. He ruts into you again and you think you nearly bust your lip from how hard you’re biting it trying to keep your voice down. 

“I just—you left it—so I—” a gasp rips out of your throat as he shifts, the head of his dick brushing against that spot in you that makes you want to scream. Nails digging into his skin, mouth dropping open to pant an ungodly variance of his name.  

“You what?” he asks, and you fucking hate the way he sounds so collected when you’re literally losing your damn mind right here in his cramped office. “Thought about me, hm? Takin’ care of me, ain’t ya? My sweet baby.” 

He leans over you enough to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, drinks in the sighs and breathy exhales you push out. His eyes catch yours, stone grey pinning you, as if his arms coming up to cage you weren’t enough. A calloused, familiar hand cups your jaw, grips it like he thinks you would even dare look away. 

“Yeah, my sweet fuckin’ baby,” he smirks in a way that has your stomach flipping ten times over, coil tightening up. “My turn to take care of you. Show you how fuckin’ thankful I am.” 

And you want to dismiss him or shush him or curse him or something. He didn’t even lock the fucking office door for Christ’s sake, and it’s too loud. You’re both way too loud, and you want to tell him that. Tell him that he needs to be quiet, needs to keep you quiet, because you don’t think you’d ever be able to face any of his employees again if you knew they could hear you right now. 

But all that comes out is a broken off moan into his mouth as his pace doubles. It’s hot in his office. You always berate him for not buying a fan, but you’re not too sure the lack of circulation is really what’s to blame for the heat this time as a rough hand slips between your bodies and the pad of a thumb presses to your clit. 

“Shh, shh, baby.” And oh, now he worries about your volume? “Don’t want them to hear me showin’ my thanks, d’ya?”  

His grip eases up a little on your jaw, just enough for him to slip his thumb up to rub against your bottom lip, tugging it down and letting it go. You can practically see the hearts in his eyes as he does it again, licking his own lips as he plays with yours. He’s always told you that you had a pretty mouth—when you were eating, talking, just sitting. You catch him staring, call him out just to watch him dopely smirk, listen to some cheeky remark he’ll give. 

Now, though, it seems like every bit of cheeky is drained from him as he darts his tongue out to lap into your mouth, seemingly forgetting to even pull his thumb away before doing so. 

If the chorus of thank yous he’s been spewing weren’t enough for you to get it, the ones he’s been quite literally drilling into you are. Your pussy flutters around him just barely, and that’s all the sign that he needs. His thumb on your clit speeds up, rubs patterns in a way you almost think could be the kanji for thank you as well. It’s what it feels like. Like every bit of him is exuding gratitude. Like he’s trying to engrain it into your pretty little brain one way or another. And you’re more than happy to help him. 

He pulls back with a string of spit connecting you, warm pants into your mouth and on your cheeks as his hips stutter and his eyes go a little hazy.  

“Fuck, fuck. C’mon sweetheart, cum f’me.”  

And he’s just so damn pretty, flushed and breathless above you, chest heaving just a bit with every rock of his hips. You don’t think you could deny him even if you wanted to, and for some reason you’re nodding. Your frazzled little head bobbing as you tug him closer, bring him down again, let his mouth muffle your cry of his name as your legs start to shake and your cunt clenches around his cock. And Osamu, he’s never been one to receive without giving, and the same applies to this moment now as he gives your pretty cunt a few more shallow thrusts until a new type of warmth is being shot into you. 

It’s static in the office for a few moments, staggered breaths and hammering heartbeats as the two of you stay pressed together. Slowly, Osamu raises his head up enough to look down at you again in his post-orgasmic glory, and with the look in his eyes you already want to kill him. 

“Did ya get the message? Or do we need to go another—” 

You shove his face away before he can even finish, rolling your eyes despite the slippery grin that spreads across your lips. And he just presses a kiss to your palm, giving it a lippy little bite when you try to shove him away the second time. 

You were just trying to bring your boyfriend lunch, but now you’re rushing out of his restaurant with a red face and messy hair, trying to get to your car before his cum starts to leak out too much. 

And pretending you didn’t see the look his poor cashier gave you as you ran out. 

[mydearesthrry]

how would gf!reader react to seeing Harry’s ex at a function

ooooh. stirring the pot. i like it! made this fbh and new(ish!!!!) gf!reader cause hes hot and why not! enjoy :p also sorry anon this took so long lol love u

jealous-ish reader and some angst under the cut 💋💋

Walking into the party, her arm resting on the inside crook of Harry’s elbow, she took small steps next to him, trying to take up as little space as possible.

To signify the start of school, Harry’s frat had obviously thrown a party. This was one of the first times the couple had seen each other all day, Harry working with pledges and helping out with house prep prior to the party. He’d gone to her apartment just a few blocks from campus to pick her up, originally clad in a brown toned flannel, a white Rolling Stones graphic tee, and a pair of black ripped jeans. However, the flannel now draped across her shoulders since she’d met him in his car wearing nothing but a tiny black dress that exposed her arms and went down to her midthigh. And there was just no way he was letting his sweet girl get all cold. Not under his watch, anyway.

His skin was soft beneath hers, her fingertips now gripping onto the soft fabric of his sleeve, her palm on his inner elbow as her hand slipped farther and farther down. As if he could sense it, he moved his arm to let hers fall to her side, and moved behind her to rest a hand on the junction between her lower stomach and hip, scratching lightly at the silky material of her dress. Nudging her forward with a kiss to the back of her head, she kept walking, now leading her and her puppy dog of a boyfriend.

The night carried on, Harry occasionally greeting his brothers with a few shared expletives, Y/N being a supportive girlfriend and just leaning back into him whenever he paused to talk to someone, introducing herself to unfamiliar faces with Harry’s help. She could barely hear them because the music was so loud! Smiling apologetically whenever she asked them to repeat themselves, Harry took initiative to start introducing the unfamiliar person to his girlfriend, and vice versa.

There was eventually a small lull in the night, the two standing in the kitchen with an almost full red solo cup being shared between them, Y/N curled into his side as he ran his hand up and down her side. Her eyes scanned the crowd from their spot in the darkened room, eyes widening when she caught sight of a familiar face.

“Oh shit,” She said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against Harry a bit more, looking up at him with a wide grin.

“Wha’?” He drawled, hand coming up to bring the cup to his lips.

“I see Anna,” She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder, small giggles turning into full chuckles when she felt the way he tensed.

“Oh, um,” He mumbled. “Yeah, she comes t’these parties pretty often.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled, pushing off of him to leave the kitchen.

“Oh, oh no, absolutely not. Do not think about it, puppy. I’m warning you.” He whined, pushing off the counter to follow her.

“I’m doing it, you can warn me all you want, but I’m not gonna listen!” She shouted, running after his ex girlfriend. She knew that the break up was mutual, and there were no hard feelings involved, but she thought it’d be fun to mess with her boyfriend a little.

“Jesus Christ. What’d I get myself into?” He whispered under his breath, following his girlfriend with annoyed steps.

“Hi! I’m Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you!” He heard his love squeal, and when he rounded the corner, he found his girlfriend and his ex both with excited gleams in their eyes, hands holding hands, compliments whirring in the air between them.

“Oh my god, hi! I’m Anna! You’re Harry’s girlfriend, right?” The blonde smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hands in her own.

“Yeah, I am!” Another shared grin.

“Hi, Anna.” Harry greeted, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Hi bug,” She smiled back, hands slipping from the grip they’d initially had on Y/N’s, now coming to the front of her stomach to fidget with her cuticles. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I see you’ve met Y/N,” He smiled, his arms stagnant by his sides.

“She’s an angel, H. Good job, really. I knew… I knew you’d find someone really great for you.” Anna said, placing a hand on his arm. Now, this might’ve been Y/N’s first real relationship, but she wasn’t dumb. She could sense the distaste that Anna withheld the second she went up to her, and she could see the hearts practically sown into her eyes, and the worst part about it? Harry seemed like he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Matter of fact, he was eating this shit right up.

“Thanks, A. I um- I appreciate that.” And she thinks that was her breaking point.

She knew it was mostly her fault, but she really didn’t think she’d get jealous! She promises!

“Okay, um- I’m gonna let you two catch up, and I’m gonna go get a drink. Find me, H, will you?” Was all she said before she turned on her heel and beelined for the kitchen, trying to will away any tears before they could even think about arising. She felt herself flicker onto autopilot, making her normal cherry vodka with Sprite as if she was tracing the steps. Her mind was just swirling with doubt. Doubt if Harry was actually in love with her, or if she was just being delusional and wasn't picking up on any tells that he could've been making obvious. Seeing him with Anna- the way he was just so comfortable with her- made her want to sink into the floor with embarrassment.

"Hey, baby," His voice made her jump out of her thoughts, now completely in control of her body again. "Y'okay?"

"Mhm. Peachy," She squeaked, cursing her vocal chords for failing her so prematurely in the conversation. "Why?"

"'Cause ever since y'pretty little face left m'side, I've been watching y'and noticed that y'got that look on y'face." He says, grabbing her cup and placing it on the counter, boxing her in against the cool marble with both of his arms encasing her, hands flat against the corners.

Fuck. "What look?" She could play dumb, right? He wouldn't notice, she thinks.

“Don’t play dumb, baby. You know I know what face y’make when you’re jealous.” Fuck. Never mind.

“Umm, I don’t know what you’re talking about?” She questions, voice wavering as she began to give up her facade since she knew she’s been caught.

“Bunny,” He starts, pausing when she groans and drops her head to rest her forehead on his chest. “Why’d you even go over there? I knew you would get jealous the second me and her talked.”

“And you didn’t stop me?”

“Why would I? You wanted to so bad, I even tried telling you no. You don’t listen to me, bunny. I literally— dude, I literally warned you.” He sighed, shaking his head but placing small kisses onto the top of her head, burrowing his nose into her hair to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo.

“I didn’t think it’d go that bad.” She says simply, hooking two of her fingers into the front left pocket of his skinny jeans.

“Well, that’s your fault- ow!” Harry groaned, releasing his girlfriend to rub the side of his thigh.

She’d smacked him. But, this was serious, and he was taking it too lightly!

“H, this isn’t funny! Now I look like the stupid girlfriend who’s jealous of my boyfriend’s ex! And I hate being jealous!”

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulls her back to peer down into her eyes, grabbing her chin when she avoided eye contact. “Hold on, woah. I, for one, love it when you get jealous. It— it makes me realize how much y’actually want me. I love the feeling, mama. It feels nice t’be wanted, y’know?”

She sighs. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I don’t want anyone but you. You’re m’present and m’future. Couldn’t see m’self marrying Anna, but with you? God, bunny, I think about it like, four times a day. You’re my person, baby. I promise.” He starts choking up, making Y/N step forward to collide with his front, propping her chin onto his chest.

“I love you, probably more than I’ve loved anything or anyone.” She whispers, trying to keep the intimacy of the moment sacred in the semicrowded kitchen.

“Promise?” He asks, leaning down to place his forehead onto hers.

“I promise.”

[ebodebo]

Chasing The Mask

—red hood is on the hunt for the director and his accomplice, blueprint, gotham's most notourious art theives.

—red hood x art thief "blueprint!" reader

—2.5k+

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A heavy dew settles over the city, along with a light fall of freezing rain. It would almost be calming if you didn't know it was Gotham. One of the most crime-ridden cities in the world. Full of crooks and villains alike. 

Among the haze of rain and sleet, a vigilante sits perched on the top of one of the city's most renowned museums, The Metropolitan. The Red Hood, so he calls himself. While most nights he goes out into the night by himself, to his dismay, tonight he is accompanied by his heroine brother, Nightwing.

The Metropolitan is filled with some of the most exquisite pieces of art made by some highly famed artists, from Van Gogh to Basquiet. It is home to a most priceless collection, indeed. 

Of course, with such valuable pieces, the museum has been the target of numerous theft attempts, and tonight is no exception. 

"You didn't have to come," Red Hood snarkily says as he leans against the red brick encasing the rooftop exit door. 

"Just trynna' help out." The honesty in his voice makes Red Hood roll his eyes. He doesn't necessarily hate Nightwing but he thinks he's too smug for his own good. An entitled, know-it-all. But they are brothers, after all. So, there is a sense of undeniable care there. 

"I've got it taken care of." Red Hood counters, crossing his arms. His tone is almost defensive. Does Nightwing believe he can't catch a simple art thief? Like he's some kind of amateur?

"Is that right?" Nightwing questions, crossing his arms, too.

"Yes." Defensive, again. 

"Because, last time I checked, The Director and Blueprint are still running around Gotham." Nightwing accused. 

"Way to state the obvious, Dick." Red Hood enunciated his name. Dick was used to Hood using his name as a homonym, often. 

"I'm waiting." Hood finally answered his question after the insult. Nightwing let out a light laugh. "For what exactly?" He pushes, uncrossing his arms and walking over to the brick wall Hood was leaning on. 

"An opportunity," Hood stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Jesus Christ, Jason." Nightwing pulled his hand up to wipe across his face, which was covered by a simple black domino mask. 

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to come, Dick." Hood sighed deeply. "Talk too much." He finished, uncrossing his arms.

"Sorry, I have-" Nightwing started, but Hood quickly interrupted.

"Wait, shut up," Hood stated, putting his pointer finger in the air.

"You're really starting to piss me off." Nightwing exhales, anger simmering off his body. 

"Dick, I'm serious," Hood says, turning his head to look around the roof. "You hear that?" He questions.

"Hear wha-?"

"Boys." Hood and Nightwing quickly turn to see Blueprint emerging behind the bricked rooftop door they were leaning on. 

"Blueprint," they simultaneously say. "What are you two doing here?" you ask, tilting your head. Nightwing is quick to respond. "We could ask you the same thing."

"A woman never reveals her secrets." You chirp, pointing your finger at both of them. You walk closer to them, smiling. "It's actually good to see you both." 

"Wish we could say the same." Hood finally speaks. His words are gruff and gray. You rapidly turn your head towards him. It felt weird seeing him like this. Not even thirty minutes ago, you were lying in the sanctity of his warm, cozy bed in a post-orgasmic haze. It wasn't like you and him were dating, but you shared a specific intimacy that wasn't common to either of you. 

Normally, you wouldn’t give boys like him the time of day. But, what can you say? He’s a great lay.

You did like him, sure, but this was strictly business. There should be no feelings involved in business.

"Blue?" Hood questioned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

You shake your head, absolving you of your thoughts. "Would love to stay and chat, boys, but I have some paintings to tend to." Thanks to The Director, you swivel on your heel to head toward the rooftop exit door that's been propped open. 

"That won't be happening today," Nightwing spoke, pulling out his slick-black Escrima Sticks. 

You let out a smug laugh. "And I suppose you two are going to stop me?" You crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head. 

"That's the plan," Hood said, pulling out his weaponry, which was tucked nicely in his jacket. 

You gave a nice, wide smile before pressing the button on the small metal capsule of a lead-lined smoke grenade that had been concealed in your hand, throwing it in front of them, unleashing a cloud of smoke that covered your being as you made your getaway.

"Bye-bye, batboys." You yelled to them as you sprinted to the ajar exit door and entered the museum's stairwell.

"Fuck." Hood says through coughs as the smoke forces its way deep into his lungs. Even with smoke filling his lungs, he's still quick to spring into action, following you inside the museum, with Nightwing following hot on his trail, coughing as well.

You flew down the steps. Skipping three, even four, steps at of time. When you turned around after you got inside, they weren't even behind you, still coughing and heaving on the smoke. It was a damn shame Jason was so tall because once you scaled the second staircase, you turned to see Jason beginning the second one. Your eyes widened under your mask at how swift he was. You turned and continued sprinting as fast as your legs could go.

You could faintly hear Hood and Nightwing yell at you to stop, but you pursued down the flights downstairs, reaching the last set of stairs. 

You scrambled up as Hood came unexpectedly close and almost grabbed your arm, but you managed to escape his grasp, holding the handle of the main door and slipping inside, slamming it in his face. You breathed a sigh of relief as your legs carried you over to where The Director AKA your dad was standing, holding an authentic Da Vinci portrait. 

"Nice job, Blue." Your dad remarked, referring to the diversion you created with the bats so he could slyly take the precious art without them interfering. Though slamming the door did make an excellent barrier, you had forgotten to arm the system back, so Hood and Nightwing forcefully pushed the door open. 

"You didn't arm the door system back?" Your dad hissed, looking down at you.

"I-shit." You cursed, turning to see Hood and Nightwing standing only a few feet from where you and your dad stood. 

"You really think you're going to get away with this?" Nightwing cockily questions, stretching his arms down with his sticks in each hand. 

The Director let out a deep, guttural laugh, causing you to spin your head to face him. "Don't you see? I already have," he declared, showing the painting in his hand.

"We could still take you out." Hood points out, his eyes on The Director, as his hand slides to reach for a gadget on his signature utility belt. Though, he couldn't feel anything. Did he seriously forget to bring it?

"How are you going to do that, Hood?" The Director challenged. "Don't have that shiny belt on, do you?" He questioned, gesturing to his waist.

Hood glanced at Nightwing. "You forgot your belt?" Nightwing questioned, disbelief coating his voice.

"I could have sworn-" Hood says before shaking the rest of the sentence off. "Whatever. I don't need it." He assures, assuming a fighting position.

It was honestly true. Hood was an incredible fighter. Watching him fight was astonishing. He could move his body in ways you didn't even know were humanly possible. But, you did not want to fight him. You just wanted to appease your father by helping obtain the painting, so you could all get the hell out of there.

"Get them." Your father demanded, looking down at you. You hesitated, looking up at your father. "Did you hear me? Get them." His words came out harsher than the first, showing his agitation. 

"Come on, Blue, we won't go that hard on you." Hood snarkily remarked, and you reached for his belt wrapped around your waist. You felt a weird sense of guilt as you covertly pulled out a Batarang.

"You just gonna stand there or-" Hood starts but is interrupted by the Batarang swinging right near the side of his head. 

"I actually think I'd like to play, Red." You mischievously say, running towards Nightwing, catching him a little off guard, and extending your leg to kick him in the stomach, pushing him back, as he holds his stomach.

"Come on, Red. I won't bite." You say, making your way over to him while Nightwing is still down. You let out a powerful punch, but he's quick to move his head to the side, dodging it. 

"Actually, I think you might." He says, grabbing your extended arm and twisting it so your body turns in the other direction. 

Nightwing makes his way up. "Well, that was easier than expected." He said, wiping his hands together.

"Because I did all of the work." Hood chimed, still with your arm twisted behind your back. Their banter made for a good distraction so that you could reach into the utility belt Jason mistakenly left at your house and grabbed a stun gun. 

You turned quickly, letting go of contact with him, as Hood talked, and pressed the tazer to his forearm. Although clothed, the powerful current still hit his skin, making him drop to the floor, convulsing.

"Wanna have some fun, Grayson?" You sarcastically ask as you step closer to him. He swings his sticks in front of him in a criss-crossed pattern. 

You take his silence as an answer. "I knew you were always the boring one." You sigh, holding up the stun gun.

"That's a bat-belt." Nightwing states casually, looking over at Hood, whose body is hunched over on the ground, still convulsing. 

"Aren't you just a genius? You sneered, carefully watching him. 

"How the hell did you get bat-belt?" Nightwing gruffly questions, eyeing your hand with the stun gun. You narrow your eyes at him. "Like I said before, a woman never reveals her secrets." You quickly move towards him, though he's not so off guard. Not like Hood was. 

However, unlike a taser, a stun gun does not shoot any projectiles, and it has to be held against a body or skin to do any damage. Nightwing was standing a few feet from you so the stun gun would do you no good. 

But, you don't even get a chance to use it because he's quick to knock the stun gun out of your hand and uses his stick to hit across the museum, a ways from any of you. 

"Ah, I get it," Nightwing says, letting his sticks rest on his side. You tilt your head to the side. "Get what?" You shouldn't be indulging him. You should be kicking his ass, but with Hood down, Nightwing wasn't going to be so much work. Plus, in between fighting them, your dad had slipped away, leaving you to do the damage control. 

"You got it from Jason, right? Well, stole." He dragged out the last word. 

"It's not really stealing if he leaves it in my apartment. Is it?" You retort smugly.

"Of course he did." As he finishes his sentence, you realize you two have been talking for a while. Well, in hindsight, in normal conversation, no, but this is supposed to be a fight, not a catch-up. Wait, I haven't heard Hood? Upon this epiphany, you turn to see an empty spot where Hood laid.

"Where-where did he go?" You stutter, deciphering when he could have left and how you didn't hear him.

"Oh, Jason?" Nightwing starts. "He left a while ago—once you turned around, actually." He coolly says this, sliding his sticks back on through the straps on the back of his suit.

This was a diversion, and you were stupid enough to fall for it. Shit, your dad is going to be so pis-

"Got em'," You hear Hood's voice echo off the walls as he walks in with your father, ropes tied around his hands and ankles, painting in hand. He handed him off to Nightwing as he placed the art back in its place.

You and Hood watched as Nightwing dragged him through the exit door you all came in through.

"So, heard you stole from me?" Hood tuts, shifting closer to you. 

"Like I said to your brother, it's not stealing if you leave it in my apartment." You retaliate, your throat drying as he moves closer.

"It's still mine." He's now standing right in front of you. You feel flustered at the proximity but cannot let it show. He would never let you live it down. 

"And I want it back," he casually says, his hands ghosting over your waist, housing the belt in question.

You look straight up at him. "Take it then." You swear you could hear him inhale deeply at your suggestive words, but you don't ask. 

His hands wander to the belt, hanging a little low on you. You swear he holds his fingers on the front part just to tease you, and if that was the goal, fuck, did he succeed. But you wouldn't tell him that. His ego is already huge. His fingers leave the front portion of the belt and continue dragging slowly along the sides until he reaches the back to unclasp it, and pull it off of you.

Once he steps back, you release a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "I would leave now." He suggests, wrapping the belt around his own waist. "You know, before the police get here."

"Okay." You felt like he had just put you under a spell. You are willingly agreeing with him. He can sense this, too, and smirks under his mask at your cooperation. 

"Night, Blue." He says as he turns to the rooftop top exit door, pushing it slightly.

"Goodnight, Red." You say, releasing a sigh of relief once he steps outside the door.

"Oh my God." You say to yourself. "That was-" You pause, taking a deep breath. "Do I like Red Hood?" You question, thinking. "No. Definitely not. It was nothing." You lie to yourself. You had only ever slept with the guy, so it just had to be the undeniable sexual tension between you two. That’s all. Right?

You thank God when you push open the rooftop door that Hood isn't hovering behind the door, listening to you essentially try to deny, and fail, expressing your feelings for him.

It is so nice for Hood that stairwells offer a safe place during storms, but they also offer space for a secret spot, just like the one Hood implemented into the walls of The Metropoliton some years ago.

He used to hide from criminals chasing him through the museum, which happened quite frequently, but now he was using it to simply make sure you left okay. But who knew it would double as a way to hear about your secret love confession? Certainly not him. 

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[royalsunshinehotel]

Eating (Vampire!Kid x F!Reader, 18+)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience. I am back. RIP to that one fic I wrote in 2020 and LOST in the depths of my laptop, you had fisting and dubcon and whatnot. This doesn’t have that, but is a lot better written. YN has very American dialogue here. Editing by @youlooklike-clarabow

It wasn’t right to call this feeling bloodlust. Was it freedom? 

He’d just beaten a mortal to death with a heeled shoe, and, in the morning, the people would think that Baba Shakti had been mauled to death by a tiger. 

He’d drained that man of his life force, the evidence soaked Kid so thoroughly, he felt it down to his socks with each step he took. 

Now, all he wanted was you. 

From the first day he’d met you, he’d allowed you to become a constant. He met Lucky first, your little brother, and Lucky had brought him right to you. 

What a gift that Lucky had given so freely, he’d have to thank the boy when he saw him next. 

He knows exactly where you are too. 

You’re stumbling home after a harrowing shift at the bar. It’s Diwali, so of course your work was a little…intense. 

You couldn’t fault the people for enjoying the holiday, but Christ that was a lot of work. 

And here he was again! 

“Funny how that all works,” you think.

He’s playing it off as if he wasn’t waiting up for you, on the steps of your apartment building. 

Maybe it was that half-drink you’d had earlier, maybe it was that costume he’s wearing, a black suit, covered in blood. 

The blood had dried, but the tears hadn’t. 

Maybe it was that half-drink you’d had earlier, but you could hardly look at him, only holding out your hand to take his arm, tightly, up to your place. 

On a good day, it’s hard to look at him - and truly see him - fully. It was like staring into the sun. Here, in the dark, maybe you’d scrape by. He’s vibrant, even now 

His socks were making a squishing sound with each step. 

You unlock your door, and deposit him to lean against a counter, and calmly walk to your kitchenette for some towels, wetting them under your faucet. 

It wasn’t your business. 

Maybe he’d just been at Tiger’s, Maybe it had been another fight. You’d helped him after those before…

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “just wait.” He droops a little, hopefully relaxing. You’d like him to be comfortable here, with you. 

You take a long step and pull out a stray garbage bag from a drawer, waving it around to open in, and gesturing to him. 

It was safe to say the suit he wore was ruined. And if that blood was real, and didn’t belong to him, it could open up a whole world of trouble. 

Your mind races with a thousand different possibilities and outcomes, what you were liable for, what charges he could be brought up on. 

He only stares at you with an expression you can’t place, and unbuttons his shirt. 

And your thought process evaporates. 

When Lucky had helped him to your apartment after fights at Tiger’s Temple, you’d seen his bare chest before. He was a tall man, and thin to match. His chest was broad, smooth, as ever, but you couldn’t see his ribs anymore. 

When he’d come to you for help before, he’d been something of a stray dog, wandering in the streets, begging for any scrap one could spare. 

And you had fed him before, but you wouldn’t need to now. 

You knew from your little brother that Kid hadn’t been around. Rumors swirled in your little community, but nothing was concrete. He’d been gone, out of town. Eating. 

Blood dried on the breathtaking torso of someone who’d been eating. 

A little spark of jealousy starts to burn in the front of your skull. 

“Had a good vacation?”” You scoff at him. His large brown eyes darken, only slightly. He says nothing. 

Heat rushes to your face as he steps forward, dropping his shirt into the empty garbage bag. 

You want him close, as usual. 

He never takes a half-step more, just to kiss you, be near you. It doesn’t feel as cold as it usually does. It feels like he’s playing with you. 

Kid smiles a little, to himself, taking the wet towel off the side of the sink, running it down his reddened neck. 

You frown. He’ll have to scrub. 

You grab another towel, and begin to do just that. 

He doesn’t make a sound as you dampen your towel under the sink  and step around towards his broad back. 

“This isn't gonna work. You’ll have to shower.” Your voice sounds a little hoarse. It had to be some kind of condition, or spell he’d fallen under. 

He seemed flushed, a little more alive. 

When you first met him, you noticed large, glossy brown eyes first, but seeing the rest of him makes the awareness of being close to him all the  worse, even standing behind his back. 

His thick,curly hair reached out, practically begging someone to put their hands in it. The skin of his shoulders is always warm, just like the rest of him. 

You’d sat next to him, on your couch in your apartment. Being aware of his body heat was obvious, but it felt heightened tonight. Did he run warm? Or did you just notice it because it’s him? 

You knew the answer, but the air was so thick in your room, it seemed to soften any hard thought you were trying to wrap your head around. 

The rag in your hand was spent, so you threw it into the trash bag, and you tap his spine, 

“Go shower.” You command, and he obeys you, removing his shoes and putting them in the bag after. 

He looks around, spell broken, only to feel lightly proud that he’d only left a thumbprint on your counter. 

In the shower, he wishes you were still next to him still, in the water . . . helping. You were so eager to be kind, why? Especially to the likes of him. 

He watches the faint traces of red and pink rinse from his skin, to circle the drain. 

It was all he could do not to step out of the shower and put his face in your neck. 

He’d never indulged so freely in someone’s blood before, and he’d never imagined that his first real taste would be from the man who ruined everything, and harmed so many. 

And he’d come right to you, thinking he’d been sated, but he just wanted more. 

He’d never hurt you, he’d die before he hurt you. 

Kid lets some water fall into his mouth, and spits it out between his feet. 

There had been a time, when he was younger, where he’d known a street performer who’d played a cello. It was a large, cumbersome instrument, but the performer had made it seem light, elegant. 

The vibration of the strings had stayed with him, humming inside his head whenever he’d gotten hungry. 

And now, wet, in the shower, he felt absolutely starved. 

No. Get a grip. 

He needed to pick something else to focus on, not the tantalizing hymn coming from your throat. 

Your apartment! 

He’d been in your apartment before, of course, but he felt he’d never gotten the chance to appreciate it. 

Your bathroom was old, but clean. Faded white tile, and one singular bottle of shampoo and conditioner on the counter in front of a small, circular mirror. 

He already knew that you had made a friend who sold soap to tourists, he recognized the cut of the bar in a little dish to the side. 

He shouldn’t snoop. 

One lone towel is hanging by the shower, and he takes it, dressing in large gray sweats that you’d picked for him. 

He doesn't like that you have men’s sweats, but he doesn’t have a right to not like it, when he benefits from it. 

He gasps a little as he opens the door back to the rest of your studio. 

Warm. 

When he first knocked on your door, he hadn’t noticed the few candles you’d had burning. He didn’t realize you’d be perched on the armrest of your old couch. He’d helped you carry it in, hadn’t he? He thought the color of it suited you, just as he does now. 

“How was your shower?” You ask, voice soft. You don’t betray the fact that your mouth is watering. 

He’d showered, obviously, but the steam coming off his skin didn’t help the knot of feelings, tightening in your stomach. 

Ugh, fucking feelings. They’d never done anything but betrayed you, why would this time be any different ? 

“Um…good.” He replies, just as soft, taking long, even strides to meet you on the couch, and sit on the other side. 

There’s a golden cast of light on your skin, and he knows he has some fundamental truths he needs to face. 

The first being, that he had died with his Mother that night, and came back as well…this. Whatever it was. 

The second was, he’d just torn the nation's religious leader limb from limb. It would look like a wild animal, but if that stupid penthouse had cameras, they’d know it was him. 

The last was, he desperately wanted you. Whatever you’d be willing to give, he’d devour greedily. It was time to do something about it. 

“You haven’t asked me what happened.” He states, almost groaning as he felt the couch lean from your weight. 

“I don’t want to know.” 

Kid exhales a sigh of relief. 

“I do wish you’d stop putting yourself in danger.” 

He blinks at that.

“You gotta stop showing up covered in blood.” 

“Should I show up with flowers? Would you like that?” 

“Depends on the flowers.” 

He leans in, the warmth of his body making your head start to swim, “I’m serious. What the fuck happened tonight?”

“Things have changed. I’ve changed them. It’s going to be better now.” 

You cross your arms. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you. No one follows me when I come here.” His round eyes seem to burn in the half-light. 

“If things have changed…does that mean I can kiss you?” the words fell out of your mouth easily, but you wince as they make their impact. The energy that was humming in your ears drops, leaving you in silence. 

Waiting for a response, simple. 

His mouth is on yours in an instant, your head spinning, taken by the impact. 

His hands find your hips, and you’re placed securely into his lap. How, in all this time, had you never felt his hands before? All of those times he’d come to you for help after a fight, and he’d kept his lovely hands to himself. 

You couldn’t allow that anymore! 

You take his wrists in your hands to move his warm, wide palms. You push yourself into his hands because you want to, you want him

His hardness grows steadily underneath you, as he lets you rub yourself against him, allowing himself to get lost, soaking you into himself. He simply had to be yours. 

You were a softness he’d wrap himself in, an extra layer to keep him warm through the winter (A/N: FROM A CHALLENGERS FIC). 

You feel his hands wander to your shoulders, pulling your mouth away from his with a slight pop. 

“You know I’m different.” It wasn’t a question. 

All those fights, all those blows to the head that should have killed him, and he’d simply walked away. Of course you knew.

“Are you trying to scare me?” You asked, earnest. You had nerves, of course you did, but it wouldn’t break through. 

“No! Never. I’m just trying to be honest.” 

You giggle. Your hands cup his face, and you smile at how he relaxes into your grip. 

“I think I’m just curious… How long have you been . . . different?” You questioned, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger.  

“Long enough to know what I’m doing?” 

“So you won’t kill me.” 

“I think Lucky would kill me first. You can send me away if you like. I won’t be back again.” 

“I’m not saying no, I just want to see.”

He blinks at you. 

You trail off, “May I see?” 

“...Sure.” 

 You put your hands on either side of his face, dark beard soft, he lets you pull u a pink lip, revealing white teeth, one long canine tooth, flat, thin, sharp. There’s another one on the other side. Like a predator, like a beast you’d find in the wild. 

Yeah, he’s exactly what he says he is. Different. 

“Good?” He asks, neutral.

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

The air in your room is cool , his eyes wide and wet.  

Is this what all creatures are like? 

You almost ask, but fall into his mouth instead. 

“Still curious?” 

“Ask me tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow. He likes the sound of that. Has he ever had anyone want to stay until tomorrow? He couldn’t remember when. How strange, to be alive as long as he had, and never been more than a kink, someone dipping a toe into the dark, as if he hadn’t had to make a life here. 

That was by design, he thought. Wasn’t he supposed to be the greatest predator and killer of all time? Ha!

Maybe he’s comfortable right here. Maybe the Devil’s perfect predator yearns for a collar and a leash. 

What a magnificent leash it would be. 

Your back arched against him, you gasp, grinding him. You receive a soft peck against your lips, and the most gentle smile. 

Your eyelids flutter close, and he makes himself comfortable against you. 

Kid makes a trail between your mouth and the most delicate column of your throat, licking and sucking. You allow him to pull off your shirt, before lowering you back into the worn out couch.  You shiver, in spite of the heat coursing through your veins. 

He leans over you, tracing his nose against your jaw, inhaling. 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he hums against your ear, the cello strings getting louder and louder in his head. 

Putting a hand between your legs, he smiles into your neck. You push yourself against the heel of his palm, enjoying the sparks against your clit. 

Your pulse feels too correct under his mouth, and he throbs for it. What a lovely thing, to be able to have your neck between his teeth. 

He lies between your legs, comfortably, like he’d been laying with you for years. 

He smiles to himself as he feels your wetness against his hand, his mouth wandering over every piece of flesh you had exposed. You gasp as his mouth catches a nipple, tugging it, making you squirm. 

He lets you put your hands in his damp hair, his fangs lightly piercing the underside of your breast, red droplets against the softness of your skin for him to lap up. 

You whine at the faint pain, but he knows better. The hand between your legs knew better, your pathetic hole fluttering against him. 

You were everything. 

What a pretty picture you made, wide eyes, a warm, soft mouth, comfortably underneath him like you were meant to be here. How could you make the picture of someone so docile, fuckable, like he didn’t owe you absolutely everything? 

To your dismay, he pulls his hand back, and brings it up to his mouth. Your eyes snap open as Kid is struck with a full body shudder. The red against his hand seems to burn into him. 

It can’t be true. It’s too perfect, he thinks to himself. You watch him pant, chills down your spine. 

“...are you…bleeding?” He asked, rasping into your mouth, 

You couldn’t do too much, only nod. 

He’d had you too intoxicated, you’d gone and forgotten about your period.

A heartbeat passes. Maybe two.  

“I need to eat now. May I?” He asks, polite, but his face betrays him. 

“Yes.” 

In a blink, he’s upon you. Head between your legs, sucking at your bloody heat like he’d been made to do it. And he had, you supposed. 

Your back bows as he smoothly works a  finger into you, your own blood and slick guiding him in. 

Kid slurps, a filthy sound that nearly made you jump off the couch. 

An unfamiliar fog descends over your mind as you let him take what he wants. You're nobody’s fool, except his. 

You faintly feel his hands dig into your ass with an unrecognizable strength. You know he’d let you go if you asked, but his brute strength against yours is nothing short of exhilarating. 

Is this what it would take to keep him? Blood? You had that! You could always make more too. 

Your back arches, trying to get closer to his face, the sharpness of his nose breathtaking against your core. 

Your heart pounds in your head as he drinks from you, ears ringing. If you were a little more coherent, you’d be impressed with him, scraping his fingers mercilessly against your front wall, trying to drain any last drop you had to give. He’s taking what he wants. 

Whatever had happened earlier in the night, whatever put light behind his eyes, you thank every star.

He frantically scissors his fingers into you, lapping and sucking up everything he earned, bringing you closer and closer. 

He lavishes every mark made on you with his tongue, savoring the taste. 

You pout, and he holds you while your shaking and shivering dies down. 

“Will you forget about everyone else?” He asks, low in the dark.  

You blink at him, as if he were speaking another language. 

“What?” 

There was nobody else. No other ‘lovers’ in the past decade that could match what the two of you had just done. 

You feel something twitch against your thigh, in spite of your tiredness, you stick out your lower lip. He stares at it, eyes glittering. 

“You-” You puff, all those pesky feelings rushing straight to your head, “You’re holding back!” 

“And you're about to be anemic if we aren’t careful.” 

You can’t say much to that, so you let out a low, pitiful whine.

“You're going to rest, and you’re going to like it.” 

“Only if you stay put,” you blink. He smiles, mouth wet and red. 

You turn on the couch, pressing against his thin form, wiggling against him, making yourself comfortable. He lets you take his hand in your own, blood is already drying when you take two of his long, elegant fingers, and put them in your mouth. You sigh, satisfied. He does too. 

All will be well, because it’s him. You’ll do anything to keep him. 

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, menstruation, minor injury, description of injury, blood, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 5.4k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

a/n pt. 2: in this series minho and jisung know how to swim and enjoy it lol also if any old 5sos stans are reading this, they're staying in the same treehouse from The bali trip sdkfhds

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Do you ever think about anything else?” you mumbled in annoyance. 

“Do you want me to be honest?”

You shoved him, glaring hard. “You’re asking to be caught,” you whispered, eyes widening when he didn’t deny it. “What, you want him to find out?” 

“Might be better than sneaking around,” he reasoned. 

“We’d still have to sneak around. Your other brother and your parents can’t know,” you reminded him. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

He didn’t seem convinced. 

“What, do you not like me acting like Jisung’s girlfriend? Are you jealous?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he countered defensively. “I just thought you might feel bad going behind his back.” 

He had you there, the bastard. “You already know I do. But I don’t want to lose my friendship with him over it.” 

“He’s going to find out sooner or later.”

“Why, you’ll tell him?” 

Minho rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Neither of you had the advantage here and he knew that. Telling Jisung meant you’d both lose something. 

You considered telling Minho that you’d also decided that you should stop sleeping together altogether, but he was already moody and you didn’t want to worsen it. You’d tell him later, when he was less defensive. 

-

You slept for eleven hours straight when you finally made it to Bali. 

Everyone was staying in the same accommodation again, but this time it was like a treehouse with separate rooms connected by rope bridges. 

Jisung was relieved that you were finally able to sleep and rewarded you with homemade chili when you woke up. 

“Is it good?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to you. 

The kitchen was situated in the middle of the treehouse, sharing space with the common area on the other side of the deck. Despite it being open to the forest, you thankfully hadn’t been visited by any of the bugs or wildlife who might’ve been lured in by the smell of cooking food. 

“Everything you make is good,” you answered, spooning another bite into your mouth. 

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“You’ve helped me through a lot of trial and error with recipes, don’t forget.”

You nodded. “You’re right. I suppressed that.”

He rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless, pleased that you were enjoying your lunch.

“What are we doing today?” you asked. 

“Still not reading the itinerary, I see.” 

“My bad.”

“We’re going surfing.”

“Wha- I don’t know how to surf!” you cried.

“We’ll teach you!”

“Oh my god, this is a nightmare,” you groaned to yourself. “We’re going to be active all day and you fed me chili? What’s wrong with you?” 

You were half-kidding, mainly annoyed with yourself for not checking the schedule on your own. You shoved the bowl across the counter towards your best friend and stood from the stool. He’d finish the rest. 

“When are we going?” 

Jisung was hesitant to answer, probably knowing you wouldn’t like what he’d say. “In like an hour.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, turning on your heel to run back to your room and change. 

You ran into Felix as you rounded the corner, accidentally bumping your nose on his shoulder. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Ask your brother, I’m not speaking to him right now.”

You brushed past him, only to hear Jisung muttering an explanation behind you. “I don’t know, I just told her what we’re doing today.”

An hour didn’t give you much time at all to get ready. You needed to dig through your luggage to find a bathing suit, find something to wear over it, put sunscreen on- you also needed at least twenty minutes to wrestle with a tampon so that it wasn’t painfully uncomfortable when you walked or sat or did literally anything. You’ve tried using tampons a dozen or so times, and not once has it been a pleasant enough experience for you to want to repeat. You knew people who swore by them, wouldn’t use any other product but you were not one of them. Maybe your pussy was broken, or maybe you were just doing it wrong, but you always dreaded using tampons and this was not an exception. 

Of course you’d get your period when you’re going to the beach of all places. Just your luck. 

You didn’t even want to go surfing, but you weren’t going to be that girlfriend that didn’t participate in family activities, especially since your fear of heights already had you sitting out of things. No, you would be the fun girlfriend that tried new things, that had a good attitude about it. It’s what Jisung deserved. 

The resort that rented out the treehouses was right on the beach so it was just a short walk to the shore. 

Dom and Nikki set up a spot to lounge a few meters away from where the waves were breaking so they could watch you all surf. Nikki had even brought one of her nice cameras to take pictures of you all. “I don’t have anywhere near enough pictures of this trip,” she’d said when the boys protested. They’d appreciate it a lot more when they saw the action shots later on. You watched as she set up a tripod in the sand and adjusted the legs to make the platform level before screwing the Nikon onto the plate.

Minho organized the board and wetsuit rentals at the little hut by the sand dunes that was associated with the resort. He was the most experienced surfer out of the four of you so you let him choose a board for you. After speaking with the guy working the booth they’d both decided on a foam longboard. The thing was huge. You had no idea how you were supposed to handle something so big, but Minho and the guy had assured you that bigger was better for beginners. 

The three boys chose funboards, which were apparently the next size down. You felt a little embarrassed about being the only noob, but you knew you’d be a lot more embarrassed if you tried to use an intermediate board with no experience. You could already see the crowd of people surrounding your lifeless body on the beach.  

“What size wetsuit do you want?” Minho asked.

“Um, I don’t really know how the sizes work,” you admitted. 

Your eyes flitted to the man behind the desk who briefly looked you up and down and said, “I got you.”

Somehow he was able to determine your size just by looking at you because the one he picked fit like a glove. 

“Just put the sleeves over your shoulders like this,” he demonstrated. A quick glance at the lanyard around his neck told you his name was Banyu, at least that’s what was scrawled in the open space in dry-erase marker. “And then pull the body of the suit upwards. The sleeves on your shoulders should create some resistance and help the rest slide on.”

He stepped back to let you do the rest and then showed you how to zip it up. “Like this,” he said again, pulling an imaginary zipper up his back. You did as he did and raised your arm above your head until the zipper wouldn’t go anymore. 

“Perfect! You’re already a natural.”

“I don’t know about that,” you chuckled. “I bet you’ll see me eat it in about ten minutes. Maybe less.”

“Do you need a lesson?” Banyu offered, “I’m off for lunch in like thirty minutes. I’m certified to teach beginners, but I won’t charge you or anything.”

You were about to accept when Minho spoke for you. 

“We’ll teach her, bro. Don’t worry.” He sounded cheery enough, but you could see past the smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“You’re not qualified, though,” you pointed out, mostly just to get under Minho’s skin. Banyu shrugged as if to say you had a point, but didn’t add his two cents. “They seem to really want to teach me,” you sighed, “but thank you. Although, if I’m still shit in a couple hours I might just take you up on that. And if I die out there, it’s on you.” The threat was directed at Minho and he knew it. 

“You look great, babe!” Jisung exclaimed suddenly, finally coming to your rescue. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pinched your hip. “Wetsuits are definitely your thing.”

“Ji!” you groaned, cheeks warming. “My entire body is covered.”

“Yeah, but the thing is skin-tight,” he mused cheekily, smirking when you covered your face with your hands. 

“Can we go now?” you hissed.

You were completely mortified to have this conversation in front of a stranger even if it was all part of the act. You’d never be talking to Banyu again, no matter how cute he was.  

“Thanks for everything!” Jisung said brightly and turned to help you with your board. 

It was pretty heavy which you found strange since it was supposedly made of foam. To be fair, it was about nine feet long, which called for a good amount of foam. Still, you were out of breath by the time you reached the edge of the water. 

“He thought you were cute,” Jisung teased once you were out of earshot. 

Felix nodded in agreement but Minho didn’t acknowledge the statement at all. 

“You think that about everyone.” You shook your head and brushed him off. “You’re biased.”

“Okay, but I’m right this time. Even Lix agrees.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying out of this, for the record,” Felix added. 

“Whatever,” you muttered.

The four of you had stopped just in front of the water to make final adjustments when Jisung told his brothers to go on without you, explaining that he’d teach you the basics and that there was no reason to wait up. Minho looked like he wanted to argue but kept his mouth shut and followed Felix out into the waves. 

“You okay?” Jisung asked, checking on you as always. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” you assured him. You were getting better at lying to your best friend but the thought didn’t give you much comfort.  

Although it wasn’t that you didn’t want to try surfing. Surfing was something you always thought would be cool… to do someday. But you didn’t want to try it now. Learning how with just Jisung might be fun, but here you had an audience and that was what made you nervous.

“I’m just a little nervous.”

“I know. You’ll be fine, though. I’ll be right there with you,” he insisted, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze. You nodded, you trusted him. You trusted Jisung with your life and if he thought you could do it, then you’d give it a shot. “So first things first, you’ll want to wrap that velcro strap of the leash around your ankle so you don’t lose your board when you fall off.” You dropped your surfboard in the sand next to you and did as he said, still listening as he talked. He did the same and placed his board next to yours as he fastened his own leash to his ankle. “You’ve boogie boarded before, right?”

“Yeah. I used to do it a bunch as a kid.”

“Surfing is similar in the way you catch a wave,” he explained. “We’ll paddle out to where Minho and Felix are and when you want to give it a try you’ll paddle with the wave just like you would on a boogie board and stand up when it picks you up and crests.” He huffed and straightened up again, giving you a look. “You’re not going to like the next part.”

“What? Why?”

“We have to practice standing up.”

You immediately understood why he’d said you wouldn’t like it  And he was right. “Right here? On land?” 

“Yes. It’s the most important part of learning.”

You wanted to put up more of a fight but didn’t want to make a scene so you merely grunted in displeasure before mirroring Jisung’s movements and lying flat on your stomach on the board. He showed you how to “pop up” a couple of times before he instructed you to try it yourself. There were only a few aspects of your form that he corrected before deeming you ready to get into the water, something you took pride in. 

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you as you waded into the ocean together.  

You knew he was just complimenting you to fuel your ego and boost your confidence but you didn’t care. It felt good to hear. 

It took a good fifteen minutes to paddle all the way out to where Minho and Felix were waiting for waves. You were exhausted by the time you reached them. Fighting the current and dodging waves at the same time was a lot harder than you anticipated. Jisung was able to duck dive the waves with his board since it was smaller and he was strong enough to push the nose of it beneath the water, but you were stuck facing them head-on. Every time they’d crash into you the force would send you backward and you were forced to make up the distance by paddling twice as long. 

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to catch a wave and stand up on a board after this… and then paddle back to do it all over again. Why did people do this again?

Minho and Felix greeted you happily when you and Jisung joined them, offering you both high-fives. Felix immediately launched into a story about how he and Minho had wiped out already while Minnho turned his attention to you. He gave your board a nudge with his knee and smiled encouragingly.

“Ready?”

-

“You know you’re supposed to stand up, right?”

“She’s learning, Felix, give her a break!” Jisung yelled defensively. 

You sighed when you finally reached the group again, having paddled all the way back after taking another wave on your stomach. You’d managed to catch a few, you were just having trouble with the standing component, the main component of surfing. 

“You’re doing great, babe,” Jisung added when you rejoined them.

 “You don’t have to lie.”

 “I’m not lying! It’s not an easy thing to learn, just take your time.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, slumping forward on your board like you were hugging it. You closed your eyes as the tide rocked you gently, secretly wishing to be on the shore with Nikki and Dom. You were soaked, cold, and sticky with salty residue left behind by the ocean’s foamy currents. You honestly couldn’t wait to get back to the room and shower but you were trying to stick it out for Jisung’s sake. 

“You okay?” It was Minho, who had somehow made his way over to you. You didn’t bother opening your eyes, not wanting to confront the sight of him in his skin-tight wetsuit any more than you already had to. 

“Peachy,” you replied. 

“Do you want to take a break? I could sit here with you for a while if you want.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I might sit the next round out but I’m okay by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you assured him. “I like watching you guys have fun.”

“Suit yourself.”

You relayed the same message to Jisung when he offered to take a breather with you, lifting yourself up to watch them catch a few more waves. Minho went first, likely claiming seniority over the twins, followed by Jisung, and finally Felix. Each of them were able to stand for at least a few seconds, usually lasting until the swell subsided. 

“They’re just good at fucking everything, aren’t they?” you mumbled to yourself. 

After Felix wiped out for the third time in a row they paddled back over to you, shouting for you to trade places with him. 

Jisung waved his arms at you like you couldn’t see him from thirty feet away and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell at you. “Come on, benchwarmer, he’s tagging you in!”

“What’d you just call me?” you shouted back.

“You heard me! Get over here, slowpoke!”

Felix gave you an apologetic look as he took his spot beside you and slicked back his wet hair.

“Why do they need a third person?” you grumbled. “Can’t we both take a break?”

He shrugged. “They must think you’ve rested long enough.”

“Whatever. Thanks a lot.”

You were relieved to hear Felix laugh as you paddled away because you were worried he might have taken your sarcasm to heart. 

“Welcome back,” Jisung said warmly and leaned across the space between you to kiss you on the cheek.

It felt a little embarrassing to put on the act in front of Minho who already knew you weren’t actually dating but Jisung didn’t know he knew- and it was all so complicated that you’d rather not think about it at all. Of course, that wasn’t an option so you settled for what was second best, which happened to be pushing everything down as much as humanly possible.

“Call me a benchwarmer again and I’m cooking dinner for a week when we get home.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“That’s… a punishment?” Minho asked uncertainly.

 “Yes,” both you and Jisung answered simultaneously. 

Minho nodded unsurely at first, then his eyes lit up as if he suddenly understood. “Right, ramen for breakfast.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you admitted in surprise.

“It’s kind of a hard thing to forget, baby,” Jisung pointed out. You glared at him and he immediately averted eye contact. “Anyway, how should we do the line-up this time?”

Minho and Jisung agreed that you should go second just in case something happened during your turn, that way they’d be able to reach you from either side. Once that was decided, they played rock paper scissors over the first and third spots. Minho won and picked first again. Typical. 

The current had picked up in the time it took to divvy up the line-order, which meant that bigger waves were starting to form in the sweet spot the boys had scoped earlier. Both of the Hans seemed to take this as a positive thing, but it made you even more nervous.

“We need to start before someone comes and tries to take our spot from us,” Minho said. He seemed to notice the anxiety written across your face and softened a little. “We’ll be right there, okay? No need to worry.”

Easy enough to say, you thought to yourself. You forced a smile and gave him a thumbs-up. 

Jisung coached you while you waited for Minho to take his turn. You knew he was trying to be helpful but it wasn’t making you feel any better.

“Remember, once you feel the wave pick you up, pop-up on your feet.”

“I know what to do,” you reminded him, “I’m just scared to do it.”

He rubbed your back soothingly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Don’t think too much about it, okay? Just let your body do its thing. Let your reflexes do the thinking for you.” 

“I don’t know if I can not think about it.”

Your best friend hummed knowingly. “Overthinking is a talent of yours.” He dodged your attempt to splash him, giving you an offended look. “I was just telling the truth!”

“Yeah, well next time keep it to yourself,” you shot. “But I don’t think I was built to surf. I don’t have good reflexes like you guys do. I’ve never been athletic, you know that.” 

“Plenty of people who aren’t naturally athletic become good at sports through practice!”

“Yeah, but I doubt that’ll happen for me in the span of a single afternoon.”

“Not with that attitude it won’t!”

Your shoulders sagged, knowing he was right- at least partially. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry for being a bummer.”

“Don’t be. I know you like to get into that head of yours,” Jisung said with a grin. “We’re supposed to be having fun. You don’t have to stand up at all today if you don’t feel ready. Don’t let Felix’s stupid comment get to you if that’s what it is. He’s an idiot and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

You chuckled appreciatively but your attention was torn away before you could respond. It was Minho calling to you from the shallow end, asking if you were ready. 

“Yeah, sorry!” 

Jisung patted you on the back and gave you a thumbs up. He wished you good luck and gave your board an extra push to propel you in the direction you needed to go. 

You took deep breaths as you paddled out to where Minho had just been before he took his turn. By the time you reached it, your stomach was in knots and you were trying not to think about all the possible ways you could hurt yourself with little success. 

Thankfully, a lot of surfing was a waiting game. You had to wait until you paddled out all the way to the surf, wait your turn, wait for a wave that was strong enough to pick you up. Most of surfing was not surfing in the same way that most of fishing was not catching fish. Unfortunately, though, you didn’t get much of a reprieve once you got into position. The ocean was choppy, meaning good waves were readily available for the taking. 

You didn’t want to wait too long and hold up the boys or risk the chance of getting into your head again, though you weren’t quite convinced you had gotten out of your head, so you took the first big wave that hit.

The first part was easy enough. You’d compared it to boogie boarding, just with a bigger, more awkward board. It was a little more difficult to propel yourself with a surfboard at the speed needed to keep up with the wave due to the sheer weight of it, and you weren’t all that fit, but it was a simple adjustment to make and you caught on to that part quickly. 

You could already feel the adrenaline coursing through you as your board cut through the water. Trying to take Jisung’s advice of doing before thinking, you pushed yourself up onto your knees and then your feet one at a time. It wasn’t the smoothest pop-up, but you’d done it! You’d gotten up and were actually standing on your surfboard. You could barely hear Jisung and Minho cheering over the sound of the rushing water but it made you smile nonetheless. Even their parents were cheering you on from the beach. 

The whole thing lasted maybe a couple of seconds before you lost your balance and fell off but you counted it as a win regardless, especially since water didn’t even go up your nose. When you surfaced, Minho was already making his way over to you. 

“That was great!” he complimented, beaming. “Are you okay? Didn’t hit your head or anything, right?”

“I’m good, thanks. Do you think your mom got the picture?”

Minho laughed. “I’m sure she did.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and tried to lift yourself back onto your surfboard, only for your palms to slip and cause you to fall back into the water. This time you did get water up your nose and you cursed as you ducked under again to try and get it out. 

“Oh shit, what happened?” Minho asked, unable to conceal the mixture of concern and amusement in his voice. 

“I don’t know,” you explained, trying again. Same results. “Fuck me,” you hissed, rubbing your wrist. 

“Right here?” he joked, knowing full well the comment hadn’t been directed at him. 

“Shut up.”

“Can you not push yourself up?”

“I’m trying.”

“I can see that. I wasn’t being condescending, I was genuinely asking.”

“Oh,” you whispered, face warming with embarrassment. “I haven’t had this problem before! I don’t know why I’m having trouble.”

“You’re probably getting tired and sore,” Minho reasoned. “We’ve been out here for a while.”

He swung his leg around so that he could easily slide off of his own surfboard and into the water with you. You were confused until you felt his hands on your waist. 

“Ready, one, two, three-”

You jumped on three and Minho helped lift you back onto your board, this time successfully. 

Your face burned and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

-

“I don’t know how much more of this I can do,” you admitted to Jisung once the rotation was complete and you were back in the line-up. 

Minho was out doing his turn again and you were up next but you could barely keep yourself upright and your muscles were protesting even the smallest amount of movement.

Jisung winced at the stiffness you were exhibiting like he knew what you were feeling. “Yeah, you’re going to be really sore tomorrow. I still remember waking up the day after my first time surfing. Felt like I got hit by a bus.”

“Awesome, can’t wait.”

“We’ll all be feeling it tomorrow, don’t worry. It takes a lot out of you.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

“Why don’t you do one more and then call it a day?” he suggested. “We’ll grab Lix again and you can go rest with mum and dad on the beach until we’re finished.”

Hanging out with just Jisung’s parents didn’t sound all that appealing to you but you figured it would be better than pushing yourself too hard out here and getting dragged up to the shore half-conscious by one of their sons later on. 

It turned out that your next turn would’ve been your last whether or not you wanted it to be. Somehow you had enough strength left to stand up on your board again but then as soon as you wiped out and tried to get up you accidentally stepped on something sharp. You couldn’t tell what it was but it felt like a rock or a piece of coral and it hurt.

You weren’t sure if you were bleeding but the pain wasn’t subsiding so you knew you would need to check it out anyway. 

 The boys knew it was your last turn so they didn’t question it when you swam past Minho all the way to the shore, dragging your board behind you. You hoped they couldn’t see you limping when you got out of the water either. You tried not to make it obvious but it was hard when you were favoring one foot over the other and practically hopping your way up to Nikki and Dom. 

“What happened?” Nikki asked, immediately standing to meet you halfway. 

“I, um, stepped on something out there, I think. I don’t think it’s serious but I can’t put any weight on my right foot so I thought I should get it looked at. Do you know if there’s first-aid anywhere around here?”

She nodded and took one of your hands even though you were dripping wet and she was completely dry. “I’m sure the lifeguards have a kit in their lookouts. And if they don’t have what you need they can point us in the direction of where to find someone who does.”

You let her lead you along the beach to the closest lifeguard chair where the on-duty lifeguard stuck his head into the little booth to call one of the off-duty guards out. You assumed he’d seen you limping up to the stand, knew you’d need help, and recruited backup to deal with you while he kept his eyes on the water. 

 A tan, lanky boy who looked to be about your age popped his head out of the booth and lowered his sunglasses to get a better look at you. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask “what’s wrong”, to which Nikki loosely explained what happened. 

He straightened up from where he had been leaning against the wall to actually come down and assess you, telling you to take a seat on the steps of the stand as he knelt in the sand. 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“I’m Amir. I’ll try and get you patched up.”

“Thanks.”

He couldn’t be older than twenty-five, and you doubted he had any legitimate medical experience aside from mandatory first-aid training, but his demeanor relaxed you a bit. His air of confidence was reassuring rather than off-putting. You were glad that he didn’t seem nervous or panicked over your injury, you figured that must be a good sign.

“I saw you out there,” he remarked casually as he gently lifted your ankle. “First time?”

“That obvious?” you joked.

“Not at all, you’re a natural,” he lied, smirking to himself. 

“That’s why I ended up here, right?”

“All the pros get roughed up, just part of the process.”

“Must be doing something right, then. Good to know.” 

You watched as Amir unzipped his fanny pack and pulled an antiseptic wipe and a tube of Neosporin out. He used the wipe to clean the wound first, the sting of the rubbing alcohol making you wince.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a grimace of his own. “Worst part’s over, though. You’re not bleeding too bad, either, which is good. We actually see this a lot.”

“What do you see a lot?” you asked, still unsure about what had happened to your foot. 

“Looks like you stepped, or rather jumped, on a sea urchin. Its spines broke off into your toe.”

“What?” you gasped.

“It’s not serious! The urchin isn’t poisonous or anything, we’d know right away if it was. It’s easy to treat, it’ll just be uncomfortable and might take a bit to heal.”

“Do you think the sea urchin is okay?”

Amir laughed at that, giving you a funny look. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I-I just feel bad. I hope I didn’t kill it.”

He waved it off as he applied the Neosporin and wrapped the top of your foot in a bandage. “I’m sure it’s fine. Sea urchins are durable. They can regrow their spines like lizards can regrow their tails.” 

That made you feel a little better. 

Amir tapped your ankle to signal that he was finished and held out his hand to help you back up.

“You’re good to go, y/n.”

“Thank you!”

“For treatment, if you’re able to, soak your foot in Epsom salts a few times a day. That should help the spines in your skin dissolve.”

You shuddered at the thought but nodded and thanked him again right as the Han boys joined you and Nikki at the lifeguard stand.

“What happened?” Jisung asked, taking both of your arms and looking you up and down for any sign of injury.

“Stepped on a sea urchin when I jumped off my surfboard,” you muttered. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m embarrassed, but I’ll live.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I mean, it isn’t comfortable.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded. 

“I didn’t know what happened! I just knew I’d hurt myself but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal and it isn’t! The lifeguard said so himself.”

“Stepping on a sea urchin sounds pretty serious,” Felix chimed in from behind his twin brother. 

“Okay, well it’s not like I could communicate what had happened from all the way over here when you guys were in the water,” you said defensively. “I didn’t want you to worry either. I know you would’ve wanted to come with me and I didn’t want to cut your surfing short.” The last part was directed at Jisung specifically. He knew you were right, you could tell from the look in his eyes. 

“I-”

“Jisung,” Nikki pressed, giving her son a look, like she was trying to remind him that he was arguing with his injured girlfriend right in front of the lifeguard stand and looked like a major asshole. “Let’s go back to our spot.”

You thanked Nikki for taking you to get first-aid and then lagged behind the rest of the Hans as you made your way back over to Dom. 

Minho hung back with you, quipping, “looks like you’re making friends with everyone today, huh?”

You weren’t in the mood for whatever underlying implication he was trying to make so you just brushed him off. 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re nice to people.”

“And when you look like you do,” he added. 

“You and your brother are exactly the same,” you groaned. 

He looked affronted by this claim, holding a hand to his chest. “What do you mean?”

You dropped your voice lower so that only he could hear you. “You both think everyone’s into me.”

“Most people are.”

“You just proved my point.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

add yourself to my taglist here!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 26 - Lock

@rosekillermicrofic September 26, word count 629

Previous part First Jegulus part

Barty pulled into the garage, the van's brakes screeching as it rolled to a halt. Barty got out, shoved the key into the lock, and turned it. Evan had made the booking. He’d told Barty he couldn’t wait until the end of the week to get it checked. Apparently, the trip to get Regulus’s books had been too much for the van. He walked into the office to hand the key over and even the mechanic didn’t look hopeful when he looked out the window at Barty’s van. Barty left him to it and walked the short distance to Howlin’ at the Moon. 

Regulus was behind the counter today giving Remus a day off, with Sirius bustling about with his hands full with plates of food. 

“Hello, my darling, and how are you today?” He batted his eyelashes at Regulus. Regulus jabbed him with his pen. 

“Don’t start. Are you staying for a bit?” 

“Yeah, I’ve just left the van at the garage,” He told Regulus. A flash of pity crossed Regulus’s face before he pointed at a table. 

“Go sit down; I’ll bring you a coffee,” Regulus knew what his order would be. Barty had acquired a taste for Remus and Sirius’s wolf coffee, and even though it kept him awake all night, it was quite delicious. “Do you want any food?”

“Yeah, sure,” He nodded. 

“Go sit down, I’ll send Sirius over,” Regulus smiled sweetly. “OI SIRIUS CUSTOMER!!!” Regulus screamed and Sirius came running out of the back. 

“NO, NO, NO!!! Do not scream at me to get my attention!” Sirius scowled at his brother, and Barty threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, hello, Barty, how’s it going?” Sirius’s entire demeanour changed. Their little excursion yesterday had brought them closer. 

“Van’s in the garage,” He said. 

“Oh, shit. Want a toastie? It’s on the house?” Sirius offered. 

“You’re a star, Sirius Black,” Barty winked at him and Sirius blushed. Barty stared at the pinkness colouring his cheeks as the man ran away. Well, that was interesting. 

He glanced around the café, taking in the other customers and checking for anyone recording, but there were only people enjoying their pastries and coffee. Sirius came back and dropped off Barty’s toastie and collected his coffee from Regulus before quickly checking on his customers and hurrying back into his kitchen.

Barty hadn’t even taken a bite before his phone rang. It was the garage. He swallowed and answered it. 

“Hello,”

“Hiya, mate. Look, I’ve just gone under your van, and it’s rusted through. There’s no saving it. Honestly, I don’t even know how you got it here. I can give you a good price for it if you want to leave it here. My cousin has a scrap metal yard, or I can give you his number.” Barty dropped his head into his hand. He knew this was coming, but he’d hoped it could be fixed. 

“Er, yeah, sure, you keep it, I’ll bring the V5 over in a bit. Thanks,” He hung up and took a long drink from his coffee. Arms wrapped around him. 

“Sorry, Barty, I know how much the van meant to you,” Regulus said quietly. 

“Oh, no, bad news?” Sirius asked. Barty felt Regulus nod his head. A hand patted his shoulder, and he turned his head to look at an awkward Sirius. He burst out laughing.

“Christ, guys, it’s only a van. Though we might need a ride out to the Potters tonight if we’re still going,” 

“I’m sure we can find a space,” Regulus grinned wickedly at him. Barty suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Regulus was up to something, and whatever it was, Barty was not going to like it. Maybe he should just stay home with Evan and continue last night's antics.

Next part

[oumaheroes]

Congrats on 1000 followers!! If you're still taking requests, I'd go absolutely feral for some of your scotfra! I love how you write modern nationverse with where characters reminisce or philosophise about the past <33

Phi I... I strayed. Okay, I strayed way off topic because this came to me so clearly that I couldn't not write it. I hope that you like it, even though there is no nationverse philosophying ;u;

Characters: Scotland, France (ScotFra)

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

Starscape

Their home hits him with unexpected force as soon as he opens the door, the brass handle cool against bare palm. The smell of their lives together, clean linen and cedar aftershave. Walls cluttered with photos, Alisdair’s large leather armchair in the corner, Francis’ collection of Vogues tucked neatly besides Alisdair’s nature books into a handmade bookcase- collected fragments of two lives turned into one. A busy, friendly, assault of the senses.

Francis is in the kitchen, warm yellow lights and background radio above the metallic clatter of their cutlery drawer.

Alisdair sloughs his coat off, drapes it over the sofa, and walks in to join him.

‘Hello there.’

Alisdair can hear Francis’ smile through the words as he hugs him tightly from behind where he is at the counter, chin to shoulder. His arms go around him to their places automatically, right hand to Francis’ left hip.

Francis tilts his head back and up to try and meet his eye, ‘Good day?’

‘It’ll do.’

Francis snorts and cups his cheek lazily with one hand, reaching to place an empty pan on the stove, ‘Better than nothing.’

‘How was yours?’ Alisdair is loath to let him go but Francis wiggles free, gently nudging him back and away to let him get on with things. Alisdair retreats to the table in the middle of the room and watches.

‘Oh, you know. Same old same old.’

‘Tell me.’

Francis gifts him with a raised eyebrow. He fills up a pot with water and sets it salted to boil. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do you remember that new woman from a few weeks ago?’

Alisdair casts far back in time to find the name Francis might be referring to and finds too many to filter. ‘I remember you telling me about her.’

Francis raises an eyebrow, ‘Tina.’

‘Ah. Tina.’ He had forgotten Tina.

‘I cannot understand what is driving her to-‘ Francis sighs and clicks his tongue, ‘I don’t want to judge, but-‘

Alisdair smiles, ‘Yes, you do.’

Francis waves a hand. ‘Yes, fine. I do. But still, I am aware it’s not my place to say older people can’t randomly move jobs out of nowhere, and obviously they can learn how to do something new, but it’s...’

He stops, ties his hair up, and Alisdair's smiles widens. ‘Some people are slow, and I understand. It’s irritating to train them but I understand. Everyone has their own pace, and all that. Christ, I sound like Arthur when he’s being his most pretentious.’

Alisdair wants to call his brother then and has to swallow the feeling away, eyes fixed on Francis to keep him focused.

Butter to pan, salt to onions. The smell in the air is sweet. Condensation softens the windows, fogs the dark shadows of their garden beyond the glass. Francis moves whilst he talks, stepping lightly from one task to another.

‘But she’s not just slow to train. She’s someone who keeps questioning things, rather than just learning them. “Why do it this way, that way is much better.” Or, “In my last position, we did X Y Z blah blah blah”. Horrible. Aggravating.’ Francis tips mushrooms into the pan and shakes his head, ‘Anyway. Today I found out that she didn’t just move to join the analyst team because she wanted some sort of end of career change or have a last-minute depressing existential crisis. She was asked to move down. Because she was terrible at her job.’

Francis grins at him, his smile sharp teethed and wicked, ‘No wonder she’s so picky with everything. I got the feeling that she thought that we and what we do were beneath her but now-‘

Alisdair cuts him off before he can finish. Away from the table before Francis can stop him, he presses his mouth to Francis’, then to his cheek. Cups the back of his head in his hand, kisses his neck and feels the beat of Francis’ heart jump his pulse strong against his lips.

‘Stop it.’ Francis swats at him but the gesture is half-hearted at best, ‘You’re going to make me burn dinner.’

Alisdair kisses him again, Francis’ long hair soft and undone in his hands. ‘I don’t care.’

‘I care.’

Francis never burns dinner. No matter how busy the day or how many tasks he’s doing at once, dinner is never something to be sacrificed as part of a greater good. No matter how hard Alisdair could have tried to force it, in their life burning dinner was not a thing that would ever have happened. Today is no different. Francis extracts himself just in time to save things and Alisdair lets him go, knowing he needs to in order for things to work as they should.

The taste, once Francis is done, is perfect- one of his best meals, in Alisdair’s opinion, a warm mushroom soup. Thick bread- not homemade, Francis laments, but good enough- lightly toasted and thickly buttered. Alisdair savours every bite, takes small spoonfuls to draw out the experience for as long as it can go.

After they’ve eaten, the cooking a perfect mixture of memory and longing, they retreat to the living room sofa to fall deadweight against the cushions.

‘That was too much food.’ Francis says where he sits against Alisdair’s chest, their legs together under blankets before them on the L-shaped bend. ‘We keep on eating portion sizes that are way more than we need.’

Alisdair disagrees entirely. He is slimmer now, of course, much slimmer, but Francis doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the meat of Francis’ thigh and then grips it tight, ‘We’re doing just fine.’

Francis rolls his eyes and tuts but Alisdair sees the smile in his eyes, ‘No, not that. I mean that it’s expensive.’

‘It’s doable.’

‘Not with the sheer amount of lamb that you’re eating.’

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘It’s the costliest of all of them.’ Francis smiles and reaches up an arm to play with the short hair at the nape of Alisdair’s neck, ‘This needs a cut.’

‘You said you wouldn’t cut my hair anymore.’ Alisdair reminds him. Francis’ hand is warm, so warm, and Alisdair closes his eyes. ‘You said I complain too much.’

‘You do.’

‘Only because you threatened to shave me.’

Francis laughs lightly, ‘It would suit you.’

‘Well. That's why I complained.’

Beep.

Alisdair opens his eyes.

‘Shall we watch something?’ Francis sits up for the remote on the coffee table.

‘Only if it’s not a period drama.’

Francis sighs, weary, ‘Emma is not just a period drama. I’m told it’s a brilliant film.’

Alisdair wrinkles his nose and then grins at the look Francis gives him, ‘I’m sure it is. But are you going to be able to sit there quietly and not bitch about the costume design?’

Francis blinks at him. ‘Yes,’ he says after a while, ‘Obviously.’

‘Fucking liar.’

‘I will! I won’t say anything.’

‘I’ll bet you a fucking tenner you won’t be able to stop yourself saying something.’

Francis glances at the TV, then back to him. ‘Fine,’ he says after a moment, ‘If it’s shit research, I won’t be able to help myself. But that doesn’t detract from it potentially being a very good film.’

‘Besides shit costuming.’

‘… So I’m told.’

‘But see, there you go.’ Alisdair leans forwards, ‘You’ll have a great time nonetheless but I won’t be able to focus on anything because-‘

Beep.

Alisdair wavers, ‘…because I’ll have you going off making comments all the time and I’ll forget what’s happening and-‘

Francis looks scandalised, ‘You don’t know the story anyway?’

‘Why the fuck would I know the story?’

‘Oh for the love of-‘ Beep. ‘We have to watch it. That’s it, I can’t have this.’ Francis clicks on the TV and scrolls to Netflix, ‘What on earth was your mother thinking. You’d think with the amount Arthur goes on-‘

‘Arthur was the weird one. I-‘

Beep.

Alisdair feels a tightness in his chest. He tries not to think of the cause.

Francis turns to him. ‘What?’

Alisdair’s tongue feels heavy, throat tight. ‘What.’

���You were saying?’ Francis prompts. ‘Something about you and Arthur.’

His hair is tucked behind on ear but strands have fallen free. Alisdair wants to reach forward and brush them back but he can’t move. He feels hollow, belly empty.

He takes a deep, long breath in. His lungs fill, then release. Under his fingers, he feels the whorls of the sofa upholstery on the arm rest. Feels the warmth of Francis near his outstretched leg, face buttery yellow in the lamplight by the wall. It is all so real.

‘Right.’ He runs a hand over his face, ‘Arthur was the one who read all the books. I was a normal child and young man, and went outside. Made friends.’

‘I read those same books.’ Francis presses a hand to his chest, ‘And I feel I came out quite normal from the experience.’

‘I wouldn’t quite say that.’

Francis nods, sagely, and tilts his head to one side. ‘You’re not entirely wrong. I’m with you, after all.’

Alisdair nudges him with his foot, in the softness of his stomach, and Francis laughs.

Beep. Oxygen levels critically low. Warning.

Alisdair should have turned the alarms off.

Francis settles back against him and Alisdair leans back against the sofa, tucking them back in as he goes and wraps his arms around Francis, hold him tight. Here, like this, it would be so easy to forget. To think that this was happening, and was still something he could have and return to. Francis is so solid, so real.

Beep.

But Alisdair cannot forget. Thousands of miles above earth, his body free from gravity, he watched as without warning mushroom clouds peppered through the skies below him. Rushes of clouds shot across oceans to collide with another wave, and then another, until the planet fell still.

The silence was loud. Space pressed in against the glass, a thick, dark nothingness that stretched on and outwards around him. Endless stars dull when there is no one waiting to share them with, Alisdair has found.

He still has no idea what happened. Whether it was planned, who started it, who could be left. He waited weeks for something, endless days on a knife’s edge by the comms system, unable to leave in case something came through or his planned replacement arrive to relieve him. Sleep in broken chunks, too tired to stay away any longer.

He doesn’t know now how long it has been. He stopped checking the days. There was nothing that could be done for him, anyhow. What good is it to know details of his final days, when the grand fact was that no one was coming. He lived because he was too scared to die, and that was that.

And now, here it is.

Warning.

Alisdair had remembered to override the auto-safety control that diverted power to essential systems, at least. That was the important part.

Warning.

It could warn him all it wanted; he wasn’t going to change anything.

Oxygen levels critically low.

A few more days with the bare essentials to sustain life, or this. One last go at the hollo-systems, one last story to play.

Warning. Oxygen levels critically low.

Alisdair had been holding back on playing this one. Eking out the power left on his ship for as long as he could, everything non-essential closed off to- why? To live? To remember?

Just in case, maybe. Just in case.

In his arms, the programmed memory of Francis shifts under the blankets and sighs through his nose. The film has started, Alisdair hadn’t noticed. The colours and sounds all curl and bleed together, flashes of something distinct stand out before falling away like a motion blur. Francis breathes in Alisdair’s arms, his face calm and easy, and Alisdair watches.

Beep.

This is how he wants to go.

Beep.

To go home to a life that only he can remember. Kept safe here in memories and code, a final goodbye.

‘I love you,’ he says. His voice cracks, ‘So, so much.’

Francis turns his head. He reads something in Alisdair’s face; Alisdair sees the flicker in his expression as he notes that something is wrong. But memory and code can only go so far, the real Francis would never have seen him like this before. Alisdair doesn’t know how he would have reacted. Whatever his husband’s virtual echo sees in Alisdair’s drawn, wasted face, it is not something that he was designed to see.

So, he smiles. Sees him as whole. ‘I love you too.’

The living room darkens, shadows fill the edges. Alisdair closes his eyes and buries his face in Francis’ shoulder. ‘I’ll be home soon.’

Francis turns slightly and wraps and arm around and under Alisdair’s back, ‘I’ll be waiting.’

[ravennaortiz]

Avenging Angel

Summary: Follow OC Cori as she works out how to handle her fathers death two years later. To kill or not to kill is not the only question she has to wrestle with. This is the follow up to Revenge but can be read by itself. As always 18+.

Word Count: 2.9k+

Cori sat sipping her water and pretending to be indulged in her book as she the hot Santo Padre sun bore down. The plant filled balcony of her villa giving her the perfect view of the whole street while also blocking her from the eyes of the people who came and went.  The roar of motorcycles had her eyes sliding from the shop front of Carniceria Reyes to down the street. Her eyes landing on the approaching bikes and men upon them. Her hands moving to her pen and notebook.

-The younger brother rides what appears to be a custom Softail. Older brother has a deluxe Softail. -

Eyes flicking back up to the two men who she had an arsenal of information about thanks to her Old Man and her own observations over the last couple of weeks. She was nothing if not her fathers daughter. She watched them until they disappeared into the shop front. From her research she knew it was owned by their father Felipe. The building was one story with a front and back door. It consisted of a big room once you walked in with a counter top that ran along one wall. It also had a decent sized walk in freezer and a small office area. It was decorated in the traditional Spanish imagery and décor. A small bookshelf was next to the door when you walked in.

This she had learned from her couple of visits. Felipe by all appearances seemed like a sweet old man who only wanted the best for his sons and missed his beloved wife dearly. Like her own father who had kept her in the dark about a lot of his doings and only wanted he best for his best friend’s kid. He had raised her even though she wasn’t his.  But Cori could tell there was a past he held close to his heart like her father had rest his soul.

 The similarities between her father and Felipe is what had kept his blood from being spilt during their first encounter when she had first stepped through that door. That and her having never hurt anyone let alone killed someone. What had stopped her the second time was finding out it was the anniversary of Marisols death. How could she kill a man as he remembered his wife she had told herself. That day they had chatted for hours as he talked about his wife who had been killed in the shop. His sons bearing witness and giving chase to the killer before he slipped away. That night is the night his family broke he said. He lost not only his wife but both sons. One to jail and the other to the local Mayans charter.

Cori had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the footsteps behind her until the pressure of a hand on her shoulder had her spinning. The blade of her knife touching a black shirt right as a hand and voice stopped her.

“Jesus Christ Cori” exclaimed Juice as he latched onto her wrist and jumping back slightly.

“Shit. I’m sorry baby” apologized Cori as she let he knife fall as she stared into the terrified brown eyes of her Old Man. “I didn’t hear you. Startled me…. I …I…so sorry” she continued to ramble shaken from what would have been a horrific event. Not only would she have hurt the one person she loved the most but she would have exposed them both in the center of Mayans territory.

Juice swallowed hard as he let go of her wrist. Nodding his head he closed his eyes and worked on breathing to lower his heart rate. Sliding into the chair next to her before saying anything. This right here is why he wanted to pack it up and leave. The need to be vigilant and act first was at the forefront of their minds.

“It’s okay babygirl” soothed Juice as he reached for her hand and squeezed. “Almost being eviscerated just now really sums up why I should have stayed home. Should have listened to my Old Lady when she told me it was dangerous and I would stand out” he teased making Cori sigh and give him a small chuckle.

“I stand by the danger part.” Huffed Cori as she chuckled. Her own heartrate slowing down. As much as she hadn’t wanted Juice to come with her for fear of him being hurt or killed for simply being a SON, she was glad he had disregarded her reasoning.  “What do you think my dad would say?” she whispered as she pushed her sunglasses onto her head, her blue eyes searching his.

Juice rubbed his thumb in a circle on her hand. It was a good question and similar to one he had been asking himself lately. “He would tell you that he is proud of you but then in the same breath tell you not to be risking yourself. That he was already dead, you dying trying to avenge him will not bring him back. Killing won’t bring him back. Then he would turn on me about being a dumbass for letting his daughter put herself here. Let you put yourself not only in the middle of Mayan territory but also sit back and watch as you chatted and exchanged numbers with a couple. Letting you contemplate actually going to the clubhouse for a party. Pretty confident he would have a stern face as he chewed on his tooth pick while chewing us out” he added with a small laugh as he gave her hand another squeeze before pulling it to his face and kissing it.

Cori nodded as she processed his words. He was right, deep down, she know exactly what her dad would say about this. Risk management was something he had drilled into her. Never explained why it was so important but now that she knew about the dark side, the Tacoma Killer side of her dad she got it. He had hid a part of himself to keep her as safe as possible.  The risk management he had done is what had not only surprised his killers that dreadful Sunday night almost two years ago but was what had kept her alive. That and the mercy of one of his killers. Coris mind briefly went back to that night and the last words that either Mayan had said to her before her life change forever

"I know this is hard to believe but I truly am sorry about this. You have my word your dads death will be quick and he will be buried properly. You also have my word you will be safe. If you ever need anything and cant get a hold of a SON you can call me and I'll make it happen" stated Angel as he handed her a folded piece of paper before patting her knee and heading out of the house.

“You are right” stated Cori as she tapped her fingers for a moment on the table. Her eyes flickering to the door of the shop as it opened. Quickly she grabbed her phone and opened her contacts scrolling to a number she saved but never thought she would use. Meeting Juices eyes she dialed as he nodded, during his digging he had found out some interesting thigs about the younger Reyes. She was so thankful for him and his willingness to let her do what she needed for her closure within reason.

Angels POV

“Hello” greeted Angel brow furrowed as he hadn’t recognized the number. Waving bye at his pops as he walked to his bike with EZ.

“No reactions. Lets keep boy scout in the dark a bit” stated a female voice that he couldn’t place. Angel stepped away a bit from EZ who was already seated on his bike and watching his curiously.

“How do you know that” inquired Angel the hairs on the back of his neck lifting. He felt like he was being watched.

“I heard it during my recon. Same way I know your father is closing early today to go to a chess tournament. Do you own anything other than flannel?” inquired the woman as Angels eyes darted around. He knew he was being watched. The woman didn’t sound malicious but she could be reading off a script.

“What do you want?” demanded Angel as he began searching the faces off the crowded street.

“Originally your dads death but I think I’ll take your pledge of my protection tonight at the scarpyard. Coco and Gilly both said it will be a hell of a party when they invited me.” Replied the woman. Angel scrunched his face. This conversation was getting weirder by the moment. Was he being pranked he wondered.

“Why?” asked Angel not knowing exactly what he was wanting an answer too.

“Because I can’t get a hold of a SON. Don’t forget to put your helmet on” replied the woman before the call ended. Angels heart practically dropped as he started spinning in tight circles as he searched for the caller. He knew she had to be close. Ignoring EZ who was asking what was wrong he burst back into the shop.

“Pop. Has there been anyone coming in or out who seemed outta place?” demanded Angel as he looked around the shop with his gun out.  “No, just the usuals and some tourists” replied his father as he continued to clean the counter top and close up shop.  “Why?” he asked as he glanced up frowning at the gun in Angels hands. “Are you sure? No women who don’t seem…..native?” inquired Angel trying to decide how to describe the woman without giving his dad hints.

“I mean there is a white, young lady who just moved here a few weeks ago. I assume that’s what you mean by not native. She’s been very sweet and friendly when she’s been in. We have had lunch a few times” started Felipe as he went back to cleaning as he talked.

Angel felt like he was about to explode. His dads words a few weeks going through his head on repeat. How could neither him or EZ have realized they were being watched. Maybe it wasn’t her though he thought. “Describe her pops” demanded Angel as he stalked over and yanked the rag from his dads hands.

“White, blonde, blue eyes. Wedding ring so I assumed married though I never saw her husband. She has a bird tattoo on her left inner forearm…..” started Felipe as he took the rag back.

“A crow?” inquired Angel as he interrupted his dad who just gave him a look.

“I’m not an expert on birds Angel. I don’t have time for this I need to close up.” Stated Felipe as he glanced at the clock on his wall as he began to push his son to the door.

“You good?” inquired EZ as Angel was shoved out of the shop.

“Yeah” replied Angel as he took one more look around before getting on his bike.His mind was plagued with thoughts and questions as they made there way to the clubhouse. Maybe she just needs help he tried to reason with himself. Maybe something happened. If her intent had been to hurt someone she would have…..right? His dad had said he never saw her husband and if memory served him right she was married to the mohawked guy. No way would he have let her come here alone. Unless she didn’t…..but surely they would have noticed a SON in Santo Padre. How the hell had she linked up with Coco and Gilly? Well enough to get invited to the clubhouse. Surely they would have noticed the tattoo….unless she hid it.

Mayans Clubhouse

Cori’s POV

Cori was thankful that Coco was pulling into the lot finally. Not that she didn’t like to be on a bike but to be on the back of another mans was foreign to her. Besides her dads bike growing up she had only ever been on Juices. Speaking of Juice she really wished he was here to calm her down. She took a deep breath as Coco parked the bike before helping her off. “if your cover is blown, you give me up no ands, ifs or buts Cor. Give up anything you know” Juice had said before she walked out the door.  

Angels POV

Angel smiled as he stood and greeted Cori as Coco introduced her to the table. He couldn’t help the chuckle as he recognized the name from the new strip club that had opened up a few months ago. Coco had been raving about the new girl Jewel for a few weeks and how cool she was. He had been clear they were just friends whenever anyone teased him. It was making a lot of sense how Cori had gone undetected for so long.

Angels eyes flickered to his little brother as Coco introduced him and saw no recognition cross his face as he stood and shook her hand. How the hell could he not recognize someone he had been adamant they shoot and kill just because she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

“I’m going to go talk to Bishop and grab some beers. You keep an eye on her Angel” stated Coco before he disappeared into the crowd.  Cori smiled as she sat down across from them. Angel couldn’t help but acknowledge the bravery of having her back to the rest of the clubhouse. He observed her as EZ and her made small talk. His eyes landing on her crow tattoo and the ring she sported on her left arm. He frowned slightly at the silliness to have the tattoo on display.

“That is a nice tattoo, any meaning” he heard EZ ask pulling him from his thoughts.

“Its silly” laughed Cori as she met his eyes. “I just really love crows. They are just so handsome and I love the fact that a group of them is called a murder” she added. “Just a nerd about birds. What about you two?” she inquired as she tilted her head.

Cori’s POV

As each hour passed Cori felt more comfortable. This wasn’t unlike the SAMCRO parties and she felt weirdly at home. The only thing bugging her was the fact EZ had no idea who she was. At first she thought it was just him having a really good poker face. As the night had passed on and she had dropped hints he was still just as naïve as ever. Maybe he had too much on his mind with being an informant to be worried about the daughter of a man he killed sitting in front of him.

Cori had been playing pool with Angel when she felt the atmosphere change. Looking towards the clubhouse door her eyes locked with Marcus Alvarez before slipping to the man behind him. Chibs, she thought as he met her gaze briefly before looking away and following Marcus to the Templo door. The Mayans would not be the only ones being shaken up after the events of tonight.

Angels POV

Angel couldn’t breathe, he felt like the room was spinning as he looked from Gilly to Cori to Coco to Cori and back again. The look of concern on Coris face had him laughing. This had to be a joke a sick twisted joke. No, this couldn’t be true his own brother? No his own brother wouldn’t be a rat. Wouldn’t be planning on tossing the blame on him right?

Angel paced the storage room for a couple minutes. Trying to process everything that had happened and been said in the last twenty minutes.

“Why?” demanded Angel as he spun around pushing Cori into the wall before Gilly or Coco could stop him. Her blue eyes locked on his as she peered up at him towering above her.

“Because you spared me” replied Cori meeting his dark gaze. He hadn’t had to say the whole question for her to know what he was asking. “I could have let him throw you under the bus tonight like he planned to do and then killed him. Both my dad’s killers taken care of but that would be cowardly. If I ever decide to kill you Angel I’m going to look you in the eyes while the life drains out of them” continued Cori calmly as Angel loosened his grip and stepped back.

EZ’S POV

EZ could only cough and sputter as he lay bleeding out on his couch. What had started off as a hookup had led to a betrayal he hadn’t expected “Bet you recognize me now. Too bad you won’t be able to tell Angel you were right” stated Cori as she slipped her top and jeans back on. Careful to not step in the  pooling blood. “Where should I put that smiley face tattoo?” she laughed as she watched blood seep from his mouth as she sat on his counter top.

EZ struggled to keep focus but his mind slipped to that night two years ago

"We should have just killed them. You really think she won’t talk, won’t get the SONS to track us down?" whispered EZ angrily as he shoved Angel.

EZ couldn’t help but think how they both had been right

She knows how the MC works and honestly I think if she decided she wanted revenge for what is to come tonight she will do it on her own." Angel had stated.

-The End

[izzielizzie93]

High School Sweethearts Pt 4-J Burrow

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

College!JoeBurrow x YN Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

LAST PART!! :)

-----

For the next two days, Joe popped up wherever he could. First, he was tossing a ball with his friends on the front lawn and stared at me as I drove by. Then, he was tossing the ball in my front yard with my brother and he had to be a perfect gentleman and offer to take in groceries for me. 

Still giving him the cold shoulder, he upped his game by playing video games with my brother in the bedroom across from mine. I slammed my door when I saw him and I distinctly heard him laugh. Busying myself with laundry, I ignored the knocking for a solid five minutes before I flung the door open. 

“Jason went to pick up pizza, what’s up?” Joe pushed past me and hopped onto my bed, leaning back casually against the pillows. “This is not letting me think about it.” I glared, going back to my laundry. “I can’t just come in to say hi?” He asked, pouting. “You’re a menace.” I huffed, glancing over at him; which was a bad move. He had lifted his arms above his head causing his shirt to rise and giving me a good view of his skin. 

He caught me and chuckled, stretching his arms above his head to cause his shirt to rise up further. “A fucking menace.” I grumbled again, turning to open my suitcase to see what other clothes I had for the week. 

Getting off of the bed, Joe came toward me and leaned in to look at my photo wall. “I have this one in my dorm.” He said, pointing to our prom picture. “And these.” He added, pointing to a few more. “I don’t have this one.” He plucked a polaroid off of the wall and slid it into his wallet.

After a few more minutes of listening to him pick up different things around the room and make comments about our high school days, I had to interject. 

“Joe,” I sighed, closing my suitcase and sitting on the bed. “Y/N, I know it’s going to take a lot for you to trust me. I just need to know before you leave that I have a chance.” Joe hesitated before moving to sit next to me. “You have a chance.” I blurted. “Oh christ, that feels good to hear.” He let out a breathy laugh, before pulling me into a hug that caused us to fall backward onto the bed. 

“I don’t want to make a huge list of rules; but we need to set some ground rules.” I said, pulling away from Joe as he leaned in to kiss me. “Ok,” He nodded, pulling me up to sit facing him. “I want open communication. I don’t want to have to sit and wonder if you’re pulling away.” “I’ll call you everyday.” Joe promised. 

“I don’t want huge promises like that, a phone call a couple of times a week makes sense. I want to hear all about life in Ohio and we can see each other during breaks. Maybe you can come down to Louisiana and see how the south parties.” Joe laughed at this, he was not a party guy in the least. 

“I owe you the world after how I made you feel. I’ll do anything you want. I will prove to you that this is the right choice.” Joe said, leaning his forehead against mine. 

Feeling overwhelmed with emotions, my eyes welled with tears from the relief of being back in Joe's arms and the fear of what lay ahead. Joe leaned forward and kissed both of my cheeks, his finger wiping away a few fallen tears. He held my gaze before I managed the smallest of nods and he leaned forward to kiss me. 

His soft, warm lips met mine and he kept me pulled tightly against him. His teeth caught my bottom lip and caused me to gasp, allowing Joe the chance to slip his tongue into my mouth. My body melded so naturally into his as he pulled me closer to his chest. 

Pulling away when the need for air was critical, Joe’s lips quickly found the sweet spot under my ear. “Joe,” I gasped. “Oh fuck, say my name again princess.” Joe growled. “Earn it,” I challenged, “Joe!” I gasped when his teeth bit my neck, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Pizza!” Jake called as he thundered up the stairs. “That was fast.” I whined. “It really wasn’t, you let me waste like ten minutes.” Joe countered. “I’ll eat and then be right back.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips before heading across the hallway. 

—

For the remainder of my trip, Joe was glued to my side and it felt like a dream. Naturally, we both received many questions and teasing from friends and family; but it was hard to be mad at them when I felt so deliriously happy. 

Since my parents were coming to visit me for a week, Joe happily agreed to take us to the airport. “We’ll see you inside.” My mom winked as she and my dad headed inside so I could say goodbye to Joe. 

I had been in a heated internal debate with myself the entire ride to the airport. I wanted to desperately tell Joe I loved him before he left; but I didn’t want to scare him. 

“I want to know when you land and call me when you get back to your dorm.” Joe said, leaning down to kiss me. “I will,” I sniffled, “I am going to miss you.” “I’m already counting down the days until Christmas.” Joe smiled sadly. 

“I love you.” We both blurted out at the same time. “I wanted to say it first.” Joe pouted. “I love you, you dork.” I laughed, saying it again before reaching up to kiss Joe again. “I love you, Y/N.” He smiled, repeating the phrase between short kisses. 

—

After returning to school, Joe kept in constant communication. He called me on good days and bad and I never felt like I had to chase him. We made good use of our holiday breaks and he even came out to see me during Mardi Gras and sent flowers the week before on Valentine’s Day. 

Feeling as though life couldn’t get any better, I got a phone call that would prove me very wrong. It had been an amazing spring day and I was taking the time to walk back to my dorm when Joe’s name popped up on my phone. “Hey Joey.” I greeted. “Hey baby, are you busy?” He asked. “No, just heading back to my dorm. This weather is amazing.” I smiled politely as a few other students passed me. “I have some news.” My stomach twisted and I immediately felt nervous. “Bad?” “No baby, not bad at all.” Joe said. 

“I’m transferring to LSU in the fall.”

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

Thank you to everyone who has stuck around for this. Interact and share/like/comment :)

If this finds you on the night of the AFC championship, hopefully it makes you smile. I am so sad rn

[sparkling-pink-lemonade]

Got an ignorant hate comment. Felt it deserved it's own post. It's a long one, and technically isn't doing anything productive as I blocked the person. I just like yelling into the void. Mind the tags.

1) You're funny. I'm agnostic, and wasn't even raised christian. It's like an atheist saying "Oh my god" (this can't be real/that's ridiculous) or "God save me" (I'm doomed). "My brother in Christ", what would normally be a term of endearment and familiarity in a christian setting becomes very condescending and 'holier than thou' if said to any non christian (not just jews). Because of that, outside of a christian setting, it's now a term of sarcasm and mockery to point out someone's stupidity and ignorance. So the fact you jumped into a defensive standpoint, calling someone you know nothing about antisemitic over a post that wasn't even directed at you, tells me a lot more about your insecurities.

2) Yes, you're right! It is perfectly reasonable to not WANT people with an involuntary attraction to real life children to INTERACT with your work. But let me lay out a few things. Stop using that word, it does not mean what you think it means. Being attracted to fictional characters depicted as kids in a form of media that is (at least in a non indie setting) designed, and written by a team of adults, fudging up the looks and behaviors of their characters compared to reality to be more appealing to a wide demographic, is not pedophilia. Pedophilia is a mental disorder, where an attraction to children who can't consent is causing direct harm to yourself or those around you in your day to day life. This usually presents itself as crippling distress for the person with the disorder due to their intrusive thoughts, and fear of losing your friends and family should they find out about your disorder. By calling an attraction to fictional character depicted as children "pedophilia" you are doing what's called pedojacketing. Which is a false accusation against someone in attempt to rally others by appealing to their disgust to ruin the life of another person. It causes major harm by both trivializing a serious and often debilitating mental illness into a "voluntary perversion", while also trivializing the seriousness of child predator allegations by equating the sexual abuse of real, breathing children, to that of fictional story that never happened. Most predators aren't even pedophiles, they are attracted to the power imbalance and control, not the kid itself. But that's not what proship is, it's an ideology that people should be allowed to have their own space to enjoy whatever fiction they want without harassment or censorship. And guess what, that doesn't mean we aren't entitled to your space. If our ideology makes you uncomfortable, it's your right to block us and keep us from interacting with your art.

But get this, consuming and interacting are two completely different things. Consuming means you've looked at a piece of art, you watched a video, read a piece of literature, or played a video game. The moment you post something to the public, and not somewhere with restricted access, you forfeit all right to decide who can consume your media. AO3 is a public website, even if you choose the lovely option of only showing your work to people who are logged in (which anyone can get an account), you can't then decide who is allowed to view your work. When you post media publicly, it is impossible to discern every single person who has consumed your work. At best a site may have a "views" counter, or in AO3's case, hits, but it will always remain anonymous. As such, if you don't like the idea of a proshipper consuming your work, congrats, you will never have to know.

Interacting however means that you've consumed a piece of media, and are now making a public display about your consumption where the creator can see it, that individualizes them from the rest of the crowd. A comment, a post, if the media has a non-anonymous "like" function, or non-anonymous subscription/follow function. Most people are sane, and don't go out of their way to do background checks on every single person that interacted with their work. But if it comes to your attention that someone who makes your uncomfortable is interacting with your work where you can see it, then you have the tools to make it so you'll never be able to see or hear from them again. They will still be able to consume your public work, but now you've curated your personal experience.

But if you're so paranoid and disgusted by the idea that someone you find icky or gross might be able to consume your content without your consent, then you have to take responsibility for your own experiencing it and revoke your consent from the wider public by removing your content from a public platform.

This person was deluding themself into believing that consumption was the same thing as interaction and that the existence of a dni means it was the public's responsibility to regulate their online experience for them, and was getting upset at the realization that they can't regulate a public space the same way as a private one, and that people they don't like will be able to see their public work even if they will never know about it.

[sadhours]

Wicked Sensation

part eleven // billy hargrove x reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen

a/n: i am sorry in advance.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, homophobia, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, body fluids, mentions of death, cheating.

taglist(i love you all): @blue-eyed-lion @bbyhargrove @briefmongerfishzonk-blog @sweet-villain @actuallyspencerreid @trapistani

Wearing your brand new hot pink convertible strap swim suit underwear a pair of denim shorts, you grab your sandals and head into the kitchen to be greeted by your dad and brother. They’re making sandwiches for their day at the lake, fishing gear lined up by the door.

“Since when did you become such a fan of swimming?” your dad asks, packing the lunchbox on the counter.

“Since her boyfriend started working as a lifeguard,” your brother chimes.

It was true, before Billy got the job at Hawkin’s Community Pool you’d only swim when visiting your family in Florida. Now, whenever you had a day off from work when Billy didn’t, you were at the pool. He just looked so in his element there, he was a very impressive swimmer and you’d been lucky enough to catch him teaching the smaller kids lessons. Which had you imagining having a family with him one day, when before you’d been pretty dead set on never having kids.

“God forbid I want to see my boyfriend,” you roll your eyes.

Honk, Honk.

“Oh, Steve’s here,” you smile, grabbing your bag from the kitchen table and waving goodbye.

You’d asked Steve to come because you didn’t want to just sit by yourself and Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead there. Plus, Steve was trying to date and there were plenty of ladies lounging around so you knew he didn’t mind. Walking out to his BMW, you catch Neil washing his car across the seat and hope he doesn’t think something else is going on with you and Steve. He looks to you and you wave, “Going to visit Billy and bring him some lunch!”

Neil replies with a nod and continues spraying down his car. You plunge into the front seat with a sigh, Steve pulling away from the sidewalk and making the short drive to the pool.

“You gotta tell his dad what you’re doing?” Steve asks, sunglasses pushed up to the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head and check your hair in the mirror, “I just didn’t want him to think I was off cheating on his son.”

“Oh like men and women can’t be friends,” Steve counters.

“That’s what his dad thinks,” you admit and close the visor back up.

Steve finds you guys a spot, luckily where Billy’s post is in view. He looks absolutely irresistible in his tiny red shorts and they left little to the imagination. Your eye rake over his thighs and muscular chest, feeling yourself start to get wet just at the sight of him.

“You’re drooling,” Steve deadpans and you quickly lift your hand up to your mouth to find he wasn’t lying.

“Fuck,” you suck in, reaching in your bag and pulling out your pack of smokes.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve laughs, sitting up straighter, “As much as of prick he is I gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

Exhaling the needed smoke, you tilt your head at Steve, “Impressed with what?”

Steve motions to you and then to the row of housewives sprawled along the pool, “How he can do this and that to women. Meanwhile, I can’t even get a phone number.”

You eye the women, raising an eyebrow at Karen Wheeler putting herself on display for your boyfriend. You snort, “They all have a kid his age.”

“Hey, you’re basically a puddle at the sight of him too,” Steve points out.

“That’s so different, I’m only two months older than him and also I’ve actually seen what’s underneath those shorts,” you reason with a proud smirk.

Steve cringes, “Okay, gross. But still I don’t get it, is he just that hot? Am I not hot?”

You laugh, “You’re hot, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve says likes just realizing something, “it’s because it’s an asshole.”

Rolling your eyes as you ash your cigarette, you don’t even want to justify Steve with an answer. When you see Billy starting to make his descent from his post, you stand up and push your shorts down your thighs and shove them into your bag before sitting back down, releasing the clip from your hair to let the natural waves fall around your shoulders.

You sat back down as you hear Steve mumble, “Pathetic.”

“When you’re getting laid again, I’ll consider your input,” you bite back with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ouch,” Steve gasps but you ignore him once Billy’s stepping up to you two.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he snatches the cigarette from you and glances to Steve, “King Steve.”

“Hargrove,” Steve grumbles and turns his attention elsewhere.

You turn your sweet smile to your boyfriend, “Hi, baby. How’s your day been?”

“Yelling at kids is fun,” he shrugs, sitting on the end of the lounge. “Got a lot better when I saw you.”

You lean up to peck his lips, hoping the housewives are watching. “I brought you some lunch,” you say and grin.

Billy rubs your thigh and smiles, “I’m starving.”

He’s so handsome, you think as your eyes scan his face and linger on his button nose. His skin has taken the sun nicely, a golden tan aiding in his beauty though it’s a stark contrast against your pale tone. Billy doesn’t mind though, it shows when he grins excitedly at the red marks he’s been leaving on your ass for months.

“Me too,” you say but you don’t mean it like he does.

“My lunch is an hour,” he informs you before teasing, “Think you can behave yourself until then?”

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly.

He hands the cigarette back after leaning in to kiss you a lot hungrier this time. He’s strutting off before you can catch your breath.

“That was almost vomit inducing,” Steve complains, turning his head to you. “Yes, sir?”

You laugh, feeling the heat start to diminish between your legs. “Sorry.”

Billy’s motioning you to follow him an hour later. You turn to Steve, “Go talk to a woman for God’s sake.” before you hop to your feet to follow the red shorts you can’t take your eyes off.

As you and Billy enter the break room, he glares to his male coworkers lazing around in there.

“Get back to work,” he demands and they jump up immediately, exiting the room and Billy locks the door behind him. The sound of the lock has your breath caught in your throat and you’re eager to see what he’s planned. He grabs you roughly, picking you up and dropping you onto the table. He’s at his knees in an instant, pulling your swimsuit down to your ankles. The power he has is intoxicating. The way the boys hurried out of the room at his command brought such a intense pressure to the bottom of your stomach, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Such a whore, you are,” he drones between your legs, pushing them apart with his head. “Wearing this hot little number, bringing Harrington with you.”

His words are laced with venom and you feel your wetness seeping out, so close to his lips you wondered if he could tell. He sloppily kisses your thigh, his broad tongue feeling so lovely on the sensitive skin.

“Huh? You like teasing me? You love pushing my buttons and making me have no other choice but to fuck you senseless while I’m at work?” his voice is so low, it’s like music to your ears.

He slaps your thigh then, “Come on, babe, I’m not talking to an empty room, am I?”

You just whimper, unable to form a single thought as you feel his breath against your soaking pussy.

“Big girl words, now,” he warns, fingers digging into your thigh.

You gasp out, “No, Billy.”

“No?” he laughs between your legs and it’s so cruel, “Not only are you a slut but you’re a liar?”

“M’not lying,” you whine, feeling as he drags his fingertips through your folds.

“Then why are you so wet?” he hums.

You rock your hips against his touch, trying to get him to get a move on with things. You’re desperate but you’ve got some dignity, you won’t make this too easy for him.

“Answer me,” he stills his fingers and holds your hips against the table.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, writhing against his grip.

Billy gasps, standing up and slapping you across the face. He then grabs your jaw in his hand and squeezes your cheeks together.

He sings your name lowly, “Don’t lie.”

You whimper, seeing the way he’s straining against his teensy uniform, you think he might burst through the flimsy material.

“Fine,” you huff, “I love teasing you. I love pushing your buttons.”

“Why?” he voice is firm, serious and certain. It brings a electric jolt to your pussy and you squirm under him.

Your voice is shaky as you admit, “Because I want you to fuck me.”

He seems pleased, staring at your face under thick eyelashes with a devious smirk spreading against his lips. “You were thinking about taking my cock when he drove you here, huh?”

“Billy,” you whine out, your tip toes firmly pressed into the concrete floor.

He lets go of your face, bringing his hand to your breasts and squeezing on in his thick fingers. “You were,” he chuckles, before slapping the tit that was in his hand.

“Would you just shut up and fuck me already?” you beg, ears hot when you hear the anger in your voice.

“Brat,” he insults, but he’s pulling his shorts down to his thighs and his gorgeous, thick cock springs out. The tip is red and you can see precum leaking from it. It only makes you more impatient and you bring your feet up to the table, opening up for him even more.

“Little slut,” he coos, dragging his fingers through your glistening folds. He smears your slick on the tip of his erection before drilling it into your eager hole. You cry out and his hand grabs your mouth, muffling the sound halfway. He plows into you, his hips reckless as he gives you no time to adjust to his size.

“Billy,” you moan against his hand and it only drives him more wild. Pressing his other hand on your pubic bone while he unleashes vigorous thrusts into your heat.

You’ve never in your life felt like this during sex, he was so expertly talented with making you fall apart. He knew exactly what you wanted and when you wanted. He was also selfish, taking what he needed from you. You didn’t mind feeling absolutely used during these moments because he was so blissfully sweet when necessary. He somehow knew exactly what you needed, exactly what would turn you into a mess under his touch. It was almost supernatural.

“Good girl,” he grunts, “Look at your pussy taking my cock so God damn eagerly. You just need it so fucking bad, don’t you?”

You peer between you, watching as your pussy swallows his cock. You can feel how you’re gripping it hungrily whenever he pulls his cock back. You’d throw an absolute tantrum if he pulled it all the way out.

You groan loudly against his hand, his filthy words dragging you closer to bliss. He brings his blue eyes to yours, holding his gaze intensely. You can’t look away, you knew he’d take this all away from you if he did. His fingers move down to brush against your clit before rubbing firm circles against it and you feel your eyes cross as you struggle to maintain eye contact. He seems to like that, laughing softly as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he coos, “So fucking dumb off my dick.”

The words pushed you over the edge, shaking against him while your orgasm thrashes through you. He was so overwhelmingly everything you wanted. He pulls back before giving you time to come down, pulling out of you, “On your knees.”

You obey, still feeling the waves of pleasure coursing through you while you fall to your knees on the concrete floor. Without having to be told to, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He makes a pathetic noise as he unloads on your face, completely missing the platform you’ve given him. You giggle as you feel him smear his cum all over your face, barely tasting his completion on his palm.

“You’re such a slut,” he breathes as he scans the room, looking for something to really clean you up with.

You keep your eyes closed, not wanting his cum to get in them. You’re relatively sure he’s wiped it from there but you don’t wanna risk it. Luckily, he throws what feels like towel on your face. You accept it, cleaning up his mess and dropping the towel, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“And all for you,” you counter, rising up and pulling your swimsuit over your sweaty body with the motion.

“I’m the luckiest fucker in the world,” he mumbles as he looks at the clock on the wall. He’s got fifteen minutes to eat the lunch you’d brought him.

As if reading his mind, you grab your bag and pull out the ziploc bag. He grins, sinking his teeth into it with a grateful look. You giggle as you rub his stomach, pulling his shorts up for him.

Billy says something but his mouth is full and you can’t understand him. You tilt your head as you watch him swallow.

“My dad wants you to come to dinner tonight,” he repeats and you nod, knowing you’ll have to have Steve take a detour at the mall. He’d seen you in the pink dress the past three dinners. It might be weird if you don’t start changing it up.

You nod and Billy offers you a bite of the sandwich. You accept, fingers grazing across his wrist while you bite it. He looks so satisfied you start to feel another wave of excitement course through you but you shove it down. He had to get back to work but you knew Billy was more than capable of a round two.

“Maybe we can go for a movie or something after,” you suggest, rubbing your hand against your boyfriends bicep as you watch him eat. The way he looks so cute miles away from the filthy words and actions falling from him just minutes before.

“Mm,” Billy hums happily as he looks up at you, “The drive-in.”

“St. Elmo’s Fire!” you squeal.

“Uh-uh,” Billy takes another bite of the sandwich, “Day of the Dead.”

You roll your eyes, knowing whatever you two saw didn’t matter because you’d end up in the back of the Camaro where neither of you would be paying attention. He finishes his sandwich and pats your bum before unlocking the door and walking out, you following him closely behind. Billy stops where you’d been lounging before his break, not caring that Steve is there as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a heated kiss, licking into your mouth sinfully as his hands move down to grope your ass.

“See you for dinner,” he winks before getting back to work.

You hear Steve groan as you lay back on the chair, “Why don’t you two just record it and send it to every person in Hawkins?”

“Struck out, did ya?” you quip as you light up a smoke.

-

You’d bought three dresses today but the one you settle on is a simple spaghetti strap number that had a floral design resembling wallpaper. You’d styled your hair up in a ponytail, adorning your necklace with Billy’s initial for the first time in front of Neil. You’d also bought an apple crumble at the store and had transferred it to some of Mary’s Tupperware so you could pass it off as something you’d made.

Billy answers the door when you knock, leaning against its frame while he looks you up and down. “Mm, my little stepford wife looks so ravishing,” he purrs and you widen your eyes.

You know it’s gonna be a long dinner based on that, he’s gonna tease you all night. You push past him, casually saying hello to Susan in the kitchen but you don’t see any sign of her cooking. You look to Billy curiously.

“We’re going out,” he clarifies, “then after, you and I can go to the movies.”

Oh, you’d actually be seen in public like this. Which bugged you endlessly, but you look to Billy to try and rationalize why you were still upholding the charade. His smile makes you forget all about it, he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you close to him. You think he might kiss you and your cheeks flush, he was never affectionate around his dad or Susan, you didn’t think he could be.

“Who was that kid picking you up today?” Neil’s voice bellows, Billy drops your hand and steps backwards.

“Oh, that’s Steve, he’s a friend,” you say, innocently.

Neil looks at you a little intensely, making your skin crawl, “A friend?”

“He’s gay,” Billy says, a pointed look at you as a silent way to tell you to go along with it.

“And how would you know that?” Neil asks his son to which Billy replies with a scoff.

“Everyone knows it.”

You just nod, feeling your chest tighten. You hadn’t seen Neil like this before and it scared you.

“I don’t want you hanging around faggots, Billy,” he says then and Billy shrugs.

“He’s not my friend,” he looks to you and then to Susan, “Well we better start heading out if we want to make that reservation.”

The restaurant is nice, you feel underdressed and you’ve got no clue why Neil keeps looking at you. Max isn’t here which means more attention on you and Billy. Your anxiety is through the roof and you’d love nothing more than to have a glass of wine to calm your nerves. Your little lie about not drinking was really pissing you off right now. Billy seems less on edge than you, occasionally brushing his fingers against you thigh and you kick his ankle every time. Not now, you try to tell him telepathically. So either it doesn’t work or Billy likes pushing your buttons. You think the latter.

“Billy, did you buy her that necklace? I thought we talked about saving,” Neil say’s disappointedly while unfolding his napkin.

“It was my mothers,” you lie like it’s the truth, quick and without ease, “Her name was Barbara.” Another lie, her name didn’t even start with a B.

“How did she pass?” he asks.

“Neil!” Susan nudges him and you shake your head.

“No it’s okay,” no trauma, here. No, what your mother did was much worse than dying. “Car accident. She was in a coma for a few weeks but it wasn’t looking good.” You hope Neil can infer the rest.

“Oh, honey,” Susan places her hand on yours, “I’m so sorry.”

You smile awkwardly at her, “Thank you. I was just a little girl, she’d only had my brother two years before. He doesn’t remember her, much.”

That wasn’t a lie, that’s when she left and you were jealous that your brother had the luxury of not getting to know her. You feel yourself start to tear up and so you excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you walk out the door, Billy’s standing there with his hands in his pocket and he looks ashamed.

“I’m sorry, he shouldn’t ask questions like that,” he says, meekly.

You wrap your arms around him, lovingly. The thought of him being worried about you and following to make sure you were okay makes your heart swell.

“I shouldn’t lie so well,” you counter with a small laugh. Billy tightens his arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“I know the last of that wasn’t a lie,” he whispers and you just squeeze him tighter.

You expect Neil to apologize when you get back to the table but he doesn’t. Susan keeps shooting you sympathetic glances and it’s all so ridiculous. You know Billy has the same abandonment issues with his own mother and neither of them seem to care about that. The two of you never talked about it but you think now you should. He clearly doesn’t have an outlet and you know how he feels, you can relate.

“Dessert?” the waiter offers and not one of you say yes.

You finally get to catch a breath when you get into Billy’s Camaro and let your hair down as he peels out of the parking lot.

“God, I can’t wait to get out of here,” he exhales as he flips his zippo up to light the cigarette you pull to your lips.

You giggle, “I can’t wait to see you out of here.”

“You’re a goddamn angel,” Billy says like he can’t believe it.

You lean over to kiss his cheek, feeling your heart skip a beat at the genuine compliment. He doesn’t dish them out too often but when he does you believe them. “I love you,” you confess.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, glancing at you with a slight blush to his cheeks.

Billy pays for the movie admission, parking as far away from cars as he can while still being able to see the screen well. You laugh though, asking him if it really matters.

“I actually want to see this movie, I’ll have you know,” he turns his nose up and you reach over to pinch it.

Actually watching a movie in the Camaro is difficult. You two can’t cuddle up in the front seat and you can’t see from the backseat. You can do other fun things there though. He awkwardly wraps his arms around your shoulder, the center column making it difficult to get comfortable. You turn and look at Billy, admiring his face while you hold onto the hand draped over your shoulder.

“Stop staring, you’re missing the movie,” he mumbles, his cheeks red.

You roll your eyes before turning them to the screen. But you can’t help yourself, your eyes are drawn back to his face and you start trying to count the freckles on his face. You blush when he turns his head to you, “Do I have to take you in the backseat and fuck the distraction out of you?”

Heat crawls up between your legs, his blunt and filthy words always leaving you breathless. The way he says them so confidently but so low, just meant for you.

“I mean hell, you’re so god damn needy. I already fucked your brains out once today,” he moves to grab your face, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. Sometimes he could be so scary but it wasn’t like horror movie scary, it was like he was totally aware of the power he had over you and he knew he could do whatever the hell he pleased. And releasing yourself to such a force was incredibly terrifying but you wouldn’t change a single thing. No, Billy deserved to have control of you.

“S’not your fault you’re such a little slut, though. Can’t help but be hooked on my cock, huh?” he growls out, sliding his thumb into your mouth. You promptly wrap your lips around it and suck, dragging your tongue against the digit. “I bet you’ve already soaked through your panties. You’re a disgusting mess under that dress, aren’t you?”

You moan around his thumb, eyes wide as you gaze up at him. He pulls your dress up just enough for him to get his hand into your underwear, frowning as he feels your slick on his fingers. You suck harder on his thumb, excited at the touch.

“Fucking knew it. You’re such a filthy whore,” he purrs, leaning over to press hot, wet kisses to your neck.

You squirm at the touch, tilting your head to give him as much room as he needs. Billy slides his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness and pulling away.

You whine but he brings his fingers to your mouth, you’re hesitant and he laughs, cruelly.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he insists.

And you do, because you know he wants you to. You shyly take his fingers in your mouth, the taste is slightly tangy but overall not bad. The satisfied, sick smirk on his face brings another wave of arousal over you.

“Get in the back, let’s makes this quick,” he says, nonchalantly.

You’re climbing over the center console before he can finish his sentence and he follows shortly after. He sits in the middle, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He pushes them down just enough to pull his cock out, bringing his palm to your mouth. “Spit,” he demands, looking at you under his eyelashes.

You do as your told, a little embarrassed by how you still can’t manage to do it as easily as he can, trails of saliva connecting from your lips to his palm. He doesn’t care though, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking himself. You pull your underwear down, dropping them to the floor and hooking your leg over his thighs. He helps you, guiding his thick tip against your dripping hole. He grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you down on him, stirring a gasp from you as he bottoms out. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your chests flush together and burying your face in his neck. Billy’s arms circle around your waist, holding you tight. You do most of the work, so the whole let’s make this fast thing goes out the window. You roll your hips slowly, grabbing onto his curls as you try to get as close to him as possible. You hear him groan softly, holding onto you tighter. You’re so full of love for him you have to hold back crying, not wanting to freak him out. He pulls you back, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck as he gazes up into your eyes. You smile, rolling your hips a teensy bit faster. He caresses your cheek then.

“So beautiful,” he coos, “such a pretty girl.”

Your face flushes, grinding against him harder and faster. It’s only slightly funny to you that he can call you a whore but minutes later being so sweet and loving. It’s like he can tell exactly what you want before you give him any indication. He kisses you tenderly, rolling his hips up to meet yours and you moan against his lips. After a moment though, you feel him start to soften in you and he sighs, pulling you off of him and tucking himself back in his briefs and pulling his jeans back up.Your heart stings as you wonder what you did wrong, sitting besides him and looking at him curiously.

“Was too slow,” he mumbles, “too… I don’t know.”

“Romantic?” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of your dress.

“I guess,” he says as he crawls back into the front seat.

You feel like dirt, you feel broken so easily by him and you expect him to start his car up and drive you home. You follow him the front, staring at the sky instead of the movie.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask after a beat and he groans, shifting in his seat.

“Nothing,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“Billy, that’s never happened before,” you try to explain, “I obviously did something wrong.”

“Can you cool it?” he bites and you sigh.

“Take me home,” you demand and he listens, turning the key in the ignition and speeding out of the parking lot in a hurry.

You don’t kiss him goodbye, just storm off into your room where you slam the door. You collapse on your bed and scream into your pillow. You might be overreacting but it hurt. You felt like he was suddenly unattracted to you. You despised how much his sexual prowess of you influenced your self esteem, that was probably the worst part. That him losing the mood could make you feel so utterly hideous.

Mary knocks on your door, “Honey? You okay?”

“Go away,” you cry out but she doesn’t listen. She opens the door and sits on the bed.

“Dinner not go so well?” she asks, reaching out to stroke your hair.

“Huh? Oh. The dinner went fine,” you mumble against your pillows.

Mary sighs, “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk to you about it,” you say.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not gonna talk about something so personal with my dads girlfriend,” you blurt out.

Mary nods, “Okay, well right now, I’m not your dads girlfriend, I’m a shoulder to cry on.”

Damn her, you think. She’s trying to be there for you in a way no one ever was and you think you’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.

“You can’t yell at me,” you say, sitting up. “I’m eighteen and I’m on birth control.”

“So it’s about sex,” she says with a soft laugh, “I won’t yell. What happened?”

You bring your arms up to hug yourself as you look at her.

“Did Billy do something you weren’t comfortable with?” she asks, her eyes suddenly worried.

“No! No… it’s the opposite.”

“You did something Billy wasn’t comfortable with?” she cocks an eyebrow.

“I guess… we were… ya know and then he just… stopped, like he couldn’t…” you try to get the words out without feeling too awkward, your face flush.

Mary laughs again and you cover your face with your hands, “Oh, god.”

“Honey, that’s normal. Happens to the best of ‘em,” she assures you but you don’t believe her.

“No. He’s eighteen, that doesn’t happen to boys his age. I obviously did something wrong,” you mumble. “Or he just suddenly realized what a hideous beast I am.”

She shakes her head, “No, I’m sure that’s not it. Sometimes things don’t align and the mood changes. I’m sure Billy doesn’t think you’re ugly.”

“He said it was too romantic,” you admit, though he didn’t exactly say it, he just agreed when you did.

“Sounds like an eighteen year old boy to me,” she laughs again. “Don’t worry too much about it. There’ll be plenty of awkward moments ahead of you. They just happen.”

She pats the top of your head and leaves your room. The talk doesn’t settle your stomach one bit, you stand up and walk to your window. You don’t see Billy’s Camaro, but you don’t remember hearing him take off. You jump when your phone rings, walking over to pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hi, do you like Billy Idol?” Steve’s voice on the other end kind of surprises you.

You giggle, “Do you?”

“I don’t know, but somehow I got tickets to his concert,” he says.

“In Hawkins?” you ask incredulously.

“In Indianapolis. Do you wanna go?” he asks.

You smile, “Take a four hour drive with you? Sure, I’d love to.”

“Awesome, we better leave early tomorrow then, doors are at seven,” Steve tells you an you nod along even though he can’t see you.

Then he says, “We’ll probably have to get a room since it’s a long drive and all.”

You feel your stomach twist. The last sleepover you’d had with Steve didn’t go over too well with Billy. But hey, you enjoy spending time with Steve and you can’t let Billy dictate your life.

“I’ll pack an overnight bag,” you say before hanging up.

-

Billy is standing outside when Steve pulls up. He struts over and leans into Steve’s window.

“You two gonna have another pool day?” Billy asked with a raised eyebrow. He was just about to leave for work and thought it was odd you didn’t just tag along with him.

“No,” Steve counters, “I won some tickets on the radio. We’re gonna drive up to Indianapolis.”

“What? That’s like a four hour drive,” Billy says, taking note of the duffel bag in the backseat. Then you’re stepping out the door and Billy notices your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

“Oh, hell no,” he says, stiffening up. “You’re not taking my girl to Indianapolis for a night.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your backpack in the back before placing your arms on the roof of the car. Billy takes note of your outfit, the short leather skirt, the low cut shirt and how big your hair is styled.

“It’s one night. Can you cool it?” you canary, rising Billy’s blood.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Billy scoffs, looking you square in the eye. “Go ahead and take him to California.”

He starts to walk away but you call after him, “Tickets in your name, can’t change that.”

Billy waves his hand at you, “Whatever, bitch.”

“Asshole!” you yell out as he gets in his car and peels out down the street.

Your body is tense with adrenaline and you climb into the front seat, looking at Steve dumbfounded.

“Did we just breakup?” you ask, mouth agape.

Steve winces, “Kind of sounded like it. Listen, we can call off the trip…”

“No,” you sigh. “I’ll just talk to him when we get back.”

You aren’t sure what it meant. If you did breakup. It didn’t really feel like it. You two hadn’t really fought like that before but with the night before, you wondered if Billy was searching for an excuse to break up with you. He’d been cool with you hanging out with Steve since their fight. Granted, you hadn’t spent a night in a hotel room with Steve before but still.

“It’s fine, I don’t think I’ve even heard a Billy Idol song before,” Steve replies.

You reach into your purse and produce a Billy Idol cassette. Steve deflates, grabbing the cassette and putting it in the stereo before starting your journey.

-

The concert was fun. Fun you needed to have. You and Steve get drunk, thanks to your fake ID. You stumble back into the hotel room, a sixer tucked under your arm while Steve carries your purse for you. In the excitement of the night, you successfully pushed Billy Hargrove to the very back of your mind. So much so, that when Steve’s lounging on the bed and flicking through the channels, you crawl up onto his lap. You run your fingers through his hair and giggle drunkenly.

He smiles up at you, “What’re you doing?”

“Playing with Steve The Hair Harringtons famous hair,” you snicker, tousling his hair into a mess.

He laughs softly. You share a moment, gazing into each others eyes while your hands fall to his shoulders. Without thinking, Steve’s hands inch to your waist and he’s leaning up to kiss you. But he pulls back just as quick.

“I-i’m sorry, I’m drunk,” he whispers and he looks so cute and innocent and everything opposite of Billy. You hear it in your head, You’re a fucking joke. Go ahead and take him to California. Not exactly sure why it pushes you forward in the moment but you grab onto Steve’s jaw and pull his lips back to yours. It’s desperate, clash of lips and teeth before you find the right rhythm. Once you do, you feel incredibly warm and secure. He’s gentle, tentative and it feels sweet. He’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough while he slides his tongue past your lips. You slide your hands down his chest and he pulls back to catch a breath, smiling wide as he looks up at you.

The two of you should stop, pretend this didn’t happen. But you can’t, and either can Steve. He presses his lips to your neck and attempts to slide his fingers into your ratted hair. Your eyes flutter shut when he licks against your sensitive skin. A moan escaping your lips when he sucks a mark there. And you don’t worry about it, allowing yourself to be a slave to this moment. Steve takes an opportunity to flip you on your back, returning his lips to yours as he hands snake up into your shirt. He squeezes you over your bra and you giggle softly as your hands snake back into his hair.

He undresses you slowly, his eyes scanning over your body as he does so. He looks at you with earnest excitement and you feel your skin erupt in goosebumps. He hums happily when he sees, his fingertips tracing your curves. His eyes continue to drink you in for a moment before he’s pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest hair. You can’t help but reach out and touch it, eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. He smiles, moving his thumb to caress your cheek and before you know it, he’s kissing you again. It’s all so sensual it feels brand new. He doesn’t grab at you with rough hands but with attentive, sincere ones. Your head swims from it, you actually feel beautiful in the moment. When you deepen the kiss, you feel Steve’s hands journey to his jeans and he attempts to unbutton them, but it seems like he’s having a hard time so you do it for him, never breaking the kiss.

Steve pulls back, getting off the bed and wandering to his duffel bag. You feel exposed so your arms move to cover up what you can. He digs through his things and retrieves a condom, striding back over to you. You swallow the lump in your throat. Why would he even bring condoms? Was he planning on this? He kicks his jeans and briefs off before crawling back between your legs.

He smiles down at you, “Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

You nod shyly, his smile helping in dissolving the worry you’d just had. He grins wider, bringing the foil packet up to his mouth and tearing it open with his teeth. He slides the condom over his member, pressing it to your entrance.

“Are you sure?” he checks in one more time and it makes you giggle, though there’s a twinge of regret already deep in your heart.

[riririnnnn]

Hello i just want to who do you think is gonna win bm or pxg i wanted to ask your opinion cause you theories are creative on completely different not we almost have same mbti im ENTP 7w6

You know, I don't actually know much about MBTI or Enneagram type much—I just took two quiz, got the results and then just went with it. Time to time, I do see some things related to ENFJ and 6w5 on any of my social media's feed, and I just go, "Yeah, same." And that's it, lol.

Jumping into your main question:

Did you just say my theories are creative?

LMFAO, thanks <3

Anyway, so BM Vs PxG, huh?

Hooooooonestly, I'm not sure. I mean, I am sure, but at the same time, I'm not. The thing I'm thinking seems cliché, so it feels like a lie: BM will win.

Why?

Well, first of all, it's Isagi's team and:

BM and PxG, both haven't lost a single game it now, so winning the match against eachother is like indirectly claiming the best team of NEL title, and the protagonist's team not being the best after the protagonist has gone through hardships and proved himself multiple times—doesn't sound right, you know.

But it's not uncommon for any Shōnen Mangas these days to have moments where the protagonist doesn't get the longer end of stick.

However, I have other reasons, other than Isagi, to think why BM will win:

1. Kunigami Rensuke

Kunigami didn't have that much of moments to shine till now. Yeah, he did have some moments here and there, but it was pretty obvious to sense that Kaneshiro-san was saving him for PxG where he can go head to head with his real rival, Shidou Ryusei.

And hallelujah!

Kunigami has gone ham against Shidou and we have only seen them together in like one chapter? Just imagine what might happen in the future! Further, Shidou has already scored a goal and I don't see him scoring another one because:

Rin is there too. He will surely score a goal and for BM to win, max goal limit for PxG is 2.

Sure, Shidou can score two goals, it isn't a farfetched thing to say, but Rin scoring NO goal in a match? Nuh-uh, Sun might as well rise up from the west at that point.

2. Michael Kaiser

You will never understand how much I want to just roundhouse kick those people that say, "Kaiser has gone downhill," or "Rin has devoured Kaiser," like, my brother in Christ, there are, literally, 2-3 people man-marking Kaiser—he is a great soccer player, but he isn't a God, he has his limits. Sure, Rin might one-up Kaiser in the future, but as of Chapter 256, he hasn't.

Secondly, the whole Kaiser Vs Isagi thing—trying to one-up eachother, they literally elevate eachother's level simultaneously, so I can imagine: Isagi blocks/steals a goal from PxG -> gets counter-attacked and blocked -> Kaiser comes to steal the goal and scores.

HOWEVER!

Why for the love of Blue Lock we are forgetting about Kaiser and Isagi teaming up together? It's something that has been anticipated for so long! I just bet that Kaiser x Isagi goal is going to be breathtaking! And no, I just can't imagine Kaiser x Isagi goal being blocked/unsuccessful.

3. Hiori Yo

Without waiting for more chapters, we can confidently confirm that Hiori's matchup in PxG is Charles and though that 15 year old Imp is AWESOME, we can't forget the literal renaissance Hiori went through during the Ubers match—I don't think so that Kaneshiro-san will do all that just to make Hiori lose against Charles.

Further, Charles is the main gamemaker of PxG, if Hiori were to get a hold of him, it indirectly means that he got a hold of PxG. We have already seen (in Chapter 256) that Hiori was able to see through Charles, so the Cyan haired boy can win against the Imp in the future too.

4. Kiyora Jin

This boy got to do something.

No, he literally has to do something at this point.

His anticipation has been built up for so long that it feels criminal if he doesn't do anything major in the match. With him as an element of surprise for us readers, he is the main one that has made the probability of BM winning, at least, for me.

Further, there is a high chance of him being a match up of Karasu and we all know how much of a smartass that crow is + his physique. Kiyora got to pull some life altering moves.

. . .

Now, to focus on PxG:

You know, when I started reading NEL, I thought it was unfair how PxG is so strong, but now that I look at them, they seem.. fair?

I mean, to be honest, after seeing BM's behaviour, I though every team was like them—hungry to score by themselves, but it seems like other teams are quite harmonious and they work as a team rather than a group of strikers.

The main group in PxG is, obviously, Rin's and Shidou's while Charles acts as the starting point of a goal or something.

However, Kunigami is doing a great job in keeping Shidou on his toes and by the looks of it, I can't think of anything other than that Demon pulling a red card to stop the Cyborg Hero.

Now, as for Rin, he got Isagi and we all know that Isagi can surely keep up with him and though Isagi has to keep up with Kaiser, Rin has to keep up with Kaiser too. Besides, it isn't Isagi's first time going against Kaiser while it's the first time for Rin to go against Kaiser. To add more gasoline to the fire, Isagi has been doing all that WHILE going head to head with the opposing team.

Among the remaining players, I can only imagine a goal from Karasu or Tokimitsu. No hate to Zantetsu or Nanase, but a goal from them.. doesn't seem much plausible. As for Charles, I don't think so that he has ever been shown to have interest in scoring a goal by himself, but if he were to turn out like Sae or Aiku, then maybe he can try for a goal too.

. . .

There are many more reasons and things I have, probably, missed out, but the above ones are the ones that I can think of currently. I understand that I didn't address the biggest elephant in the room: Julian Loki.

We don't know if the Master Coach of PxG will play or not, and even if he will, then will he try to score a goal by himself? Nevertheless, till now, I don't think so there have been any panels of him being in the field, let alone a goal by him in NEL. Still, that panel of Loki announcing him surpassing Noa makes me feel like these Master Coaches will step on the field too, but I think a 31 year old can easily win against a 17 year old.

So yeah, till now, my safe bet is on BM.

That's all, I guess.

For sure, I might be wrong in many things that I have said and most likely, I'll be wrong in everything that I said, but it's fun to make up theories!

.

.

.

Why you guys go anonymous to ask questions though? I won't eat you, I promise.

[kyokittymeow]

Sick

Another sweet and pure time twins fic! Enjoy!

Something was wrong. It was already half past ten and Acronix still hadn't come out of his room. Krux knew his brother was a late sleeper, but he was usually awake at this time.

Krux sighed and decided to check on him. After all, he couldn't sleep through the whole day. When he got to his door, he knocked. "Acronix? Are you still asleep?" He waited a moment and when he didn't get an answer he just walked into his room.

In fact, his brother was still sleeping, buried under the covers. "It's half past ten! Get up, you lazy bastard!" Acronix just let out a grunt. "Jesus christ! Do i have to do everything myself?" He ripped the blanket off him.

His brother made a face. "Hey!" he whimpered and sat up outraged. "Give that back!" Krux paused when he realized how pale he was. His hair was tousled and stuck to his forehead.

"You don't look good."

"I'm not feeling good either!" Acronix wailed, ripping the blanket out of his hands and wrapping himself in it. Krux put his hand on his brother's forehead. It was blazing hot. "You have a fever."

Acronix groaned in agony. "Lemme sleep!" His voice sounded raspy. The older one sighed heavily. Today's gonna be a long day.

A few minutes later, Krux returned with a cup of tea. He placed it on Acronix's bedside table. "Drink," he prompted. His brother lifted his head weakly. "What is that?"

"Tea." He took the cup in his hands, sipped it and made a face.

"That's herbal tea! I don't like it!" The older one breathed in and out deeply. "It helps with a sore throat."

"How do you know that I-"

"Drink. It."

Acronix winced at his brother's intimidating look. He dutifully took a long gulp and shook himself in disgust. "Yuck!" Krux ran his hand over his face. Like a child...

"Drink it up. I'll bring you medicine later."

Acronix drank all the tea and then swallowed the pill that helped with the fever. "Good boy," Krux teased him. His younger twin pouted and lay back down. "I still feel miserable."

"The medicine doesn't work immediately. You have to wait."

"I hate waiting..." he murmured and then dozed off. Krux tucked him in and left his room.

A little later he checked on him again because it was unusually quiet. "How are you?" he asked as he walked towards his brother. "Dunno..." Acronix mumbled absently. Only then did Krux realize he was typing on his phone. "Put the phone away, it'll only give you a headache."

"But I'm so bored!" he complained. "What else am I supposed to do?" Krux raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Hm, apparently you're not that sick after all."

"Yes I am!" Acronix replied quickly. "Then you don't need your stupid phone!"

He stretched out his hand. "Give it to me." His brother hesitated before reluctantly handing over the device. Krux put it in his pocket. "Very well." Acronix grumbled indignantly. "You treat me like a child!"

"Well, then maybe you should stop acting like a child," the older one countered. "Now rest. You need to get better." His twin sighed and sank into his pillow. "Sure..."

Acronix managed to eat a little throughout the day, even if it was just some soup. For the rest of the afternoon he just lay in bed while being plagued by a cough. "Krux, I'm dying..." he whined when his brother entered his room.

"That's why you called me?" Krux asked sullenly. "Are you serious? How often do you want to distract me from my work?" Acronix blinked sadly. "You said to call you if I need anything."

"Yes, I did," the older man admitted. "But only if it's important. And in this case, it's not." The younger one made a pouty face. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"I'm not mean. You're just being childish."

Acronix coughed. "Help me..." Krux sighed. "I'll make you another cup of tea."

Shortly after, he returned with a steaming mug. Acronix was still coughing. "Here." His older brother handed him the tea. "Thanks." He drank and grimaced again. Krux turned to go. "Do you need anything else?"

Acronix considered, but then shook his head. The elder nodded. "Good." Before he could leave the room, his brother asked, "Can I have my phone back?"

"No."

Finally, Krux could go about his work without being interrupted again. Acronix was annoying in general, but when he was sick he was insufferable.

An hour passed when he suddenly heard a sound. Krux listened more closely, it sounded like a gagging and it seemed to be coming from the bathroom. "Oh dear..." Sighing, he got up, stretched his stiff limbs and padded towards the bathroom.

"Nix, everything alright?" he asked cautiously as he stood in front of the door. A low whimper was the answer. Krux entered and found Acronix lying in a hunched posture on the floor in front of the toilet.

The older one rushed over to him and squatted down. "Acronix, what's wrong you?" He tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "Did you throw up?"

"Yes..." he croaked weakly.

"Can you stand up?"

"No. My legs aren't working anymore..." Krux felt sorry for him. He seemed so small and pitiful. "I'll carry you." The older one picked him up and carried him back to his room.

"There," he said as he laid his little brother on the bed and covered him with the blanket. Acronix whimpered plaintively. "Thank you..." He rubbed his hand over his face. "I think there was something in the tea."

"Unlikely."

"Probably poison."

"Nonsense."

"Did you try to poison me, brother?"

Krux snorted in amusement. "I can't believe you think that of me." Acronix gave him a tired look. "Did you?"

"No," he replied. "Sleep now."

"Mhm..." He closed his eyes and turned onto his side.

The rest of the day his brother kept quiet, which was a relief to Krux. Nevertheless, he checked on him regularly to see if he was feeling a little better.

As night fell, Krux decided to go to sleep as well. At least he tried, because as he lay in bed he stared at the ceiling again. Sighing, he tossed and turned, but he just couldn't get any rest.

This was nothing unusual for him, however. He has suffered from insomnia from time to time since he was a child. And after losing Acronix, things got even worse. He usually only slept two to three hours. He lay there for the rest of the night, staring into the darkness, as unpleasant thoughts and worries swirl in his head. Now that his brother was with him again, he could sleep better. But unfortunately that wasn't the case every night.

Krux was so distracted by his thoughts that he was shocked when a figure appeared in front of his bed. A second look turned out to be just his brother. "Jesus, you startled me...!", he breathed and sat up. "What do you want?"

Acronix hesitated and looked down shyly. "I...can't sleep..." Krux blinked. "And what should I do about it now?"

"Can I...sleep in your bed?"

The older one looked at him in silence for a few seconds. "You're not serious, are you?" Acronix looked innocent. "Um... actually i am?" Krux took a deep breath. "Acronix, you're acting like a five-year-old again..."

"Oh, come on!" the younger one whined. "Is it that bad to share a bed with your brother? When we were kids, we did that too!"

"Yes, when we were kids," Krux repeated irritated. "But we're grown up now!"

"Please..."

"No, go to sleep."

"But I can't sleep," Acronix mumbled. "I'm not feeling well. I think my fever has gone up."

"Another reason why you should sleep in your own bed," Krux said grumpily. "I don't want to be infected by you!" He lay down again. "Now please go." Yet Acronix stayed put like a lost puppy.

The older one sighed heavily. "Acronix..."

"I promise I won't be annoying!" he swore, staring at him with a pleading look. Sure, of course...

Acronix would probably stand here all night begging him if Krux didn't back down. And then neither of them would get any sleep. He groaned in annoyance. "All right. You won."

Acronix's eyes lit up. "Really now?!"

"Go ahead before I change my mind!" The younger threw his hands in the air. "Slumber party!"

"No, this isn't a slumber party!" Krux growled.

Acronix giggled silly as he crawled into bed and snuggled up to his big brother. "Hey! What are you doing?" he hissed. "Stop this nonsense!" He tried to push him away, but Acronix held him tight and laughed.

"Oh, Acronix! You're not a baby anymore," Krux said, slightly amused. "So much for that you wouldn't be annoying."

"Can't your little brother hug you anymore?" Krux snorted. "Tch, fine..." He put an arm around him. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Acronix's company.

"Softie," his brother whispered sleepily. "Shut up and sleep," Krux murmured in an affectionate tone. "Mhmm..." Quite quickly, Acronix's body relaxed and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Krux was about to fall asleep too. His twin's familiar warmth made him tired. Maybe letting Acronix sleep here once in a while wasn't a bad idea after all. Knowing his brother was safe with him made him fall asleep better and he wouldn't lie wide awake all night.

Krux closed his eyes and was overcome by tiredness in a few seconds.