#she was going through a hell of a lot at 17

[transfemme-shelterdog]

I'm a trans man who had literally been groomed by a trans woman.

And I will say that it did take a while before I came to terms with it, and have only told very few. Roughly 2 people I'm actually sure. But the self-consciousness and self-hatred from what happened was something I struggled with a lot.

I was 14 when we met. She was 17.

I was almost 16 when we "broke up".

I'll never really accept it as being in a relationship. As she made me turn my world upside down for her. We were exclusively online. She lived on the other side of the world. And got mad when I tried to sleep through my nights, but she had free reins to sleep when I was busy going to school. I had multiple days where I had gone 48 hours without sleep. She made me send explicit pictures(where I never showed my face. Luckily-), and pushed me to engage in sexting. Again. Before I was 16.

It fucked me up. Her being trans had nothing to do with her behaviour. It only made me hide my pain because of my lack of trust in telling others about it, as I feared I wouldn't be believed.

Everyone can be abusive and shitty. Once identity is never an excuse to once behaviour.

We can get better. We can learn. My love for trans women, and transfems, were never questioned by myself, as I was able to separate one person's actions from her identity.

For sure. A lot of trans women like to act like we're just perfect little angels who have our sexuality demonized and can do absolutely no wrong, which only opens the door to allow abusers to just run wild and avoid criticism because "Oh well she's trans and you're probably just transphobic".

Trans women are people. And some people are shitty.

Hell, I was abused by a trans woman for almost 5 years and you don't see people calling me transmisogynistic. So why do that to trans guys who are abused?

[gremlinbean]

I hate that the show tried to pretend Buffy was in the wrong for leaving. She was not and I will fight anyone who says otherwise

[girl-lostconnection]

been thinking about the punk x nerd au w simon and ohhhhh my godddddddddd

what if he begins running and working out during highschool and he fills out and discovers himself a bit more — and is significantly more attractive — and nerd!reader is all over ittt, and they actually start to like each other and they get closer.

what if he also goes into the military in this au, after they’ve both graduated and she’s devastated — losing her bsf like that, but they see each other later in life when he’s on leave and she’s elated and confused because that can’t be him, right? not her simon? and whose scarf is that, barely peaking out of the collar of his jacket on this cold manchester day?

hmmm just what’s been stewing in my brain!

Anon, imma be honest, its like you know something that I don’t and I’m all here for it cause reader just watching as this awkward angry teen turns into bloody behemoth of a man…damn, anon. Give me 14 of these right now. Also I’ll write about second part of your ask since it’s a little further away in the future.

THANK YOU for this opportunity to talk about Unsweetened Lemonade AU Ghost coming home from military🌟

The Soldier

Warnings: plus size gn!reader, Simon is hungry for more than just food, fluff, slight suggestive themes

Simon comes back home and it’s like nothing changed at all (like he’s still 17) — same rooftops and same streets and same tight feeling in his chest — the remnant of the war he was going through even before enlisting.

It still stings sometimes, deep inside of him, barbed wire on the inside of his jawline.

Sometimes it still aches, but Simon is no longer lanky and awkward with sharp angles and no coordination and a whole lot of rage.

Simon goes into military and comes on the other side almost twice heavier than he was before. (Twice as dangerous, twice as deadly)

The bulk of muscle and a nice level of fat born from regular training and regular meals finally shows how much sense his long limbs and towering height make.

He doesn’t regret the decision one bit, for the most part. (He only regrets he couldn’t sneak you into the base as his emotional support person)

You write to him and he gobbles up your every letter with the same hunger he finished every bite you brought him back in highschool, with the same hunger he held onto you before leaving after enlistment.

Simon reads these letters again and again until the new one comes.

He gets dropped off in the neighbourhood where you live (mates laugh and smack his shoulder, joking about lad or lass that’s gonna be happy to see him, joking that he needs to bring the pretty thing around because they’ve been dying to know who are you).

The duffel bag is slinged over his shoulder, your scarf still wrapped around his neck and anticipation coiling in his belly.

It’s been a minute since you saw each other.

Since he saw you, since he could wrap himself in your warmth, nuzzle his face in the soft pudge of your tummy (god, he missed it so badly sometimes it felt like physical aching).

Simon has been hungry for more than your meals.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, trying to warm up as he fumbles with the written address on the scrap of paper. It shouldn’t be far from where he is right now. Just a few minutes and then he’s home.

Just a few minutes and he’s gonna see you again.

Meanwhile you don’t really expect any visitors, flat is a bit of a hot mess in Simon’s old T-shirt, cookies baking in the oven — utensils all over kitchen table.

Simon wrote that he’s getting off on leave in a few days or so and you are stress cooking because god knows he always ate a lot and you don’t know how well he ate in military.

So you decide that’s better safe and sorry and start getting ready two days before he’s even supposed to be back in Manchester.

Imagine your surprise when someone knocks on your door — three short knocks, sound crisp clear when you freeze looking through the peephole because what the hell.

On your doorstep there is a mountain of a man, for the lack of better word, you frankly can’t even see his face since he stands too close to the door — black sweater and awfully familiar scarf peeking out of the collar of his jacket.

And you are so baffled you almost miss the familiar “Luv, open up, ‘ts me” from the man on your doorstep and maybe he’s got the wrong address and looking for someone else.

But you don’t manage to finish the thought before your body moves on its own and swings the door open.

Jesus Christ.

He’s even bigger when you are face to face with him, the need to crane your neck just to see dark eyes with adorably blond eyelashes certainly doesn’t help with how astounded you are.

“Can I help you?”, you aren’t sure what is going on or who is that but then the man scoffs in even more familiar way, pulling the scarf down and oh my god. It’s Simon. This is your Simon.

“Forgo’ me so quickly?”, he’d sound annoyed if he wasn’t so happy to see you, brown eyes soft with adoration. And before you can answer he’s taking a step inside your flat, closing the door behind him. It’s cold outside after all, surely you wouldn’t leave him out in the cold.

“Though’ I was special”, the rumble of his voice kicks the air out of you, eyes wide and face heating up quickly because Jesus Christ, he’s big.

Thighs thick and hips meaty, legs looking like he could crush your skull if he wanted to (lord have mercy, don’t think about it, no, you must stay focused).

He’s big and he smells good (why the hell he smells so good, it should be illegal, you will look like absolute creep sniffing him) and he’s looking at you like he can’t get enough of you. Like this reunion is even better than what he imagined.

God, you just might need to crawl into the freezer and sit there for a minute because you are too hot and he’s so fucking hot, what the hell, who is this man and what did they fucking feed him in military???

“Simon”, the first time is more of an exhale but then he nods, shaking his jacket off, duffel bag hitting the floor with dull thump and in the next moment you are all over him.

“Simon”, your hands wrapping around him (you are NOT gonna think that your two hands are not enough to close around his midriff) and face pressing to his chest — pectoral muscles cushioning against your cheek.

Oh, this is bliss. This is so good you just might forget about anything else.

You now know where you’d like to be buried.

In this man chest, please.

And Simon can’t help but hum, the sound low and pleased — his hands hoisting you up so he can get a grip on your thighs, fingers sinking into the meat of them and bloody hell, this is good.

This is fucking lovely.

He’d love to have his head between these thighs of yours.

As a matter of fact, could you maybe suffocate him with them so he can die happy (and hard as a rock)? Please?

But it can wait a little because you are finally in his hands, your arms wrapped now around his shoulders, eyes shining with absolute joy — looking at him like he’s everything. Like you are happy. Like you’ve been waiting for him.

He’s here. Simon is home.

Simon nuzzles his nose into your cheek, teeth itching to sink into the softness of it, itching to take a bite, itching to lick the blood off—

Ghost hoists you up a little higher because there’s no need for you to feel just how happy he is to see you. Not yet, at least.

“Yeah, luv, told ye, it’s me”, he murmurs, practically vibrating with satisfaction when your grip on him tightens.

Yeah, that’s right, don’t let go of him. Sink yourself into him just as he wants into you, taste the blood from his veins — it’s all yours anyway, he’s all yours.

Always been.

It takes him a few minutes to actually let you down, body immediately aching for the warmth and softness he’s been missing so badly.

But he can smell that you’ve been cooking something and if it’s okay with you he’s willing to sate his hunger with something more traditional.

Simon eats and keeps a close eye on you eating (can’t have you go hungry on him), passing the best bites back, pressing them against your lips — eyes half-lidded and heavy when your tongue accidentally flicks against the pads of his fingers.

Simon leaves the kitchen only when you both are full and sated, the button on his jeans popped open because well, maybe he was hungry for your meals too.

Can you really blame him? He’s been away so long, he just needs to catch up on everything he missed.

Simon pulls you onto the couch to tuck in to his side, mumbles something about “afternoon nap, luv”.

He is a lot like sated predator, all lazy grace and heavy bulk and heat rolling off in waves. Simon nuzzles his big head into your neck, palms holding onto the small of your back and your thigh, splayed over them possessively. Holding you close.

He’s out cold in the matter of minutes, finally relaxed and full and so warm. Finally with you. Not going anywhere, not leaving the side of his lovely sweetheart.

All yours, you just got to let him stay and protect you.

Just let him stay and love you, devour you, keep you warm and soft and round with happiness.

Just let him and he’s going to make sure you never regret it.

[thrillered]

Spencer at a " Y/N L/N is dead | The funeral roast" pretty please🫶

(Bonus points if after roasting reader he gets all sentimental and reiterates that he CANNOT live without them or he'll just die on the spot)

"Y/N is dead. | The funeral roast" | Spencer Agnew x Reader

this was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy it!

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You were sitting in the blue velvet coffin, a bouquet of fake black roses in your hands and tears in your eyes. You were in the middle of shooting your funeral, surrounded by your friends and coworkers as they roasted the hell out of you. Right now Shayne was playing the CEO of converse, crying over who was going to keep them in business now that you were gone. You looked down at your pair of custom smosh platform converse you were wearing that Ian had bought you for your 3 year ‘smoshiversary’. 

Shayne finished his bit, earning claps from throughout the room. You peaked one eye open, looking to see who was going next. Tommy was stepping up to the podium, his signature lace funeral hat on. 

“Friends, coworkers… those who somehow managed to deal with Y/N, I am here to read the final will of Y/N L/N.” He began, pulling a piece of paper out of his long black leather jacket; a dig at your favorite coat you thrifted. “She left a lot of things for those she loved, I will not be reading those today.” 

You laughed, peeking at the offended looks on everyone's faces. 

“Courtney, Y/N leaves you her sense of humor. There wasn’t much of it but it was stolen from you to begin with.” Courtney gasped while Shayne let out a pfft. He turned his attention to Shayne, “Shayne, everyone knew of the “fake” beef the two of you played up on camera… so to you she left her 17 pairs of platform converse, this way you don’t have to look up to her… maybe now you'll see eye to eye.” 

You pulled a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the loud cackle that was escaping you. “Well damn.” Shayne sputtered. 

“To Angela Y/N leaves her entire Le Creuset cookware set. Everyone knew you were jealous of it.” 

“Okay that’s not fair, it’s literally all light blue, it's gorgeous!” Angela exclaimed.

“And finally Y/N leaves Spencer her heart… and yet he’ll still probably ask if she actually loves him.” 

“That's crazy…” You huffed, through fits of laughter. The entire crew clapping and ‘ohhh’ing at Spencer. 

Tommy left the podium, grabbing your knees as he walked by the coffin, knowing you hated it. “I gotcha!” He sneered, making you yelp.

The only person left to speak was Spencer. He was in a full suit and tie, dressed for an actual funeral. He looked really good, you just wanted to stare at him. He approached the podium, a large binder in his hands. 

“In honor of Y/N’s memory I would like to start by going through some of my favorite memories with her in this photo album.” Spencer declared, opening to a middle page of the album. “This is when Y/N and I met.” He turned the binder around, showing a picture from your first day at Smosh. 

Awe’s could be heard around the room. You scrunched your brows, not trusting Spencer to only be nice. “Then I got to know her…” He hesitated, pulling an awkward and tight grin across his face. “Then she passed. That’s my favorite” He showed a picture of you sitting in the coffin, clearly taken today.

“What the fuck?” you asked, “How did you print that so quickly?” 

“The dead don’t talk.” Erin reminded from the seats, earning a middle finger from you. 

“Anyway, time for the eulogy.” Spencer continued, tossing the album away from him, a loud clap echoing in the room as the binder hit the ground. “The world went quiet when Y/N died… mostly because she couldn’t cackle like a banshee anymore… frankly? Pretty peaceful.” 

“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, covering her face.

“I think we can all agree that Y/N was an integral part of this company and an integral part of this cast.” Everyone nodded, Angela pretending to wipe away tears. “I mean.. Who else is gonna be worse Courtney? Or shorter Amanda? Or Taller Angela? Or less clever Arasha? Or Shayne if he was a lady barista who wanted to be a skater?” 

“Jesus Christ man.” Shayne said, shaking his head in confusion.

“He’s not wrong.” Courtney agreed, putting a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“But things will never be the same without her. I am reminded of her constantly… mostly because her hair is everywhere. I don’t know how she still has hair, she literally sheds like a husky; whines like one too.” 

You were shaking your head, holding in a laugh, not wanting to give Spencer the win of your laughter. 

“But seriously, I love you Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you, I think I would actually die. Please don’t make me sleep on the couch tonight.” Spencer admitted, making eye contact with you, a smile on his face. “You mean the world to me.” 

Spencer sat down. You waited a dramatic few seconds before sucking in a large breath of air, pretending to wake from the dead. “How long was I out for?” you asked, making everyone laugh. “That was some… nice?... things you guys said about me, thanks guys.” 

“Luckily I just came from hell so I can handle the heat… I wonder if you guys will do the same,” you smirked, pulling a folded piece of paper out of your bra, unfolding it and reading it aloud, “Call me sometime, satan? Oops, wrong paper!” You joked, tucking the paper away. 

“Man what the hell?” Spencer asked.

“Well that's where she was apparently.” Shayne reminded, making himself laugh. 

“Okay this is the right one,” You began, unfolding a larger paper. “Tommy… ur gay. Courtney… ur gay. Shayne….” You stopped, staring at him for a moment before simply moving on. “Angela… me and your mom genuinely text, and I want you to think about that.” 

“That’s actually devastating.” Shayne cackled.

“Amanda… we need to hang out more.” You insisted. “But maybe just at my house, I’m tired of having to climb a beanstalk to come see you” You joked, turning Amanda's sly grin into a face of shock. “Erin… Erin Erin Erin….I lied when I said I lost that blue shirt I borrowed… I still have it and wear it regularly.” You admitted. “And you’re not getting it back.” 

“You bitch!” Erin gasped, disgust crossing her features as you blew her a kiss. 

“Last.. and least!” You emphasized, “Spencer.. My best friend, my boyfriend, and my other half… if I’m gone you’re a glass half empty. If you’re gone, I’m a glass half full.” You informed. “That’s all to say: You’re Y/N L/N’s boyfriend, and that’s your most impressive accomplishment.”

Everyone laughed, teasing Spencer with an eruption of ‘ooh’s and agreements. 

“Seriously though, I love you all so much. Honestly the specificity of each roast made me really happy, you guys really know me and that means a lot to me.” You smiled, looking around the room to each and every one of your closest friends. “And a special thank you to Spencer for loving me, even through all the quirks and flaws that were mentioned here, I love you.” You finished, suddenly pretending to have a hard time breathing before collapsing into dead weight. Then quickly waking back up, “You’re still sleeping on the couch though.” You noted, staying ‘dead’ this time.

[prismalmelonman]

Touching on Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas being a bit undermined in parts of the fandom

So one thing I notice on Twitter is how some people act about the bg3 characters whose abuses were perpetuated by women.

Gale specifically for this reason (but I will touch on others)bbecause I see him dismissed super often as "can't get over his ex".

But Gale's case obviously be has the line of Mystra being like "she was my muse, my teacher, and then my lover" and sure to some that's a red flag in itself (when it comes to adults I don't really give a fuck about teacher/student) but if you view it from not only Gale's own words "ive been connected with the weave for as long as i can remember"

And that doesn't distract from his genuine love of magic of course. And it also doesn't mean that he's actually been in connection with mystra for an amount of time.

However, if you ascend Gale, and he becomes a god, you get a bunch of new little things. Tara reminiscing of course, but you get a letter from Elminster, detailing that Mystra had Elminster scope out Gale when he was eight!

And sure is that pretty cool that he's a prodigy that got the attention of the goddess of magic at that age? Yes. Mystra is, however, known in forgotten Realms lore to seek young young boys who are in tune with magic to make into her chosen. And from context clues, her chosen can be anything from Elminster and Volo, dedicated wizards who try to keep things in check, etc etc. or they're somewhat of playthings to her.

Minsc also has a conversation where me mentions that weave-touched boys in his homeland were hidden away to hone their craft, then suspecting that it was because of Mystra, given Gale's case.

Gale always seems so proud that he got to bed a goddess, and on the surface, hell yeah, that's cool.

Gale continued to have her attention even as he went to Blackstaff Academy, and Mystra eventually did take him on as an apprentice directly to her, later making him her chosen, and sleeping with him.

The reason it bothers me that people dismiss all of Gale's stuff to just "he can't get over his ex" is because that's is like almost textbook grooming? She was in his life from a young age, shaping and moulding him up as he grew up to be her perfect chosen, rewarding him by sleeping with him, and so on. And then of course casting him away when he has his folly with the netherese orb (and to be fair, it very well could have looked like to her that he was trying to seize the power himself and yes the orb does siphon off weave. That is a problem for the mistress of the weave yes).

But she also tells gale to KILL HIMSELF for her forgiveness.

Gale is much more than "unable to be over his ex" this woman was in his life since he was a kid. She's almost all he has ever known. If course it's going to be difficult for him to 1. Say no to her. 2. Get over the fact that he's lost someone that he spent his literal entire life dedicated to. Honestly if asked, I don't even think Gale would acknowledge or really see that what he went through was, in fact, abuse until it was spelled out in front of him. (Which does happen somewhat with the player character pleading to him that killing himself for mystra's forgiveness is actually horrific and that he should in fact be angry for how he was treated)

Similarly, and this one has been discussed a lot, Wyll and Mizora. Wyll was 17 and actively trying to help his people. 17, in a vulnerable state, willing to do anything to help and prove himself. Mizora very clearly took advantage of him, and regards him as a "pet", refers to him being "leashed", and so on. Personally, I do dislike the sexualization of their relationship, because it very much is also grooming (although a different type. Rather than manipulating and shaping his life from the ground up, she takes advantage of a vulnerable and desperate state to manipulate and contract Wyll into doing her bidding. I won't go too deep I to this one because it has been discussed to hell and back. But I did wanna touch on Wyll's situation as well.

Also, Halsin as well, though that has also been discussed in many retrospectives by a very good friend of mine. Halsin's trauma often get dismissed due to his polyamory, open sexual nature, and his own somewhat diminishing/dismissal of it, which honestly I love the representation of, cause for a while I did that with my own trauma. Halsin was a sex slave to a house of Lolth-Sworn drow, a matriarchal society, where the men are generally used as fodder or for breeding, though male Lolth-Sworn drow can be wizards and rise in the ranks if wizardry, but are limited everywhere else. (Minthara mentions that the third male, and every subsequent male child after third are killed for being"useless"). Halsin often referred to them as "hosts" rather than being captors, (though he does touch on that if the Player Character threatens to sell him back into slavery). Again, everything I'd have to say here for Halsin has entirely been discussed top to bottom by a friend, their link is below!!

Anyway, long story short, I dislike it a lot when Gale, Wyll, and Halsin's traumas and abuses get diminished, even if/when the character themself doesn't see or acknowledge the abuse in the same lens that we, the players, do.

[cvnt4him]

Diaries of Spider-Man.

ch1

Dear diary; what was I thinking?!

synopsis; the disastrous "adventures" of a teenaged spiderman.

This is a WIP, please let me know your thoughts and if this is what you would like to see from me<3

“let's do this one.. last.. time...”

“my name is izuku midoriya, and for the past 3 years, I've been the one and only spiderman. Annnd, I'm pretty sure you know the rest..”

₊˚⊹

Izuku jots away in his notebook before taking a step back to read what little he's written. the groan that escaped his lips was quite audible. He was rather disappointed in what he's written.

When his therapist "prescribed" him to journaling or writing down his thoughts in a notebook which he didn't want to refer to as a diary, his initial thought was;

‘theres no way in hell writing things down would help me.’

However for the past three years, izuku found himself writing everything he could down in those measly little journals his therapist gave him. Each and every year the thick and huge diary journal she gave him would begin to get fuller and fuller of all of his little adventures or simple daily routines.

Izuku was nothing if not a stubborn little shit at times. Of course he would disagree heavily but facts don't lie. You can't tell this energetic know it all anything. He's really smart and well put together. Most of the time. Upon becoming spiderman he hasn't had a lot of time for much. His consistent tasks of being spiderman are always heavy and time consuming. He doesn't have time to study for his driver's test, his normal class tests which define if he passes the grade and gets into college, or even dinner half the time?!

To be frank; the poor thing has been through a lot the past years. Too much honestly. Izukus "power" awakening was an honest mistake. Like your typical movie spiderman, he was bitten by a radioactive spider whilst he was doing something he knew he had no business doing

₊˚⊹

To go back exactly three years 4 months and 17 days ago, you would find a 14/15 year old izuku breaking into an abandoned home with none other than his typical, usual, partners in crime.

Katsuki bakugou and y/n l/n.

Izuku knew it was a bad idea from the beginning, however he always followed the two of you into stupid situations that could eventually get you killed. In this case, it almost did. Izuku helped you get through the window the three of you had busted by letting you climb onto his shoulders, katsuki who had laid his jacket over the glass so none of you would cut yourselves, grabbed you by your arms and pulled you in, the both of you then helped izuku in with basically the same method.

“woah.. spooky.”

“ heh.. it reeks in here.”

You giggled at katsukis exclaim, making izuku pout slightly. He sighed to himself, not wanting to admit the blonde was correct.

“ you guys i- i really don't think we should— ”

“ hey check it out! there are spray paint cans in here!”

Katsuki yells running to the other room with numerous cans of spray paint. You followed him like a dumb lost puppy leaving izuku to groan and follow behind you both.

There were many graffiti stamps left behind from many different people, obviously they had left behind their spray paint for some odd reason, that's what really intrigued izuku.

“ tch, hey deku, get over here so we can sign our names!”

Izuku jogs closer to you two shivering to himself at all the spiderwebs covering the cans. It was dusty and quite eerie inside of this place. Izuku truthfully wanted no part. You and katsuki signed your names right next to each other with little quirky doodles next to them, izuku soon followed suit. He picked up the green can of paint and signed his name ‘izuku’

“ no no, put deku! ‘ts way better than ‘izuku’!”

The way katsuki could make izuku feel bad about his given name should've been studied. And they way you were quick to agree hurt the poor boy even more. He soon crossed out izuku and put ‘Deku’ big and boldly. It was all alone compared to how closely the two of your names were.

The two of you had long began to explore elsewhere, leaving izuku wondering where you two went off to.

“hey! Come in here izu- I mean deku!”

You yell out catching his attention, he follows the sound of your voice to find you two the small critter crawling up his back going completely unnoticed. Some time passed and it only got later and later, izuku was still hesitant about being there but the two of you just kept going deeper and deeper inside of the manor.

Izuku rushes inside of the next room, breaking contact with whatever artifacts caught his eye. He looked for the two of you calling out your names with no answer, he was confused and quite scared, where could the two of you have gone?

“ boo!”

Izuku jumped back falling down to the ground and scraping his little hands.

“ow..!”

Izuku winced at the sudden sting of not only his hands but the pinch of his skin itching and being very irritated next to his neck, he slapped it and the arachnid soon fell into his hands. With a shutter he threw the spider out of his hands feeling rather jittery after the encounter.

“ are you alright, izuku?!“

You were quick to rush over to him. It was simply supposed to be a little harmless joke, he wasn't supposed to get hurt. You helped him up and dusted him off as well heading katsuki suck his teeth in response.

“ yes, i- I'm fine. I've gotten bitten by a spider however.. one unlike any other I've ever seen.. we should head back so I can tell my mom.”

“ oh, oka-”

“ no.”

Katsuki was quick to shut down before you could get out your sentence. You both turned to look at him he seemed angry a bit as if something completely ruined his mood.

“ if you tell your mom we could get in trouble, she might tell my mom who might tell y/ns. you don't want us getting in trouble, do you deku.”

The way katsuki used the nickname against him made his stomach feel sick. He gulped down the rising bile in his throat and coughed lowly.

“ katsuki he got hurt, shouldn't he-”

“ no! I'm not getting in trouble because wimpy deku wanted to be an easy scare!”

“thats not fair katsuki!”

The two of you started bickering, leaving him out causing him to sigh. He felt a bit weird.. kind of dizzy and out of breath as if he'd been running. It was growing warm and he had began sweating, hyperventilating as if he needed to catch his breath.

The sounds of him caught your attention and suddenly the boy looked quite weak, frail of some sort.

“ izuku..? are you...alright?”

Katsuki sooner looked over to see izuku hardly keeping his balance, he wouldn't admit it but he was quite worried at the sight of him.

“ let's go.”

Was all katsuki said as he grabbed izuku by the hand and ran back towards the broken window the three of you came in.

The two of you got izuku home in one piece for the most part, he was dizzy and hardly standing up on his own, the running had him so our of breath it was almost like he was having an anxiety attack. He probably was to be honest, izuku was a very anxious boy. His anxiety levels were very high at all times, with the growing symptoms in his body and the bite from the spider he was so worried about what was happening to him he most likely started having a panic attack whilst running. Luckily he was home now, you and katsuki beat on his door as you heard him mom yelling she was coming.

She opens the door with a smile to see the three of you out of breath with a dead looking izuku, the sight startled his mother causing her to pick up her son and rush him to the hospital. Both yours and katsukis parents had been called and had quite a talk with inko who was worried sick about her son, yelling at your parents and explaining how she has no idea what happened.

You two didn't speak to each other once. Not even looking at each other. Both your parents had taken you and katsuki back home. After that night you'd never spoken to katsuki or izuku ever again..

Izuku was completely fine however. Those symptoms may have been bad but that was all it was. He was able to go home that same day and the doctors called it a simple panic/anxiety attack. His mother was worried sick for no reason.

From that moment forward things only began to get weirder for this normal teenaged boy.

₊˚⊹

Izuku sat at his desk reading his old journals of how he believes he got his powers, scoffing to himself at the memories. He had all his books all over his desk in a completely messy pile nose buried in his book as someone walked over and bumped his desk back into him, it lightly hit him in the stomach causing him to drop the journal in the desk and the desk of the books that were formerly there onto the floor.

He scoffed in annoyance looking up to see you with a shit eating grin on your face as you scowled down at him, not even apologizing as you walked out of the classroom.

Izuku seen as the classroom was completely empty, just him and his messy books all over the floor. He sighed and crouched down picking them up and shoving them into his backpack. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, he picked up up to see w text from his friends.

‘ hey! Meet us in the front?’

That singular text from ochako was all he needed for a small smile to form on his freckled cheeks. Just as he was about to put it away there was a pop up from the news channel he had downloaded on his phone, something about a criminal stealing from a jewelry shop.

He sighed to himself and texted her back explaining he wouldn't be able to meet them and that he'd just head home. However that wasn't the case. He ran out the back door of the school pushing through some students earning some angry and annoyed remarks spat at him; but he didnt have time to care. He ran behind some building and quickly slipped his suit on. He'd rather skip the embarrassing details..

Just as he was about to 'web away' he got a call from none other than katsuki bakugou. Izuku jumped and nearly dropped his phone at the sudden ringing, he quickly answers without thinking, lifting his mask over his mouth to speak,

“ oi nerd, y’heard about that criminal stealing that diamond or whatever?”

The normally volcanic boy has a soft tone still laced with a bit of redness and sass.

“ yes, kacchan, and before you called I was just about getting there so if y’dont mind!!!!”

The blond scoffs on the other side, chuckling as he snorts at his sass. Izuku groaned at the sound of him laughing and simply hung up swinging away as quickly as he could.

“ look up there! It's spiderman!!”

People squealed and yelled at the familiar colors of izukus suit, black along the sides and a deep green painting the front and back of his skin tight suit, and a big white spider over the chest. He'd made the suit when he was younger and had started working out he'd wanted to show it off but as of now he thinks it's quite unnecessary..

He swung through the crowds waving and smiling under the mask, as tiring as being spiderman was he was always thankful for the love he'd gotten. They truly made him feel valuable, izuku struggled with self confidence a lot, it's common in people like that to enjoy attention from all.

It wasn't that izuku needed to be humbled or anything but....izuku swung down an alley that reports seen the criminal go down, supposedly the diamond they had stolen was a very important artifact from ancient times or whatever, moral of the story was he needed to get it back to where it belonged! Izuku could do that!

He dropped in front of the criminal with a hero stance making him appear big n bad in front of them.

“ stop! give me that diamond, criminal!”

Izuku was obsessed with action movies when he was younger, his favorite actor was custom to working in them. He always imagined being a superhero and technically he is! However within these three years the fame and glory really went to his head ..

The criminal halted, izuku tried stepping closer to retrieve the diamond in a cool manner, speaking to the cloaked person in a soft voice trying to get them to come to their senses like some kind of......main character. To izukus surprise they pulled out a crossbow. He was stunned at the size of it,

“ how- how did that fit inside of your— ”

Before izuku could get the rest of his sentence out the criminal shot the arrow, it completely piercing izukus shoulder. He yelled out in pain nearly falling to his knees, that then made him realize that was no joke, this person being unlike any other petty thief hes gone up against.

As the criminal kicked izuku to the ground with a bare boot while he was holding his injured and punctured shoulder they quickly made haste and ran past him out of the alley, crowds soon coming up after the person ran away and seeing izuku clutching his shoulder run pain, all of them having different emotions on his face it would be an understatement to say he was embarrassed.

What had he thought that he was just invincible? Izuku struggled into his knees hearing whispers from the crowd and quickly tried his best to attempt swinging away with a singular arm, his left to be exact and that wasn't his maiden arm either. Izuku was fully right handed and did everything with it, with his right arm basically out of commission he did his best to swing with his left hand but...

He eventually wobbled and hit a sign, he was going at a high speed as well trying to hide his shame and find the person who did this to him, as his body came into full contract with the sign knocking every little bit of air out if his body the arrow got pushed deeper, making izuku groan in agony once more. Blood wetting his skin and suit as it dropped down, he didn't take the arrow out before because he thought about how it would cause him to bleed out and wouldn't be any good...now he wished he had.

He held onto the large sign and tried to swing away once more, he eventually got the hang of it for a little while managing to drop himself behind a building. He leaned against the wall of it and groaned, he wanted to take his suit off but it wouldn't be a good idea, anyone could've followed him or even tried to see who he was. It wasn't a good idea.

With every ounce of energy and strength in his body he pushed himself up from sliding to the ground and called who he knew he could.

“ yo?”

“ ka..kacchan... I need your...your help..”

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AN: this is js a WIP lemme know what y'all think n if I should add or like yk leave out some things!!!!

[rosierin]

pinky promise | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) and suna go for a late-night drive to escape the city. they stare out at the skyline, the same way they did as kids. they’re older now. maybe a little quieter, but the bracelets still fit. and so does the promise they made when they were fourteen.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

She’s perched in front of her vanity, absently patting eye cream into her skin, the soft glow of warm-toned bulbs spilling across her face. It’s late—11:17 p.m., according to the dusty digital clock by her bed—but sleep hasn’t even tried to flirt with her tonight.

Her room is quiet, save for the low crackle of vinyl spinning in the corner—something soft and sultry, a little bluesy. She’s wearing one of her nicer sleep shirts, not that it matters. Not that anyone’s going to see.

Until her phone buzzes.

She doesn’t look at it right away, just keeps smoothing her moisturizer, slow and methodical. It buzzes again.

Finally, she leans over, unlocking it with a swipe of her pinky.

Rin: you up?

A pause. Then—

You: for you yeah wassup

She hums quietly to the song as she hits send, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. It only takes a few seconds for the next reply to come in.

Rin: feel like getting out the house?

She grins.

You: hell yes gimme 5

She doesn’t rush, even though she could. That’s the thing about Suna—he never makes her feel like she has to. There’s a lazy rhythm to everything they do, like the world pauses when they’re alone.

She pulls on her hoodie—the navy one that used to be his until she took it home after a movie night and never gave it back. It still smells a little like his laundry detergent. She slips on a pair of beat-up trainers, grabs her phone and keys, and spritzes a bit of body spray on her clothes—not to impress. Just because.

By the time she steps outside, the air is cool and quiet, the sky ink-dark with a few stars peeking through the clouds. His car’s already waiting by the curb, headlights dimmed. The passenger window rolls down as she approaches.

“Took you long enough,” he calls.

She rolls her eyes.

So much for not having to rush.

“I'm pretty sure I took exactly five minutes,” she mutters as she slides in, tugging the hoodie over her knees.

He pretends to mull it over, flicking his turn signal on as he pulls away from the curb. “Hmm. I dunno about that."

The ride begins in familiar silence. She leans her head against the window, watching streetlights streak by like melted gold. Suna drives like he does everything else—casual, effortless, one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with whatever beat’s in his head. His rings catch the streetlights as they drift past, flashes of moonlight winking off polished silver.

There’s something hypnotic about it. The quiet hum of the tires on pavement. The cool breeze tugging at her hair. The low thrum of music that he lets her queue up without comment. Something moody. Something that matches the night.

He doesn’t speak much. He never really has to. She glances at him once, just briefly. The wind tousles his hair and the corner of his mouth is pulled into that faint, unreadable smile. He catches her looking.

“What,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “Something on my face?”

She shakes her head, lips quirking. “Just your usual scowl.”

“Hm.” He shifts gears with ease. “I'm actually in a really good mood tonight."

"Really good?" (y/n) parrots, eyebrows shooting up. Suna says nothing, just hums vaguely. Idly taps his finger against the steering wheel.

"Must be the company," she jests, glancing at him.

"Must be."

Eventually, he pulls into a familiar parking lot—their usual place. A quiet hill just outside the city, overlooking a scatter of glittering lights below. It’s not fancy. Just peaceful. Just theirs.

The car engine cuts off, and they sit for a moment, cocooned in stillness.

Then (y/n) twists in her seat and leans into the boot from the back—stretching over the back seat to rummage through the bags she’d stashed earlier. She emerges a moment later with two small, glass-bottled drinks and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Suna stares. “When did you put those in my car?”

She shrugs, grinning. “A magician never reveals her tricks.”

He raises a brow, watching as she cracks hers open with her teeth. She offers the other to him. He doesn't take it.

“I’m driving.”

“Just one,” she pouts. “The alcohol will wear off eventually.”

“That’s gonna take like—two hours, minimum.”

“Then I hope you’ve got some juicy stories to tell.” She lifts the bottle, lets the cap clink to the dashboard. “I’ve got time. Do you?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he finally accepts the drink. His own bottle cap comes off with a lazy twist of his teeth—smooth, practiced.

“Only if you ask nicely.”

She scoffs, then clears her throat—hand to chest, voice dripping with theatrical charm. “Rintarou Suna… would you please grace me with just a mere two hours of your time?"

He clinks his bottle to hers. Takes a swig.

“You're a dork,” he says. But he’s smiling.

They sip. The alcohol buzzes low and warm in her belly, and the night unfolds like it always does—slow, aimless, full of half-laughed memories and the kind of conversations that don’t really lead anywhere but feel important anyway.

He tells her about someone from high school getting married. She tells him about a customer who called her “sunshine” and then had the audacity to not even tip her. He says he’s been thinking about getting a new phone. She says she’s been thinking about a social media detox. None are important thoughts. Definitely not the “juicy stories” (y/n) had teased earlier. And yet they say them out loud anyway, and it still feels special.

At some point, her eyes catch on the dainty silver chain bracelet around his wrist. It glints under the overhead light, just slightly, and her breath catches in the back of her throat.

“You still wear that,” she says, a little stunned, a little soft.

Suna glances down, following her gaze, then brushes his hand over the hem of her sleeve. “So do you.”

Something in her chest swells as she adjusts her arm, subtle, like it’s second nature. The fabric shifts just enough for the end of her sleeve to ride up, revealing the thin glint of gold at her wrist. Her bracelet sits looser than it used to, the links worn smooth, the shade a little brassy.

Then, she reaches out and runs a finger along the side of his bracelet—lightly, absentmindedly. Suna shifts his hand slightly, turning it just enough for her to see. Her touch drifts down the inside of his wrist, following the curve without thinking.

His eyes flick to her hand. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets her.

She smiles to herself, thumb brushing one of the chain’s edges.

Then, almost like she’s talking to herself—soft and fond—

“God, we were what—fourteen?” she murmurs. “I remember they kept sliding off. We had to wrap tape around mine so it wouldn’t fall off during P.E.”

“I told you we should’ve gotten the kid size.”

She smiles, soft and a little sheepish, her fingers brushing his chain again. “Yeah… but they wouldn’t have lasted.”

Time this, it’s Suna who reaches out, his fingers ghosting over her wrist. He runs his thumb along her gold chain, slow and thoughtful, eyes fixed on the way it looks against her skin.

“We could’ve just gotten new ones.”

“I mean, I guess.” Her gaze drops back to her bracelet, his fingers, letting the light catch on the dulled gold. It barely gleams anymore. She huffs a quiet laugh. “We probably should, to be fair.”

“Why?” he says. “They look fine.”

“Not. Have you seen how battered mine is?” She lifts her wrist for emphasis. “Mine’s barely even gold anymore.”

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “It has charm.” Then, with a casual shrug: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

She snorts. “That’s such a dad thing to say.”

“It’s a good saying.”

“Your phone still works yet you wanna replace it.”

He sucks in a breath, like she’s just hit a nerve. “Ah—phones are different.”

She rolls her eyes, gaze drifting to the device resting in his cupholder. It’s in perfect condition—no cracks, no scratches, not even a single smudge. The clear case, impossibly pristine despite how long he’s had it, holds a crumpled thousand-yen note and a faded My Melody sticker she gave him as a joke two summers ago.

He never took it out.

“You better keep her,” she says, nodding toward the cupholder.

Suna hums, not quite understanding, until he follows her gaze. “Who?”

He reaches over, angling the phone so they can both see it more clearly.

“Melo-chan?” His mouth twitches into one of those lopsided, faint smiles she doesn’t see often. The kind that feels accidental. “’Course I will," he says quietly. "She keeps me company.”

(Y/n) smiles too—warm, fond. The kind of smile that finds her easily whenever she’s with him.

Cute, she thinks.

They fall into another stretch of silence after that, both sipping from their bottles, eyes trained on the view beyond the windshield. Music plays low in the background, something slow and hazy. Outside, the trees rustle softly. The windows are down. The air is cooler here—cleaner—now that they’re out of the city.

She can see the moon clearly from here. A half crescent, pale and glowing, tucked into a sky full of stars she hardly ever sees from their apartment.

She’s not drunk. Maybe a little tipsy. Just enough for the alcohol to settle warm in her chest, loosening her limbs and her lips. Everything feels quieter. Softer.

She thinks back to their matching bracelets… both worn and older now, but still clinging on. Like them.

“…I made you pinky promise back then, didn’t I?”

Suna doesn’t say anything right away, but she sees it in the way his eyes shift—just slightly. Like he's flipping through a memory he already knows by heart. He doesn’t ask which day she means. He doesn’t need to.

“You sure did.”

She turns toward him, folding one leg beneath her. “You remember it?”

He doesn’t look at her. Just takes another sip, leans his head back against the seat, and stares out at the glittering skyline. Then hums.

“Every word.”

She drifts back to that day without meaning to—scuffed knees, laughter echoing through the local park. They’d just climbed a hill, breathless and triumphant, collapsing at the top to look out at the city. No stars back then. Just clouds and warm light and the kind of childhood logic that meant pinky promises were unbreakable.

Out of nowhere, she says, “Hey. Wanna renew our pinky promise?”

Suna blinks at her, slow and amused. “What, like a friendship wedding?”

She laughs. “Yeah! We’ve made it to our twenties and we’re still best friends. That’s rare. That deserves a vow renewal.”

“Kinda weird.” But his voice is light. Teasing. “But okay.”

She holds out her pinky. He doesn’t even hesitate.

“Rintarou Suna,” she begins, voice dramatically solemn, “do you promise to always be my best friend, to support me, to never forget my birthday, and to forever listen to my rants about romance novels and fictional crushes?”

“I do.” His voice is flat. His eyes are soft.

He pauses, then lifts his hand.

“(Y/n) (l/n), do you promise to be my best friend, stop stealing my clothes, and always share the rest of your fries with me?”

She slips a hand behind her back and crosses her fingers with a grin. “I do.”

Suna narrows his eyes. “I saw that.”

She giggles as he leans over and pulls her arm back around to the front. He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

“What part of my vows don’t you agree with? The clothes or the food?”

“The clothes,” she says quickly. “I really like your hoodies. They have such a nicer fit.”

He snorts, tugging at the loose fabric around her wrist. “You mean like this one?”

She grins. “Exactly.”

Suna leans his head back against the seat, bottle resting on his thigh. “Y’know, if I charged you for every hoodie you’ve nicked, I could probably retire.”

(Y/n) snorts. “Okay—fair. But if we’re charging for services, I’d like to remind you that I’ve been your unpaid emotional support barista-slash-best friend-slash-stylist for, like, over ten years.”

Suna tilts his head toward her, a brow raised. His tone is mock-offended. “Respectfully, you are not my stylist.”

She gasps, slack-jawed. “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean, then?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve seen your Pinterest boards," he drawls. He doesn’t even blink, just sips lazily, like it’s a known fact.

“Uh, excuse you. Those were from, like—2016.” She throws him a defiant glare. “I dress way better now. I’m timeless.”

He pulls a face, that familiar deadpan one with just the faintest twitch of a smirk. “You are definitely something.”

She whacks his arm. He doesn’t move it.

They go quiet again for a moment, the silence filled with the low hum of the playlist and the distant glow of the city. Everything feels slower up here—the cars below, the blinking lights, the way the night seems to settle around them.

It’s quiet, but not empty.

“…do you think we’ll still be doing this in ten years?” she asks suddenly, eyes still on the skyline.

Suna finishes his drink first, tipping the bottle back until it’s empty. He sets it down with a soft clink, then glances her way.

“You stealing my stuff and sneaking alcohol in my car?”

(Y/n) raises a brow, then drains the rest of her bottle too, wiping her thumb over the rim as she lowers it.

“Mhmm. And annoying you.”

Suna reaches over and takes both bottles, leaning back to place them gently in the footwell behind them.

“If it’s you, I’ll allow it," he says as he sinks back into his chair.

(Y/n) smiles and murmurs, "good."

Now that their drinks are gone, there’s nothing left to do but wait—at least another hour, maybe two, before it’s safe to hit the road again.

But neither of them mind.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol in her system, warm and aimless, stretching into the night like it has all the time in the world.

Their arms rest side by side on the centre console, bare wrists brushing in the dim light. (Y/n) glances down—two bracelets, gold and silver, still sitting snug after all these years.

She smiles.

[rowdyluv]

Little Things jh⁸⁶

pt 1

Summary: in which Jack agrees to help his close friend with losing her virginity.

Warnings: 18+, mdni experienced x inexperienced, sort of friends sort of already lovers, blurred lines of relationship, use y/n & y/n/n, pet names,

Word Count: 2.3k+

Notes: this is my first time publishing a smut fic here, not my first time writing smut. i did not write it how i wanted to nor how i usually write it. much more tame than what I would typically do. didn’t want to full send on the first one. please be kind.

- you are responsible for what any and all media you interact with on the internet. this piece of fiction is intended for those 18 years of age and older ONLY. if you are a minor, do not continue to read below the cut.

Read part 2 here

"What the hell are we doing?" Jack's voice was a mix of surprise and excitement, his breath hot against her ear. “Are you positive you want this?” He has to ask her again for the twelfth time this evening. He keeps hoping her answers continues to be yes, but it would end him if they go through with this little “one time” rendezvous and she never spoke to him again. Y/n is his go to person for every little thing. It used to be his mom, until she came into his life around age 17.

“Yes Jacky, i wouldn’t have brought it up if i didn’t think i could handle the after effect.” Y/n ran her hand through his hair and kissed his cheek. Jack turned to face her as they sat in traffic.

“I have to be sure, I can’t just jump into bed with someone as important as you are to me and it end up hurting you. Or you wake up tomorrow and think it’s a mistake, I can’t do it like that.” He babbles, as he turns his attention back to the road when traffic starts moving again allowing him to pull into his apartment’s parking lot. “I’m not saying I won’t have sex with you, how many times have we almost before?”

“I figured that, if I can’t get out of my head to have sex with someone because im embarrassed that I’m 23 and still a virgin, and my best friend is this self proclaimed sex god. Why not ask him to help me out?” She bit her lower lip for a moment watching Jack’s face for a reaction. “Plus..at least I know he would never hurt me and would listen to me.” Her voice was softer than before, one of her hands turning his face towards her to delicately caress his cheek. Jack flashed her small soft smile that seemed to only ever be reserved for her and his eyes held onto hers.

Jack took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He had never seen his best friend like this before. Desire painted on her features like a masterpiece. For a moment he wondered if she wanted him or if she was only wanting to lose her virginity as her plan proposed. Either way he knew he had to be careful, but the raw, animalistic need coursing through his body was begging for release. He leaned in as if he was going to kiss her before diverting towards her left ear and whispered into, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine, “Just hope I don’t ruin you for all the other guys out there babygirl.” He tried to resist the urge to smirk, knowing that his reputation was a double-edged sword.

Y/n sucked in a shaky breath, squeezing her thighs together a little tighter at the husky draw in his voice. She couldn’t tell him that he already ruined everyone else’s chances the day he entered her life. That he is part of the reason she froze when presented the opportunity to be with someone else is because her and Jack’s confusing relationship.

Jack got out of his car, y/n following his lead grabbing ahold of the hand he held out for her. The two practically ran up the flight of stairs to his front door. Jack was fumbling with his keys to unlock the door, when he noticed y/n had already walked in having used her own.

“If you keep it accessible you don’t have to stand there and wait.” She giggled pulling him in by each side of his jacket.

“Someone’s a bit eager.” Jack mumbles against her lips, kissing her, just as if it’s second nature to them.

“Who wouldn’t be when they’re about to be with the Jack Hughes.” Y/n taunted, and that was enough to break Jack’s ego.

The two stumbled into the dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp that’s always left on casting shadows across the room. The floorboards creaked beneath their weight as they approached the bed, the anticipation thick in the air. Jack’s eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her body, his gaze lingering on the spot where her shirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach. He reached out and traced the outline of her belly button with his thumb, watching her eyes flutter closed and her chest rise and fall with each quickened breath.

Slow Rowdy, keep it slow. She’s not some slut you’ve brought home from the bar after a game. She’s y/n. Babygirl, sweet girl. Your girl. Go slow.

His mind was reeling, chanting the same mantra over and over, not just because it was her first time, but because he didn’t want to screw this up. He had to make it perfect for her. Prefect because y/n is his girl. Or should be his girl.

He leaned down and captured her mouth in a deep, exploratory kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, still able to taste the fruity cocktail she had a dinner and the faint hint of the mint leaf she chewed on to be silly on her breath. His hands traveled to her exposed waist, momentarily teasing the uncovered skin, before gently lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Skimming his hands lightly up her sides and around her back, he unhooked her bra with trembling fingers like he was 17 all over again. Looking up at her face to stare into her eyes, he let go of her bra, letting it fall to the floor. He slowly stepped back to appreciate her beauty.

Y/n’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she stood before him, vulnerable and exposed. Out of sheer instinct her arms raised to cross in front of her body in attempt to hide herself from the attention she was receiving.

Jack growled, “don’t you dare do that.” He let out an annoyed huff of air through his nostrils.

“You need to be comfortable in front of whoever you’re going to be fucking y/n” He had ahold of one of her arms moving it away from her body. “so let me see how beautiful you are.” Jack was holding eye contact with her so intently it was hard for her to not believe him when he called her beautiful. Jack was getting harder as every second passed. “You are beautiful. With clothes, without clothes. With make up, without make up. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

He stepped closer to her, hand palming her neck to pull her to him. “Sweet girl, never cover up in front me like that again. Got it?” She nodded yes, he ran his hand down from her neck to her breast. His other hand tracing up her body to mimic his other. Her heart was racing under his palms. Jack kissed her neck, feeling her pulse beat faster and faster. He whispered into her ear, “Trust me, okay? I’ve got you.” Y/n nodded, unable to form coherent words. “If you need me to stop, or you want to stop just say so.” He reminds her, before continuing his pursuit of kisses down her neck.

Jack’s touch was feather-light yet firm, making her body quiver with every caress. He kissed her collarbone, then trailed his lips down to her breasts, flicking his tongue over her nipples. Y/n’s knees buckled slightly and she gripped the back of his neck to keep herself upright. He chuckled against her skin, enjoying her wholesome reactions. “You’re so sensitive already,” he murmured, and she felt a thrill of pleasure at his words. The vibrato of his voice adding a new sense of pleasure. “Just wait until my mouth is here babygirl.” He whispered while his lips still around the sensitive bud, moving his hand to cup over her clothed pussy. Y/n let out a surprised yelp earning a husky chuckle from Jack.

Jack began his journey of kisses down her stomach, his teeth grazing her skin ever so slightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her legs, leaving her in just her panties. He paused for a moment, looking up at her with the ever pending question in his eyes. She nodded with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, giving him the green light to proceed.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and tugged them down. Her legs trembled as the cool air hit her skin. He kissed and nibbled her inner thighs, moving closer to the sweet juncture of her legs.

Y/n’s breathing was heavy, her eyes half-closed in anticipation. Jack’s mouth was hot and wet on her, exploring every part of her with a gentle but insistent pressure. He licked, kissed, and nipped at her folds, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue. She let out moan, her hands clasping over her mouth shocked at how loud she was. He looked up at her from where his mouth was lapping at her sensitive clit, a smirk playing on his lips.

She was driving him crazy, and she hadn’t done anything to him. Jack had never been a guy to be a fan of long sessions of oral, but for he could stay here all day to watch her reactions.

“Y/n, I’m going to have to stretch you out a little, so I’m going to use my fingers”

Her eyes hazed over in ecstasy she nodded in acknowledgment with a tiny okay slipping through her lips.

Jack pressed his middle finger in and returning his mouth back too. He continued his ministrations, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. She was pulsating against him by the time he added a second finger.

Her legs began to shake, and she could feel what she believed to be the beginnings of an orgasm building within her.

“Ja..Jack.” She whimpered, her fingers combed through his hair tightening just the slightest.

“I think?” Was the last two words she uttered before a loud moan over took her voice, her legs shaking led to her near collapse. Jack caught her and looked up at her with the biggest grin on his face.

Jack’s eyes met hers, and she could see the pride in them. He had never had someone come apart like that before, especially not from just his mouth and hands. He stood from the floor and kissed her deeply, y/n tasting herself on his lips.

She could feel his erection pressing against her. She reached down in an attempt to feel him.

“Not so fast baby girl. This is all about you, not about me.” Jack scolds grabbing her wondering hand and as he gently lays her on the bed, his body hovering over hers. Fumbling with his belt and button to his shorts he quickly stripped himself of his shorts. Y/N reaches for the hem of his shirt pulling it up and over his head.

Y/n could feel the heat radiating off of Jack’s body as he positioned himself between her legs. He kissed her neck, his hands exploring her body, like he was trying memorize her. His hand made its way to her still very senses core, his thumb circling her clit when he comes across it. Traveling lower he pumps his fingers in her a couple of more times. She was soaking wet, ready for him. He reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, rolling it on with surprising ease.

Slow Rowdy. More now so than before. Slow. Do not ruin our precious girl. Jack.

Jack was positioned at the entrance of her wet, sex but the resistance he met was not giving.

“Y/n? Hey, baby girl. You’ve got to relax for me.” Jack spoke softly and caressed her cheek. His heart lurching in his chest when a tear wiped away with his caress.

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, when his hand touched her cheek. He watched her closely, waiting for her nod of approval. When it came, Jack repositioned himself at her entrance, his tip teasing the wetness of her sex. He pushed in just a bit, watching her eyes widen before he retreated. “Relax, babygirl. If you’re sure you want this, It’ll be okay before you know it, I promise,” he murmured, trying to soothe her nerves.

He pushed in again, this time a little further. She gasped, her nails digging into his back. He stilled, giving her body time to adjust. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, whispering words of comfort. Slowly, inch by inch, he entered her, her tightness gripping him like a vice. It took everything in him not to bottom out. He could feel her tense up, her muscles contracting around him, and he had to be so careful not to go too fast.

She was doing her best not to allow anymore tears to collect in her eyes, but the initial pain was beginning to get the better of her.

“Jacky, it hurts,” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jack stilled, his eyes filled with concern. He leaned down to kiss her gently, whispering, “do you want to stop? I’ll stop right now.” Jack held a hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her cheek bone.

“N, n, no.” Y/n stuttered over choked back tears.

Jack held in a sigh and instead nodded. “It’s okay sweet girl, I’ve got you. Just breathe, let your body get used to it.”

He waited patiently for her body to relax. Once her body relaxed everything else would follow. Y/n gave a small nod of approval to continue, Jack pushed in a little more. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her bottom lip, but she didn’t protest.

With every shallow thrust, Jack felt the resistance in her body slowly give way to acceptance. He kept his pace torturously slow, making sure she felt every inch of him as he filled her up. He knew he was larger than average, and he didn’t want to cause her unnecessary pain. His hand found hers, intertwining their fingers, giving her something to squeeze as she adjusted to the new sensation.

When he saw her eyelids relax from the tight, closed grip she had held them in, and flutter open to be glossed over, he knew she was beginning to enjoy it.

“Feeling better sweet girl?” Jack whispered as he kissed along the shell of her left ear.

Y/n nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The pain had subsided to a dull ache, and in its place was a growing sense of fullness and pleasure. Jack began to move more deliberately, his strokes becoming deeper and more forceful. She could feel herself stretching around him, her body slowly getting used to his size. With every thrust, the pleasure grew, mixing with the lingering discomfort until it was all she could focus on.

Her hips began to rock in sync with his movements, her body responding instinctively to the rhythm he set. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing more of him. Jack groaned, his restraint slipping as he felt her tighten around him. He was losing himself in the girl he quietly loved. He increased his pace, his movements becoming more demanding. The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, along with their ragged breaths and moans.

Jack’s hands roamed her body, gripping her hips as he drove into her with more urgency. He could feel her walls quivering around him, her orgasm approaching. He leaned down and captured her mouth again, swallowing her cries of pleasure. He knew he was close, too, the tension coiling in his lower abdomen, begging for release.

Y/n’s nails scored down his back, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She was lost in the sensation, her inexperience forgotten in the haze of both of their desire. She could feel another climax building, more intense than the first. Her body arched off the bed, her back bowing as Jack’s hips pistoned into her. He was relentless, pushing her to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

Jack’s muscles were tight with the effort of holding back his own release, but he could feel her tightening around him, her body begging for more. He reached between them, finding her clit and rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. She bucked against him, her hips rising to meet his every thrust. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, was almost too much for him to handle.

“Y/n/n, baby you’re fucking perfect.” Jack was enamored with her and he couldn’t hide it now.

“Fuck, y/n/n I’m so close, if you keep tensing your pretty little pussy like that around me I’m going to cum soon.” He blabbers out before dropping his mouth to one of her nipples, the hand in between them still working her clit.

Jack’s thumb flicked and rolled her clit while his tongue flicked and rolled her nipple. She was lost in the waves of pleasure crashing through her body. The pain had been forgotten, replaced by the sweet agony of need. She was close, so close to the edge, and she didn’t want to fall without him.

“Jacky, I’m...I’m going to...” she panted, her eyes searching his for understanding.

“Come for me, baby,” he encouraged, his voice low and gruff with desire. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out his name in a scream of pleasure as she came apart in his arms, her tight pussy convulsing around him. Jack felt the walls of her pussy pulse and clench, and similarly to her with the drop of her name, he followed her over the edge. His orgasm ripping through him like lightning. He buried his face in her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he pumped his load into the condom, his release hot and intense.

For a moment, they lay there, both panting heavily, their bodies entwined in a sticky mess of sweat and passion. The aftermath of their shared pleasure was a mix of euphoria and disbelief. Y/n’s mind was a whirlwind of sensations and emotions, but one thing was clear: she had never felt anything like this before. The sex or the new connection with Jack, that had a new feeling attached.

Jack carefully pulled out, his eyes never leaving hers. He removed the condom and disposed of it before coming back to lay beside her. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. She felt safe, cared for, and utterly satisfied in a way she hadn’t known was possible. Her hand slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm.

Something she always does before they fall asleep, as if to signify his heart races around her too, when one of them sleeps at the other’s.

They lay there for a few moments, catching their breath and processing what had just happened. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets. Y/n couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness that it was over. She didn’t want this moment to end, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.

“Jack..I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” Y/n’s rushed out

“Sweet girl, if you wanted me all to yourself you should’ve just said so. You didn’t have to go this far. You didn’t have to use your virginity as an excuse to get closer to me.” Jack’s words were so softly spoken and held intense emotions. “For the record though, you’re not going anywhere now that you’ve said something. You’re my girl now.”

Y/n grinned at Jack. He kissed her forehead and pulled her close to him. “I wish we could have talked about this before I took the most valuable precious thing away from you, but I’m glad it was me and not some other asshat.”

“It’s always been you Jack, since we met at 17. Why would I ever let anyone else have a chance.”

Jack’s chest swelled with pride and affection, just like it did when they were 20 and he kissed her for the first during some silly party game. He had whispered those exact words to her after the kiss, he didn’t think she’d remember them with how drunk she was. “It’s always been you babygirl, since we met at 17. Why would I ever let anyone else have a chance?”

Back then he had never felt more connected to someone during a kiss and today he had never felt more connected to someone during sex than he did in that moment with y/n. He kissed her forehead again, feeling the happiest he had in a while.

read part 2 here

[h3arts4harry]

- trapped -

warnings: angsty, ghosts, haunted house, mentions of abuse & sa, bit disturbing, lmk if i missed any

ghost!reader x sam and colby

- ghost!y/n 17 -now 34- sam golbach 28 colby brock 27 amanda 24 tyler 41 -was 24-

-

"what's up guys! It's Sam and Colby! And welcome back to hell week!" the brunette boy intensely yells, with the blonde jumping in "Today we are at the famous 'yln' house with one of our favourite guests…. Amanda!" Sam introduces, "Hey guys!!" Amanda smiles and waves to the camera. "do you want to explain who you are for any new watchers?" Colby asks stepping behind the camera, turning so Amanda and Sam are in view. "of course! My name is Amanda and I'm a medium, if you don't know what that is, it's that I can sort of talk to the dead, whether it's through feeling, words or seeing them" the girl softly explains. "how excited are you to be here right now?" Sam asks, glancing at Colby before facing Amanda again, "very excited, I've been wanting to come here ever since I heard about it"

-timeskip-

"so this is y/ns bedroom, she's basically always in here, she doesn't like to leave this room" the tour guide, Becky, says walking backward into a dark room, the paint on the walls was faded and washed away. "it's like her safe haven?" Sam asked looking around the worn-out room. "yea exactly, it's her place of comfort, where she would go and hide from everything and everyone" Becky says slowly approaching the long window. confused faces are shared between the three visitors before one speaks up. "why would she have to hide" Colby asks, "she had a lot against her, including her own family and boyfriend" the forty-year-old, ginger woman sadly says, hesitant to go into depth of the story in case the ghost girl was around and listening.

Amanda's eyes divert away from the group towards the closet behind the view of the camera "She here right now" she reveals, "she is?" the tour guide quickly replies, slightly relieved she didn't open up about y/ns life in front of the (old) young girl, as the last time she did it didn't go down to well. "yea she's stood right there, just listening to us" Amanda says pointing to the closet door. "well hi y/n, I'm glad you could join us" Sam pipes up pointing the camera to the closet door. "yea, please feel free to follow us around while we're here" Colby adds.

I stand in the doorway of the closet, crossing my arms over my body. I watch as the new visitors and Becky talk and look around my beloved room. the blonde girl looks at me and walks over, I instinctively step back and away from her, deeper into my closet, to which she takes a small step back. I look at her blankly and she looks at me with a kind smile, "are you okay?" she whispers, the others can't hear. but before I can answer the familiar, intensely tight feeling in my chest grows. I know what's coming.

Amanda furrows her eyebrows as y/n fades from her view and disappears. "hm" she confusedly hums. "what's up?" Colby asks turning to the girl. "I asked if she was okay and she just left" she replies turning to the brunette boy, her eyebrows still slightly furrowed. "maybe she didn't like that you could see her?" Sam suggests, pointing the camera at the pair. "no" she slowly shakes her head in thought, "I could tell she didn't mind, she seemed to quite like it… it was like she realized something cause her face just dropped, sadder than before, then she just disappeared" the girl continued. "what time is it?" Becky pipes up, "it's urm, 11:20pm" Colby answers after quickly pulling out his phone to check. "ah, she'll be in the basement. she's always there between 11:15 and 4:30am" Becky adds, telling the group where the girl had disappeared to. "should we continue the tour then head down there?" Colby asks turning to Sam, then back to the tour guide, to receive nods in agreement from the group.

-time skip-

"Okay guys it's currently 1am so-" Sam starts while lifting the recording camera up to film the trio, "it's actually 1:23" Amanda corrects him jokingly, "yea yea my bad, it's currently 1:23 and we are about to head down to the basement to try to talk to y/n, Becky, our tour guide, said that y/n stays down there between 11:15 and 4:30am so we have a few hours to try to communicate."

The two best friends stand close to the bottom of the stairs, the older boy looks around the room, the walls and floor are the same colour and dirty, there are chairs and tables piled in the middle of the wall, in the furthest corner there were chains and shackles attached to the wall. the younger explains their current setup to the camera "We have the rem pod up near the corner of the room where y/n would be shackled to the wall and viciously abused by her parents" he begins, "that's actually so sad, she was just a child" Sam sighed turning towards the boy and the camera in his hand.

"hey guys-" Amanda starts, walking down the stairs almost tripping on the last step "Oh fuck" she curses as she stabilizes herself, "you good?" Sam quickly asks, "I'm okay," the girl says, looking up at the boys. Colby and the camera watch as the colour fully drains from her face as she stares behind them as if she's in a trance. "Amanda?" Colby says softly "What is it?"

Sam looks up from the camera screen to see what Colby is talking about, his heart jumping at the sight of Amanda's face. "i-it's y/n" she swallows harshly, her eyes not moving away from the sight in front of her "She's-" Amanda struggles to describe what she sees, it being so sad and unsettling. Colby looks to Sam before turning back to Amanda "Do you want to go back upstairs?" he asks concerned for his friend. "n-no its o-okay" she stutters out, wanting to tear her eyes away but she can't seem to actually do it. "are you sure? we want you to be comfortable and feel safe at all times" Colby carries on, "I'm sure."

the entire conversation Amanda's eyes haven't moved once from the view ahead, as she starts to explain what she sees her stare slightly relaxes, no longer in shock, but doesn't move away. "it's urm, y/n, she's on her knees, her arms held back by the handcuffs on the wall. before she had a few tears in her eyes but she looked okay-ish. but.. but now she's like screaming crying, and she has all these cuts and bruises covering her, literally head to toe, which she didn't have before. it's so real, like she's really being beaten right there in front of us" She quietens dramatically towards the end. "holy shit" both boys say over each other, "I've never seen anything like it before which is why it shocked me so much" Amanda reveals, finally pealing her eyes away from the brutal view. "that's so crazy, it's like she's reliving what happened to her" Colby thinks out loud, "do you think she knows we're here?" Sam asks, his eyes flicking to check the camera is still recording, "I'm not sure, her head is hung looking at the floor" she says stepping closer to the hurt ghost. "y/n?"

my head shoots up hearing my name, the new blonde girl is standing in front of me again. embarrassment and fear fill me as I scurry back into the corner, attempting to pull my hands to hide myself forgetting about the cold metal they're stuck in. "it's okay, you don't have to be scared, we're here to help you" she says gently, sitting down on her ankles. I lift my head up slowly, looking at her through my hair "W-who are you?" I bring up the courage to ask. "my names Amanda, it's nice to meet you y/n" Her small smile is empathetic but pitiful. I hate it. "how do you know me?" I question furrowing my eyebrows slightly in confusion. "a lot of people know who you are, your house is known worldwide because of what happened to you here" Her words make my heart drop "Worldwide? n-no ppl can't kno-" I begin before letting out a loud pained cry. A long cut on my cheek formed out of nowhere. Amanda's eyes widen in shock, "what the hell just happened" she mumbles. "i-its my parents, t-they t-old me no one c-can know. i-if people know they'll k-kill me-" I struggle to choke out, tears streaming from my eyes. the pain is too much for me to handle, all I can do is cry out in torment until it no longer hurts, even though I know it always will. "the rem pod-" Colby points out to the red circular device lighting up like crazy, Amanda looks between it and me noticing the pattern of the beeps and flashing bright lights match my screams. before it goes dead silent.

"what just happened??" Sam yells with furrowed eyebrows, taken aback and confused. "y/ns gone" Amanda says turning to look up at the boys as she stands she thinks out loud "Hey what time is it?" Colby whips out his phone "It's 4:30 on the dot?" he quietly replies, his mind racing about everything that just happened. "Becky said y/n leaves at 4:30, how have we been down here for 3 hours already, it only felt like an hour- maybe 2" Sam rambles, still not fully processing anything. "I'm not sure, we didn't even get to ask y/n anything," Colby says slightly disappointed. "I doubt we could've anyway, it was like she was actually being physically tortured in front of me, but I don't understand how.." Amanda thinks out loud. it feels like another hour passes with everyone standing in complete silence, trying to make sense of the past couple of hours.

"Why don't we head upstairs and see if we can find her?" Colby suggests, Sam and Amanda nod helping collect the equipment before walking up the stairs. "guys I can't open the door" Amanda struggles with the handle pushing back and forth trying to open the door, "what? let me try" Colby says slipping past Amanda, trying to push the door "Sam it's not opening", "holy shit" Sam curses from behind the camera. Colby forcefully pushes at the door, desperate to get it open, almost hurting his own hands and shoulder barging at the door, when Amanda gets an idea. "hey y/n! if you can hear me can you open the door?!" Amanda calls out, hoping the spirit can hear.

I hear Amanda calling from downstairs, 'Why can't they just open the door?' I wonder as I quickly wipe the stray tears that were falling. I slowly creep out of my room, trying not to make a sound. looking around trying to find the group, I hear the basement door banging, I quickly drop behind the sofa at the loud noise, my heart races in fear. "y/n please open the door" Amanda calls out again from behind the door, I peak out above the couch at the rattling door before letting out a breath in relief. making my way over pulling the door open for Amanda, Sam, and Colby to rush out. Sam quickly slams the door behind them, making me flinch and hide back behind the couch where I previously was, catching Amanda's attention. "thank you y/n" she smiles faintly, looking in my direction. "she's here?" Colby asks following Amanda's gaze pointing the camera towards me. "yea she opened the door for us, she's behind the couch" the blonde girl nods towards me. "ah, well thanks y/n, I was shitting myself" Colby laughs "Me too brother me too" Sam joins in.

I peek over the couch at the chuckling boys, turning over to see Amanda, who was already looking at me, "hey" she says softly. I gulp standing up fully, wrapping my arms around my body, looking between the three. "are you okay? what happened down there?" she warily asks, still keeping her voice soft to not scare me away. i quickly shake my head not wanting to talk about it. "the boys have some equipment so you can talk to all three of us at once, they'll explain what you need to do okay?" she continues, before i can reply Sam starts to speak, "okay y/n we have two flashlights, you can say yes by turning on the red one and no by turning on the blue, this way we can communicate through yes and no questions, are you up for that?" he explains, pointing to each flashlight before waiting for a response. I'm hesitant for a moment but decide to walk over to the red flashlight turning it on, signaling that I'm going to talk to them. "holy shit" "Oh my god" the boys yell in surprise, as they normally would. the loud outburst causes me to turn the light back off and scatter off into the next room, the kitchen.

"guys I don't think she likes loud noises" Amanda states after watching the young girl leave. "what do you mean?" Colby asks, "Well when the door slammed she hid behind the couch, then just now when you guys yelled, she ran out the room" Amanda explains pointing to the door leading to the kitchen. Sam quickly walked into the kitchen, Colby following behind with the camera. "hey y/n, please could you come back? we're sorry for yelling and we won't do it again" Sam says before returning to the living room area where they were previously. Amanda looks over to me walking through the door, my head down staring at the floor. "the door-" Colby points the camera to where I just was, the door slowly swinging shut. "y/n are you frightened by loud noises?" Sam asks, I turn on the red flashlight, yes. "okay, good to know" Colby nods. "are you okay? Amanda told us about what she saw happen downstairs" Colby questions, a little uncertain of the reaction they might get. I stare blankly at them for a moment, I hate talking about it. but it seems clear that they're different from others that's visited here. I leave the red light on but also turn on the blue one. "both yes and no?" Sam points out. "maybe she doesn't know if she's okay" Colby guesses. I turn the blue light off, saying Colby is right. I really don't know if I'm okay.

"Does she even know what happened to her" Sam ponders, pivoting towards his friends? what happened to me? I turn off the red light, leaving the only light source to be the light attached to the top of their camera sitting on the fireplace pointing at us. "oh… I think we should bring out the spirit box, so she can actually talk to us" Sam proposes, excited to use their new device as their previous one stopped working during their last investigation. "yea I agree" Colby nods, beginning to walk to the kitchen table, where their bag of equipment laid. Colby comes back with a black rectangular box with a silver metal rod sticking out of the top, which I guess is the 'spirit box' they just spoke about. he turns it on and places it in the middle of the coffee table. "okay y/n, this is the spirit box, if you just speak into it, it should repeat it so we can hear what you say" Sam explains. I walk and sit on the sofa by the device, I slowly lean forward at the box, hesitantly speaking to it, "hi" I say into it, doubting it will actually work. "hi" it says out, I lean back in shock, it actually works? "hey y/n, so we asked if you knew what happened to you, you said no?" Colby begins the verbal conversation. "what do you mean?" the box repeats, "do you know what happened to you downstairs" he says. "what normally happens. it's the same thing every night, except I thought it would change when people started randomly coming over because they don't want anyone to find out. Obviously, I was wrong..." I mumble, shaking my head in thought. "people randomly coming over? What do you mean?" Sam questions, "I don't know, people just started randomly visiting one day and asking me a bunch of questions, and my parents don't like it at all. Becky comes over a lot and my mum hates her, I don't know why she lets them in, actually, now that I think about it, everyone just walks in with Becky. And when Becky comes alone she just walks right in." I stop talking, drifting into thought about the whole thing before Sam abruptly pulls me out of it "you died y/n" Sam starts before I cut him off. "yea right." i scoff . "I'm being serious-" "stop. that's not funny" I say firmly, my mind races, I can't be dead. They're fucking with me. "I'm sorry but we're not joking. you died on the 19th of October 2007" Colby reveals, his words coated in sympathy. "….what? no that's my birthday I can't die on my birthday that's crazy" I breathe out, they have to be joking, if I were dead I wouldn't be here speaking to them. but then again it would explain why no one can see me. but then how does Amanda see me- "yea y/n, you died 17 years ago," Sam says sitting on the armchair to my right. "liar." "they're not lying y/n" Amanda sits next to me on the end of the sofa, "you're lying!" I stand up and away from them, anger and confusion rising through me. "it's okay y/n-" Sam starts before I interrupt him, "No! Shut up you're all lying to me! tell me you're lying! I-I can't be dead I'm right here?!" I yell at them. They don't say anything, all looking at each other, not knowing what to do. "TELL M-E YOURE LY-ING" the box speaks, but it starts cutting out a little due to the volume of my voice, "we're so sorry y/n," Colby says looking up and around the room, as his eyes pass mine, it's like he could tell I'm here, him looking away showed he didn't. "what.. how?!" no one responds "tell me what happened.. please" I sit on the carpet leaning against the wall, bringing my knees against my chest wrapping my fingers in my hair.

"This is what we read online, if you remember anything that's different, please feel free to correct us" Colby starts before starting again, "you and your boyfriend were hanging out here like you did every Saturday as your parents went to the pub all day and would return between 4-7am. one day your parents came home early, at 6pm, and walked in on you and Tyler cuddling on the couch watching a movie."

"Tyler.." I whisper, shivers sending down my spine. I haven't heard that name in so long. "Yeah, he was your boyfriend at the time right?" Sam asks from the couch looking to Amanda to see where I am, Amanda nods in my direction "I- yea. I- keep going" I struggle to find words that can explain what's going through my head, and I give up telling Colby to carry on telling the story.

"it says they went crazy, beat you both black and blue, and kicked Tyler out. quite literally. he stumbled a little but got up and ran home. unfortunately for you, you were stuck here in this house." "Yeah" I mumble, recalling the next events

"they beat you for hours then dragged you down into the basement handcuffing you to the wall with the shackles" "stop." "Are you okay?" Amanda asks, sitting near me on the rug "n-no. just carry on. please." "Are you sur-" "keep going."

"Okay.." he starts looking down at his notes to recall the events correctly" The cuffs were tighter than usual, instantly leaving marks on her wrists. they grab the worn-down paddle and the old belt and start repeatedly hitting her while she cries. both parents screaming and shouting profanities and degrading insults at her" a tear falls down my cheek, the memory in my head once a blur now so clear; "disgusting" "disgrace" "whore of a daughter" "all we did for you for nothing" "wasting it all for some boy" "why couldn't we of had a son" replaying from that night. "she cried loudly until there was no tears left in her eyes. she was weak and dangling from her red wrists, small dribbles of blood slipping from the marks caused by the tightness of the metal, that was cutting off her circulation." i drop my head onto my knees hiding my tearful face, my arms wrapped resting on my raised legs, a sob escaping me that only Amanda heard as the spirit box didn't seem pick it up. "her dad hit her across her already bruised face with the belt yelling at her again "you're disgusting, i wish we aborted you when we had the chance." and with the next whack her vision went black." Colby stops the words that fall out of his mouth. "around 36 hours later when your parents went to let you out the basement they found you still dangling just like they left you except you were no longer breathing. they were scared, not for their dead daughter, but for what would happen to them. in the end, they were caught and arrested, prosecuted with life in prison with no chance of parole. and your boyfriend fortunately walks free." Sam ended the explanation.

"fortunately?" I repeat with a scoff, "yea, it's not reported where he is now but we know he's started a new life and is happy," Sam says, glancing at the notes to check he's correct. "dick" I curse banging the back of my head on the wall behind me. "is that not a good thing?" Colby asks confused, "fuck no" I look at him with a glare like he should've known, I mean if he knew all that how didn't he know anything about Tyler. "why not? if you don't mind us asking?" Sam questions. I stay silent for a moment, looking around the room biting my bottom lip, and accidentally making eye contact with Amanda. "what is it?" she asks tilting her head to the side. "he was a huge dick. which is ironic as fuck cause he didn't have one" I shake my head, forgetting the spirit box was on. Colby and Sam laughing reminded me. "right, spirit box, forgot that was a thing" I mumble, "yea sorry y/n," Colby said, still laughing a bit at my previous comment, "s'fine" I nodded, "anyway what's the deal with Tyler?" Amanda asks, I vaguely answer "he hurt me."

"like your parents?" Colby guesses, "yeah sort of, he would hit me with his hands and slam me into walls which I guess is like my parents but he would also-" I cut myself off, why am I telling a bunch of strangers my whole life story. well, I guess they already knew, but they somehow didn't know about Tyler. if they knew about me that must mean others know, right? So they must think that Tyler is a good person too. "fuck" I mumble, "What is it?" Sam questions, "Nothing." "do you wanna continue? you don't have to if you don't want to" Colby speaks sincerely. "it's fine. I guess." I take a breath before continuing. "Tyler would also- I'd tell him no but he- he wouldn't listen to me... i know now that he just wanted me for that kind of stuff, i mean why else would a 24 year old date a 17 year old." I say scoff again, feeling the tears brim my waterline but I quickly wipe them away. Amanda moved closer to me, she went to put a hand on my knee to comfort me but her hand fell straight to the floor, forgetting that I wasn't a living 17-year-old sitting there. I moved my hand onto hers, obviously, we weren't actually touching but in a way we were. She had a big sister energy to her, something I longed for my entire life.

"that's so fucked up I'm sorry you went through all of this y/n," Sam says with a saddened look on his face. "it's oka-" "Okay" I frown, my sentence being cut off. "the spirit box died, it was fully charged when we turned it on" Sam states looking to Colby, who pulls out his phone looking at the time. "we've been talking for hours, its 8am" Colby reveals shocked. "does that mean you're leaving soon?" I ask, my chest hurting slightly. "yea, we need to leave within the hour" Amanda says with a small frown. "please don't leave, I- I don't want you to go" I beg. "we have to y/n, we're sorry" she says, they all stand up and start packing away their stuff.

"so what the fuck was this then? you came into my home, told me that I'm fucking dead, I tell you about horrible shit that I've been through and then you fucking leave?!" I spit angrily at all of them, even tho only Amanda can hear me. I still have no idea how the fuck that's happening. I feel so angry and hurt as I watch them put the last items in the bag.

all of a sudden the lights start rapidly flickering. the shut doors swing open. the furniture flying back and crashes into the closest walls. my heart is racing, I don't know what's happening, and by the looks of it neither does Colby, Sam, and Amanda. "A-Amanda what's happening?" my voice trembles in fear looking around at the room. she doesn't say anything, it's like she can't hear me- how- why- "Amanda?!" I yell but again she doesn't respond, I walk over to her but she doesn't see me. "AMANDA PLEASE" I yell begging her to hear or see me, why can't she no longer know I'm here, what the fuck is happening. I watch as they bolt to the door. 'no.. they can't leave me here alone…' it slams shut.

they jump back and look at each other stunned in fear, "Y/n you cannot keep us here." Amanda shouts firmly. "what do you mean me? how am I keeping you here?" I'm so confused how could I possibly be doing all this? "we command you to let us go" Sam says loudly. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN??" I scream the lights start aggressively flickering even faster, but the hope for them to hear me seems pointless. Colby tries kicking the door down, and Sam joins in trying to help. "guys what's happening" I cry out, watching the three. Amanda turns to me, did she finally hear me?

"y/n you have to let us go" she pleads, "how- what do you mean? I don't know what's happening" I feel my whole body shaking. her face softens as she realizes, "-what?" "what?" "are you doing this?" she tilts her head, "no...or at least not on purpose, this has happened before, and i-i don't know how to stop it" i ramble panicked. "Guys stop" she says to the scared boys "Wha- why" Colby says confused, "she doesn't know what she's doing", "How doesn't she know?!" Sam yells in fear, anger, and confusion. "Sam she didn't even know she was dead" Amanda barely yells back to the boy. the pair look at each other confused then back at Amanda.

As I watch the three talk, I feel my heart beating out of my chest. Amanda turns around and walks over to me. I instantly stepped back and away from her, how could I trust her anymore when she was just going to leave. "y/n it's okay, you need to calm down" she spoke gently, "I can't calm d-down. You guys are leaving me, everyone always leaves me here and i-i can't leave too- I'm trapped here-" it feels like my heart is beating in my head. "trust me okay" she tries to calm me. "n-no, you're just g-going to leave m-me" she takes in a breath looking to the boys then back to me. she probably looks crazy to them. talking to thin air. "ill stay" she nods "What?!" "Amanda no- are you crazy?" the boys yell over each other. "no it's okay, she's not dangerous, she's just lonely" the girl speaks "I'm right here okay y/n" I nod looking into her eyes, the same sisterly feeling coming back. my breathing and heart rate calms down. "see you got it" "i-i'm sorry, I didn't mean to I swear-" "I know I know"

"can we leave now?" Colby asks, still terrified from the nights events, "w-what?" my eyes wide looking between the boy and Amanda, "you guys go, I'll join you in a moment" she says confidently, the boys are wary but don't doubt her, they turn and rush out. "please don't leave me, you just said you'll stay, please its scary here" I beg, a few stray tears fall down my cheeks. I don't know how I still have tears left to cry. "I have to but I'll come back okay? do you trust me to come back?" I shake my head "No one ever comes back" I mumble "but I will. We'll have more time and we can talk okay?" I don't say anything and shake my head again, "you're lying.." I accuse, "I promise I'll be back, I'm not lying to you. I'll be back soon, goodbye y/n", "Wait! please!" I yell as she exits the house. As the door shuts a shiver runs down my spine and then a loud, sharp, high-pitched noise blasts through the house, and all of the windows shatter, shards flying everywhere.

the familiar cold, lonely feeling that left earlier today, returns, filling the building. I sink down leaning against the wall, pulling my knees up into a ball. I'm once again all alone, trapped in this house.

-

NOTE: MY FIRST FIC OF THE YEARRRR😛😛 I'm gonna try get on my game this year (but DO NOT hold me on that cause i'm probably lying🌚) with writing cause I looooovee when I finish them and get to post😻 ALSOOO lmk if you want a part 2🤷‍♀️

thank you soo much for proofreading @sturniolohohoho ily🫶

as always feedback is appreciated <333

THANK YOU FOR READING

LOVE U BITCHES N HOES

taglist: @m0r94n @chrisgetsmewetterxo @raysmayhem-72 @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @sturniolo-slvt @mattspolitank @cerismo @chrispotatos @ncm9696 @pvssychicken

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[taefiction]

HIS HOODIE

pairing. gunwook x gn!reader

genre. comedy + fluff tbh

wc. 1787

featuring. &team! nicholas (older brother)

a/n. i'd snatch that hoodie off gunwook's back so quick if he was next to me. also, this is my first time writing an x reader so bear with me 😭

✦ synopsis! : Your brother’s best friend, Gunwook, left his hoodie over… he wouldn’t mind if you tried it on right?

“We’ll be back!” Your brother, Nicholas, announces as he and Gunwook walk out the front door. Fridays were their “bros nights” or whatever they called it, and today his friend group was going out to play laser tag. You wish you could join them, but every time you ask the conversation ends with bickering. “17 and up only!” Nicholas would tell you, even though you were only a year younger than them all, or “These are MY friends, go hang out with your own!” Eventually, you accepted defeat and stopped asking altogether.

You don’t know how you would survive hanging out with Gunwook anyway.

Sigh…Gunwook.

You fantasize, tilting your head back against the couch and staring at the ceiling. You had a dumb smile on your face while lost in your thoughts. The boy was the only one in Nicholas’s friend group who was nice to you or even paid you any attention without a mocking scowl. He would bring back his leftover food if they ate out for you, and even tease your brother about the “mean” act he puts up for everyone else when it came to you. He was sweet, thoughtful, funny, and hot as hell. You crushing on him was bound to happen, and every time he’s over it just gets worse.

You take a moment to think of the way his biceps were exposed before he left. There was no way his sleeves weren’t short on purpose, especially since he’d been working out a lot recently. Yea.. of course you took notice.

Shaking your head and getting rid of your thoughts of him, you sit up on the couch and look down at your phone. “10%” The screen displayed after unlocking it. It didn’t feel like you were sitting there for that long, but that’s what aimlessly scrolling through TikTok does to you. You sigh and look around you for your charger. You could’ve sworn you brought it downstairs with you, but as your eyes scan the plush cushions and glass table in front of you, you realize it was nowhere to be found.

“Where the hell is it?” You ask yourself and stand, hands on your hips with your brows furrowed in frustration. You walk to the single couches and flip the throw pillows, checking underneath them and even between the couch cushions. It was as if the cord vanished into thin air.

That’s when you remember Nicholas’s charger broke not too long ago, and he’s been using yours for the time being. Usually, he’d ask before taking it, but recently he’s found himself comfortable with just swiping it away without a word. What a pain. It must be in the danger zone…

His room.

You dramatically throw your head back and groan to the sky, catching the attention of your mom.

“You alright y/n?” She asks you, her sweet voice calling from the kitchen. She peeped her head around the corner to give you a concerned look.

“Yea I’m good. Nico just took my charger again,” you complain as you make your way out of the living room and toward the stairs. She laughs at that, being well accustomed to the silly quarrels between the two of you.

“Ay Weno” She comments while gently shaking her head, using her nickname for the boy. She returns to her activities in the kitchen and you walts up the stairs. You had somewhat of an agitated pep in your step, and when you reach his door you hesitate to turn the knob. “Will he know you were in there?” You think to yourself but ultimately conclude there wouldn't be a reason for him to know. You would be in and out anyway. Finally turning the knob, you step inside.

Nicholas’s room was surprisingly tidy for a teenage boy, which was basically the opposite of your own room. It wouldn’t be hard for you to find your charger at all. Walking to the center, you take a quick look around to see if you can spot your cord in any obvious places. That's when you pause and see a black jacket resting on his bed. It wasn’t your brother’s jacket, you would’ve stolen a bape jacket like that from him a long time ago. You walk up to the lump of cloth and pick it up, holding it up in front of you to examine it closely.

It was Gunwook’s. You can recognize it by the green camo and “WGM” on the hoodie now that you’ve turned it to the left. It was technically his signature piece of clothing, he wore it almost every day if it wasn’t blazing outside (even then he would still wear it sometimes). That’s why it takes you by surprise that he left it, but he would be back after laser tag so maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal.

A sinister smile grows on your lips as you hold the hoodie in your hands. Gunwook and Nicholas wouldn’t be back for at least another two hours, which left plenty of time for the room to remain unoccupied. Technically, they wouldn’t know if you tried it on for just a second..right?

You look around you as if there were cameras in the room, which is silly. There was no one in the house besides you and your mom. You tip-toe and slowly close the room door, just to be cautious, then return to the made-up bed. You hold the jacket up in front of you once more. There’s a waft of Gunwook’s cologne coming from the material, and you just know it smells exactly like him.

Should you put it on? One half of your brain asks.

Hell yea you should put it on! The other half responds almost immediately with a devilish face. The little voice in your head was a little too eager, but you might as well since you're here. Fuck it.

You gently unzip the jacket as if it were delicate glass, not wanting to ruin it, then slip it over your shoulders. It was pretty big on you, you can’t lie, the hem of it settling past the comfortable shorts you had on and reaching your mid-thighs. When you zip it back up, it looks like you have no pants on, and you giggle at how you look in Nicholas’s full-length mirror. You flip the hoodie onto your head, your soft curls being swallowed up by the shark design. As you breathe in, all you could smell was Gunwook, and not just his delicious cologne. There was something else that was uniquely him, and you sigh in content at how giddy it made you. You’ve dreamt of having a boyfriend just to be able to wear his hoodie that smelled just like him. You loved the way larger ones absorbed your figure, and how you could have cute sweater paws, just like you do now.

Ugh. You wonder what it would be like if Gunwook were your boyfriend. To be able to wear his hoodie whenever you wanted, or have him hold your hand or your waist and do what all boyfriends do. You lay yourself on Nicholas’s bed and hide your face in your sweater paws, curling in the fetal position. You couldn’t help the stupid grin on your face at your own thoughts, and it was honestly embarrassing what just thinking about the boy did to you. This crush has gotten way out of hand.

“You look cozy,” a deep voice teases from the now open doorway.

You felt your heart drop to your ass.

“Gunwook!” You yelp as you scurry off the bed and quickly reach for the zipper and pull. The universe was apparently against you today because the zipper got stuck and left you struggling and panicking to get it off. Heat rises to your cheeks in horror and humiliation as he just watches while leaning against the doorway, an amused smirk on his lips.

“He must think I’m so fucking weird. God just kill me just fucking kill me.” You chant in your head as he pushes off the doorframe and approaches you. You wish the ground would swallow you up whole right then and there, sucking you down into the deep depths of whatever’s underneath the earth’s core. He gets closer, and you unconsciously shut your eyes, trying to shrink inside the large hoodie like some kind of invisibility cloak. You’re frozen now, too terrified of what's going to happen now. “I’m sorry I was just-” you attempt to mumble out, but he shushes you.

“Lemme see,” he tells you, holding your hand in his and moving it away from the zipper. His hand was soft, and you tentatively opened your eyes to look up at him, all your thoughts disappearing. “The zipper is tricky, you gotta pull it slowly,” he guides, his deep voice soft as he easily fixed the small piece of metal and slowly pulled it down for you, the metallic zip filling the empty space around you. Him being so close and quite literally taking a piece of clothing off of you felt so intimate, and you didn’t know what else to do besides standing there and staring. Once he was done, he stood up straight and smiled down at you, his plump lips creating small creases on the edges. How can someone be so hot and cute at the same damn time.

In the middle of blatantly staring, a chuckle flew past those same lips your eyes were on and you quickly tear your gaze away. “Ah- Sorry..” you fumble and pull the jacket off of you, handing it to him while avoiding any kind of eye contact. Get it together y/n he already thinks you’re some kind of freak.

“It’s fine,” The boy in front of you shrugs and shuffles that same hoodie on, unintentionally shielding the way his black T hugged his toned body from your prying eyes. What a bummer. “You looked cute in it anyway.” His comment takes your focus from his abs, and you think about pinching yourself to make sure what just came out his mouth was real.

“Huh?” You foolishly ask, your face stunned like a deer caught in headlights. The taller simply smirks at you before you hear your brother calling from downstairs.

“Gunwook bro what’s taking so long? I told you it was on my bed!” He shouts impatiently.

“I got it! Coming now!” The boy in question calls back. His eyes were still on you as he spoke, making you feel like the air around your lungs was squeezing and strangling you. He tsked as he walked backwards and turned out the door, not saying anything else to you as he left.

Holy fucking shit.

[batboyblog]

In the almost month since the election I’ve gone through so many emotions. I’ve felt hopelessly crushed, furious, overwhelmed, and just plain exhausted. I hate that this has happened, and that the orange shitstain is gonna put the most awful people in power. I’m not gonna lay down and die, but I’m just so tired of this. That man has slowly drained the hope out of this nation for the last ten years and I’m sick of it. I know this didn’t start with him, but he certainly emboldened blatant authoritarianism. I know every generation feels at some point the world is ending, but at this point it feels so difficult to try to have hope for the future. I believe we as a country can be better than this, but I’m not sure at the moment how we can get there.

I know the feeling, the tired part any ways.

in 2016 I was in the Hillary campaign and like we talked about HOW! bad Donald Trump could be, Hillary had a tweet "we can't trust a man who can be baited with a tweet with the nuclear codes" and for us inside the campaign we took all that very seriously for us it was not talk we meant it, we believed he was really dangerous, deeply corrupt possibly criminal already, and totally unqualified and unfit. And we said so, and no one took us seriously, I always remember a nice middle aged couple stopped at our office to get some signs they weren't from the state and were just passing through. But Democrats, supporters and I was trying to push them to maybe volunteer (as was my job) and I talked about how a Republican President (Ie Trump) could appoint up to 4 Supreme Court justices and they would surely do away with Roe V Wade. And They literally rolled their eyes at me and said "I know thats a good line but do you really believe that'd happen? they'd do away with Roe?" yes, yes we did.

So any ways I believed Trump 1.0 would be every bit as bad as it turned out to be, it was even on January 6th a little worse. So I went through the emotional roller coaster in 2016

2024 has been just sad, and tired.

But I do feel something growing in the guts of my soul, rage, pure burning rage. Someone once said that the thing that fuels every good activist is rage at the world for being imperfect. I don't know if thats right or true.

But it's whats getting me up in the morning, we offered hope, and kindness and a better world and they threw it back, well fuck 'em. This is my patch of dirt on god's good earth goddamn it and they can't fucking have it without a fight, I'm a miserable cockroach motherfucker, I will out fight them, out last them, and win and stand on the ashes of their fucking fascist dreams.

more to the point, I did feel like giving up, and saying "well they picked this, eyes wide open, now we all suffer, w/e" but I don't get to give up, Bill Clinton said "there are no permeant victories or defeats in politics" and he's right, this is the call and the cause, to struggle unendingly for the better world and if you're very lucky you live to see it turn a little and a new battle for the better of man kind than the one you spent your life on be engaged. For me personally, my nephew is trans, he's 17 looking at colleges, picking states that are safe for him. I don't have the power to protect him, I did EVERYthing in my power to stop this, because of him, and for him, I'll be out there again and again and again. I wish deals with the devil were real because I'd just go to hell so he could be safe and happy, but sadly only hard work and uncertain outcomes are real.

I have no easy answers, no clean hope of a better world or a better America about to be born from the bitter ashes of this election. Harvey Milk said "I know you cannot live on Hope alone, but without it life is not worth living" And the last 10 years, the forces of darkness have across all of society, wearing many different faces tried to take hope out of our souls, and its brought us here. My favorite speech is by Ann Richards and I quote the end a lot, but here I'll quote something she said way way back in 1988

This Republican Administration treats us as if we were pieces of a puzzle that can’t fit together. They've tried to put us into compartments and separate us from each other. Their political theory is “divide and conquer.” They’ve suggested time and time again that what is of interest to one group of Americans is not of interest to any one else. We’ve been isolated. We’ve been lumped into that sad phraseology called “special interests.” ------ No wonder we feel isolated and confused. We want answers and their answer is that "something is wrong with you."  Well nothing's wrong with you. Nothing’s wrong with you that you can’t fix in November! We've been told -- We've been told that the interests of the South and the Southwest are not the same interests as the North and the Northeast. They pit one group against the other. They've divided this country and in our isolation we think government isn’t gonna help us, and we're alone in our feelings. We feel forgotten. Well, the fact is that we are not an isolated piece of their puzzle. We are one nation. We are the United States of America.

in the 2020s we're doing it to ourselves but its helping the cynical just as much. Each of us trapped on our phones in our own personal self made hell, well not self made, there are algorithms feeling you stories designed to make you feel like shit, because when you feel like shit you stay on-line, and keep doom scrolling. We're divided and our culture, the way we speak to each other it only makes us more divided, we're rubbery and inauthentic.

So I guess, you want hope, get out there and find something you believe in and fight for it, there's a local candidate near you I'm sure you can believe in, a ballot measure, a local group, something, and break the isolation we have to talk again because if we don't, well its already eaten us alive and we're trying to get out of the whale.

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 3.3k

Chapter 3: April 1960 - May 1960

April 17, 1960. 8:29 PM

I saved a man on March 17 and woke up with fire in my arm, which made it hard to write.

I was also too distracted by the fact that I’d woken up on my kitchen countertop to remember to write in the morning. My muscles were sore as hell, and my arm felt like it was going to fall off. So, no, it’s not funny that you didn’t let me wake up comfortably in my bed this time.

I’ve died in a lot of ways. Vehicle accidents, falling flower pots, random explosions. But this one was strange.

I saved the man from a cougar. Isn’t that crazy? I was hiking and came across this man. I felt the pull, pushed him out of the way, and of course, the cougar lunged at me. It dug its claws into my side and bit my right arm. The man was panicking when I got attacked, yelled at me that he was going to get some help and ran off. I don’t know if he came back or not. I was already gone.

Maybe if I’d known how dangerous hiking in these parts could be, I wouldn’t have moved to Colorado in the first place.

What a life I’m living.

<><><>

The museum lobby glowed under the bright, expensive lights, the marble floors reflecting the luxuriousness of the evening. Guests in sharp suits and elegant gowns roamed, sipping champagne as they laughed the night away. The charity event hosted by the Museum of Design attracted a diverse group of people: academics, philanthropists, politicians, and many more.

You stood at the entrance, adjusting the folds of your ocean-blue dress that worked well to blend in with the crowd. Your heels clicked softly on the staircase as you approached the doorman, who looked at you with a clipboard.

“Name?”

“Anna Gray,” you replied, your fake name easily slipping off your tongue.

Anna Gray. The historic preservation consultant who mysteriously appeared years ago, but was now often sought after by many organizations for her wide knowledge of late-19th and early-20th-century historic documents and artifacts. It was almost as if she had lived through those times.

If only they knew.

The doorman smiled as he looked up from his list. “Welcome, Ms. Gray. Please enjoy your evening.”

You thanked him and entered the room, immediately feeling overwhelmed by the crowds and noise. The lobby buzzed with laughter and words, occasionally joined with clinks of glass, while gorgeous artworks surrounded the party. You quietly made your way into the crowd, locating a few of your colleagues from your line of work.

An older woman smiled at you as you approached the crowd. “Anna! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s your work with the museum lately?”

You grinned. “It’s been busy, but we’ve been making great progress on the archives.”

Conversations flowed easily after that, with you chatting with other colleagues and laughing over stories here and there. But maybe you were moving through the evening too well, like a ghost that existed amongst the living.

You were alive, but you didn’t belong in this crowd. No matter where you went or how well you tried to fit in, a part of you felt like a visitor. Present, but never connected to anyone.

You stopped trying to hold on to people ten years ago when Laura died of cancer—the kind of death even you couldn’t stop. And when Robert got married and announced his wife was pregnant, you had to step away. He knew of your curse and loved you the same, and asked you to stay, promising his family could keep your secret too.

But you said goodbye.

Because maybe you were just getting tired of asking people to lie on your behalf.

When James died, something in you snapped. You had grown bitter—not just toward death, but toward life itself, because James was the only person you were allowed to save twice, and yet he still died.

What was the point of your curse—of your ability to grant people second chances—if death would still greet them anyway? What was the point of holding strangers’ hands through the darkness if the one person who should have lived didn’t?

It felt like a punishment disguised as grace. You had foolishly believed that maybe James was different. That maybe he was a gift to you—a reward for all your decades of sacrifice.

But the world was never kind.

You still moved through your life, spoke to others kindly, and remembered to smile when necessary. But the part of you that once moved gently through the world died with James, and in its place burned a fire that raged every time you saved someone…or when you failed to.

You didn’t stop living, but you stopped expecting anything good to stay.

It didn’t help when Becca asked you one day about your morning routine.

Your skin was flawless, she had said, and you noticed how much she’d grown—a fine young woman, with men falling for her left and right.

Becca was growing up. You were not. And James was dead.

You closed Riverside Bookshop, grabbed all your journals from Henry’s, and moved to Oregon a week later.

You found a decent apartment near a cemetery and hid your journals there. You’d learned over the years that of all places, a graveyard was the safest for your history to live—no random fires, no burglary, no tampering with the dead.

You eventually moved again, jumping around the country whenever your identity had to be drastically changed. You had jumped from Oregon to Wisconsin to Colorado. There was a part of you that longed to find a place to call home, but none of the states gave off the same comforting feeling as New York. You told yourself that you’d move back there someday—you just wanted to see if you could fit in somewhere else.

You found that so far, you could not.

Letting out a small sigh, you glanced around as the atmosphere of the lobby began to feel stifling, the noise growing more unbearable in your ears. Every corner of the room was just a reminder that you were out of place, and you needed to breathe.

Putting on a polite smile, you excused yourself and quietly maneuvered your way through the crowd before ending up in one of the corridors. It was empty—thankfully—and you finally exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You looked around the vacant place, and it took a second for you to realize that you were trespassing; guests weren’t allowed to wander off in the museum, but somehow you did. But you didn’t care.

You were alone—you always were—but it felt nice this time.

Until you heard footsteps.

You jumped, looking down the corridor and suddenly caring about your trespass. You cursed at yourself and darted into the nearest door, finding yourself in a lounge room for VIPs, decorated with leather chairs and glass vases. Pressing against the door, you sighed but quickly stiffened when you began to hear more footsteps, and they were only getting closer.

Swiftly, you spotted a closet at the far end of the room and slipped inside, pulling the door close just enough that you could still peer through the gap. Your body remained tense, hoping that whoever was coming wasn’t going to the lounge room.

Maybe it was your unlucky day because they did. Several men entered, speaking quietly at first, but their conversation soon grew louder as they shut the door.

“So, do you have it or not?”

“I have it, but it needs to be tested more before we move forward. It’s highly volatile, and I do not want any of you meddling with it before it works.”

“More tests? You told me that it’d be ready to go on the market now! Who the hell do you think you are?”

You shifted silently, trying to hear better as your mind raced. Your heart leaped when their footsteps grew closer and their arguments were loud and clear. But when they began to talk about prices, you bit your lip in anger. It was always those who had enough who wanted more; greed consumed the rich, and they desired to take and take and take. You listened to them discuss how their product would benefit them, arguing over money as if they didn’t already have enough.

Curious to see who these men were, you leaned forward to peek through the crack, but your heart dropped when you spotted the numerous bodyguards surrounding the greedy men. They were everywhere—by the doors, the windows, the archways.

You leaned back, realizing that this wasn’t a small gathering—that these men were not simply scheming for money. These men were dangerous, and if you were caught, you could…well, you couldn’t die. But something told you they were exactly the kind of people who should never find out about your curse.

You stayed still, quietly hoping for the men to leave the room, but they continued their conversation.

Then you heard a thud.

And screams.

You flinched, retreating further into the closet as you listened to the men yell, panicking over something. In the gap in the closet doors, you could see blurs of movement as suddenly the noise was accompanied by gurgling and gasps.

One of the movements was made up of black and silver clothes.

Clasping a hand over your mouth, you tried to stay quiet amid the chaos, listening to the struggles of the men die down. A heavy silence soon filled the room, but you stayed in the closet.

Tears welled up in your eyes when you started to pick up the smell of blood, so strong that it made you dizzy. You shut your eyes, hoping that the worst was over and it was just a matter of time before you could safely step out.

Something tugged at your heart.

Your eyes snapped open, a breath escaping your throat as you trembled.

No. No, not now. You couldn’t—

There couldn’t possibly be someone to save. You clenched your teeth, realizing that it must be one of those scheming men who had to be saved. It had to be, right? As much as you didn’t want it.

You could stay in the closet—let the man die. You had that choice. You always did.

But it just always felt wrong, no matter who they were. When you possessed the ability to grant people second chances, you had to use it, right?

With a shaky hand, you slowly pushed the closet door open, gagging when you finally saw all of the bodies littered around the room, decorated with knife wounds and bullet holes. You had lived through wars, disasters, and personal tragedies, but you had never seen bloodshed like this. You wiped the tears from your eyes as you scanned the room, trying to find the man you were supposed to rescue, but none of them moved. They were all dead.

A gasp on your left caught your attention.

You spun to look, noticing the secondary room that was connected by an archway. From where you were standing, you could see legs sprawled out—someone was leaning against the wall. You curled your hands into fists, silently walking to the man with dread in your stomach.

But when you made it to the archway and looked around the corner, your heart stopped.

“James—”

A bullet pierced your chest.

You crumpled to the carpeted floor with a gasp, clutching at your wound with heaves of breath. You screamed, crying at the bullet lodged in your lungs. Seizing up, you opened your eyes to look at the man.

The assassin was watching you, sitting against the wall and breathing heavily. He wore all black, and his dark hair was long, sticking to the sweat on his face.

His left arm was pure silver, and his eyes were frost-blue.

He dropped his silent pistol, the weapon clattering as his metal arm went limp. His whole body was slumping, and yet his eyes were still on you. You blinked back at him through the shock, wondering how—just how was he here? He died fifteen years ago, killed in action and mourned by his friends and family, but the dead man was now breathing. And he looked the same—not worn by time, as if the years had passed for everyone but him…and you.

You gasped before coughing up blood, curling into yourself as your vision blurred. But then you noticed that he looked away from you, staring ahead at an open briefcase on the floor. You looked up, spotting the multiple vials of purple powder and syringes that were scattered inside, but one of the vials was outside the case, broken open with remnants of dust left inside. The assassin choked out a whimper, making you look at him and finally see the same shade of purple speckled across his face.

Oh.

He gritted his teeth, raising his metal arm towards the briefcase. But he couldn’t even push off the wall before he dropped his limb again. His pupils were constricted, and his breath began to hitch, but he continued to gaze coldly at the syringes in the case. 

He was dying, but so was you. He was the one who needed help, but he shot you. He shot you after murdering every single person in the room. He was a murderer.

You couldn’t possibly save a murderer.

You glanced at the syringes again, the pain in your chest now mixed with conflict. You should be angry—annoyed if anything—that the person you had to save chose to kill you. But when you looked back at the assassin, you blinked.

Suddenly, in those frost-blue eyes, you didn’t see a murderer.

You saw the exhausted soldier who held you all those years ago, whispering apologies and comforting words as you let go of your last breath. The young man who cried for you, even though you were used to dying.

The man who made you feel like life had meaning again.

The man gasped, his chest raggedly trying to take in air.

Your hands slammed onto the carpet and you shrieked, dragging the pool of blood as you crawled. Pulling yourself towards the briefcase, you glared at the cursed vials before grabbing one of the syringes. Your body was burning, but you pushed yourself back to the assassin, your hand violently shaking as you held the syringe out to him.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming cold again and flickering between you and the syringe. But finally, he pushed away his lack of trust and raised his trembling hand, the metal fingers brushing against your palm as he took the needle. You dropped your hand immediately, watching him struggle a bit before injecting the antidote into his skin. He choked out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand dropped to the floor with the empty needle. He slumped back against the wall, waiting for the antidote to take effect.

His breath began to steady as his body fought off the poison, but then he opened his eyes to stare at you. You managed to roll onto your back, lying beside him with no strength to speak or move, but you studied his face as much as he was studying yours.

His skin was immensely pale, and his hair was tangled, but beneath his eyes, there was more than just fatigue.

Pain.

You both stared at each other in the silence of the room; he was regaining life while you were losing yours.

James was alive.

You couldn’t understand how, but maybe it didn’t need to make sense. The world threw you into an unpredictable, merciless life and you had learned to live with it.

Sometimes, it was easier to accept the impossible than to fight it.

You wanted to tell the assassin this belief of yours as he tried to understand something himself, his expression unreadable as his eyes searched you. He had shot you, but you saved him in return. And why did it feel like this wasn’t the first time? Like he was stuck in a sick version of Deja Vu?

The assassin couldn’t remember his past—he was unaware that he even had a life before being HYDRA’s soldier. But he also didn’t know that despite HYDRA wiping his mind for fifteen years, it wasn’t long enough to completely erase the man beneath the surface. There was always a part of him fighting against their control.

A part of him that, for some reason, knew you.

The assassin suddenly fell to his side and slowly crawled towards you. His face was close to yours, allowing you to fully take in his face.

You noticed some faded scars around his temples.

The desire to reach for them overwhelmed you, but you couldn’t even lift a finger as the remaining light in your eyes faded. The assassin frowned, examining every little feature of your face. Then he glanced at your neck, noticing a thin chain that looked familiar to him…like he had held it before. He reached for it, pulling out the chain and the circular, silver object attached to it.

He stared at the locket for a while, but then his breath hitched. His mouth slightly opened as you finally let your eyes close.

You died, but not before you heard a whisper.

“Rose…?”

<><><>

May 22, 1960. 7:38 AM

I saw James on April 22.

There’s no way it wasn’t him.

James is alive. He’s been alive all this time, and I can’t even tell anyone. Who would believe me? How could I say I saw him when everyone in that room wound up dead? There shouldn’t have been any witnesses.

Technically, there weren't. James did kill me.

He actually killed me… I’ve never had the person I’m meant to save kill me before. First time for everything, isn’t there?

We were at the charity event for the Museum of Design. The newspaper said that the men found dead were part of an organization that spent the war filling their pockets while real men died in the trenches. They were always trying to get their hands on things they shouldn’t, like poisons and weapons and bombs.

The police did find traces of the poison in the lounge, but not the source. James must’ve taken that briefcase. I’d rather not know what he plans on doing with it.

He was wearing all black and his left arm was metallic with a red star on it. I couldn’t tell if it was a metal casing or if his arm was actually metal. There were also these scars on the sides of his head, almost like he had been burned. I…I’m not sure if I want to know what happened there.

The James I saved all those years ago wasn’t a killer. A fighter, yes, but not a stone-cold killer. There were so many men in that room, yet within 5 minutes, all of them were dead. He didn’t remember me at first, which didn’t surprise me because it had been more than 15 years since we’d last seen each other.

Or, maybe he was probably in the same position as me — confused and wondering just how the hell we were both still alive after the war, looking the same as before. I can’t explain how he hasn’t aged at all… Was he cursed too? Did he die and come back, forever ageless like me?

Did I actually give him another chance when I thought he was taken away from me us 15 years ago?

But that doesn’t explain why he’s become a killer. When I saw all of those bodies and got shot, I told myself that he’s not the James I remember. That the man who held me against his chest was not that murderer.

But then when he was dying, I swear I saw him. The way he looked at me was just enough for me to wonder if there was a trace of the man I used to know.

Then he called me Rose before I died. He called me by my He remembers that name, so that means he must remember me from the war, right?

I saved James for the 3rd time, and now I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious

Thanks for reading :)

[thechildofshadows]

THE BOY AND HIS WINE CELLAR

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 1.6k

hello! I did say that I would write something, and that I would get it would a week or two after Valentine's ... so it's been about three weeks, it's been a month, okay? This fic is dedicated to @saythewordheiress, who posted asking for a fic where Jameson takes care of drunk Avery ... I wanted to give Jamie some backstory, and now i have a completely different fic. mb girl, I'll get back to you on that. This fic has a lot of time-skips. TW for alcohol addiction, which I definitely didn't write accurately. I rated this Teen on Ao3, so read with a little bit of caution. It focuses on our king JH and his relationship with alcohol through the years (two years). It places a heavy emphasis on his damaged relationship with Grayson (I always thought it was sad that they were at each other's throats so often). TLDR : If you wanted fluff, you've come to the wrong place, if you wanted bourbon, you've come to the right one. be back in a week (or a day!) for that drunk Avery fic. Enjoy!

“Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away. “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.” -Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

The tabloids thought that Jameson loved alcohol. They weren’t entirely wrong.

He loved the buzz it gave him, and how free it made him feel.

It didn’t hurt that Hawthornes were blessed with one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man.

Did he love the actual drinks themselves? Hell no. For a majority of his life, he didn't see the point in alcohol. But the first time he'd had something that actually hit-

It was a beautiful feeling and he enjoyed it so much.

Maybe too much.

Jameson had been at his first gala when Nash handed him a glass of wine. He took it. He’d seen the adults drink during dinner before, but never took any sips, since being drunk felt like a hindrance. But there wasn’t much he could do that day and the function was dragging on and on. He had his first glass of wine at thirteen years old.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

But that didn’t stop him from trying a shot at a party one night. Country Day had won a state golf tournament, and everyone was gathered at the house of some rich socialite. There were whiskey shots lined up on the table, and an open bar. Jameson tried some whiskey, conveniently named after himself.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

Oh how that’s changed, he thought, moving out of the living room, and going upstairs.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 17

Emily Laughlin left the world after Jameson turned 17. And, he supposed, she took Grayson with her. Their former bond was irreparably wrecked. And Jameson felt that the only reason he’d mourned for so long was because he’d lost his brother too. His closest brother. His favorite. His first friend. They had done everything together when they were younger, and now they couldn't be in the same room as each other. Their longest argument before had lasted a grand total of three days, and both had been miserable and forgot about the problem after two hours. This one seemed significantly worse.

But he'd loved Emily as well. He had. They had done so much together in such little time. She understood him better than anyone, she understood everything. They were both trapped when all they wanted was to be free. He thought she loved him. And she died.

He was so tired. So tired.

The next day, three bottles were missing from the wine cellar. Smashed glass of a Scottish whiskey bottle was found on the grass, almost as it it had been dropped from the roof.

Jameson snuck into the cellar for what may have been the second time that week. He relished the adrenaline high he got when he drank, and had developed a taste for whiskey.

He reached for the nearest bottle, but it moved.

His lips parted in confusion, and his eyes widened as they fell on Tobias Hawthorne himself.

The usual teasing smile on the man’s face had gone and he was frowning at Jameson.

“This is enough.”

Jameson held back an eyeroll, and Tobias continued. “Over a thousand dollars of drinks are gone, and you’re giving the tabloids something worse and worse each month.”

Jameson gritted his teeth. “It’s always about you, isn’t it Grandfather? Does it matter how I feel? Never! It’s always the tabloids and what they think!”

His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “The girl is dead.”

It’s not about Emily.

“She’s been dead for several months.”

It’s never been about Emily.

“It’s been too long.”

But you think it is-

“Once we leave, this door will lock, and the key is going to be hidden exactly where you think it is.”

-because it’s less painful to think about her than ... other people.

Jameson turned to leave, and promptly crashed into a wall, falling over. Oh crap, how much did I drink?

I'm wasted. 

“I should not find you here again.”

Jameson knew better than to go against his grandfather. “Fine.” And he actually left the room, managing to make it back to his room in one piece.

Change didn't come quickly. But Jameson was a Hawthorne, and Hawthornes can do everything.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 18

Jameson avoided the cellar like the plague.

He knew his grandfather, and he knew himself. There had to be traps in the hallway and stairs, Tobias would never leave something with just a warning.

It wasn't easy. He was miserable (Ask Nash). But he found himself reaching back towards the coffee bar, and slowly regaining back his abilities as a barista.

Jameson had spent a year cultivating his cooking skills, and used an entire month developing his coffee-making talents. Now, he found it therapeutic, following the same instructions, or even trying something new.

And that was how he found himself reaching one month, fully sober.

His birthday came and went. He drank coffee.

So did Grayson’s. He drank coffee then, too.

They still didn’t talk and it made Jameson want to rip his hair out. (Again, no one said it would be easy abruptly quitting alcohol.)

But a few weeks later, Tobias Hawthorne died.

Jameson went to the cellar.

There were no traps anywhere. The key was inside the lock, and when he went inside, there was a note on the whiskey.

I’m sorry. I wanted better for you.

Nash had run out of his stash of cheap vodka and had told a slightly less drunk Grayson to get some more.

He went to the wine cellar, looking for a bottle, and instead found his brother, already gone through multiple drinks.

Their consciousness had passed the point of rivalries, and spent the night sharing a few bottles of whiskey. Their drunken laments were somehow understood by each other, and after a few more drinks, they didn’t need words to communicate anymore. Had they not been blackout drunk, one would’ve thought they were seven again, seemingly talking with more than words.

Grayson woke up the next morning, on a couch across from his brother.

He left the room immediately.

Jameson woke up a few hours later with a killer hangover,, and figured he moved the sheets while he was drunk.

Interesting feeling. Jameson got drunk often, but never to the point of blacking out. Getting that drunk gave him a killer hangover and rendered him useless for about half the day.

He smelled tequila, something he had never developed a taste for. Grayson was the only person in the house who drank it, and Jameson knew better than to touch that corner of the wine cellar.

What the hell did I do?

Grayson never told him.

No one usually checked on Jameson, and after Tobias had died, no one went to the backyard either.

Of course, she wasn’t no one.

She found him on the balcony railing, drunk and shirtless, and the first thing he had done was give her a riddle. He didn’t know why Tobias had required her presence, but he was going to make it fun for himself.

And she'd solved it, too. Maybe she's more than just a puz-

NO.

He would’ve gone down for more bourbon, but the house was Avery’s now, even though she probably didn’t know that it even existed.

Avery.

Tobias Hawthorne usually had a reason behind every one of his actions, but Jameson couldn’t figure out his reasoning behind this one.

And that made her all the more fun.

Bourbon might be good for me, if I get to meet pretty girls.

He mentally slapped himself. That’s not fair.

They had a connection.

He tried to deny it, but they had a connection.

He’d connected with his grandfather. He’d connected with Grayson. He thought he’d connected with Emily, and both had left him. (Though things seemed to be getting better with Gray.)

Or so he thought.

Then he found out she was in the coma.

He went down to the wine cellar, and reached for the bottle of vodka.

And then he paused.

Do I want to be drunk when she’s awake?

Do I want to forget?

But I don’t want to feel…

But she will wake up. And when she does, I’m going to do everything right.

Jameson walked out of the cellar and locked the door. And that means no more day drinking.

Goodbye, room. I owe you a lot.

Avery wasn’t going to die.

But when Alisa moved her out of the hospital, Jameson had to be held back by Xander and Grayson from almost punching her in the face.

“She could’ve died!” He yelled, his voice growing hoarse with the volume. “No amount of money is worth her life, Alisa! You had no right-“

“It had to be done, Jameson.”

“No it didn’t! She-“

“One of us is a professional, and it isn’t you. The situation isn’t ideal-”

“Ideal?” He choked out. To even plan for this scenario… “Damnit, Alisa.”

Nash walked out of Avery’s room with Libby, and upon seeing his brother about to throw hands with Alisa, dragged Jameson toward his room. He offered Jameson a bottle of whiskey, and his eyebrows shot up when Jameson refused.

“No? It’s been long few days, Jamie," Nash sat down next to Jameson. "and there used to be a time where you weren’t seen without at least a drink down.”

Jameson nodded, staring at his hands. “Need to be sober if she wakes up.”

“When. She’ll wake up. She’s strong, Jameson.”

“She is.”

Avery woke up later that week, and Jameson almost collapsed with relief.

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

Jameson reached the roof and stared at the sky.

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone you love so much, you become a better version of yourself for them.

The moon shined down as Jameson dug through his pockets. He opened the small velvet box, and the light reflected off the diamond on the ring.

I love you with more than words.

Thank you for being mine, Avery Kylie Grambs.

Alright, how do we feel after 1.6k words of sad? please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw watermelons at me. Anything works. I will balance out all of this angst with fluff, give me a week. and if you want to be added to the taglist, which does not yet exist, just let me know somehow, put it in the notes somewhere. This fic is green (because I'm Irish) because I love green (because Jameson's eyes are green), and I'm not technically Irish. Happy March, leprechauns. (This is my formal apology to saythewordheiress, who was tagged without consent. I'm very sorry.) (dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

[spookierdeer]

my internet was down recently so i redesigned some miraculous ladybug characters from memory. details of this spur of the moment au below ⬇️⬇️⬇️

this is kind of off the cuff and wordy as hell, but it was what i was thinking about while drawing. i ran out of steam to draw anyone else but if i were to revisit i would probably do this in a different art style lol i tried to make them match but it's too samey to me and got boring working on this fast </3

marinette is 16-17ish instead of 13-15, most of the cast are this age except a few like luka who are 17-18

ignore that marinette isn't fully colored in the first image, i saved it before deciding to fully color everyone LOL

instead of general education, they go to an arts school the first akuma attack was focused on a private school nearby which adrien, kagami, and chloe attend with adrien and chloe being transferred afterwards to the art school (adrien and chloe both put in the fashion design course by their dads)

marinette is in the fashion track, alya in photography/video editing, nino, luka, and rose are in music, juleka and marc in writing, and nathaniel is in illustration/animation. other characters either fall into other tracks as well, attend the private school, or another nearby school that isn't arts focused. if a character fits something else better than what i said then pretend i said that instead 👍

marinette's interest in fashion design takes more of a front seat, i feel like it isn't brought up much in the show for how important it seems to her. instead of a 14 year old designing an album cover and whatever other insane opportunities she's gotten, i think those opportunities might come from businesses and celebrities working with the art school and marinette having a track record of lucking out in her work catching the eye of the people interested

kagami in canon is extremely autistic teen girl coded to me and therefore my favorite so i double down on that here

-her hair is short because in one of the only times she's actively rebelled against her mother's wishes, years prior to this au, she cut her hair short on her own because the feeling of it touching her neck and shoulders was constantly upsetting her. when her mom finally noticed she took control over this act of rebellion and took kagami to a hair stylist to get a haircut she found more appropriate; kagami has been getting it cut this same way since then.

-after moving to paris she had to give up a lot of the norms she found comfort in. i think she would have taken incredible care of the backpack she was given when she first started school and it's become somewhat of a comfort item. the private school would be pretty strict about dress code, but as long as the backpack didn't look sloppy and was in one of the allowed colors, she could use it- so even if she didn't use it much in middle school i could see her returning to it to have as a piece of home in a new place that's otherwise incredibly overwhelming.

-even if she isn't interested in it, she listens to her mom and does as she says which has her even more quiet and reserved than she would be normally. shes good friends with adrien, he's actually one of her closest friends, but she doesn't open up much more around him and he can tell. she meets marinette through him and while she doesn't magically blossom into a different person, she definitely speaks her mind more when around her and eventually adrien- marinette's personality connecting with her own just right and that makes her feel safe in a deep way.

-marinette inspires her to push boundaries, one of the first ways she rebels (considered so in her own mind) is wearing a friendship bracelet marinette makes for her despite her school not allowing jewelry like that. another is a "good luck" charm key chain she keeps latched to a zipper inside her backpack.

-i don't remember, but in the show i think kagami might model with agreste brand in some way? she might do that here too since her mom and adrien's dad are close, but she prefers modelling for marinette's projects even if she's shy about it at first. they're usually alone during this and kagami sometimes helps by wearing marinette's WIPs as she works and during those times kagami finds she laughs and smiles the most.

-i'm rambling now, but kagami reflects marinette in a lot of similar-but-opposite ways i didn't get into here and i need to stop talking about kagami and marinette or i'll be here all day.

idk what all to write for adrien bc i dont keep up with the show anymore so idk what his deal is rn, BUT here i would explore his experience with unspecified depression- he would have so much lust for life and joy but between his mom recently passing and his dad being a quiet megalomaniac with his only real parental support being his dad's assistant and his own bodyguard- he just doesn't feel much excitement with life despite how he might express himself in front of his friends. i think getting transferred would be, unintentionally on his dad's part, the biggest boon possible for adrien bc he would slowly regain that excitement in regards to just living his life- even if gabriel squashes it often with rules and tiring modelling work. becoming friends w nino, marinette, and everyone else would bring him out of his shell just like kagami even if it's in a different way.

luka is one of my faves too so he was one of the first i designed; he's not incredibly more important in this au, but i'd want to focus more on the eldest sibling in a single parent household stress of his character. a wonderful son and brother with a lot of skill and patience who's willing to lend an ear to any friend. lot of stress would pile up and i like thinking about him finally finding out who his dad is- that he's met the guy and it's one of his musical idols. and the man never said anything. and how that would upset him. and being the backbone of not only his family, but his friend group as he's stressed about going out into the world on his own soon in an unstable field and now he has to cope with that too...

instead of meeting alya at school, marinette and alya have been best friends since childhood which brings a bigger stress on marinette when she can't even tell the one person in the whole world her biggest secret- especially since alya IMMEDIATELY becomes ladybug's biggest fan and defender and they never would keep secrets before- and alya could tell she wasn't saying something. i like imagining the added stress of losing that confidant marinette would have had for years and years and having to handle some of the most stressful things she's ever experienced on her own save for tikki with alya slowly worrying more and she can't say a thing. alya got into photography in middle school during projects with marinette and ended up wanting to study it, but seeing ladybug only fuels her love of it- running the ladyblog and social medias about the hero while marinette watches on wishing she could tell alya for the longest time. eventually she does but that's down the line lol

nino is still adrien's first friend in the new school and he meets everyone else through him. i think nino and luka would be fairly close in this au with them working together whenever the other needed help on projects or just helping the other out with learning new skills. i'm not sure how to write it here but i like thinking about alya and nino's dynamic as a couple since what i remember of the show was mostly them together then talking about adrienette instead lmao

one of the biggest examples of missed potential in mlb to me is chloe, so shes rewritten as bully with hero worship of ladybug(/baby's first lesbian crush) only to have her dreams crushed when ladybug takes back her miraculous and says she doesn't think she'll be able to trust her with it again. not sure if she would let it fully go to her head here or if she just suddenly found comfort in pollen only to have ladybug take the kwami away without listening to her side of things. i have a whole thing written for her in my notes app that ill never share just know shes fleshed out here way more than in canon- i already rambled too much about kagami so i'll hold myself back here LOL

marc is such a fun character to me but i REALLY don't like his look in canon and he's one of the main characters i wanted to redesign so i let myself have a lot of fun with him to make up for the years of looking at his canon one

nathaniel is similar, i don't want to change too much about him but i think he's a fun character and his blazer/tshirt/skinny jeans/converse fit in canon pissed me off for years on the back burner lmfao... i think i might've leaned too far away from a style his canon counterpart might choose, but he goes to an art school and if his multiple of his friends being in the fashion track and his partner being an alt kid can't stop him from wearing a plain tshirt and blazer then idk what could

JULEKA..... why does her first saga design look like a sims 4 townie that's goth and into track? not even current sims 4, 2014 sims 4. sims 4 fitness stuff. i'm getting to the characters i wouldn't change a ton about story wise now clearly, i just think their drip is nonexistent, barren. i think her going from near full coverage purple and black goth to bright pink clown when akumatized is a fun dichotomy. i don't think i'll be redesigning any other outfits (or characters for that matter), but that drastic of a change is very fun. i could see her occasionally wearing a privacy mask like marc on days she feels too socially anxious.

i think a modern take on rose would almost inevitably lean into lovecore, but i tried to keep her more simple. i will always love purple/pink ships and the tall, dark, and broody looking juleka who's mostly just quiet and shy and rose who's short, bombastic, and kind with a huge heart is a very sweet and fun pair. in the show she has an unspecified illness which could be any number of things, so i thought maybe she would need to bundle up more than the others (granted there's a lot of long sleeves here lol)- more layers than usual to regulate in the cooler months and the opposite during the warmer ones. i kind of drew these with spring in mind, so she'd probably be wearing thicker leggings or something here- she still REALLY wants to look cute even if her body is mad at her (relatable).

i'm intentionally not getting into the miraculouses or akuma or kwami or the whole (gestures vaguely to gabriel and lila and everything else) here since i'm already yapping more than this justifies for an au i'm not doing anything with. just had a lot of thoughts while designing these. i didn't get a ton into ships here aside from the last few, but i also don't really know how i'd deal with the "love square" since i was never invested in that and instead liked lukadrienette and marigami more lol... i'd also want to explore marinette finding out about chloe's one sided crush on ladybug and her reaction vs chloe dealing with the fallout of hero worship. if you read all of this thank you ilu mwah mwah

[morgana-larkin]

next chapter of just tired soon? 😁

Yes! Sorry, I've been busy all week but it's finished. I saw from last chapter how happy everyone was that Melissa has known reader since the start of her relationship with Joe so I included that in this chapter. I won't give away too much but I will say you're welcome, for what happens here. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Summary: You and Melissa talk about what's on her mind.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 37

Just Tired - Part 36

Warnings: Manipulative Relationship (Mentioned), Smut

Words: 3.6K

You wake up the next morning and you look at your phone and see it’s 5:14am, your alarm doesn’t go off for another 16 minutes but you might as well stay awake. You missed cuddling with Melissa last night. Miss how she would hold you with so much care, how the sound of her heartbeat would lull you to sleep. You look over to the other side of the bed and see Melissa isn’t there. You look around the room and see her sitting at her dinner table, coffee mug on the table, and her head in her hands.

“Melissa?” You call out to her and she lifts her head up and looks at you. In the dim light you can’t make out much but you hear a small sniffle and realise she was crying. “What happened yesterday?” You ask her and she sighs. “Can you come and talk to me, please?” You ask her and she gets up and comes over to the bed and sits near you. “I need to know what’s going on with you. I sometimes find you thinking but you never tell me anything. Well now I need you to tell me what’s going through your head.” You tell her sternly and she sighs. 

“I can’t be with you anymore.” She tells you and you tilt your head.

“We aren’t together though, not officially anyway.” You say.

“And we never can be.” She says. 

“Why not?” You ask her.

“Because I’m not the right person for you.” She tells you and she brings her legs up and wraps her arms around them. At this moment she looks small, like the woman who came to you after she just left her husband.

“Who said that you’re not the right person for me?” You ask and put your hand on her arm and she looks at you. “Cause if I recall, I’ve already told you that you’re everything I’ve been looking for in a woman, appearance and personality.” 

“I don’t even know my personality!” She yells as she gets up from the bed. “I don’t even know myself anymore, because Joe took it all away from me!” She yells and then goes and kicks the couch. “I’m not the right person because I don’t know what I want. One day I want to be with you and the next I don’t want to be with anyone.” She says softly and you see a couple of tears fall down her face.

“Want to know what I think your personality is?” You ask her and she looks at you as you pat the spot beside you on the bed. She lets out a deep breath before she goes and sits down beside you and looks at you. “At your core you are strong, brave, you have a huge heart and you’re funny as hell.” You tell her and she scoffs.

“I’m not any of those.” She says.

“You are. You escaped a manipulative relationship and you’re healing. Even though you experience setbacks, you keep going because you’re strong. You faced Joe 4 times since finding out that he was manipulating you, you went to talk to him in person the following day, twice in court and then yesterday. 3 times you chose to do it because you’re brave. In 25 years, Joe was only right about one thing, you are sensitive.” You tell her and she furrows her eyebrows at you. “But that’s not a bad thing, it just means you care. You care about me, you care about Barb, and even though you’ll deny it you care about Janine and Jacob. You also care about your family, which there’s a lot of people there to care about. Melissa, you didn’t even think twice about defending me from Joe. Also I love when you show your silly side. You are super funny and goofy and it’s adorable and I love it when you feel comfortable enough to show it.” You say to her.

“I don’t know how you still see so much good in me when I’ve hurt you many times.” She says and you grab her hand.

“Because all those times you hurt me was a survival instinct. You’ve apologised many times for all of them.” You tell her and you look at her eyes and see that she’s not saying something. “What else are you worried about?” You ask and she looks down.

“This might sound stupid but… do you believe in fate or destiny?” She asks and you tilt your head and think about it. 

“I haven’t really thought about it. Why?” You ask and she gets her phone out and shows you the picture of you and your parents from 15 years ago. “That’s me and my parents.” You say and look at her.

“One of my friends went to Niagara Falls 15 years ago and I saw that exact picture on the night I married Joe. Do you think it’s a coincidence that one of my friends ran into your family and then showed the picture on the exact same day I married Joe?” She asks you and you think about it.

“I guess we were always supposed to be in each other’s lives.” You end up saying and she lets out a breath.

“I feel…trapped right now, in a way.” She says and you look at her as you give her phone back.

“Why?” 

“Because I’m denying myself what I want out of fear. I really want to be with you but I keep feeling that I’ll just get controlled again. And I know you’re not that kind of person but I still have that fear.” She admits and you wrap your arm around her and she leans into you.

“I told you very early on that I’m not going to push you or make you uncomfortable in any-”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She blurts out as she turns to look at you and you blink a couple times as you stare at her.

“What?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” She asks more calmly.

“I thought you were too scared to be with me?” You ask her.

“Oh I’m terrified, but I’ve also been so unhappy for so long and I have to stop denying myself the right to be happy.” She tells you and you smile.

“If you’re ready then I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You say and she leans forward and gives you a tender kiss.

You then both realise you have to get ready for work and Melissa helps you with anything you need before she goes upstairs to get ready. She gets both of your lunches ready before she puts everything in the car as you make your way over with a crutch.

“So how will it work? Being the girlfriend of Melissa Schemmenti.” You ask her while she’s driving you both to work.

“Well, lots of hugs, lots of kisses, lots of sex.” She starts and you chuckle. “Also lots of compliments, lots of food that’s not microwavable meals.” She says and you roll your eyes. “I will have lots of days that I’m gonna be scared to be with you, just warning you right now, especially at the beginning as I’m starting to heal.” She tells you and you nod.

“Alright. Do I have your consent to slap you when you’re being an idiot?” You ask and she quirks her eyebrows before she smiles and shakes her head.

“You know what? Why not.” She says and you start laughing. “I require lots of physical touches by the way. I didn’t get that with Joe and it makes me feel loved.” She tells you and you nod.

“It’s easy to touch you, especially now that I can move both my hands.” You joke and she snorts.

“Never stop being you.” She says as she pulls up to the parking lot.

“I have no plans to change.” You tell her and you see she parked the car but isn’t moving. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered that everyone we talk to now knows what my husband was like.” She says and you grab her hand.

“I’m sure they’ll respect your privacy and not talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Even Janine?” She asks and you hum.

“I’m not sure about that one actually. She still sometimes surprises me.” You say and she lets out a big breath.

“Alright, let’s get this day over with.”

“Ya, that’s definitely the spirit.” You say and she slaps you lightly on the head.

“You hitting an injured person?” You tell her with a smile.

“How I look at it is hitting someone who’s sassing me right now.” 

“Well it’s taking your mind off things.”

“You know there’s something else that helps me take my mind off things.” Melissa says and you look at her.

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” You ask her and she shrugs before she gets out of the car. “Hey! Melissa! We’re not done with this conversation!” You yell so she can hear you and you turn your head to see her smirking at you as she gets your wheelchair out of the trunk.

“Were you saying something, hon?” She asks once she opens your door and gets your crutch. 

“You’re lucky you’re hot.” You tell her and she laughs as she helps you up.

“So it’s not my amazing cooking skills or kisses that make me lucky?” She asks and you look at her and then start walking with your crutch. “If that’s your version of walking away from me then you can’t get very far without me catching up.” She says as she gets her purse from the backseat and then walks to you with your wheelchair. “So about things that take my mind off of stuff, one of them is my head between your thighs.” She says suddenly and you stop walking and look at her. She stops as well but keeps talking, knowing full well the effect her words have on you. “Having your fingers run through my hair while I pull moan after moan from that pretty mouth of yours as I suck on your clit and have my fingers deep inside you.” She tells you with a lower voice and you stumble and Melissa ends up catching you. “You ok, hon? Something I said?” She asks and you glare at her.

“You’re a minx, you know that?” You ask and she smirks.

“I’m having a lot of fun being one.” She says with a wink. “Can you make it the last few steps or do you need some help?” She asks you.

“I can make it, only about 10 steps left.” You say and she nods. “Just stop teasing me until I’m at least sitting down.” You say and she smiles.

“Alright, I can hold off.” She tells you as you take another step.

“So it seems your mood did a complete 180.” You say casually and you hear her hum.

“I have to stop living my life in fear or else it’s not living at all.” She tells you as you reach the steps. Melissa helps you up the 3 steps and then you step into the school before she gets your wheelchair ready and you sit down. 

“I’m glad you’re taking that step. Not just because we’re officially together but because moving on is a sign of healing.” You say as she wheels you to the break room. 

“At the moment I’m happy as well. I know I’ll be scared at some point but right now I’ve actually never been happier.” She tells you before she reaches the break room. “Would it be ok to let them know about us?” She asks you and you nod. She goes inside the break room and she sees Jacob come up to get you but puts up a hand to stop him. “I’d actually rather have my girlfriend sit with me this morning.” She says and you look up to see her smiling.

“Girlfriend?” Jacob asks and you nod.

“Since when?” Janine asks and you look at your phone to see the time. 

“Since about 2 hours ago.” You say and you see Barb smiling.

“Both of you, pay up.” Barb tells Janine and Jacob and they both hand her a $20 bill.

“What the hell were you betting on?” Melissa asks everyone.

“Whether the both of you would be together before the New Year or after.” Jacob explains.

“Wish I knew so I could place a bet too.” You say and Melissa lightly slaps your head. “Seriously, hitting an injured person again?” You ask her and look up to see her quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“Barb, how did you know it’d be before the New Year?” Melissa asks as she wheels you to their table.

“Melissa, you’re my best friend and you lived with me and Gerald for 2 months, I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.” Barb says and Melissa goes to get your coffee ready. 

“Sorry that your ex wasn’t good, Melissa.” Janine says and you see Melissa stiffen. 

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Melissa tells everyone and everyone nods. Melissa then comes over with two mugs of coffee and gives you one. “Here you go, hon.” She says and you smile.

“Thank you.” You say to her and she smiles and grabs your hand.

“So are you two going on a date this weekend?” Janine asks and you look at Melissa.

“No plans but we could.” You tell her and she thinks about it.

“I’d love to, plus we should, to celebrate our relationship.” She tells you and then takes a sip of her coffee. 

The day passed by normally, with you and Melissa exchanging glances and texts the entire day as you both taught. At one point you both look up at the same time and connect eyes, she then mouths an ‘I love you’ and you smile. At another point you were grading some assignments when you receive a text. You look at your phone and see that Melissa texted you and you open up your phone and look at the message. You see a picture of yourself, grading the assignments, but with a heart around you. You look to your left and see her casually swaying in her seat, looking at you with a smile. You had no idea that Melissa would be so romantic in a relationship but it shouldn’t surprise you with how loving she’s been before.

“So I was thinking of taking you out to a restaurant this weekend, a proper date.” Melissa tells you after all the kids leave.

“Italian restaurant?” You ask her.

“God no. You’ve already been exposed to my cooking. Anyone else cooking anything Italian would just be a disappointment for you.” She says and you hum.

“You’re really confident in your cooking.” You tell her as she grabs your things from your classroom.

“Has there been any problem with any of my cooking so far?” She asks and you shake your head as she places your things on your lap. “So what do you think about the restaurant idea?” She asks.

“I love it. Do I get a clue about where you’re taking me?” You ask her with a smile.

“No.” She simply tells you as she goes behind the wheelchair and starts pushing you.

“How would I know what to wear then?” You ask with a pout.

“I’ll help you get dressed.” She tells you.

“And I’m sure you’ll help me undress as well.” 

“Obviously.” She tells you and you chuckle.

You snap your eyes open that night from a dream. You didn’t have a nightmare, you actually had a sex dream with Melissa and you feel a strong urge to masturbate right there as you’re very turned on. You’re also very aware that your period is about to start so you’re extra sensitive and extremely horny right now. You look over to your right and see Melissa sleeping peacefully and you know you have to be quiet so you don’t wake her up. You move your right hand up your shirt and accidentally let out a gasp at the heightened sensitivity from just your nipples. You look over and see that Melissa is still asleep, so you continue. 

You bring your hand further down and slip it inside your pjs pants. Your fingers make contact with your centre and you immediately imagine Melissa’s fingers touching you. You bring your other hand up to your mouth and stick one finger in your mouth to help keep you from making any noise. You stick one finger in your entrance and you couldn’t stop a whimper from falling out of you. You start pumping in and out and you have to bite down on your finger to prevent any noises. You start pumping faster and faster and then suddenly a hand stops your movements. You open your eyes that you don’t remember closing and look to your right to see Melissa there. She’s still laying down but clearly awake and her right hand is around your right wrist.

“I would ask what you’re doing, but it’s pretty obvious.” She says, voice raspy. You keep staring at her and realise how you must look with a finger in your mouth while your other hand is down your pants. “If you need help getting off then you could just ask.” She adds after a couple seconds. You then remove your finger from your mouth and look into her beautiful green eyes. 

“Didn’t want to wake you.” You say.

“Well you did, but what a sight to wake up to.” She tells you. “Never had sleep leave my mind so fast.”

“Sorry that I woke you, I tried to stay quiet.” You say and she smiles.

“You’re not one to stay quiet during sex though. Also, I’m not mad about being woken up at… 2:30am.” She tells you as she checks her phone. “Especially if this is the sight that greets me.”

“I’m almost on my period, I’m really horny.” You admit and she shuffles closer to you.

“Do you want some help with that?” She asks and you nod quickly. She then pulls on your wrist and it causes you to slip your finger out of your entrance and out from under your pj pants. She then takes your right hand and puts the finger that was in your entrance inside her mouth and she licks it and you let out a moan. You’re looking at her as she’s licking your finger and you can’t help but buck your hips, especially when she’s looking at you with completely black orbs. “I love how you taste.” She tells you and you whimper. “What do you want? Tongue or fingers?” She asks and you look at her breathlessly.

“You did get me excited about your tongue yesterday and we didn’t even have sex.” You complain and she smiles as she pulls your pants off of you. She gets in between your legs and sees how wet you are. 

“You’re really wet, soaking.” She says before she wraps her arms around your thighs. She places gentle and loving kisses all over your thighs and you buck your hips when she places one on your clit.

“I really need you to fuck me.” You say desperately and she looks at you as she does a big lick up your centre and you immediately put your hands in her hair. She wastes no time in slipping her tongue in your centre and you accidentally tug on her hair harder than normal as the feeling is heightened right now. “Sorry.” You tell her and she pulls out of you.

“Pull it all you want, hon. I don’t mind.” She says before she slips her tongue inside of you again. 

You feel her put her mouth right up against you as she puts her tongue in the farthest it can go and you tug at her hair. She then starts moving her tongue inside you and you immediately see stars and you let out a huge gasp. You feel her remove both her hands from your thighs and one of them goes under your shirt and she starts playing with the nipple. The other goes right to your clit and she immediately starts playing with it. With all these sensations you let out a huge moan and a whimper and you never felt so much at once, especially in your heightened state. You feel your orgasm already building and you’re not surprised with how good she’s making you feel. You can’t help but start grinding her face and she removes her hand from your boob and pins your hips down. She doesn’t stop, she keeps you pinned down and rubs your clit faster and you cry out.

“I’m so close!” You scream and she then applies more pressure to your clit and then you come with a gasp. Melissa gently licks everything up before she pulls out of you with a proud smile on her face. “The ego is dripping off of you.” You say while breathing hard and she lays down beside you and wraps her arms around you. She places a kiss on your cheek and smiles at you.

“I got you to feel really good and you came hard, I think I deserve to be a bit smug about it.” She says and you hum.

“You do.” You tell her. “Are you gonna put my pj pants back on?” You ask her.

“No.”

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