#thank fucking god for him and that. storm energy when you fucking go into it and become it. lmfao. mix that with Choral Horror

[blackvahana]

the thing about actual Old God Horror, and I dont mean "the horror of the Old Gods existing" i mean "when the Old Gods are horror", is that you have to understand its not about wanting to be scary and have people be scared of you. Like. The horror of a bad trip does not need to want to be scary. You want to be scary? You want to be a little eldritch thing - or more so you want to be a Big eldritch thing? So you bring out the tentacles, the eyes, your knowledge of non-euclidean shit, the teeth, the sounds, you puff yourself up and act real ominous lurking in the shadows.... That's threat displays. That's a butterfly with eye patterns on its wings

There's so many beings that lurk and think theyre scary. A lot of beings i give a pass to because... Theyre very clearly things that feed off fear and thats valid enough for me. You arent just lurking, youre farming fear. You biologically get it, and your horror isnt a display it is actively farming. Cool! But those people that declare themselves demon and eldritch gods and think that some people bowing down to them (half the time i doubt theyre even telling the truth that theyre worshiped in the astral because... you can feel it, but then again, gods hide themselves when the incarnate more than they show themselves) makes them Old God Horror.... theyre bowing to your power and to the threat of violence. they are not bowing to you. if theyre bowing to things you wield and your threats (active or passive), then theyre bowing to the eye patterns on your wings.

the thing about old gods is that they know horror. even just in terms of our plane, theyve been incarnated humans on boats in storms in the ocean losing best friends overboard, summoned to watch buses full of kids set on fire and the doors are locked because theyre pressed against the earth, prayed to as people are murdered, tortured, theyve watched towers full of people crumble on to said people snapping bones and necks, animals have their legs taken out by predators being dragged off to be eaten alive, theyve witnessed all shit this world has to offer whether its flaying or torture techniques or rape or whatever the fuck is genuinely, legitimately terrifying.

the thing about horror is you have to pick apart the threads and understand the difference between a horror movie's horror - even a triggering horror movie's horror! - and the horror of reality itself, and specifically the horror of horror itself. picking what you think is scary and doing that is step one in terms of steps of Getting It. watching what others find scary and replicating that is step two. Watching how the prey reacts physiologically and energy-playing with them to extract fear is step three... step four? you extract the essence of horror and become one with it. horror is subjective, but in practice that means there are various horrors to become, some of which extract fear from many entities, some which work in the gaps those aforementioned dont work in

I sit in the mirror and watch my dead self. hes dead. literally not even a ghost but something that should not exist, existing purely because he incarnated into me and was killed before i died. I vividly hear screaming, the entire Sky's choir turned to visceral, throat-scraping screaming, and there is no distinction between him and all the times he'd watched this happen. in the faces clawing out from his energy i see women ive been called to as their lives are torn apart, i see the reflections of burning villages in their eyes, their assaulters, i hear the sound of boats hulls cracking and bending to the stormy black sea. i see their energies grasping towards their kids as theyre ripped into slow deaths, i see their eyes turned to the sky...... im looking in a mirror. im watching my dead self glitch and distort, rolling like VHS tapes, his smile intercut with his scream-laughing. this is not a horror movie, this is not art drawn on to paper or a comic made into a thriller. he is trapped between moments like being in between film frames, he is something that should not exist except the flickering of reality gives the illusion he is standing in front of me and moving, like film of a an actor played decades post-death

he warps. the skies darken around him literally, and they dont threaten, they dont threat display. lightning stirs and it strikes. he pulls things down into him, tears them apart. he hunts with wolves, he pierces the eyes of snakes swallowing things whole. this is not threat displays, and even after death he lingers in threat. actual, legitimate threat. he will tear your mind to shreds not because you "cant comprehend him" because he shows you things you cant comprehend, but because you cant comprehend him because he shows you things you cant comprehend. he is not relaying frayed, horrific footage to you, he is that footage, haunted, in-between states. he knows, as something that is prayed to, how to enter into the cracks in your mind and get between it and fill it until it is exploded not just on to the floor but out into time itself.

when you are actually something that approaches godhood - a spirit that is actually called, you will be begged, pleaded, screamed at in the people who know your names' worst moment, your name will be written on time and space itself with horror as they beg you to take it from them. it is not about showing you nasty pictures, it is about becoming the liquid essence of the moment of terror, which means not just the energy of terror but also the manifestation of it, and learning to infiltrate the mind itself and pour that venom from your thousand snake teeth into the mind until its overwhelmed beyond control.

We need more people in the world who threat display rather than attack, more people who are willing to say "i dont want you around" rather than going for the throat. we dont need more witnesses to this shit. but i keep seeing a clawing towards being viscerally, biologically scary "gods" when whats being shown is not visceral biologically scary god but instead hollow attempts at being it

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. "Shut up, mom!" prank with JJK men.

➜ featuring: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru.

➜synopsis: your child(ren) has a death wish for sure.

➜note: wasn't able to pick a name for nanami's child. also sorry to the anon who sent this, i had a hard time understanding the request at first. anyway, part 2?

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

༉‧₊˚. NANAMI KENTO

“You need to start learning how to fold your clothes,” you mention casually to your daughter as you carry a basket of warm laundry to the couch.

“Why would I do that?” Nanami’s eyes look up from his book, but he doesn’t budge.

“When you move out, you will only have yourself to rely on,” you continue with the advice and your daughter rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Ugh moving out this, moving out that. Just say you want to get rid of me.”

“What–I would never, I’m just reminding you that one day you will become an adult and–”

“Oh just shut up, mom!” 

You truly gave birth to a mini you, a prankster. When you first saw the tiktok trend, you and your daughter had giggled to yourselves at the thought of getting a reaction out of her father. Though, you did warn her of the repercussions. Your husband did not play when it came to showing respect to you.

“I beg your pardon?” Nanami sits up from the couch so fast, it almost makes you jump out of your skin. You don’t have time to react, or hold him back before he is storming towards the kitchen where your teenage daughter was hiding. “What did you just say to your mother?”

“I said shut up, because she was bothering me.”

“And you think that’s one way to speak to my wife?” You see his eyebrows furrow, he even slams the book he was reading down on the kitchen counter so hard that his arm veins are about to pop out.

“Kento,” you walk up behind him, calling out his name softly.

“No, let me take this.”

“No baby listen–”

“I said I will take this.” It’s only when he repeats himself in a stern manner, that your daughter starts to giggle nervously.

“Daddy, it was a prank.”

“Yeah, baby it’s a prank.” You rub his shoulders and biceps reassuringly. Your daughter quickly wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest.

“I’d never be disrespectful like that.”

“Yeah well, it almost gave me a heart attack,” his voice is now much softer and warmer as he exhales, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair. He pulls you towards him and kisses your forehead before patting his daughter’s head.

“Now, whose idea was it?”

“Mommy’s.”

“Hey!” 

༉‧₊˚. GOJO SATORU

“Hey Ryuu, could you take out the trash please?” 

“No, I’m busy.” Satoru’s ears perk up at the sound of his son’s tone. But he doesn’t budge from where he’s standing in the kitchen.

“Baby, it’s been sitting there all day and it’s full. Could you please–”

“Shut up, mom. I said I’m busy.”

Normally, Satoru wasn’t easy to rile up. His relationship with his son was hilarious, one where he doted on his child whilst the latter pretended as though he couldn’t stand all the love and affection he received from his dad. But despite all the love that Satoru had for his son, you were number one. You come first, you are his wife and the mother of his child. When his son will leave, you will be the one he gets to spend the rest of his time with–and when he decided to marry you, a child wasn’t even in the picture.

So he will be damned if he was just going to stand there and let his son talk to you like that.

You freeze when you feel a sudden surge of cursed energy–you knew your husband when he got angry, it clouded over the rational part of his brain. So when you see him start to walk upstairs where his son is, you have to physically grab his arm to stop him. Thank god the infinity was off.

“Satoru– toru! Baby!”

“Who the fuck does he think he is, huh?” His eyes are glowing. You really shouldn’t have played this prank on him.

“It’s a prank baby.” 

“A prank?” It’s fascinating how this man can go from 0 to 100 back to 0 so quickly. He calms down so fast, glancing at the top of the stairs where he sees his son standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I told her it would be a bad idea.”

“I–hey! I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,”

“I did,” Ryuu starts to walk down the stairs and past you two. “He’s said it before. He doesn’t play when it comes to people showing you respect, even if it’s his own son.” 

Satoru can only sigh at his son’s words before staring at you. “Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t…But I won’t lie, seeing you riled up like that–”

“I’m too old to have a sibling!”

༉‧₊˚. GETO SUGURU

Your girls were a giggly mess. You shush them before saying very loudly.

“In what world is this acceptable?” 

“Mom,” your daughter, Tsukimi, feigns an annoyed tone, refusing to look up from her phone. “I really don’t care.”

“But I do.” You stand over her bed, motioning for her twin sister to get into the role as well.

“Does it matter?” Asahi uses the same annoyed, bored tone. One that quickly catches Suguru’s attention. He walks into the main area from the garage before hearing the argument upstairs. 

Quickly wiping his hands with the dirty rag attached to his pants, he starts to make his way up to your twin daughters’ room to see what it was about. 

“Of course it does, I’m your mother.”

“You’re really just pushing it.”

“You sneaked out last night! Do you know how disappointed your father will be?” Suguru freezes up at the revelation. But he doesn’t let his disappointment or anger get the best of him, maybe the four of you can work this out–your girls were at a rebellious age, this was bound to happen and all he needs to do is figure out a way for all of you to get along without–

“Aren’t you supposed to be our best friend or something?” Tsukimi sits up on the bed, furrowing her eyebrows in a way that reminds you how similar her and her father’s features are. 

“Right now I’m your mother.” 

“Oh would you just shut up?”

A loud slam makes the three of you flinch, and you turn to find Suguru standing by the door looking as angry as a raging bull.

“Who said it.”

“Wha–”

“Who said it. Who was it?” He is so furious you could see steam coming out from the top of his head. “Have you lost your fucking minds to be talking to your mother like that? Did I fail at educating you or what?”

“Suguru–”

“No,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you out of the room. “I need to talk to them.”

“No wait, listen–”

“I don’t want to hear it.” When you see that he had a stern look on his face, you realize that you need to save your daughters from the prank.

“It was a prank. I promise you.” 

“It really was a prank,” your twin daughters are sitting on the same bed, looking as sheepish and as guilty as ever. 

“And it was my idea,” Tsukimi adds. 

“And I didn’t stop her.” Your thumbs trace his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. “Sorry,” 

Suguru sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Fucking prankters. That almost gave me a heart attack.”

“But admit it, we’re good actresses, right?” Asahi asks with a grin and Suguru chuckles before ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, you sure are.”

➜ ┊: COMMISSIONS | KOFI

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[pucksandpower]

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.��

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

[reallyromealone]

May I request Leona K. x male reader? Reader is like Isabella Madrigal from Encanto. He is florokinetic, is beautiful and graceful in every way, and has a sass streak. Maybe just enemies to lovers? Thank you, and take your time!

Title: careful it's carnivorous

Pairing: Leona kingscholar x reader

Fandom: twisted wonderland

Warnings:

Notes:

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

Flowers.

Everywhere.

God Leona hated spring, it was when his least favorite classmate was fully... Himself.

Everyone knew (name), his floral magic was like nothing anyone had seen before and annoyingly perfect as he provided professor Crewel a flower he needed through magic.

"We will be pairing our all in groups of two, the names for each group are on the chart by the door" Crewel said simply as the class ended, each student going to check theit name on the list before leaving "oh you have to be kidding" (name) grumbled as he looked at the chart, his name was right beside the most insufferable person at this schools, Leona Kingscholar. "You better pull your weight!" (Name) seethed and Leona rolled his eyes "why don't you stop telling me what to do?" He drawled out with a catty smile, (name) fuming before storming off.

Leona grumbled as he walked into the greenhouse, (name) already gone to work at collecting things "couldn't you just magic the supplies? Or is your magic just good for making flowers" Leona said mockingly and (name) rolled his eyes "it would be unfair of us to do that, I'm not gonna cheat my way through this" now it was Leona's turn to roll his eyes as he looked at (name) "what are we even doing?"

"Luck potion" an extremely difficult potion, one mistake and they wouldn't even remotely have time to make a new one with its fermenting process.

"You think we can handle that?"

"If you stop lazing around, we absolutely could" (name) was self-assured, as always and Leona scoffed at him "god you're insufferable"

"I can't, I'm sorry" (name) said over the phone, it was known in the Pomefiore dorm that (name) had a complex relationship with his family, especially his grandmother who treated him like a trophy of sorts "I-im sorry, I have too many commitments here"

Another engagement offer.

He wasn't some bargaining chip.

After phone calls, he often found himself sitting in the greenhouse alone, frustration and hurt seeped through him as he let his composure slip, god he was just so done.

Being the eldest of seven, the responsibilities fell on him aways and he knew he made his grandma upset when he chose night ravens college over royal swords academy but he did it because he wanted this school, it had what he wanted.

Leona sighed as he walked through the halls of the academy, doing the patrols before bed when he saw a familiar figure walk towards the greenhouse "oh?" Well tonight was sure interesting to say the least, after all... "Wow, the perfect one breaking a rule? Isn't this funny" (name) turned to see Leona smirk down at him "just... Shut up" (name) whispered as he stood up "you can be cocky and shit but just... Shut up for once" (name) whispered as vines grew around the garden "can't you just leave me alone for once?"

"Wow, wheres the bite you usually have? Come on, pretty boy" Leona taunted and (name) felt his patience wear thin "can you just fuck off!" He yelled as cacti grew around them, the two stunned "you can grow those?"

"Apparently I can" (name)s grandmother always told him he could only grow flowers... "So why are you out here, little Mr. Perfect?" (Name)s mood shifted as he glared at him "oh shut up, you lazy ass!" He spat back and Leona grinned, there was the snarky flower boy he knew and hated "god you can't shit your trap! God if you could use that energy for being a shit maybe use it for our project!"

"And maybe you could stop being so annoying for once and I would actually want to do it!"

"Asshole!"

"Priss!"

And somehow, (name)s foul mood about his grandmother was gone as the two argued down the ball and a tiny cactus with two flowers on it sat in the greenhouse.

The following day, Leona grumbled as he felt vines grab his ankle "hurry up before I drag you!" (Name) said as he strutted down the hall, looking flawless as Leona glared but followed, other students admiring (name) as he passed and bloomed flower crowns on each of their heads.

"(Name)" malleus said softly, staring down (name) as he and Ace were leaving the lab "Malleus" (name) said coldly, leaning back when malleus got closer "absolutely not, we are not doing this again" (name) glared and waved a bunch of flowers at his face as he and Leona went into the lab, locking the door behind them "I know he's insufferable but what was that about?" Leona stretched and (name) rolled his eyes, taking out their supplies from the small lockers they reserved.

"My grandmother tried to have me engaged to him, malleus was all for it but I said no because god if I have to hear about gargoyles one more time..."

"He never shuts up about them, also how is it I manage to show up to things before him!" Leona fired back as they started the project, both talking heatedly about the fae prince.

It was the first time they agreed on something.

After that, their conversations were less hostile and Leona actually found himself enjoying (name)s company.

(Name) walked into the greenhouse later in the afternoon and saw Leona sleeping in a sun beam, rolling his eyes at this (name) grabbed a notebook he forgotten and went to walk out but before he did... "He's sleeping, he won't know" and like that a leaf grew right where the sun was hitting his eyes.

Only Leona was awake and was smirking as (name) clicked the door shut.

After that, working with (name) was far more tolerable, the two actually not going at each other much to everyones surprise and when something strange happens... Rumors start.

"Apparently, you and I are engaged because you blackmailed my family" (name) teased as he looked over the sleeping hybrid "really? I heard we had a passionate makeout session after you confessed to me with a bouquet of roses" Leona said back and the two chuckled at the nonsense that their classmates came up with as they focused on their work-- well (name) did, Leona relaxed in the corner.

Then his phone went off.

Again

And again

"Hello grandma, yes I did hear--- well I am not interested in him! So I'm not marrying him! I don't care if he's a good connection!" (Name) angrily hung up And Leona raised an eyebrow "she sounds like a bitch" Leona said simply and (name) sighed "she isn't the best" (name) mumbled "she wants me to marry someone so she can get up in the social latter... But I would rather eat glass then be with the people she offered me to"

"Who would you want?"

"Someone who isn't pretentious, not going to put me in a box and doesn't make me act perfect"

"Act?"

"You think I want to be like this? Perfect? Unable to make a mistake?"

He just wanted to garden.

And that is when Leona fell.

(Name) was awkward after the project finished, looking over at Leona who was about to fall asleep but took notice of (name)s slight deflation "come on rabbit food" Leona grumbled as he dragged a confused (name) "where are we going?"

"Don't worry about it princess" (name) looked offended at the nickname, he was a prince at least!

And that's when it happened, in a forgotten corner of the school.

A kiss.

"Still think you're an ass"

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 35

part 1 | part 34 | ao3

cw: Fred slander apologies to any Freds

“Okayyy,” Robin says with a shaky laugh as she points at everyone in the booth, going around the circle and introducing them in a single breath. “Amy-Tim-Vickie-Beth-Grant-Jordan-Fred, aaand Nancy. You, um, you already know— Nancy... r-right,” she stammers at Steve’s pointed glare, “so, um. Anyway!”

She grabs him by the shoulders; shoves him front and center like he’s a really cool new toy she brought to class for show-and-tell. “Everyone, this is Steve! Steve, this is—”

“You don’t have to say it again.”

“Oh, thank god.” She slides into the booth with a relieved huff, and Steve scoots in after her.

Despite the awkward tension and that bonkers introduction, everyone at the table does their best to act cool, to say hello and make him feel welcome while they wait for the band to start. Grant slides him the basket of fries, and Jordan compliments his watch, and Vickie asks if he’s coming to the last football game of the season, voice high and shy as she rambles about how ‘Robin’s solo in the halftime show is sooo good, you really should come see it!’ and wow.

Is Robin vain or something? She’s got a crush on a clone of herself.

Steve munches on fries and keeps an eye on the stage, hoping to catch Eddie before the show starts, and the whole thing’s… not so bad, actually. Kind of decent. Almost nice, until Fred fucking Benson ruins it. Steve’s saying something about the basketball team’s chances this season when the little asshole rolls his eyes and leans in to stage-whisper to Nancy loud enough for the whole table to hear, “The Hair? Seriously? What’s he even doing here?”

...Yeah, fuck this. “He’s getting a drink,” Steve says and storms off to the bar.

—

He’s not getting that drink.

Turns out a tenner isn’t a big enough bribe to get a bartender to break the law, so Steve nurses a diet Coke that he pretends is a lager and refuses to even look in the direction of the booth. Fucking Fred. What an asshole.

And what a stupid name, too, like— who looks at a baby and thinks, yep, looks like a Fred to me? Ugh.

Robin, bless her, has the good sense to leave him alone for a couple minute until he cools off, but then the music starts and she comes over to shout ‘stop moping and dance with me!’ and that’s the end of that.

—

The band is fucking awesome.

Steve doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't this: high energy, tight rhythms, a driving beat that makes him want to dance. The bass reverberates through the floor, up his shins and through his chest, and for a second it almost feels like he has his hearing back, like his whole body is a wall of noise, filled with the wail of Eddie’s guitar, the scratchy rasp of his singing voice, and Eddie's��

Eddie’s amazing. Lightning in a bottle as he bounces around the stage, hips moving to the rhythm, fingers blurring over the frets. He looks so fucking hot. Denim vest, silver rings, jeans showing a delicious amount of skin — skin Steve has put his mouth on; tattoos he’s tasted with his tongue.

God, he can’t wait to kiss him. Is probably going to combust if it doesn’t happen tonight. Or like, come in his jeans, more realistically.

They dance and jump and shout along to the covers they recognize, and when Eddie dips backstage to let the band do an instrumental thing, Steve shakes the sweat out of his eyes and heads to the bar for a water.

—

"Mind if I join you?" Nancy asks.

Steve sighs. This is what he gets for wandering off alone. Robin's still by the stage, twirling Vickie around swing-style to a frantic, jazzy drum solo in a move that's actually pretty impressive even if it makes no sense with the music, and Steve resigns himself to his fate and nods at the empty stool beside him.

They sip their drinks in silence — awkward and charged, old hurts hanging between them like static waiting to strike. "Sorry about Fred," she says eventually. "And- and for me, too, I guess."

Steve huffs a laugh. Appreciates the sentiment, even if it doesn't change anything. "It's fine."

She glances over at him, that journalistic focus etched into her face. “How are you?” she asks softly.

Another laugh under his breath. He thinks about answering her honestly, just to entertain himself. Pictures the way her face would fall as he went on and on: "Oh, you know. My mom left me to go ‘rest' in Evanston, like I don’t know that means she went to rehab without saying a goddamn word, and when I called my aunt to yell at her about it, she said some ice cold shit about how I should be happy my mom left me, because now I can keep the money from the lot fees all to myself, and I said ‘what lot fees?’ and it turns out mom had been hiding, like, a lot of money from me while I stressed out about our budget for months. Oh! And also my dad’s dead, but you knew that already. And also I want to hump my neighbor against a brick wall so bad my dick is turning purple. How are you?"

"...Steve?" she tries after a moment.

“I’m good,” he settles on. Gives the bullshit answer because that's all they've ever been to each other, isn't it? Bullshit. "Yeah, I'm good," he tells her, "and you?"

"I'm fine." Her smile is tight, bags under her tired eyes, and then she sighs out long and slow, "Actually, I'm not. Everything's been..."

Steve tries to listen, but he just can't bring himself to care. Doesn't want to hear about whatever drama she's going through with the guy she dumped him for. And then Eddie comes back out on stage, and he's looking out into the crowd, and no fucking way is Steve letting him look over here and think he's cozied up with Nance. No fucking way. Nancy's ruined enough good things for him already.

"Sorry," he cuts her off, not feeling sorry at all as he stands up and walks off without looking back at her.

"Steve?" She calls after him. "Hey- wait!"

Steve makes his way to the front of the crowd.

“Howdy,” Eddie greets the room, stepping up to the mic with a Hollywood-worthy grin. His guitar’s strapped over his back, the neck pointing to the ground, and he looks so good up there. So comfortable and real.

And his outfit's different now. The denim vest is gone, and he's wearing a cut off tank top. The tank top; the one he wore that night, loose around the arms to expose his pretty, painted ribs. Steve looks up at him, transfixed. Like staring straight at the sun.

“How’s everybody doing?”

The group at the stage all whoop and cheer, and Eddie laughs delightedly; thanks them all for coming, thanks the tech and service crews. He introduces the band next, pointing each member out by name and letting them do a little solo, and then he swings his guitar over his shoulder and says, “We got one last song for you tonight!”

More cheering from the crowd. Eddie plants his feet and scans the room, a small, secret smile lighting up his gorgeous face when his eyes land on Steve. Just for a second before he looks away, but that smile stays firm, and Steve knows the next words are meant for him.

“Now, this isn’t our usual style, but uh… a little birdie told me someone here might need to hear this.”

Eddie strums his guitar. The opening notes of Go Your Own Way ring out, sped up and made grittier to fit the band's sound. Steve’s heart is in his throat.

“Good morning, sweetheart," Eddie beams as his bandmates join in, "this one’s for you.”

—

part 36

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[halfbloodprill]

Some smut for Luke, he and the reader are exes, and at one of the bonfire parties, Luke sees the reader flirting with another guy, and he gets jealous, something with enemies to lovers. :)

authors note- hiii thank you for leaving this request i LOVEEE it. i’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it i have been crazy busy 😣 i hope u enjoy <3

smut below!!

Things with luke worked for exactly 8 months. it was great. you had picnics together, you trained together, and you always shared your evenings together at the bonfires. you laughed and loved each other, your energy feeding into the growing flames with embers flitting through the smoke. towards the end, things got rocky. luke became a more angry person. even if he wasn’t outwardly angry, you saw the scowl that had now seemed to permanently rest on his face when he was deep in thought. you never missed the acerbic comments he made about the gods every once in a while that you just chose to ignore for avoidance of sparking another debate about how awful the gods were at being parents. this tension left unhappiness tainting your relationship, so you called it quits. Luke was hesitant and when you finally got all your stuff back, he was angry at your decision to leave him. in complete disbelief. the camp’s golden boy was dumped? how?

it was quite the scandal at camp too. the seemingly happy couple decides to call it quits. people whispered for a few weeks but eventually it all died down. you missed him though and you knew he felt the same way too. you never missed his stares across the fields or during meals, and you never stopped yourself from searching for his familiar face during the day. but you knew this wasn’t healthy anymore. so you wanted to branch out more, and tonight’s celebration would be the perfect time to mingle as every cabin gathered around the bonfire.

you had set your eyes on a tall Ares kid. He seemed nice enough, a bit gruff at times but you were determined. you put your hair up in your best style and put on the slightest hint of makeup ( courtesy of the Aphrodite kids) and made your move. you left your seat from your friends and walked over to sit next to him instead. you settled between him and his sibling. he sat in a perplexed manner until you introduced yourself with your soft voice and extended a hand. He took your hand, engulfing it with his much bigger one, and you got to talking. everyone was engulfed in conversations. no one paid attention, except you could feel a pair of watchful eyes. you look across the flames as the Ares child talks of something Clarisse did recently and you see a pair of eyes, one lacerated with a scar, peering angrily back at you. you held eye contact firmly. you slowly peeled your eyes from luke and back to the ares boy, laughing at his remarks and placing your soft hand on his forearm. your knees were touching and he had a flush on his face that was not from the heat of the dancing flame.

luke felt anger boiling in his stomach. yes you two were over but there is no reason for you to be touching that ares boy like that. you were his. always his. he would show you. He continued to watch as you laughed and thoughtlessly played with his hands. he noticed that somehow you two were getting closer. he jumped from his own seat when he saw that you two were standing up and trying to retreat back to one of the cabins. He stormed over before you two could leave.

“Hey man. I’ll take it from here,” luke intervened.

You both stared at him in pure confusion.

“I’ve got her. We were gonna go somewhere more quiet,” the ares boy replied. you clung to his arm which furthered lukes anger.

“No I wouldn’t advise that. She can come with me now. Right, sweetheart?” luke looked at you and you firmly held his eye contact.

“No, luke. I wanna go with him,” you answered in a firm manner while looking at the ares boy.

“You don’t even know his name. He just wants a quick fuck. Some whore to help him do what his hand can’t do anymore. You’re coming with me. Now.” Luke’s voice was stronger and he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“Hey that’s not true. She can think for herself. this is why she dumped you,” the ares boy replied, now growing tired of Lukes interference. you winced at his unwise words.

“Are you still here? I told you to leave her the fuck alone. You can go now,” lukes eyes flashed with anger. He pulled your wrist and you towards him successfully. He continued to pull you along with him and back towards the cabins.

“Luke where the fuck are you taking me?” You questioned as you stumbled behind him.

“Shut your fucking mouth and just follow. You always have to ask your questions,” luke replied heatedly. so you continued to follow him until you saw a building in front of you.

“Why are we at the Ares cabin?” you questioned.

“Just shut the fuck up and go inside,” luke says annoyed and pulls you inside. he leads you to one of the bunks and pushes you on.

“did you forget you’re mine? i’ll have to remind you,” luke basically growls.

he kisses firmly. his teeth are clashing with yours. his tongue is swirling in your mouth. You can’t keep up with his pace.he’s ducking your tongue and searching every inch of your mouth with his own tongue. he missed the familiarity of your mouth. his hands are firmly in your hair and cradling your head. he can smell your shampoo on you. he’s still sucking at your mouth when he comes up for air, panting and a string of saliva connecting you two.

“missed you so much princess. need to remind you who you belong to,” he says before he started to attack your neck. he’s nipping at your neck, sure to leave marks on the column and side of your throat. you’re whining at the feeling of his teeth on your neck and hips wiggling from the stimulation. he’s kissing up your neck and to your chin and mouth again before he sloppily kisses you again. saliva coating his own mouth and chin from his attacks on your neck. your mind has already gone fuzzy. his hands are finding the button and zipper of your jean shorts and tugging them down as you kick off your shoes. he laughs at the eagerness of your movements and starts to grab the hem of your shirt. he makes eye contact with you in a way that asks if you’re sure that you want this.

of course you do.

he pulls the shirt over your head while you lay back onto your elbows. he’s spreading your legs and stares at your pussy in a tantalizing manner. He groans at the sight of your glistening folds. it’s quiet before you hear him and feel him spit on your cunt. he lays his tongue flat on you and your head is thrown back at the pleasure of his tongue on your heat. he’s attacking your cunt. his tongue goes from fucking inside your tight hole and sucking vigorously at your clit. the amount of pleasure has your grasping at the sheets and pulling at his hair, grinding your hips against his face. he pulls back, chin and mouth glistening before speaking. “Someone’s eager huh? do you think he could’ve fucked you this good?”

you shake your head dumbly and pray he goes back to his ministrations. he leans back down and you can feel the tip of his nose gliding against your wet clit. the pressure alone has you squirming so much he has to put a hand against your stomach to hold you down. before you can cum, he pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you’re ready now, right? you can take me? you’re lucky i even prepped you,” he says with a malicious glint. he pulls his cock out and you can only stare at it. it’s so pretty. so long and veiny. he holds his hand out expectantly before saying “spit.”

you gather spit and spit onto his hand before he rubs his length. he grabs it and measures it over your stomach to see how deep it will be reaching inside you. “It’s been too long without your pussy baby. you’re sure you can still take me?”

you nod quickly because you just are so needy and need him in you so badly. to feel him using and bruising your gummy walls with the head of his cock and every vein you feel so well.”

“I can take it. Swear I can. I’m your good girl still. wanna be good and warm for you please sir,” you start whining and begging in such a pathetic manner. luke coos at you for how pathetic you look. “my baby is so desperate yeah?” he says before he reaches down and cups for face with one hand. he slaps you a few times. “take it slut,” he growls before he plunges in fully without a warning. the air has been pushed from your lungs and you whine loudly at how quick he intruded.

he starts a brutal pace. his hands goes from your cheek to around your throat, the other one pushing down on your stomach.

“you feel me here right? so deep. you’re mine. all mine. gonna put a baby right here. show everyone,” he says while pushing harder to emphasize. your head is fuzzy because of the lack of air, from the pleasure and his words that turn your brain to goo.

“yesss i’m yours sir. i wanna be yours. always. give me a baby. bree- breed me,” you slur out.

“oh shit yeah. i’m gonna breed you. that’s all you are. a toy for me. gonna cum as many times as it takes for you to be round with my baby. fuc-fuckk,” he says as hr throws his head back.

he’s fucking you hard still. and you’re so brain dead until you hear voices growing closer and realize the bonfire has ended and campers are heading to the cabin.

“Luke! they’re coming back, stop!” you exclaim. your face painted in worry.

“Let them. Hope he sees who you belong to. only one who’s gonna come is you. right. now,” he punctuates those words with hard thrusts that have your eyes rolling back. you’re teetering on the edge and finally crash over, but see the light from outside as the cabin door opens.

[m-ayo-o]

fragile

18+ smutty // comforting Satoru wc 400

He's different during this time of year, Satoru’s wall of seemingly unending happiness wavering a fraction.

He’s still himself, just… less, almost as if he doesn’t quite have the energy to maintain those dazzling smiles, the incessant flirting, chatting and babbling.

But it’s just for a few days. You know it’ll pass.

Having a surface level understanding has been enough for the most part– you're always there for him, but he always keeps the details buried deep, feigning a smile and brushing it off like, “it’s nothing.”

But this year it's different. 

He’s been needing contact with you all day– you woke up with him completely wrapped around you, he’s been texting non stop at work, video called twice and hasn’t left your side all evening.

As you're getting into bed he just lays down and rests his head on your lap while you’re reading, his hair falling and flopping so dramatically. You look over his lanky frame hunched up onto the bed to get as close as possible.

Your book is forgotten instantly, setting it down to run your fingers through his platinum locks, gently toying and twiddling. You’re humming softly and basking in his closeness, the moment feeling so pure and intimate.

After lying like this for a while, enjoying each other’s quiet company, you can feel Satoru stirring and fidgeting.

He doesn't look up at you, only keeps his head on your lap, nuzzles into your small hands, and finally speaks.

For hours.

He talks about meeting and getting to know Suguru, their high school life, training, work, missions, the excitement and drama. How they became close, what they used to do together, what his friendship meant to him. Then how everything started unravelling and slipping away, how he left and what that did to him. How much he misses him.

“I loved him,” he finishes with.

You've been hanging on to every word, listening intently to the side of Satoru you seldom hear, unable to prevent your own sobbing as he recalls the most excruciating details of his life to you, his deepest secrets that he's kept safe for so many years.

But with a sigh and a sniffle he seems to be finished.

And oh god, he looks up at you with those tear stained eyes and you swear he's never looked so beautiful.

His resolve seems to break further as your eyes meet, suddenly sitting up and pulling you closer.

Satoru adores your affection, holding hands, stroking your soft skin, and oh man does he love to cuddle, peppering sweet kisses over your pretty face.

But tonight his needy, sloppy kisses are filled with desperation. And you're here for him.

You're here when he's laughing, you're here when he's crying, and you're here when all he needs is to strip you and fuck you till you're both numb.

He clings to you and loves you so hard till you're both whimpering and shaking.

His arms encircle your head, all you can feel is him, his face right next to yours, whispering and sniffling, ‘m better now, thank you, doesn’t hurt anymore.

He's simultaneously volatile and fragile, the storm in his heart threatening to rip through and shatter his whole being.

But he doesn't let it, only sinking deeper into you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, sucking and kissing his way through the pain.

You hold each other all night, waking up to Satoru humming and entering the bedroom after a shower.

“Coffee?” he offers, setting your favourite mug on the bedside table, a little smile on his lips.

With that lilting tone, that faint sparkle in his eyes, you know he's going to be ok.

satoru | m.list

[a-ikuoliver]

Hey…It’s me again how would Katsuki react if you told him “Make me” when he tells you to shut the fuck up? 👀….

w/c: 0.5k warnings: not edited at awllllll, f! reader x bakugou, a lil rough notes: hihihihi thank u for ur ask!! im so sorry it took me so long i was stuck staring at it Forever i love talking ab this stupid man i need him on a level i cannot describe

i imagine this as a sidekick and pro hero dynamic, where you’re a little younger and newer, overly excitable about everything, even early in the mornings or on the late night patrols, constantly trying to make conversation with him, i mean if you’re going to be working by his side for the foreseeable future why not try to be friendly?

it all comes to a climax after working with each other for about three weeks now, three long weeks for bakugou to try and zone you out, to give you clipped answers for you to get the hint to just shut up, three weeks of trying to palm you off to another hero at the agency, unfortunately for him, your quirk worked best alongside him.

you ignored his crass attitude, putting up with people like him was just part of the job for you, something to move past and get on with your patrol, paperwork, or interview, whatever it was you had to do when he was annoying you. and god did he annoy you, waiting until his back was turned for your face to sour, just as hellbent on remaining cheery as he was to be a pain in the ass. he was good for your career, you'd remind yourself after every patrol, after every roll of his eyes, after another snippy comment from the muscular blond. it boosted your popularity signing on with his agency, cracking the top 100 just by announcing it, only gaining popularity and publicity working alongside him. but you're cracking, every time he demands you walk behind him instead of beside, cracks deepening each time he glares at you with those red eyes that feel like they're looking through you, finally shattering one last time when he’d turn around so fast he had to grab your shoulders to stop you running into him.

it was a dark, cold, late night, nearing 4am, towards the end of your patrol, and he was sick of hearing you talk, he was too tired and there wasn’t enough energy drinks in the world to give him the energy to engage with this,“shut. the fuck. up.”

his gloved hands are still holding your shoulders tight, leaving you nowhere else to look but up into his eyes, your own blazing with a new anger at him, too exhausted to filter the words forming on your tongue, “make. me.”

you match his tone, sure your lips are curled in a snarl similar to his own, wondering if killing him right here would be worth exchanging your hero costume for a prison uniform. reaching a hand up, you yank his hand off your shoulder, storming past him, being sure to bump his shoulder with your own, hard, continuing down the alleyway, only making it a few feet before he’d catch up again, pushing you against the closest wall before you could blink.

Brick’s pressed hard to your chest, uncomfortably digging into any exposed skin, his thick arm across the top of your back to pin you in place, smirking lips beside the shell of your hear at your tiny gasp and whimper, “that’s the best idea that’s come out of your mouth.”

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

NICE TO OFFICIALLY MEET YOU ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

warnings: swearing and i think thats just about it!

a/n: writers block hit so hard guys its not even funny apt. anyway hope you enjoy pt 3!! im also using show! clarisse as my description

"LIA!!!!" you screech when you storm into the apartment. when she doesn't reply you get even more pissed. who the hell wakes someone up at 2 am tell them they desperately need to come over to their house now because its an emergency and then proceed to lock them out in the cold for half a goddamn hour.

"lia i swear to god im going to kick your fucking ass back to london if you don't come out here right now," you yell not even caring at this point if you wake anyone up.

"heyyy bestie," lia says coming out of the kitchen with a smile. "so glad you could make it."

from the threatening look on your face, her smile quickly fades. "ok, ok so i know its early-"

"its two-fucking-am lia, you're so very lucky that i don't kill you for this because for some reason, i've grown attached to your need self."

"i'm irreplaceable," she says. "anyway thats not why i called you here, i met some people on the subway the other day who want to meet you."

"you called me here.... to meet fans?" you say in a deathly calm tone. "lia... ITS 2:30 IN THE MORNING COULDN'T THIS WAIT UNTIL I DUNNO LIKE TEN?" you yell launching after her.

"no it couldn't wait! because this is a secret meeting, huhhh? how cool is that?" lia says running away from you into the living room. you follow after her determined to actually kill the little shit but stop short when you see three people standing and watching the ordeal.

two girls and a boy - the boy is jumping up and down with barely restrained excitement, the blonde girl is smiling, and the final girl is just watching with barely restrained boredom.

"y/n, this is grover, clarisse and annabeth." lia motions to the three of them.

you smile as politely as one can at 2:30 am and say hi back. the boy - grover - is still practically buoyant when you look at him, and its generally concerning how much energy he has.

"soo, uh what's up?" clarisse says awkwardly.

"yeah y'know nothing much, just being dragged out of bed at 2 o'clock in the morning to meet some people- by the way does he ever stop jumping?" you point to a still jumping grover. "like dude its wayy to early to be this energetic."

"no. unfortunately he's like this all the time," the brunette - clarrise - says.

"i'm sorry," grover interrupts, "im just such a huge fan of you. and i would've gotten into trouble if i had told my friend we were meeting you so thats why its at such an awful hour."

"your friend doesn't like me?"

"... he's not your biggest fan thats for sure."

☾. ⋅

yn.official

liked by underovergrover, lia.mandel, rileywest maisiehpeters, gracieabrams and 1, 268, 941 others

yn.official life recently...

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lia.mandel girls night was fun!! @/rileywest sad ur leaving again

riley.west im afraid london calls babes i'll see you girls when i get back

yn.official can't wait 🤍

user1 OMGGG SHE'S IN THE STUDIO?? AHHH

user2 what is with the studio pic?!?!?!?

user3 grover (one of percy's friends) liked the post they're totally fucking

user4 ew can you not be so gross?? just leave percy and y/n alone

user5 im dyinggg until my show!! only 3 to go ahhh

user6 THE STUDIO PIC?? AND ON TOP OF THAT THE TOUR ENDING AND PERCYY/N RUMOURS?? my heart can't take this anymore.

☾. ⋅

percyjackson

liked by underovergrover, chris.rodriguez, lukecastellan, clarisse.la.rue, the.annabethchase, lia.mandel, rileywest and 863, 459 others

percyjackson life recently...

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user1 NO NO PLS NOT THE MATCHING CAPTIONS ONE MINUTE WITHIN EACH OTHER ITS SO OBVIOUS

user2 he's so hot it hurts guys

user3 THE POSTS?!?!? AT THE SAME TIME!!!!

underovergrover that was an awful party man just thought i should let you know

percyjackson thanks g man i had absolutely no idea maybe next time don't text me abt how awful it is in front of the hosts

user4 THE MATCHING CAPTIONS AND THEIR FRIEND LIKING THE OTHERS POSTS. MAKE IT MORE OBVIOUS WOULD YOU??

user5 i ship them so hard fr

user6 yeah but there is literally ANOTHER girl in the post

the.annabethchase i wonder what amazing girl is in the second photo...

☾. ⋅

"fucking y/n," percy grumbles. "i cannot do a single thing without her showing up," he scoffs throwing the phone down onto the car seat beside him. he's currently sat outside a prestigious event - for what? who knows - contemplating whether he should go in because he knows for a fact the-person-who-shall-not-be-named is in there.

sighing he picks his phone up again and gets out of the car heading towards the bustling entryway to the building. men and women in fancy dresses and suits line the hallways as and elevators as he makes his way to the rooftop.

grover and luke are already here so his first goal is to find them, avoid being sucked into any weird business deals and do not under any circumstances run into y/n.

the elevator opens and he moves out onto the rooftop, the cool breeze brushing his face, the smell of alcohol and perfume fills the air. its almost peaceful as he makes his way to the edge of building leaning on the railing to take in the view.

"quiet a view isn't it?" a voice comes from beside him.

aw fuck.

he spins around and comes face to face with the one person he was determined to avoid.

"nice to officially meet you percy jackson," you say holding out your hand.

he takes it to be polite, "right back at you y/n l/n."

☾. ⋅

☾. ⋅

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you]

@lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle,

@lara20aral, @cxp1d, @user-3113s-blog, @pleasingregulus,

@avihashearts4lix, @inlovewithmorales, @brokecollegebitch, @user-3113s-blog, @officiallyalbino

@gloryhaddock [if you want to be added just let me know!]

[headingalaxys-spicy]

hello 👋 i really love your writing 😖 i was wondering if you could write yandere alphas nordic's x darling omega who has a very high libido? 😏 thank you ❤😄

Well this is one way to start the week enjoy anon :)

Warning! This is a spicy post, so turn away now if this isn't for you!

Denmark 🇩🇰 

Finally, there is someone who can keep up with him in the bedroom. Also, destroy him. 

In order to slow you down, he does have you take a shot of Akvavit (snaps) every hour or half hour (more depending on how rough you are riding him or sucking his soul out). This, however, does backfire often because you’ll be all fired up again & you’ll want to peg him, but considering he’s bossy, he will ‘guide’ you on how to do it properly. 

Denmark even approached Japan with: “Hey! I need help making a machine that can slow Y/N in bed?” 

The dude has even tried to design a piece of furniture that can hold you in place so he doesn’t have to be bottom all the time, but he also hopes your libido would give out due to you having to contort your body so much. 

He hates admitting that he needs a break from you. The fastest he’s ever recovered was 23 hours. The longest was 4 m

When he’s not as patient, he has cuffs on the wall, tables, or bathroom counters where he’ll keep you there so he can rail you without getting injured by you thrusting back or squeezing him for all he’s got. He loves that you can beat him in bed; just intimidated is all. 

Finland 🇫🇮 

He needs some time to adjust to your abundance of energy. As you pound into him ruthlessly, Tino just grins, bears it, and moans. 

What the heck else can he do? He praises you a lot as well. 

“Y/N you’re doing great ah! But maybe can you slow down?!” He’s silently praying to god you’re going to get tired. 

Tino will want to do a lot of foreplay to start to satisfy some tension & just maybe make you not as rough and needy. (He does have a lot of costumes + props) 

On occasion, he does like to tell bad jokes that will kill the mood if you’ve milked him for all he’s got seed-wise. Or if he’s feeling up to the challenge, he’ll take meds that will help him last longer so he can attempt to keep up with you. 

Tends to like doing it in or near a sauna since it reduces your libido a little & relaxes you. Tino is able to keep his sweaty palm on your waist so that you won’t ride him like he’s a dead horse. (Also just makes getting to the aftercare a smoother transition) 

Iceland 🇮🇸 

Uhhhh like isn’t he a teenager still (he’s an adult I think????) ? Also don’t come for me but I also don’t know his human name I haven’t been able to find one on the hetalia Wikis so like yeah . 

Mans just throws a pillow at you and fucking dips. 

I'm not comfortable writing spicy stuff for him. 

Norway 🇳🇴 

Lukas can take your energy like a stoic in the eye of a storm. He can also appreciate the fact that, being a person with the gift of magical abilities, he has his own unique ways of subduing you. He utilizes his ties with his far friends to assist him in taking away some of your sexual energy and giving it to him so he can keep up. 

Lukas has toyed with different potions to slow your libido down. Some had no effect. Others made his nights with you longer and ran him absolutely rugged. He’d be out of commission for a few weeks at times. The fastest he’s able to recover is 2-3 days at the fastest but nothing sooner than that. 

Lukas thinks it a fun challenge to rail you & he likes to mysteriously whisper in your ear: 

“You’re quite the challenge, Y/N, I like that.” 

He tends to prefer you bouncing up and down on him so he can gauge how much longer he has to last while you're riding him, as your latest wave of thrusting can be particularly harsh. He may not say much else to you but grunt in pleasure and moan. He also likes to bite down on his lips and keep it to a minimum when he’s failing to keep up with you and edging towards passing out. 

Sweden

From no words at all to talking all night long like he was at a never-ending ball, you are a type of blessing he didn’t know he needed. 

The fact that you’ll slam him to the floor, the table, cabinets, bookcases, telephone booths, you name it; this tall 5’11 (182 cm) tall man is at your mercy and enjoys it. 

Berwald practically sings your praises as if he trained himself all his life to be a tenor for the Royal Swedish Opera. “Oh yes! Y/N! Y/N! Please don’t stop!” Will be among his symphony for the night. He does communicate with you when you’re hurting his junk, being too rough, or thrusting too quickly.

The two of you do argue or pull sticks over who's going to be at the bottom for that session. 

Like Denmark, he does like to have specialized furniture that he can use to wear you out & your high-ass libido. 

He can recover the quickest from having sex with you give him 12 hours and a cup of coffee, and he’s all good to go again. Only once did you manage to keep him out of commission for 4 months. 

[nekomacheercaptain]

hello again! This is my second contribution to @onepiece-blorboexchange for @some-piece (Law is so fine, I couldn't help myself when he was on your list). Still wishing you the best of times and happy holidays!

You and Law find yourselves bickering while struggling to see past anything in the snowstorm you’ve managed to walk into when running from marines, and thank god you stumble across an abandoned cabin!

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x gn! reader

Word count: 1,8K

Content: a little bickering, forced proximity, insinuated slow burn, mutual pining, touch-starved Law, kissing

“If you didn’t get cuffed we would’ve gotten out of-,” your hands shook frustrated at the snow shooting past you and scratching your face, “THIS!”.

Sending a scowl over his shoulders, the doctor ignored your complaining yet again, but muttered something under his breath.

‘We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t lost the keys…’

“What was that, Trafalgar?” your voice was pointed, yet silly through your frustration, and he rolled his eyes. Fuck. As if the sea prism stone hadn’t drained all of his energy already, he couldn’t keep up with your usual bickering while caught in a snowstorm.

“Let’s find a place to rest, y/n-ya,”

His exasperated sigh got lost in the storm, but you noticed how his shoulders were hanging low and his knees struggled to keep his weight, a strike of shame rushing through you. You had known him long enough to realize what his behavior meant, especially when he was tired. Too busy wallowing in your own puddle of misery the realization of the cuffs effect had slipped your mind, neglecting to see your captain’s struggles. Did he want you to realize? Absolutely not. Did you know this? Yes.

Zipping your mouth shut was the only form of relief you could bring the exhausted doctor while searching for any kind of refuge from the snowstorm. And like a guardian from above kept watch over you, a forest came to view, meaning you would get away from the aggressive snow cutting your skin and blinding your vision. Cutting the distance made a silhouette in front of the forest form clearer with each heavy step in the snow, a small sense of hope burning in your chest.

“Law, look! That looks like a cabin!”

Law wanted to believe your enthusiasm. However, his bad luck and constant defeats brought him to face reality in dire situations; so he remained silent, not willing to rip away your joy. 

A small ignition of your shared hope ran through him when the silhouette became clearer the closer you got and a rare smile, though painted with exhaustion, decorated his lips when you ran towards the dark. A smile that went unnoticed by you.

“Law, we’re saved! It is a cabin!” you exclaimed while jumping in the snow, all exhaustion seeming to leave your body.. 

After reaching the cabin the both of you came to the same conclusion; it was abandoned. Meaning the cold and frost were its only inhabitant, lingering in the walls. Nevertheless, it kept the two of you safe from the snowstorm outside and provided shelter for the night, meaning you were lucky to reach the cabin before it became too dark.

“I’ll check if there are any bedrooms and bathrooms, okay? Will you see if there’s a kitchen?” you asked your captain who was staring out of the window, like he was looking for someone. With a small nod of his head you turned on your feet and inspected the cabin, which you found out had a traditional bathroom consisting of a hole into the ground for a toilet, and a tiny bedroom but no bed, only a worn out couch.

Going back to the hallway you came from, you noticed Law missing from the window, before he called you from what you assumed was the kitchen. There was no sink visible, only an oven and cupboards. The two of you barely fit in the kitchen together due to the tight space. 

“There’s food in the cupboards,” he muttered, and you were glad his hand had been cuffed at his front and not back allowing him to use his hands. His hands that had turned a slightly different shade from before, and you realized he hadn’t worn any gloves.

“Oh fuck, Law, are you okay?” you grabbed his hands instinctively with yours and covered them, feeling his cold fingers shake under your woolen touch, before he pulled away with a shocked grimace, eyes blown wider than usual.

“What the hell? I have to warm them for you before your fingers fall off!” and he hit his head against the cupboards in a new attempt to back away when you went to grab them again, causing you to give him an irritated and confused look.

“I’m fine,” his voice was low as he grumbled out his protest, but you pulled off your own gloves before grabbing his hands, forcing the warm cloth onto him, his face turning to the wall.

“I’m no doctor, Law, but even I know when fingers are in danger,” you retorted, finally satisfied when the gloves covered his almost frostbitten hands, not realizing you held onto him.

“Alright, there, all good! Now, what would you do if you were to lose them?” 

A withdrawal of his hands let you know he bore no appreciation for smalltalk, but he still left you with a tiny token of appreciation. Alas, a big one coming from him.

“Thanks…” 

His voice barely lingered in the room before the cold enveloped your body like a stiff blanket, your teeth involuntarily chattering as you hugged yourself for warmth, seeing your captain discreetly copying your action. Which led to a… less than bright idea that could end in your downfall. A downfall your body didn’t care to think about at the moment.

With shaky hands you reached for the arm of his jacket, his head snapping to face you, the small kitchen providing you with nothing short of intimacy. For a small moment your eyes locked and he wore the same shock like earlier, before his eyes flickered to look down at your hands grasping his jacket, eyebrows knitting together.

“What are you doing?”

Maybe it was a bad idea, but neither of you gained anything by keeping your body heat separate, so how wrong could it be to ask? His muscles tensing beneath your grasp slipped your attention when you absentmindedly tightened your hold before letting your question slip past your lips with a noticeable shiver from the cold.

“Shouldn’t we, uhm, be closer? To warm each other?”

Your question was unexpected, causing his breath to freeze at the suggestion. You knew very well the doctor only allowed physical affection from his first mate, his softness and fur unmatched by anyone. What you didn’t know was the feelings your captain harbored for you. Feelings he wanted to neglect and forget, to vanish off the face of the earth. But how could he?

His heart pumped wildly when he looked at you, the pair of eyes he had grown scared to gaze into begging him for closeness. And in a moment of weakness that shook you both he pulled you close with his arms thrown over your head, planting your face in his neck. For a few seconds your arms stayed captured between your chests, his unexpected gesture throwing you off, but when he squeezed you harder you realized this was something you both craved. A sigh escaped his lips and he melted into your body when your hands reached his back to embrace him as well. You stood there for a while, both of you drinking in the warmth exuding from each other.

“Thank you…”  Law whispered into your ear while hugging you tighter, letting himself be selfish this once. To let himself engulf in your affection and warmth, feeling his mind calming down. You were so safe.

Law was quiet, but tensed when he noticed your hands fidgeting behind his back, until you eventually pulled them back to rest them between your bodies. Your gloves. You must’ve been freezing. Your captain’s hold around you loosened, and you took it as a hint that he wanted to disconnect entirely, causing the chain of his cuffs to stop at your neck as you pulled away. Your faces centimeters apart, a shy blush dusting his cheeks as he looked at you with widened eyes and mouth parted in a small gasp, mirroring you.

His chest pushed against yours in an increasingly faster manner while his eyes flickered down to your lips before locking with yours again. And by reflex you did the same, seeing a small bob of his adam’s apple before his gloved hands captured your face, cupping your cheeks so tenderly you didn’t believe he was the same Surgeon of Death feared across the seas.

“Y/n-ya…” and your blood pumped loudly in your ears at his whisper, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at you with a fierce blush across his cheeks. And he was so unfairly beautiful, just mere centimeters in front of you. A distance you boldly chose to close, leaning in while grasping the collar of his jacket to pull him towards you, closing your eyes as your lips finally met. And how they belonged together.

With lips melting together, content sighs escaped you both while drinking in the warmth and butterflies soaring through your bodies. But just as fast the heat rose inside of you, coldness left you chasing his lips in the air.

“Are you sure this is okay?” such a silly question.

With an amused smile you ignored him by pulling at his collar once more, enveloping his warm, velvety lips in a loving embrace with your own. His shoulders fell under your touch with a small sigh, his lips seeking every ounce of love you had to offer while his heart wanted to burst out of his chest at the sudden turn of events. 

The kiss deepened as Law pressed himself tighter against you, cupping your face like he was trying to hold on to a fantasy he never wanted to stop. Sighs, groans and breaths were exchanged and became part of the howling wind brushing past the window as you finally felt yourselves get warm. But your hands.

And when you both realized how neither of you had taken a breath for too long, your lips disconnected as you both gasped for air, looking just as flustered and shy as the other.

“Are your - uhm - do you need your gloves back?”

He had noticed your hands clinging to his collar, feeling you shake against him. And his question had you look frantically at your hands, realizing how cold you actually were.

“Oh! No, I should have another pair in my jacket!” you blurted out wanting to facepalm yourself for not realizing sooner, your hands digging down into your pockets before shooting back up. 

A small clattering sound startled you both, the both of you naturally looking at the ground for the cause of the sudden noise. Keys?

“Y/n-ya, what was that?” Law’s limited reach didn’t allow him a satisfying view, whereas your eyes widened at the object before lifting the chain off of you to grab the keys.

Keys you thought you had lost hours ago….

[atthedugouts]

Snickers

Mickey walked into the Kash and Grab, he hasn’t been back here since he quit but his bitch of a wife demanded that she needed something to drink and this was the closest store.

“Can I have candy?” Yevgeny asks.

“No,” Mickey responds bluntly. “Help your mom pick something from the fridge.”

“OK!” Yevgeny happily obeyed and joined his mom who was browsing the selection of sodas and energy drinks. Mickey turns to the pimple infected kid that now stands at the registar that Ian once worked.

“Hey, is the boss lady around?” Mickey asks.

“She’s out back yelling at some guy,” the kid said pointing in the direction of the back door.

Mickey was surprised that he felt a little disappointed. He actually wanted to catch up with Linda. Would she be surprised that he was doing well, that he wasn’t in jail?

“Mickey?” Mickey turns to see Kash standing at the back of the store where the kid pointed.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey says. “Last I heard you were skipping town in a dress. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“He’s leaving,” Linda says, giving her former husband a glare that even made Mickey nervous.

“Just let me see them,” Kash begs his wife.

“No, you are no longer their father. You made that choice,” Linda says before storming out the store. “If he doesn’t leave, feel free to use the gun under the counter.” Linda tells her current employee as she lets the door close behind her.

Svetlana comes up and places a diet coke on the counter.

“Who’s this?” she asks Mickey, eager to hear the gossip. 

“Don’t worry about it, pay for your drink and let’s get the fuck outta here,” Mickey tells his wife.

“And chocolate,” Yevgeny says, placing a Snickers next to his mom’s soda.

“No Yev, I already said no candy,” Mickey says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is this, uh, do you have a family?” Kash asks.

“You know my husband?” Svetlana asks.

“For the love of god can you please scan the fucking can?” Mickey yells at the teen employee.

“$1.50,” the teen tells him.

“Yeah, he used to rob this store, last I saw of him was when the cops were taking him away to Juvie,” Kash says. “Never thought he would grow up to be a family man.”

“Svet don’t talk to him,” Mickey tells Svetlana.

“I can talk to whoever I want,” she informs him.

“Yeah, keep the kid out of arms reach of him though,” Mickey says. “This man abandoned his family because he likes to fondle little boys.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Kash says sternly.

“Oh it wasn’t?” Mickey says, raising his eyebrows. “Do you think Ian would back that up?”

“This pervert touch Ian when he was a kid?” Svetlana asks. She was also ready to fight anyone that hurts children.

“Yeah and then he shot me and I ended up in Juvie and this kid fucker is still walking free,” Mickey says. “Make that make sense.”

“You still talk to Ian?” Kash asks.

“I ain’t talking to you,” Mickey tells Kash. “Then when I was in Juvie Ian said he dressed up as a Muslum woman and skipped town while his wife was pregnant with their third kid.”

“Can you give me Ian’s number? I would like to catch up with him,” Kash asks.

“No,” both  Mickey and Svetlana shout.

“Ian’s at work,” Yevgeny says.

“Work?” Kash asks.

“Don’t talk to my son,” Svetlana threatens.

“He’s an EMT so he knows a lot of ways to kill ya that look like an accident,” Mickey says. Mickey doesn’t know if that’s actually true but it sounds plausible. “Hey little man, you still want that Snickers?”

“Yes!” Yevgeny shouts with glee.

Mickey grabs the chocolate bar from the counter without paying and hands it to his son.

“Thank you dad!”

“You’re welcome, let’s go,” Mickey flips Kash off and exits the store with his family.

The teen leaves the counter and turns to Kash.

“If you see Linda can you tell her I quit? I don't think my mom would like me to work at a place with a pedophile,” he says before making his own exit.

Kash then stands alone in a store he once owned, with no family and the realization that Mickey fucking Milkovich somehow got his life together before he did.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/757443736481497088

normally i'm not in an x reader mood but this just screams evanstan going on their weekly early morning run (which you know one of them is grumbling about lol), and you just blearily waking up to them as they're getting home, going down the stairs to join them in preparing breakfast 😍 it's bacon and waffles and coffee with a side of sweet kisses on your cheeks from both of 'em before you all dig in :)

(they're always a little touchy-feely after their run, excess energy still thrumming under their veins... so the look in their eyes after you finish suggest they also want a little dessert, hmmm maybe... upstairs?)

related to this evanstan/stucky pairing of them both in black hoodies

Oooh, yes, that is very much the vibes they're giving off. Fresh off their run and making breakfast together. Good thoughts! We can explore that more, definitely 👀

And, also, because you didn't specify one way or the other, this is a gender neutral reader drabble.

This isn't smut, it ended up being all fluff because that's what my fingers typed, but there are plenty of innuendos throughout, so... this is still very adult!

You stumble blearily into the entryway of the airy kitchen after waking up on your own in your huge bed with enough mattress and blankets for three, dangerously warm and comfortable. You could have easily drifted right back off, but you didn't because something pulled you to your feet--maybe having enough sleep, maybe the sun peaking through the curtains, maybe a tiny noisy downstairs, maybe the longing for your two missing lovers, who's to say? Either way, you tragically left your bed and stepped into a pair of loose shorts and shirt. It's not chilly in the house, but it's not overly hot like it tends to get with two huge fucking superhero-sized men sharing your bed.

Awake and out of bed, descending the stairs, still half-alseep, only happened on autopilot and with as tight of a grip on the handrailing as you could manage.

But, you are pleased you pulled yourself from bed when you reach the bottom of the stairwell because it's there that you find Chris and Seb. The two of them are back from their run already.

Their morning run because, well, they're moviestars and what are moviestars in this perfection-obsessive world without their crazy fitness routines and outrageously restrictive diets.

Fittness with cardio in the morning and another workout in the afternoon or evening (sometimes both, depending on what they're preparing for). That later workout probably with even more cardio thrown in as if it's just a fun bonus. You shake your head and rub the sleep from your eyes as you think about it. Watching them stick to their routines and diets makes you exhausted, so you really can't imagine how they do it and stay sane. Chris, between the two of them, seems to enjoy it more, but... your eyes trace his shoulders, broad as ever, and drop to his waist, still so trim--not Captain America tiny, but close--his body clings to muscle so easily. Sebastian, thank God, is more human when it comes to working out (not when it comes to beauty, though, Jesus). He bulks up and shaves down and does all this crazy shit, but it takes him more effort than Chris. Chris maintains like it's nothing; Sebastian's determination and conviction can't be beaten.

Fitness aside, you're reminded of your train of thought about diets by noting how Chris is manning the oven, one of his big paws wrapped around the handle of a sizzling pan. Your nose and ears tell you that it's bacon sizzling away in the pan, cooking up a storm. Real bacon, too, not even the turkey or the strange mushroom-replacement kind Chris has taken a liking to. It must be a special occasion for real bacon.

And, how funny, you think, for someone who's pescatarian to be cooking something he won't join you and Seb in eating, but, hey, he's just sweet like that.

Sebastian, in stark contrast, is zipping around, gathering one thing from the cabinet at a time only to dump it into a bowl, stir for a minute, then putting whatever he grabbed back and grabbing another. Why he doesn't get everything out first, then dump, stir it all together, then put everything away..? you don't know. He's a little scatter brained when it comes to cooking, but that's sweet, too. More and more every day, you're more convinced that he is a cat like Chris says. And, at that, a cat that Chris and you have done your best to domesticate, convincing Mr. New York City that he can't live on either take-out or pre-prepped every-macro-perfect ready meals from a nutritionist, he should learn to slap together more than the most basic sandwiches and easy meals.

Now, you watch Sebastian dump a whole heaping, heaping scoop of protein powder into his bowl. It goes flying everywhere, making a cloud that has him covertly trying not to cough as he accidentally inhales a lungful. It makes you chuckle, your heart squeezing in your chest.

What a dummy.

Your slightly-consealed laughter and the sound of you entering their atmosphere, padding bare foot into the kitchen, announces your presence. Both of their heads turn to you. They're like a pair of meercats, staring at you, their eyes equally alight with excitement to see you. As if they haven't been seeing you all day every week--as if they didn't just roll out of your bed this morning.

They're sweet.

"Hey!"

"'Eyy!"

Their voices blend together pleasantly, hitting your ears and sending a corresponding wave of affection through you at the recognition of them. Together. Both of them yours.

They're so good together.

You're all so good together.

"Good mornin'," you reply to them both, coming closer, drawn in by their gravity and the familiar warmth the kitchen exudes without even trying.

"We saved you a cup of joe," Chris teases, his tone all rumbling and low as he tips his chin in the direction of a steaming mug of the good stuff on the counter, next to the coffee maker still with a little left in the pot--it won't be there for long, Sebastian's sure to have another cup, then, maybe, make a whole 'nother round of the stuff. Chris' voice is still morning-rough despite having been up for an hour, maybe more, already with their run behind him and breakfast well on the way. Apparently, Seb and him haven't talked much during their run. That, or, all the heavy breathing has done him in, tearing his throat up.

"Mmm," you hum, stifling back a yawn, shaking off your tiredness still. "Thanks," you retort, "but I'm not sure I want any of Joe." Even as you say it, you're already snagging the mug he tipped his head toward. The coffee they made and sweetened for you, not just accidentally saved.

They're so, so sweet.

"What about some Sebastian?" Seb charmingly jumps in from the other side of the kitchen where he's pulling a water bottle and gallon of milk out from the fridge. He has a moment of confusion, written across his handsome, expressive face, before ultimately making the right decision and setting down the milk next to his bowl and drinking from his water bottle, not the other way around by accident.

You laugh at him, his cuteness, and at his joke.

"Or Chris?" Chris throws his hat in the ring, too, chuckling while he flips the bacon, letting it hizz and crackle.

And suddenly, they're your bookends. Chris, on your left, and Sebastian on your right. Sweaty, sweaty bookends that smell, yeahh, like they've been on a run. Somehow, though, you don't mind.

Rather than pushing them away with faux-complaints of their stench, you sigh, relaxing into their body heat, letting their shoulders and hands prop you up for the moment. And, of course, Seb gets a kiss on the cheek from you for yes and-ing your bit, and before Chris can make a good-natured fuss of the unfair treatment, one for him, too. Both cheek kisses and smacking and a little silly. It's a good morning, light and sweet.

Chris leans back into you when your lips meet his cheek, nearly sending all you toppling onto the kitchen tiles with his weight shift. Sebastian makes a goofy sound, thrown off and swaying on his feet, unbalanced. You're all a murmur of laughs then. Your coffee sloshes happily in your mug, sending up another lazy spiral of steam.

"Good run?" You ask, turning your head again to nose Sebastian's high cheekbone. His skin is still flushed with heat from their morning exercise. It's not cold enough out for that pretty color to be a result of a chill. Nah, it's all good, old-fashioned exertion.

"As good of a run as a run could be, I guess." Seb grumbles, mostly talking to himself. He's much less of a morning person than Chris. Often, Chris trying to wake Sebastian up to go on a run wakes you up incidentally because he sleeps like the. dead. All of those years in New York City and needing to drown out the constant noise has him trained well.

"And what do you have to say to that, Mr. Evans?" You turn back to the aformented man, putting on your best gossip-y reporter voice. If you weren't holding your coffee, you'd pretend to hold a microphone up to his mouth.

"He's full of it," Chris conspires with you, "it was the best fucking run."

"Oh? How so?" You ask in jest, "did you see a particularly pretty tree while pounding the pavement, lover boy?"

"Nope," Sebastian answers for him, his smile audible. As he talks, his hand rubs over your shoulders. Chris' hand, however, stays heavy on the small of your back. "It's still too early for the trees to start changing."

"They can still be pretty without changing colors!" Chris insists, cosplaying as the Lorax this morning and every morning, apparently.

"Uh-huh," you humor them both, playing into Seb's joke and teasing Chris, "you talk our ears off enough, we know. We know. Trees a very pretty."

"Hey, watch it," Chris slips from your hold, but not before lifting his hand to drag his fingers across the back of Sebastian's hand on your shoulders, always wanting to touch. "Do you want bacon or not? 'Cause I don't have to cook it."

Sebastian moans at the mention of food before you can retort about being perfectly capable of fending for yourself, unlike some people in this relationship.

"I'll take that as a yes," Chris wiggles his eyebrows, laughing some more--bright and beautiful.

"Help me with the pancakes?" Sebastian asks when it's clear that Chris is actually back to cooking despite both of you pouting at his big, broad back for not getting in some more vertical kitchen cuddle time.

"Sure," you seal the deal with another kiss, this time leaning in to press your lips together, not just on the cheek again. He tastes like coffee and creamer. "What else do they need?"

"Just some milk, I think?" Seb tells you, he scratches his head, "yeah, I'm pretty sure everything else is in there already."

You peer into his bowl, piled with ingredients, and it seems that he's right. Shocking.

From the stove, Chris corrects, "he just doesn't want to mix it by hand himself."

"My arms are tiiiiired," Sebastian does his best innocent-kitten face, aiming it your way.

That needs to be illegal, you swear. He could get away with murder, looking like that. But... it can't save him from a little bit more teasing. Not this morning. "From running?" You laugh.

Chris snorts, "what else?"

"I dunno," you pick up the bowl, cradling it in one arm and whipping the spatula around the bowl. You're indulging his antics because... he's cute. Also, it is kind of satisfying to whip it all up together, seeing everything come together. "I don't know what you two do when I'm not awake."

"Did you--" Chris turns all the way around from where he's tending another round of bacon, pointing his fork at you "--just insinuate that we get handsy on our runs."

You shrug, knowing a smirk is pulling itself onto your lips despite trying to be innocent yourself. You're not as good of an actor as either of them (unsurprising, because, hello, they're fantastic). "I just said I don't know," you reply smartly, "and who's to say there aren't pre- or post-run handjobs between the two of you because, from my point of view, workouts really don't seem to drain your energy all that much. If, anything, they seem to get you going."

Chris is grinning wickedly at you, one of his eyebrows raising and his lips falling open, thinking of what to say--probably coming up with the most inappropriate joke he can, just because he can and he really is a dorky, filthy Boston boy at heart.

"Don't burn anything, bacon boy," you cut him off before he has the chance.

Sebastian, recovering from his own background sputtering--embarrassed by the notion of running being some weird kind of aphrodisiac or by the idea of hurting himself by jerking Chis off so enthusiastically--cuts in before thinking better of it, just opening his mouth and letting the words fall out, "it would take way more than just a few handies to make my arms sore."

You choke on a laugh, nearly doing a full-on spit-take of your coffee, narrowly not getting it everywhere.

When you recover, you eye him up and down, asking, "oh? Really?"

Chris is also full of giggles, "yeah," he seconds you, throwing the words over his shoulder, attending to the bacon, "care to share what would make you sore?"

"Yeah," stepping closer back toward Sebastian as you whip and beat the pancake batter, you tilt your head to the side, "'cause, as far as I know, we don't have any plans today, so..."

Chris finishes your thought, "well, I think we have plans now."

Pinned beneath your interested stare, Sebastian doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't need to. His body is saying enough for him--his mouth hanging open, his face is even pinker, his hands rising up to cover his mouth with just the slightest thrilled tremble to them. The closest to words he gets is a whimpery little noise. Yeah. You've got plans.

[catboy-artist]

I KNEW IT. I KNEW THE VOLCANIC WEATHER WOULD CAUSE ISSUES FOR DAINIX (credit to that other guy for posting the theory in the comments)

FALST SHOWING CONCERN FOR DAINIX IS??? This comment from him implies that Dainix was getting worse offscreen and Falst was trying to figure out what was wrong

And Erin you are being a massive prick right now, even for you this is a bit much. Like damn, you actually managed to annoy Kendal enough to make him visibly express it. That's an achievement(?).

...Fuck now I have to wait for Wednesday. AAAAAAAA

Anyway speculation under the cut

Apparently an excess in fire related energy can cause Dainix's firefloof form to come out involuntarily. That seems like the kind of thing that would have been really nice to know earlier. Thanks Erin, truly a victory for floof gang. I'm wondering just how much fire energy is in the area, considering Dainix lives in a literal volcanic desert and that wasn't enough to make him spontaneously combust. Or maybe it's god nonsense that's a one-off incident.

It doesn't really matter right now. I have to wonder how they're going to fix this. I can see turning back being an option (since the voyage happened so quickly), but I think Erin might stubbornly try to push through the storm anyway.

...Oh no. If it's Dainix's own powers that are the issue. He's going to end up overboard by jumping there himself, isn't he. That seems perfectly in-character for him, his powers are still very scary for him and I don't think he would want the ship to burn down because of him. Maybe Kendal will go after him since he only needs to breathe when he's hurt.

Even if that's not what happens, I still have a feeling that there's a few gut punches coming our way, as always

[training4theapocalypse]

A Nest of Vipers (Cormac McLaggen x Original Female Character - Slytherin)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings / Tags: Smut, Secret Relationship

Summary: Una Montague wouldn't be caught dead dating a Gryffindor. Luckily for her, the feeling was mutual as far as Cormac McLaggen was concerned.

A/N: Dear god, please forgive me for what I wrote while ovulating. First time writing an OFC but I think it's still as hot as reader-insert. OFC and McLaggen are both 18. Also I just want to say that I fucking hate JK Rowling and am gleefully bastardising her work.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, (let me know if you want removed/changed at any point btw!)

Chapter 1: Smudge

The Slytherin common door shut with a thundering echo. Una Montague looked up from her Astronomy homework and locked eyes with Meredith Prewett. Uh-oh.

Professor McGonagall had asked Sabine to stay behind after Transfiguration that day and judging by the way her high heels stomped across the stone as she stormed towards the group of sixth-years sitting by the fire, it had not gone well.

“You’re in my seat,” said Sabine Zabini with a cutting glare. 

Pansy Parkinson sprang up without argument. “Sorry Sabine. Let’s go,” she added to her friends who hastily packed up their things and made themselves scarce.

Una and Meredith rushed over from the little alcove at the lake window as Sabine sank into the onyx wing-backed chair with a woeful groan.

“Sab, are you okay?” fawned Meredith, perching on the arm of Sabine’s chair. 

“If I ever see that old hag again, it’ll be too soon,” she hissed. 

Una sat down on the hard marble table in front of them. “What did she want?” she asked. When McGonagall had asked her to stay behind, Sabine had told Una to go on without her, and so had she made her way down to the dungeons and found Meredith studying in the common room.

“She told me if I want to sit my Transfiguration N.E.W.T., I’d have to start taking remedial Transfiguration lessons with her.”

“No!” gasped Meredith. Una didn’t say anything. She knew from sitting beside Sabine all throughout the previous year that she was lucky to have even made it to seventh-year Transfiguration. But the first few weeks of term had made it apparent that she was not keeping up with the curriculum. 

“Well, of course, I told her where she could stick her remedial Transfiguration.”

“You didn’t!” said Meredith. Sabine caught Una’s eyes before rolling hers.

“Of course, I didn’t, Meredith. No, I thanked her very much for the kind offer but told her I’m withdrawing from the class. Obviously.”

“Oh, Sab,” Una groaned. “You should have just done a few extra lessons with her.”

“Ugh, as if.”

“Who am I going to make fun of her hideous hat with now?” Una smirked, trying to hide her excitement and Sabine returned it. There was one person in Transfiguration who didn’t have a partner and Una was already making silent plans to sit next to him.

Cormac McLaggen. Tall, stupidly beautiful, beautifully stupid Cormac McLaggen. God, she wanted him. But Slytherins and Gryffindors barely spoke to each other here unless completely necessary in lessons. Both houses liked to think they were the others’ opposite. But Una knew that they were simply two sides of the same coin. 

Cormac barely even looked at Una. And for some reason that made Una want him more. 

When she, Sabine and Meredith walked down the corridor arm-in-arm, boys - even the Gryffindors - couldn’t help but stare. Slack-jawed, awestruck, terrified by the trio’s powerful feminine energy. But not Cormac. He was head and shoulders taller than the three of them so he didn’t even need to avert his gaze - he just simply looked over them as if they weren’t there.

Sabine and Meredith (but especially Sabine) would be horrified if they knew about Una’s crush. Sure, he was good looking but it would be social suicide to date a Gryffindor. Even one as well-connected as him - apparently his Uncle was extremely high-up in the Ministry.

Una had a stupid habit of wanting what she couldn’t have. And, fuck, she was desperate to have him. Even just once. Just to find out what he’d be like. He was so big and broad and downright intimidating. But Una was sure she could have him whimpering, begging for her-

“Hello? Earth to Head Girl?” Sabine and Meredith looked at her expectantly. Una blinked a few times and shook her head.

“Sorry - I was thinking about… Transfiguration. What were you saying?”

“Who are you going to sit beside tomorrow?” asked Meredith.

“Ugh, I don’t know.” Una made a show of rolling her eyes. “I’ll probably just sit at the back by myself. I’ll get a lot more work done without you there,” she teased Sabine.

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes,” said Sabine, pulling her long, black braids over her shoulder. “Whatever are you going to do without me leading you astray?”

It wasn’t so much a question of what, thought Una, but who.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bag landed on Cormac McLaggen’s desk with a thud and he looked up in surprise to see Una Montague perched on the edge of the desk, looking down at him. “You’re good at Transfiguration, right?” she asked abruptly.

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Can I sit here?”

What fresh hell was this? What was one of the Vipers doing sitting on his desk? It was rare to see any of them alone. Cormac looked behind her sceptically. “Where’s your friend?”

Sighing heavily, Una pulled her bag back onto her shoulder. “I’ll sit somewhere else.” 

She turned to walk away, swishing her hair as she went. But before she took a step he said quickly, “Wait - yeah, you can sit here.” He supposed it would be poor manners to let a pretty girl, albeit a notoriously mean one, sit by herself at the back of the class when there was a perfectly good empty seat next to him.

“Only if I’m not inconveniencing you.” 

Already feeling like he was about to regret it, he gestured to the seat.

Cormac continued to look unsurely at her as she slid into the seat next to him. “What happened to Sabine?”

Una rummaged in her bag. Cormac expected her to take out her textbook but instead, she withdrew a small, black compact mirror and some lipgloss. “Oh, she dropped Transfiguration...” Cormac watched quietly as the lipgloss wand drew across her lips, spreading a shimmering pink glaze over them. And for some reason, he felt like he should look away. Like he was watching something extremely private. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. “She couldn’t handle it.” 

She pressed her lips together and pouted a little in the mirror, examining her neat work. The way she preened herself made Cormac want to reach out and smear the gloss over her face, just to see her reaction.

She snapped the compact shut and jolted him out of his daze with a start. 

“I should give you two for flinching,” she smirked. 

Professor McGonagall strode past them to the front of the class and the chattering students quietened down. She announced that they were going to be working on conjuring birds today.

“Might I remind you that your N.E.W.Ts are only a few months away and none of you are yet to successfully conjure more than a feather.”

The class groaned and got to work, trying with limited success to conjure birds using the Avis spell.

“Why is this so bloody difficult,” grumbled Cormac after some time, concentrating on his wand tip while Una lazily brushed a comb through her hair - her wand abandoned on the table. “Conjuring inanimate objects? Fine. But birds…”

“Have a lot of trouble with birds, then?”

“Oh, very funny.”

“I’m serious. I’ve never even seen you with a girl.”

Cormac lowered his wand and turned in his chair slightly. Oh, so this was why she sat here, was it? He couldn’t deny she was good-looking. But still, a Slytherin.

“Oh yeah, been watching me, have you?”

“I’m just very observant.”

“I’m single if that’s what you’re asking?”

Una rolled her eyes. “You wish, Cormac.”

Cormac leaned back in his chair and looked her over, resting his arm on the backrest as he did.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked innocently, putting her brush in her bag before raising her wand and pretending to concentrate on conjuring birds.

“I’ve never seen you with anyone. Except for the Vipers. Or is that a thruple situation?”

“The Vipers?”

“You know, Slytherin’s other monsters. Sabine and Meredith.”

Una laughed. He had half-expected a shrill cackle. But her laugh was warm, even genuine. “Oh, so is that what they’re calling us in Gryffindor Tower?

He shrugs. 

“It’s catchy.”

“So? Are you?”

She too lowered her wand and leaned in closer to him. “Are you asking if we fuck each other?” she murmured, staring intently into his green eyes. “Are you picturing me rolling around in the sheets with them in the Slytherin girls dorm? Making them moan my name?” she teased.

Cormac paused and swallowed. “What if I am?” he said, and was pleased when it sounded more confident than he felt. They were both playing with Fiendfyre, talking like this so brazenly in the classroom. But he wasn’t sure who was more skilled in this Dark Art.

“I should slap you,” Una said, moving closer still so he could hear her barely audible admonishment. He felt her bare leg in her stupidly short skirt pressing against his.

“Don’t. I can only get so hard.”

Her eyelashes dipped as she looked down at his lap. Una drew a sharp inhale when his fingers twitched suddenly towards his belt.

He smirked.

“I was joking. But I should give you two for flinching.”

Uno looked up again at him coolly. “You’re not gonna give anything to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He gave her an arrogant smile as if he found it hard to believe. “Why’s that?”

“First of all, I’m not that easy. And second of all, I wouldn’t be caught dead dating a Gryffindor.”

“Who said anything about dating? What if  -”

“Miss Montague, Mr McLaggen. Is there something amusing you’d like to share with the rest of us?”

Silence fell over the class again and Una and Cormac turned hastily in their seats to face the front.

“I was just explaining the theory, Professor” Una said sweetly, seemingly unphased by the interruption.

“Then perhaps you could demonstrate?” Professor McGonagall challenged, calling her bluff.

Una pointed her wand and out shot six yellow twittering canaries.

McGonagall’s lips pursed together in a thin line. Cormac was sure she was about to award Una points but instead she addressed him. “And Mr McLaggen?”

Cormac extended his own wand. A stream of feathers erupted from the end and floated down onto the floor. Una bit her lips, trying to stifle a snicker at his expense.

Any further embarrassment on his part was saved when the bell rang signalling the end of class and McGonagall dismissed them.

“I suppose I’ll see you on Friday?” asked Una casually, positioning her bag on her shoulder.

“Thursday.”

“The next lesson’s not 'til Friday.”

“Slughorn’s dinner thing. You’re not ditching it again, are you?”

“I don’t know… Sabine and Meredith say it’s a waste of time, sucking up to an old has-been like Slughorn.”

“They don’t need to come.”

“Trying to get me alone, Cormac?”

Cormac laughed. “It might just be nice for you to make some new friends. You’re not that bad when you’ve slithered away from the Viper’s nest.”

Una narrowed her eyes. “I happen to like my current friends, thank you very much.”

“Sure but I only meant  -”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually care what anyone from your house thinks of me or my friends. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my thruple.”

And with that, Cormac watched as Una strutted out of the classroom, leaving him to kick himself for managing to fumble the quaffle so hard - right when it was going his way too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you miss me terribly, Una?” cooed Sabine when Una found her and Meredith beside the common room fire that afternoon.

“It was the worst,” she said, plopping herself down on the sofa, watching the way the fire danced against the green tiles. “McGonagall picked on me and didn’t even give me a measly point for doing the Avis spell correctly. And nonverbally I might add.”

“Typical,” said Meredith. “It’s so unfair. She hates us.”

“Who did you end up sitting next to?” asked Sabine, flicking through her magazine.

“Erm, that guy… McLaggen,” said Una, as if his name was of little consequence.

“Not that oaf.”

“I know,” said Una. “And it’s not like I could even copy him - he was about as useful as a chocolate cauldron. I’m surprised he’s not in remedial Transfiguration.”

Sabine laughed but Meredith paused thoughtfully.

“He is quite handsome though, isn’t he? And rich, I think.”

“Eugh, Meredith. You have terrible taste,” said Sabine.

Una quickly copied Sabine’s look of disgust while Meredith backtracked.

“I just meant he’s alright to look at. Still a Gryffindor though, obviously.”

“And an idiot. Didn’t you hear how he ended up in the hospital wing last year? Eddie Carmichael dared him to eat Doxy Eggs for a bet. Some Head Boy he is, Una. Between him and McLaggen, you’ll have your work cut out for you this year.”

Una wrinkled her nose.

“Poor Una,” said Meredith sympathetically.

“I did find out some good gossip though,” said Una raising her eyebrows and leaning back on the sofa. “The Gryffindors call the three of us The Vipers.”

“That’s rude,” said Meredith but Sabine shrieked in a fit of giggles.

“I love it!” she laughed. “We really are just living in their heads, aren’t we?”

Una grinned. “I know.”

Sabine closed her magazine and stood up. “Let’s go down to the Great Hall. I’m starving. What do vipers eat anyway?”

“If they’re anything like Ashwinders then insects. Raw eggs,” said Meredith in an attempt to be helpful.

“That’s disgusting, Meredith,” said Sabine, linking her arm through Una’s. Meredith hurriedly latched on to her other side. 

“Speaking of dinner,” Una said. “I’m thinking about going to Slughorn’s on Thursday.”

“Ugh, pass,” said Meredith.

“Why?” asked Sabine, giving Una a shrewd look. “Blaise said it was terribly boring.”

“I know but I probably ought to as Head Girl. Bit of a snub if I don’t go twice. And maybe it’ll help my marks in potions.”

“You reckon?” asked Meredith.

“Well, it can’t hurt my marks if he likes me.”

“That’s a good point,” said Sabine thoughtfully. “Alright, I’ll come too then. I need all the help I can get since I’ve got one less N.E.W.T. this year.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Shit, thought Una. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaise Zabini was waiting in the common on Thursday night when Sabine, Una and Meredith finally ascended from the girl’s dormitory.

“Mum was complaining you’ve not written to her yet,” he told Sabine.

“I’ve been busy.”

“All four N.E.W.Ts proving to be time consuming, then?”

“Shut up.”

The four of them made their way along to Professor Slughorn’s office. They opened the door to find several plush seats already occupied around the extravagantly decorated table. Una felt irked when she noticed McLaggen was notably absent. This whole thing really would have been a waste of time if he didn’t turn up after all.

“Welcome, welcome!” Boomed Professor Slughorn. “So nice of you to join us. Blaise, good to see you again - and you’ve brought your sister!”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for inviting me,” said Sabine graciously as they found their seats and Slughorn beamed. Sabine had such a way of making people feel flattered, even special just from her presence. 

“And our Head Girl, Miss Montague. And Miss Prewett! I taught your father, you know.”

“Yes, sir. He spoke extremely highly of you,” said Meredith, sitting down.

Una sat on Sabine’s right, leaving a few seats next to her empty. Just in case, said a small voice in her head.

Slughorn began introducing everyone. Una was surprised to notice the way Blaise’s eyes lingered on a fifth-year girl, Ginny Weasley. Though she wasn’t sure if it was distaste or something entirely opposite. Interesting. Una didn’t say anything - she just made a mental note of it, the way she so often did with snippets of potentially damning information.

Slughorn’s office door opened again and Una looked to see Eddie Carmichael entering. Her heart sank as she turned back around again.

“You could have held it open,” said Cormac McLaggen’s voice. Una froze, not daring to glance at the door, incase Sabine noticed her constant fidgeting in her seat.

“Sorry, mate,” said Eddie, pulling out the free seat beside Una.

Cormac slid into the open chair before Eddie could. “That’s more like it, cheers mate.” He looked at Una. “Alright? - ouch!” 

Eddie slapped the back of Cormac’s head before sitting down on his other side. Cormac ran his hand through his dark, curly blonde hair.

“Idiots,” scoffed Sabine under her breath.

And Una had to agree. 

Cormac shuffled his seat in closer to the table. His shoulders were so broad that Una could feel his arm pressing up against her. Even if she folded her arms, she could still feel him, taking up far too much space.

As the evening went on, they listened to Slughorn regale stories of all the famous students he had taught, each of them members of what he called his ‘Slug Club’. Every time he said the name it made Una cringe. He fawned over Cormac, asking him about his father’s Ministry connections, praised Meredith’s dad’s apparent Potions prowess as a youth and asked Sabine and Blaise what their famous mother was up to. He asked Una about her father - a prominent benefactor of St Mungo's - but was more interested in Una's Head Girl duties. And Una was grateful for this - the less she had to talk about St Mungo's the better. 

After dinner, Slughorn summoned a bottle of Elf-made wine with a flourish of his wand. “Just for those who are of age,” he chided the younger students in a sing-song voice, “And only a glass each. Or else you’ll need an Awakening Draught tomorrow!” He chuckled. “And speaking of which - “ Slughorn looked at the seventh-years mischievously, “- you’d do well to brush up on that ahead of our lesson on Monday.”

Sabine grinned at Una and Meredith. It had been worth enduring the evening after all, if they were getting tips about the following class.

As Una drank her glass of wine, she felt Cormac’s leg brush against hers. Maybe the wine had emboldened her but she didn’t shrink away. Instead, she shifted slightly, leaning her leg against his. 

On Una’s left, Sabine and Blaise began sniping at each other again when Blaise suggested that their mother might send her a howler. On her right, Cormac was telling Eddie about his plans to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

Una lifted her glass to her lips but paused when she felt something. A large, warm hand grazing her bare leg. Cormac’s. She looked down but her lap was covered by the tablecloth. 

She moved in closer to the table and Cormac made to withdraw his hand when he felt her shift but she placed her own hand firmly on top of his, before returning hers to the table.

Cormac continued talking to Eddie as if nothing had happened while Una felt his hand trail further up her leg and under her skirt. She took another sip of wine and pretended to listen interestedly as Slughorn started waxing lyrical about a friend he had who was writing a biography about a Vampire.

“I simply must introduce you to Eldred Woprle, Miss Carrow. He has a lot of contacts at the Daily Prophet, you know.”

Una felt blood rushing below her waist as Cormac’s fingertips traced across her inner thigh. Her own hand gripped her wine glass with more force than was necessarily required, just for something to keep herself steady.

“I was sort of hoping Potter would be here tonight. It’d be good to get him on side before tryouts.”

“I don’t know why you’re arsed, mate. I keep telling you - football. Now that’s a real game.”

The plush, cozy room now felt stiflingly hot. Adrenaline coursed through Una’s body as she shakily raised her glass to her lips to try and hide her face. Cormac’s hand skirted over the crux of her thigh. Wine met her lips as she tilted her glass, letting the fruity, slightly sour liquid infiltrate her mouth.

“Well maybe I’ll tell Mum that you’ve got detention with Flitwick already - then we’ll see who gets a howler.”

Una’s heart raced in her chest. The several conversations going on in the room turned to white noise. Slowly, carefully, so as not to brush against Sabine, Una moved her legs apart. A silent invitation. She breathed shakily as she felt Cormac’s fingertips slip under the hem of her soaking wet underwear.

“My my!” cried Slughorn suddenly, causing Una to flinch and inhale an entire mouthful of wine. “Look at the time!” Cormac quickly removed his hand as Una began choking and spluttering.

Sabine gave her a concerned look as she coughed. “Are you alright? You’re bright red.”

Una wiped her lips, trying to compose herself quickly. “I’m - I’m fine,” she gasped. “Just went down the wrong way. And wine makes my cheeks flush.” She extracted her compact mirror and lipgloss, re-applying it hastily.

“It’s gone straight to your face too, mate,” said Eddie Carmichael, looking at Cormac. 

Cormac laughed and touched his hand to his warm face. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose it does a bit.” 

Una looked at him and felt herself flush even deeper when she saw him press two fingers thoughtfully against his lips. They were wet.

“Oh, how time flies when you’re having fun. You’d all better be off back to your dormitories. And if Mr Filch gives you any trouble, you just send him straight to me,” said Slughorn, waving his hand in the air.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Sabine, standing up abruptly.

Una pushed her chair back and followed her, Meredith and Blaise out of the room without so much of a backwards look.

As soon as they got out into the corridor, Meredith laughed.

“What a drag that was. Honestly, it would be worth failing Potions if I never had to endure that again.”

“I know,” agreed Sabine.

“I think I preferred it to another evening with Malfoy and the rest,” scoffed Blaise. “They’re always brooding these days. And I suppose the wine wasn’t too bad. If you don’t choke on it, that is.”

“Hilarious,” said Una.

“What did you think, Una? You were unusually quiet.”

Una’s abdomen tingled. Her brain worked overtime to come up with an excuse while blood rushed in her ears.

“Well, I had you lot squabbling on my left and two idiots on my right talking non-stop about Quidditch.” Una rolled her eyes convincingly. “But it wasn’t too dreadful. At least we know what’s coming up in Potions on Monday.”

“Well, that’s it sorted then. You can go with Blaise next time and report back to Meredith and I if Slughorn gives us any more hints,” said Sabine, with finality. 

Una mulled this over, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. It certainly would be easier to talk to Cormac McLaggen if she only had one person keeping an eye on her. She could hardly just be expected to talk to Blaise and only Blaise all night. She was allowed to network, right? And perhaps, she thought, Blaise would like to network with Ginny Weasley.

“Fine,” said Una. “But you owe me. Big time.”

Sabine linked her arms between Una and Meridith as they sauntered along the corridor to the dungeons. Una still felt faintly embarrassed about her unseemly choking display. With her free arm, she searched for her mirror in her tiny handbag, wondering if she had any wine down her front.

“Shit,” said Una, stopping and the four of them halted. “I think I left my compact.”

Meredith groaned. “I’m not going back in there. If I have to hear anything else about Vampires-”

“It’s fine - go ahead. I’ll see you two in the dormitory. See you later, Blaise.”

Una untangled herself, turned on her heels and passed the last few stragglers leaving Slughorn’s dinner party.

Her heels clicked as she walked back up the deserted corridor and around the corner.

“Forget something?”

Cormac McLaggen was sitting on a window ledge in the dark hallway, checking himself out in Una’s little black mirror. He snapped it shut and hoisted himself off the stone ledge, walking towards her.

Una extended her palm expectantly.

“What’s the magic word?” he asked, standing in front of her. Una looked up at him as he towered over her. He was so tall she had to strain - her face was only at eye level with his chest.

“Avada Kedavra?” suggested Una, attempting to snatch the compact from his hands but he reacted quickly, pulling it out of her reach.

“Ooh, not quite,” he grinned.

She took a step towards him, their chests almost touching as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Please, Cormac?”

He hadn’t expected her to surrender so quickly. Cormac grudgingly gave her the compact back and they stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them daring to address what had just happened in Slughorn’s office.

“You know, that lipgloss is very pretty,” he said, curling two fingers under Una’s chin. Her heart pounded in her chest again as she looked up into his strikingly green eyes. His own lips were rosy, tinged slightly pink from drinking the same wine. “Too pretty.”

Cormac took his thumb and slowly dragged it across her bottom lip, smearing it down her chin. He squeezed her face roughly and Una smacked his hand away, scowling.

“There. That’s better.” He gave her an arrogant smirk. “See you tomorrow.”

Una let out a scoff of disbelief as Cormac walked away, leaving her standing alone in the corridor. 

She opened her compact and examined herself in the mirror - a pink, glittering streak was smudged across her chin and there were faint red marks from where he squeezed her face.

He was right, she thought as she looked at her slightly dishevelled appearance, she did look better like this.

Chapter 2: Struggle

[fanfictilltheend]

@bobgirllll asked for another snippet of my VERY DARK (not an understatement -- the entire story explores violence, cycles of abuse, trauma, murder, daddy issues, family issues, domestic violence, child abuse) Stepdad!Mechanic!Ex-Convict!Joel no outbreak, slowburn story.

First part of the story

Basically for context: this is backstory to joel and Y/N's relationship and second part of the story. He knows her for most of her childhood but NOTHING unsavory happens until she is of age!!!!!!! This is how he meets her.

Warnings: Abusive sibling, kids fighting roughly, implied past domestic abuse from a parent, a kid screaming curse words, sarah mentions, afab!you, small amount of blood from injuries, me just writing a self-indulgent intense family drama!!

IF ANY OF THIS make you UNCOMFORTABLE, please click AWAY! YOU are the CURATOR of your ONLINE EXPERIENCE ❤️

It’s Joel’s day off and he’s sitting on the couch in his new home. His back hurts, but that’s nothing new. He’s got an excellent view of their nice, big backyard with a wooden fence. The kind of home he would have liked to have given Sarah. He sighs. Technically, nothing is wrong.

Then he sees it. It takes him a second to realize what is going on. It’s a whirlwind. He sees the back gate open and two tumbling forms fall over the threshold onto the manicured grass. One form is bigger, a boy of about twelve or thirteen beating the shit out of a much smaller form, fists flying. The other form is a little girl, no more than eight, defending herself like her life depends on it. Perhaps it does with the way he’s going at her. 

This must be the son, Aiden, and the daughter, Y/N. 

He’s a good boy, really, but he has anger issues sometimes. He’s been through a lot. That’s what Erica said, but Joel does not see a good boy. He sees a bully. A disproportionately violent one at that. Nothing that tiny girl could have possibly done could warrant the brutality he sees before him. 

Anger is something else Joel knows intimately, and that is what he greets when he runs outside to end the fray.

“Stop that!” he roars, pulling Aiden off of Y/N.

“Who the fuck are you!?” the boy screams, fury and hatred radiating off of his entire being. 

He continues thrashing and punching at nothing as Joel restrains him.

“I’m gonna kill her!” he screams, his eyes bulging.

“What the hell happened?” Joel growls, still holding onto the livid boy–verging on young man. 

“She ripped up my paper!” he bellows. “For no fucking reason! I worked hard on it!”

“It was a lie,” she says with so much conviction Joel almost flinches.

He looks down at the little girl, her nose bleeding, her right eye turning purple. She has tears streaked down her face, but she is not crying. Her shirt is ripped. The first thing he thinks of when he sees her is Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah, how could he not think of her? But this little girl is different, has a different look in her eye. This look is much harder and feels like she’s lived a thousand lifetimes. He thanks god Sarah never looked that way, but somehow he wants to hear about everything this little girl has experienced. Something twangs in Joel’s chest that he has not felt in what feels like an eternity. 

“It was not a lie, you stupid bitch whore!” Aiden shouts angrily, still fighting back against Joel’s unrelenting grip. “Take that back!”  

“No, you take it back! Dad is not a hero. You could’ve picked anyone to write about and you choose him? After everything he’s done?” she screams herself.

The sound of her voice is powerful but desperate. Joel feels himself needing to know more and bury himself deep inside her experiences.

“SHUT UP!” Aiden yells, finally ceasing his movements. A tear falls from his cheek. 

“If I let you go, will you stop whooping your sister?” Joel snaps firmly.

“Get away from me, you stupid cuck!” Aiden curses, turning his energy to Joel. “Who the hell are you to me? Fuck you! I’m out of here!”

He wriggles out of Joel’s grasp and Joel lets him go and Aiden storms back out the rear gate, slamming it behind him.

“You alright?” he asks Y/N.

Joel crawls over on his knees, still upright, closer to her. 

“Had worse,” she shrugs, running a hand through her messed-up hair. 

She wipes the tears and blood from her cheeks.

Joel shudders to imagine what she means.

“He always like that?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “So you Mom’s new boyfriend?”

“Something like that,” he nods back.”’M Joel. Joel Miller.”

“I’m Y/N,” she says a bit mournfully. “Here,” she continues suddenly, reaching out a small hand to his cheek. She wipes blood (hers) gently off his stubbly face. “Didn’t mean to get ya dirty.”

Joel is nothing short of touched. He wasn’t even aware he could still have such a feeling. His cheeks go rosy pink. His heart pulses. He stares at her delicate hands and notices a long, thin scar on her left middle finger. 

“‘S no trouble, sweetheart,” he hears himself reassuring her. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Could even mend your shirt if ya want. Know how to sew and all.”

He reaches out a large hand, but she flinches at the sudden movement. A dull ache wells up in Joel’s chest. 

“Not gonna hurt you, honey. Swear it.” 

He wants with every fiber of his being for her to believe him, for it to be true. 

She takes his hand.

Comments/thoughts/likes/reblogs welcome!!!