#the boxes are just messy as fuck and it takes awhile to sort through

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Ooooookay so not sure im gonna keep going to walmart to get my groceries unless absolutely necessary cuz the one closest to my house is awful

Its fucking massive. The app tells you the wrong aisles for everything. And there were way too many fucking people. Not a fan.

[heartidylla]

𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬 ; LEON KENNEDY — OVERVIEW

summary ; introduces you, elias and charlottes past, connections, & parents.

paring ; leon kennedy x f!reader

word count ; 1.4k

pronouns ; you (2nd pov)

warnings ; mentions of abuse

your memory of the first day you were pronounced a commander of squad nine is extremely foggy within your already tangled mental state. your father, the head of a group within some fragment of the governments military, had started to train you into becoming the perfect leader since you were able to talk.

you didn't — and probably won't ever understand why he would ever structure the traits of a soldier into the mind of an innocent child who only wanted to focus on learning how to color in the lines, maybe it was because he needed to get his mind off of the horrid things he seen during his time of service, or maybe it was simply out of the cruelty that grief brings due to your mothers early passing; either way, you couldn't ever question his character without a punishment.

you never referred to him as dad, father, or anything of the sort. it was mostly silent nodding for the past 21 years of your life since it never felt like he was your dad. he was more like a higher ranked official that you had to respect or you'd be running sprints around the building.

adding onto that point, you never were able to watch movies, eat popcorn, and just laugh with him. it was always training, and you never understood what you were training for.

that was, until you met her.

charlotte levine, the daughter of a higher up within the company of umbrella. the first time you met her was when she had been undergoing a classified procedure.

the moment your fourteen year old eyes looked through the one way window, you felt a sickness build within your throat. she was strapped into a chair, looking lifelessly out into the distance. her brown eyes were dull, and she truly seemed dead which completely contrasted her raising and falling chest. she looked tired — extremely tired at that, as if she had been sucked out of life during her years in this secluded section of the building.

you quickly took notice to the scars on her wrist due to just how tight she was confined. it seemed like they were petrified of her — or whatever she could do to them. she had messy brown hair which didn't seem to be maintained for awhile, but if it was her hair would fall to medium length.

she probably hadn't been given the opportunity to take a shower either which even the thought of not having that privilege caused your chest to tighten. honestly, you didn't blame her for the way she expressed herself either since you've heard about her past before.

she had started these procedures when she was a newborn. her cold father had ripped the mother of custody with his intimidating stack of money in his bank account. he promised the court that she would have a better life with him. what a load of shit that was.

though, it goes to show how the fucked up court system will side with a man before any woman as if we are some kind of lying idiots who don't know what to do, how to continue, or where to go when we finally break free from an abusive relationship or a traumatic experience caused by a man.

just like you, she wasn't treated like a daughter either. unlike you, she had always been stuffed in a cage or simply a box when she was a newborn. there would be caretakers who would come by and take care of her needs, be a mother figure to her. most of them, if asked now, would say she was a nice young girl who had been taken advantage of. however, you'd never be able to ask that because they're dead.

the moment she was able to do everything on her own, your father and board of others (which included her father) decided to cover their tracks and have them all executed.

it's horrifying to think about how easy it was to come to the conclusion of murdering the women who had been so nice to her, and even worse to realize that they did it in front of her.

you were assigned with a boy, elias ledford, to watch over her while the adults attended to their studies on her next procedure to becoming whatever they wanted her to be. truly, you didn't even understand yourself since you were completely left out in the dark about what exactly they had planned for her future.

you never tried to talk to her due to the fear of your father being displeased with your efforts; however, elias did. he'd talk to her a lot, continuously blabbing on about everything to her.

at first she'd never talk back, but you truly think she liked hearing him speak. nobody even took the time and effort into doing anything before, so you were certain she had to of liked it slightly.

however, during the first couples months she'd just stay in her dark corner which always seemed to be the safest place for her in the prison cell, and yes, it was a prison cell for her.

as time went on, the closer elias and she had got. though, it wasn't any of your business so you stayed out of it. you weren't one to ever want to make friends because you hadn't ever been given the chance to truly think about life outside of training. not once had you ever gotten a moment to just do whatever you wanted.

all of that changed about  though, the day your fathers plan blew up in his face — all of the threes parents plan had completely turned upside down on them. the virus they had produced in order to "heal" people faster hadn't come out as they expected and it spread to the public.

hell was that day for you since your father had been on edge he expected you to do everything with the squad nine. squad nine is a group of three: you, charlotte, and elias, who are the umbrellas last standing line of defense.

you and elias were suppose to keep everything in check, and charlotte would be forced to listen to your commands and eliminate all those who posed a threat to the name of the company.

as soon as the red lights had flickered throughout the dark hallways, you and elias were quick to rush to the direction of charlottes cell. however, when you got there she had already pushed open the metal bars enough for her to slip through.

she looked up at them, eyes dull as ever. "i'm leaving, you either come with or die here." she sternly speaks which was the first time you had ever heard her hoarse voice. it sounded like she hadn't ever spoken before, or at least not for awhile. without a single expression on her face, she turned around and began to run down the hallway.

elias was the first one to follow, perhaps he wanted to leave just as much as she did. he always kept everything that has happened to him a secret, but he always had confided in charlotte for some reason. either way, it didn't surprise you how quick he was to run away from this shit hole.

honestly, you were just as excited to depart from it as well. your father had never gave you any kind of love — hell, you didn't even understand the meaning behind the word "love" anymore. you never even used that word when talking amongst your father — never.

he never did anything to achieve your love, or admiration for being a great father because he wasn't. he was a sick, sick man who traumatized kids for fun as he acted like the sacrifice of three individuals would be worth the income he'd and the others would get for their medicine.

that alone always irked you, building up within you for years on end. the constant thought that he — and the entire board, would do that to their own blood disgusted you. the disgust grew into rage which eventually evolved into hatred. 

in response to those rapid distasteful thoughts about your father, you realized they were the only ones who would ever understand what you have gone through because they were apart of it.

they were ripped from their childhood just like you had been and they were the only ones who'd accept you because you only had each other while growing up.

a unfamiliar feeling rose within you as your lips curved into a smile — or at least what you call a smile since you haven't moved your lip muscles this way for a got minute before rushing after them as well.

all three of you, the ones who had been taken advantage of since day one, finally escaping this nightmare which only led to a newer nightmare.

[kookiesjoonies]

come home | myg.

another collab w/ my platonic soulmate, @ppersonna​, abt bad hookups and how members of bts fix it n make you feel good. it took me awhile to get my part up, so i want to thank lindy for the millionth time for being so patient. i hope u all enjoy. read her part of this collab w/ jin here!

main pairing: min yoongi x reader (exes to lovers)

fic type: one shot

word count: 3.2k

genre: smut

warnings: language, mentions of smoking/nicotine, mentions of penetrative sex, dry humping, light dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, angst if you squint?, tiny amount of fluff (if i forgot any warnings, i apologize! i have been working on this over the course of a week or longer. if i missed anything major, let me know pls! xo)

summary: you just want to feel good. and seeing as how no one has been successful in making that happen for you, you go to the one person who never fails to get you off. who just so happens to be your ex boyfriend.

The last person in the world that Yoongi expected to be knocking on his door at eight o’ clock at night was you. You’d been broken up for over a year now, and sure, the two of you were on good terms. Hell, you even considered yourselves friends, but rarely ever did the two of you hang out or speak more than a few times a week through text messages.

So naturally, his first thought was that something was wrong. He was standing in the doorway, staring straight ahead at you, trying to read your face for any indication as to why you’d shown up at his house unannounced. Your expression was stoic, though, almost bored. Your hair was shorter though, he’d noticed. Had you gained weight? He couldn’t have been sure, but your thighs definitely appeared to be thicker, and your bra fuller than he remembered.

You caught him eyeing your cleavage and you rolled your eyes. Same old Yoongi, same old habits.

“Are you going to invite me inside?” You asked, arms crossed over your chest and effectively pushing your breasts up.

Yoongi was sure he would be drooling any moment now, and he hadn’t even heard a word you’d said. Fuck, he’d missed staring at you like this.

“Yoongi,” you reached a hand forward, pressing a freshly manicured finger underneath his chin and pointing it up toward your face, “my eyes are up here.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, “And?”

You tilted your head to the side, eyebrows pushing together in annoyance, “Would you just move so I can come inside?”

He obliged, stepping away from the door frame and gesturing you, albeit dramatically, inside.

His house hadn’t changed much, but it definitely wasn’t as well kept as it was when you lived with him. The coffee table was cluttered with assorted take out boxes and half empty water bottles, and you never understood why he didn’t drink the entire bottle of water. It annoyed the piss out of you, and you were still convinced that was the only reason he did it.

Blankets and coats littered the sofa, throw pillows pushed off of the couch and onto the floor. You always hated when he did that. He claimed the pillows made the couch uncomfortable and hard to sit on, and you’d called him insane, telling him that the entire purpose of the pillows were to make it comfortable.

You were curious to see what his bedroom looked like. Well, you were mostly curious, and a tad bit frightened at the thought. Yoongi wasn’t a messy person, but he didn’t mind clutter. You, on the other hand, despised it.

Yoongi took note of the way your eyes danced around the room, taking everything surrounding you in.

“Yeah, it’s messy, I know.” His tone of voice shifted to one of nervousness. He was suddenly very aware that you we’re here, in the house the two of you used to share, for the first time in what felt like forever.

You sensed his awkwardness and turned your attention from the living room and into him, placing a hand gently around his bicep. He instantly relaxed under your touch. You always did know exactly what he needed and when he needed it. He still didn’t know how the fuck you managed to do that.

“I don’t care if it’s messy, Yoongi. I don’t live here anymore.”

“No, you don’t. Which brings me to ask, why are you here?”

“Actually,” you began, leaning against the back of his sofa as you slowly raked your eyes up and down his small frame, “I was wondering if you wanted to fuck.”

Your question clearly caught him off guard, his face immediately contorting into one of utter confusion. Eyes slightly widened, mouth agape.

“Hold on,” he shook his head, a poor attempt at collecting his thoughts as he tried to make sense of what you’d just proposed, “are you high?”

Was he serious? You rolled your eyes at him yet again, convinced they were going to get stuck in the back of your head.

“No, Yoongi. I am not high. I’m just horny, and want to fuck. Simple as that.”

He carded his long fingers through his hair, eyes focusing on yours and fully taking in your serious expression.

“You couldn’t find someone on tinder? I mean, not that I’m not flattered that you came all the way here, but. I’m just a bit confused.”

“I could’ve, yeah,” you nodded, “and I have, in the past. But I’m sick of bad hookups, I have to fake it half the time anyway. Nobody knows my body like you do. I just want to feel good, but if you don’t want to, or if it’s too weird then I can leave. No hard feelings.”

Yoongi took a minute to weigh out the pros and cons in his head. On one hand, he’d kill to be inside of you again. He’d had hookups of his own, sure, but none of them even came close to what you felt like. But on the other hand, you’d broken up for a reason. And this could complicate things.

Who was he to deny you, though? He never could, not when you were together, and he wasn’t about to start now. If all you wanted was to feel good, then goddammit, he was going to make sure that you did.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Your eyes grew wider than quarters, and you stared at him in disbelief, “Really?”

“Were you expecting me to say no?”

“I don’t..” you paused, “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Well,” he took a single step forward, hands easily falling down and onto your hips, “I did.”

All it took was the feeling of his hands on you to make your breath catch in your throat. It’d been over a year since he’d last touched you, his hands felt like they were burning your skin through your shirt. You stared up at him, eyes fixated on his as his mouth slowly crept down and onto yours.

It felt like sparks of electricity were coursing through your veins. Your body instantly reacted, legs jumping up and off of the ground to wrap around his waist. He was quick to catch you, hands cupping your ass to hold you up and pressed against him. His lips moved against yours easily, his tongue gliding into your mouth and wrapping around yours perfectly. Kissing you was muscle memory, he knew every crevice of your mouth, which moves of his tongue would have you wrecked.

He took advantage of that, lapping and twirling his tongue against yours in a way that had you moaning into the kiss. The vibrations going straight from his lips and down to his dick, and you could feel him hardening against your thigh. Your hands found their way into the dark hair at the nape of his neck and you twirled it around your fingers, all the while giving a quick swivel of your hips that had Yoongi groaning into your mouth.

He carried you away from the couch and down the hallway into his master bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot once inside. He had your back pressed up against it instantaneously, grinding his hips up and into yours at a steady pace. You were holding onto his neck for dear life, letting out a whine as he hit your clit perfectly.

“Y-yoongi! Right there, oh my God, do that again.” You pleaded, and he happily obliged by thrusting his hips in the exact same way, causing you to cry out and bite down on your lower lip. If he kept this shit up, you’d be cumming in your pants.

His lips were attached to your neck now, attacking the skin there with sloppy kisses and occasional suction. You knew there would be bruises, but you couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck. Your body was elated, you felt like you were floating. And all of it was from a fucking make out session and dry humping. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were going to feel once he was finally inside of you. The thought of it alone had you soaking wet, and you could feel how damp your panties had gotten, sure that your jeans were soon to follow suit.

His hips never slowed, in fact, they only sped up. You were bouncing against him now, attempting to gather even more friction than what he was giving you. His fingers curled and squeezed your ass, holding you still as he ruthlessly humped against your core.

“Gonna cum for me, huh? Right here? With your clothes still on?” He was nipping at your jawline now, and the sounds you were making sounded like you were trying to speak, but nothing you were saying was coherent.

“What was that?” he rolled his hips hard against your aching cunt, and you immediately saw black, “Words, baby. Or I’ll stop right now.”

You panicked, trying to muster up any sort of response that you could manage, even if you did sound completely fucking pitiful.

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.” You mewled, and one final jolt of his hips had you coming undone.

Your thighs contracted around him, shaking and attempting to pull him closer and keep him trapped between your legs. Your hands were tugging on his hair, burning his scalp and causing him to groan at the sensation. Cries of his name and a slew of fucked out curses made their way past your lips as you came, head knocking back against the wooden door.

Yoongi had pulled away from your neck so that he could watch you, his eyes darkening with want as he witnessed you lose yourself from just grinding alone. He thought you’d never looked sexier than you did right now. And all he could think about was how badly he wanted to clean up the mess he’d just made in between your legs.

“Let me eat you out.” His voice was rough, raspy, and hot. How could you say no to that?

You hadn’t even completely come down from your high yet, stars still circling above your head as you blinked rapidly in an attempt to get them to go away. But still, you nodded.

He was quick to drop to his knees after setting your feet and shaky legs back down onto the ground. Your fingers threaded through his hair, hips pushing forward and toward his mouth. You’d never wanted— no, needed his tongue against you so badly before. But you couldn’t help the breathy laugh that pushed out of your throat.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi prompted, mumbling against the skin of your lower abdomen as he pressed wet kisses there.

You lightly twirled his hair around your index finger, a small sigh making its way through your lips as you felt him begin to undo the button a zipper on your pants.

The whole situation was fucking hilarious to you. You ever imagined you’d be here again, with Yoongi in general, let alone with his head between your legs. But that was too heavy of a conversation to have at the moment. You knew that if you said such things, he’d want to have a deep, touchy feely talk and all you were interested right now was him making you cum for the second time today.

So, you decided to play your laughter off, sounding as nonchalant as possible.

“Just find it funny that our bed is two feet away from us, yet you’re still going to eat me out while you’re on the floor.”

Yoongi had taken to ridding you of those god forsaken jeans, kissing from your knee up to the tops of your thigh. His actions coming to a still in the middle of your sentence.

“Our? bed?” He cocked an eyebrow, deep irises flickering up to look straight at you.

“Just habit, I guess.” you shrugged it off, but internally, you were kicking your own ass for making such a slip up, “Are you going to go down on me, or not?”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes. This was so fucking like you, brushing off your true emotions and covering them up with something sexual. Had you forgotten he knew you better than anyone else in the world?

Still, you’d come to him for a reason. You wanted to feel good. He was determined to follow through with your wishes, but made a mental note to get you to tell him how you were feeling afterwards.

“You’re so fucking bossy.” He spat out the words, though they weren’t laced with any real venom. It was too playful, too Yoongi.

You were going to offer him a smart ass remark, a witty comeback on the very tip of your lips. However, the feel of his tongue dragging through your folds had you moaning instead.

His arms linked around the backs of your thighs to hold you in place, keeping your cunt pressed firmly against his face as he nudged your clit with his tongue. A small, barely there flick that had you whining in a high pitched fashion. Your eyes had screwed shut, hand tangled in his hair and pulling it from the root.

One of his hands moved from your legs so that he could hover his index finger over your entrance, circling around it and gathering up your wetness. He groaned at the feeling, at how absolutely fucking soaked you were for him. It was something he never, ever got tired of. And it was definitely something he’d grown to miss.

All at once, he was pulling your clit into his mouth. Teeth lightly grazing it before he took his time suckling on the bud, quick, exasperated whimpers coming out of your lips as he did so.

You offered him fucked out praises, telling him how good it felt, how badly you wanted more. His finger pushed into you, and your walls immediately squeezed around it. Once you’d loosened back up, he added his middle finger and slowly began to fuck into you.

Your mouth was left agape at the feeling, his tongue now swirling at a steady pace against your bundle of nerves. Your nails dug into his scalp, and you’d begun to shamelessly ride his face. He was loving every minute of it, every wanton noise that came out of your mouth.

“I—I need—,” you stuttered, unsure of exactly what it was that you needed from him, “God, Yoongi, please—”

Even when you didn’t know, he always seemed to. His long fingers curled inside of you, arching and pressing against that glorious spot that had you screaming out a line of curses.

He quickened the pace of his tongue up, the speed of it ruthless against your clit now. Your eyes were beginning to well up, and you were sure you’d never felt pleasure like this before. Not even from him. There was something about this time that made it feel like you were floating on cloud nine. And you never, ever wanted to come down. You wanted his head buried between your thighs for an eternity.

One more push of his fingers and lick of his tongue had you bucking your hips against his face, and you weren’t sure how he was managing to breathe. Your lower stomach was knotting, heat spreading from your core throughout your entire body as your orgasm washed over you. Both of your hands were in his hair now, gripping onto the soft strands of it with all of your might. You were squirming, trying to get closer to him, and away from him all at the same time.

Black dots were all that you could see, your head spinning and making you feel like you were floating off of the ground. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you attempted to catch your breath and regain your composure.

You groaned at the empty feeling as you felt Yoongi pull his fingers out of you, glancing down at him just in time to watch him insert the digits into his mouth and swallow your release. Your eyes rolled back at the sight, a huff leaving your lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You joked, and he rewarded you with a chuckle as he stood up and pressed his lips to yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth with ease.

You could taste yourself on him, and that alone had you aroused again and ready for orgasm number three. And hopefully four and five. You could feel yourself growing wet again, and took the opportunity to grab one of his hands and bring it down and onto your soaked pussy.

He groaned into the kiss, tongue moving with more fervor, more hunger.

You were pulling back, and he was chasing your lips with his. You giggled at his actions, your fingers toying with the fine strands of his hair.

Without giving it a second thought, he was lifting you off of the ground again and taking quick strides toward the bed.

It seemed like the two of you had spent the better part of the night fucking. But by your fifth orgasm, you were too fucked out, and way too sensitive to do it again. You could barely walk, your legs the equivalent of Jell-O. Yoongi insisted over and over that you just spent the night with him, offering to take the couch if that would make you more comfortable.

“I just spent the last two hours with your dick buried inside of me,” you pointed out, “I think we can share a bed.”

He laughed as he laid beside of you, still completely naked and on full display for you.

“Touché.”

“I need a cigarette, but I can’t even walk to get them out of my jeans.” You groaned as you stared at your pants lying in front of the door, and you could hear Yoongi sighing beside of you.

“What?” You cocked an eyebrow, rolling onto your side so that you could face him.

“You know how I feel about you smoking. I wish you’d quit that shit.”

“Well,” you started, “at least you don’t have to smell it on a daily basis anymore. You know, since I don’t live here.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, turning over on his side to match your position, “kind of miss it.”

Your eyes slightly widened, and you were left speechless. Because what were you supposed to say to that?

Yoongi sighed, giving you a quick roll of his eyes.

“Come on, Y/n. What are we doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You lied.

“You mean to tell me you don’t feel comfortable right now? Like we never stopped this in the first place? Never stopped.. us?” He studied your face as he waited for your answer, fingers instinctively reaching out to trail along the curve of your bare hip.

“Yoongi..” You sighed, unsure of what else to say. Because he was right. This felt normal. It felt right.

“Just come home.” His voice was sincere, his eyes soft and pleading as he looked at you.

Usually, this was the kind of big decision you’d have to think about, outweigh all of the pros and cons. But this time, you didn’t hesitate to respond. Because this was Yoongi, and he was home.

“Yeah,” you nodded, gently rubbing your thumb along the top of his cheek as you offered him a gentle smile, “okay.”

[pretendingboyfriends]

114? maybe after a dry spell or something

anon: ..... 41.

114. Trying Something New & 41. Filming Themselves 

just thought these two worked together 😏 so enjoy

For weeks neither you nor Harry has been in the mood to do anything of the sexual nature. To be truthful, it has nothing to do with any sort of fight or uncomfortableness, the two of you are just going through a bit of a dry spell, just like most couples do this far into a relationship.  It isn’t like either of you have been repulsed by each other, though, it’s just as if the two of you have had other things on your mind that don’t relate to sex. But now that you’re finally alone with each other, cuddled up on the couch for a quiet night in, the hormones that seemed to be absent for the past three weeks have finally shown themselves again. 

You’re both lying across the couch spooning, Harry pressed against your back with an arm slung around your waist as a show plays on the TV. He smacks a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek after a few moments of silence and you give him an appreciative hum, sliding your hand over his and bringing his hand up to your lips. He chuckles lowly and leans in further, lips traveling from your cheek to your jaw, then your neck, suckling your warm skin gently. 

“Well, hello,” You hum through a smile, reaching back and threading your fingers through his messy hair. 

“Hi,” He grunts between neck kisses, arms tightening around your waist to pull you into him more.

“Been awhile, hasn’t it?” You whisper, turning your head to catch his lips with your own. He smiles and cups your face, pulling a few more languid kisses from you.

“Yeah it has.” He purrs against your lips with a small smile. 

“You wanna…?” You ask with a smirk. 

He smirks back, pecking your lips once more. “Most definitely,”

With that, you’re sliding off of the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the bedroom, leaving the TV on without a care in the world. 

Once reaching your bedroom, you guide him to the bed, pressing kisses to his lips over and over, hands planted against his cheeks as you back him into the bed. 

“Think we should try something new,” You whisper, straddling his thighs and looping your arms around his neck loosely. 

“Mm?” He hums. “Like what?” 

You smile devilishly, pulling away from him and sliding off of his lap, backing into the closet. 

You’d bought this item nearly a month ago on a whim, hoping to use it at some point but never finding the moment to present it to him. And now that you’re both aching for each other and the opportunity has finally arisen, you think it’s time to introduce your little friend.

You take the small box from the back of your closet, entering the bedroom again, holding it out to him. 

“What’s this?” He asks, quirking his eyebrows slightly.

“Open it,” You giggle as he takes it into his hands, chuckling at you nervously. You watch him slide the lid of the box off, placing it to the side and gazing down into the box.

“Is this-?”

You bite your lip nervously. “A butt plug.”

His expression is unreadable as he takes it from the box, studying it closely. The design is simple, aluminum metal with a pink, crystal tail and he silently and carefully turns it over in his hands. 

“What do you think?” You ask, timidly shuffling back and forth on your feet. 

“I think… you should get on the bed.” He hums, biting his lip and smirking up at you. 

You snicker giddily, immediately crawling onto the bed, lying on your tummy and watching as he reaches into the nightstand for your small bottle of lube that the two of you use on rare occasions. 

Excitement bubbles in the pit of your tummy whilst you watch him crawl onto the bed after you, situating himself behind you. His fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs quickly and tossing them to the side before doing the same with your t-shirt, leaving you completely naked.

“Y’sure you wanna do this?” He asks, large hands rubbing over your hips soothingly. 

“Yes. Definitely.” 

He chuckles and picks up the bottle of lube, uncapping it before sliding his hand to the curve of your ass cheek and spreading it from your other. The cool temperature of the liquid oozing onto your warm skin causes you to jump slightly and he chuckles, tossing the bottle to the side and rubbing his fingers against your tight, puckered hole to ensure that the lube is fully covering you. 

He pauses for a moment, taking the plug from the box and applying a small bit of lube to it as well before moving to press it against your skin. Your immediate reaction to the tip of it pressing against you is to whimper, pressing back against it eagerly. 

“Patience, darling,” He whispers, pressing it into you slowly. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He takes a moment to work it into you, pressing it in further and further until you finally feel it slide inside of you fully and you keen breathlessly. “How’s that feel, hm? Good?” 

“So good,” You whimper, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, please.”

“Just wait one more moment, okay?” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before sliding off of the bed. You watch him remove his own clothes as he walks across the room and into the closet. 

Huffing frustratedly, you turn your head back to look into the closet. “What’s taking so long?”

He reappears in nothing but his briefs, holding your digital camera in his hands and you realize what he wants to do. 

“Was thinkin’ we could make a little tape, y’know, since we’re trying new things…” He smirks, holding the camera up. 

You bite your lip, shrugging a little. “Why not?”

He smiles, making his way back to the bed, adjusting his semi-hard dick through his briefs as he crawls behind you. You can hear the beeping of the camera being turned on behind you and your chest flutters with excitement. You wiggle your hips, turning your head back to look at him over your shoulder as he records you, sliding his hand over your ass cheeks and hips. 

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” He grunts, sliding his fingers down your bare, glistening slit. “Shit- so wet, too.” 

“Please,” You whine, pressing your face into the fluffy duvet of the bed. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” He grunts, taking himself from his briefs with one hand and tugging at his cock to make sure he’s fully hard before he’s pressing himself to your entrance, camera angled directly at where you’re connected. 

Finally, he’s sliding into you, both of you releasing long sighs of relief  as he fills you to the hilt. The sensation of both your holes being filled at the same time is overwhelmingly delicious and the way you’re clenching around Harry’s cock nearly makes him choke. 

“Fuck, Harry, that’s so good,” You moan, attempting to fuck yourself on his cock desperately. 

He mutters a few expletives before pressing his hand against the small of your back and beginning to fuck into you slowly. “S’good, yeah?”

“So good- feel so full.” You mutter, fingers gripping the duvet tightly as you rock back against him. 

Harry leans over, clumsily placing the camera on the nightstand, moving it to face the two of you and allow him to fuck you properly. He tugs you up by your hips to get the best angle for both of you and immediately you’re moaning at the new, better feeling. 

His pace gradually builds from slow and deep to fast and rough, both of you moaning and whining uncontrollably. You can already feel your release building within the pit of your stomach and you reach back, grasping for Harry’s hand and bringing it beneath you to brush his fingers against your clit over and over. 

“Y��close already, huh?” He growls, leaning forward and pressing his chest against your back so that he can nip and bite at your neck.

“Fuck- yes I’m so close,”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over me.” He demands, fingers continuously circling your clit. 

You nearly scream his name as you cum, one hand gripping the duvet and the other buried into the curls at the back of his head as he thrusts into you. You feel him reach over, grabbing the camera from the nightstand, angling it towards you in your post-orgasm bliss. 

Quickly, he’s sliding his cock out of you, frantically jerking himself over your ass cheeks, finding his own release within moments and spilling his hot cum all over the supple skin of your ass and back, camera recording the entire moment. 

“Holy shit,” He mutters, collapsing on his side breathlessly as he tosses the camera to the side. 

“I think we need to try new things more often.” You chuckle, turning over and allowing him to pull you into him.

-

sorry if there are any mistakes, i wrote this in a bit of a horny rush LMAO 

[ellipsesarefun]

DAMIRAE DAY 5: Soulbond

A/N: SO THIS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE I SWEAR HAHHAHAAH. It’s probs the coffee talking but damn. Finished this baby todaaayyy after reviewing for a subject (and damn is this a weird day because writing and studying feels like two different worlds) so this will be queued to post on the 14th or 15th? Maybe I’m too excited but it’s been awhile since I’ve been excited to write something.. Been awhile since I’ve used 1st POV. This is probs a bit messy :( But I’ll edit some stuff out someday..

May not be participating anymore but I hope to come back to DamiRae <3 It’s been a comfort to me during my study breaks.

------

There are some things about my magic that I cannot fully comprehend nor explain. 

Ever since I’ve healed the young Robin, I’ve been receiving vivid dreams. I can’t fully grasp the images but the emotions that wake me to reality are always filled with heartaches, pining, and desperation. I never bothered to clue anyone in on what they are. Kory knows I have dreams but I can never tell her what happens in them because I don’t know how to describe them.. Damian has his ways of knowing. The little bird never lets me forget that. But he never asked, just implied. And I never said anything, merely let him draw his own conclusions.

I’ve been harboring feelings for him for a long time but I never acted on them for a number of reasons... Sometimes, we were romantically and sexually involved with other people. Other times, there never seemed to be a time and place to voice it out on the open. The moments we spent alone meditating, reading together, flying during my nightly rituals are the moments I cherish too much to let him feel my burden.

But out of all the reasons I've expounded, My father is the center. Even when I have created an enchanted fortress created out of his and my own demonic magic (with the help of Constantine and Zatanna), I still fear that he may one day break through those chains and destroy Earth... and kill Damian. Trigon senses the bond between us and it disgusts him.

His insults hit right through my own insecurities. I mean technically, he is trapped in crystal that’s stored in a small box that I carry around but damnit there are times when his thoughts crowd over to mine and... it terrifies me.

The mechanics of the bond isn’t the “if he dies, then I die too” but more of “I feel his presence more than I let on”. I still have no idea if it also might be the former, but the latter is one that I experience often. I don't always know what he is feeling (I may be an Empath but I have my mental barriers to maintain). It's only when he's in danger do my senses burn right through my barriers. It probably comes with this strong sense of protectiveness within me, a desperate need to keep him safe... and it’s becoming a little too obvious.

Throughout the six years as Titans, training with Damian has gradually become a torture... Every urge to shot turns into every urge to shield him from the pain... Every scar he receives fuels my anger against those who dare to hurt him, especially the enemies we’ve faced during missions and/or patrol. 

The last one was worse. I arrived at the scene with him on the floor, body tainted with bruises and then..

I saw him on the floor.. suddenly burnt into ashes.. face barely recognizable... I heard my screams of agony, despair, and heartbreak as I watched my other self enveloping him in what seems a spell..

I love you...

And it wasn’t a dream but a memory... It all felt so real, like I was in Apokolips (what the hell is Apokolips?) once more and the Earth has crumbled to its fucked up state and he was gone and I needed to save him (from what?)...

I didn’t even stop to comprehend what it was and I lost my control. 

AZARATH. METRION. ZINTHOS!

...

I blacked out, I think, and now I find myself back in the infirmary of the Titans Tower. Not a single glimpse of a sunlight reached the room and nothing stands out from the dark except a figure sitting beaide me.

"Hi." Is the only greeting I offered. Damian stands and turns the lights back on. He sits back down, burning holes into my skull. I squint at the brightness and immediately force myself to focus at some place that isn't him.. I couldn't bare to look at him.

I hear a sigh but I let my gaze linger at the clock far longer than I liked, matching my breaths with the ticks and tocks of the arrows of the clock. His agitation prickles at my senses like a thorn to my side. The damned urge to come and wrap him in my arms gradually resurfaces once more. 

He clears his throat just in time, like he already knew what I was thinking and I look down, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat pooling my cheeks. 

“Look,” he says and I pause my train of thought, “You and I both know there’s more to this that letting your demon lose and almost killing Dr. Light, so let’s not beat around the bush.” I couldn’t look at him, I just can’t bear to.. But I nodded, just so he knows that I’m taking his words seriously (and I always do)..

I might as well tell him..

“I’ve been having nightmares ever since the first time I healed you.” There’s movement from my periphery but I ignore it, “Of you.. dying...” Silence is his only answer so I continued.

“It wasn’t that bad at first but through years it’s been difficult to fight this desire to protect you all the time.” I haven’t reached the most important part yet and I’m already feeling the rising tension in the air. He holds up a hand, and I wait for him to speak as I try to calm my heartbeat. 

“Raven, I was trained by the League of the Assassins. I know how to handle myself-” 

“I know you do, Damian.” I cut him off, hearing my voice rise a bit,

(And I realize later that he didn't need to say this because damnit the smart ass saw right through me. He only did so to bait me into confessing.)

“But these aren’t nightmares.. not really. They’re from another timeline.” I let out a sigh. This conversation is beginning to exhaust me but he needs to know. I turn to him this time and he’s not holding back his own concern etched on his face. He gets up from his chair and sits at the edge of my bed. My gaze drifts to his hand. I remember a lingering feeling, probably from another memory of that timeline, that he’d reach out and hold my hand in his. 

“There was a war.. We were around at this age..” I continue, “We were trying to stop someone and... you died in the process. I revived you.. brought you back from the dead.” I watch him watch me. Not a single gasp was uttered nor any ounce of surprised was showed on his face. I didn’t sense any of that. There was so much I can pick from that unreadable frown. 

Longing, concern, understanding.. and it’s only occurred to me that he knows. He’s known this whole time. I was too engrossed to what he felt and what Trigon may do that I didn’t stop to read through his actions. But does he...

No.. I shouldn't ask... not when I haven't laid all the cards out..

"We have a bond.. sort of." I say, and he nods, confirming of his own assumptions, "But I'm not sure if this will get us killed. So far the pain inflicted on you does not mean I receive the same kind of pain. It just fuels my drive to protect you."

"And you think that this was a result from our previous affections to one another in that timeline." He concludes.

"We never really spent time together as... together." I say. It feels out of the blue but something about what I said needed to be heard, "You left for the League of Assassins. You offered me a place there because you had feelings for me. I would have went with you if Trigon hadn't threatened me to kill you if I stayed..."

I face him, feeling this odd confidence swelling within me. "I do still have feelings for you. And Trigon still wants to kill you so.. that hasn't changed.." 

There is a slight elation and giddiness within me as I catch a mixture of bewilderment and amusement on his features. But my heart begins to soar as I watch a tiny, tender smile drawn by his lips.

I've seen that smile before.. a couple of times. There were only glimpses of that smile during our many glances throughout the years, hidden beneath the layers of his mask.

And now the last of his mask has finally come off.

"Raven," he says and I feel the tingle in my ears at the sound of my name, "You should know by now that my perseverance exceeds the fear of being devoured by demonic conquerer of worlds."

I frown at him. "You sound so sure of yourself..."

"You've defeated him twice, Raven." He reasons, "In this timeline and probably in other timelines. You were lucky, you say, but now.. you're--no, we're, more than four times as lucky."

"Damian.. where is this all coming from?" I ask, because he makes it sound so simple. Like he's up against merely a strict father who wouldn't let his daughter marry the person she loves in those cheesy romcoms. But this isn't a romcom. This is Trigon, for Azar's sake..

"He isn't called a Conquerer of Worlds for no reason!"

"And that doesn't stop you for creating a tiny fortress that entraps and gradually diminishes his demonic magic instead of trapping him in a crystal and sticking it to your forehead from your other timeline. Look Raven,” he continues, “You and I both know that there’s something between us? Why wait for the inevitable?” Why wait till I leave for the League of Assassins? Why wait till the possibility of Apokolips comes around again? He leans in and his bright green eyes search my own.

I keep my frown on my face, not wanting to give in to his charms. He throws back a smirk because he's fucking...

"Insufferable. That’s what you are." I spit the words at him, only halfheartedly at best. He laughs. The cheeky fucker is laughing me.

"But I'm a kind and generous soul." He teases with a grin on his face. And shit, I can't fight my own my smile any longer. He reaches out and I meet him halfway, entwining our fingers together. I haven't affirmed anything but the gesture already is the answer. Our answer. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time. Might as well take the chance before it’s too late.

Something magical, his aura perhaps, loops with my own. I close my eyes let the magic guide me.. and him. A meadow materializes itself and I find him in the distance, his smile warm and inviting. I extend my hand to him and he mirrors my actions. A raven flies out of my hand and another one out of his. At the same time we open our eyes and-

The magic suddenly bursts forth into a kaleidoscope of colors, a plethora of shapes of any kind. They all coalesce into a giant raven. A white raven. It soars above us, circling around the room with a happy tune. It eventually disappears into a sparkle of fireworks. We laugh and turn our gazes to one another. 

With foreheads pressed against each other, we guide our silent conversation with twinkles in our eyes and smiles forming on our lips. It's like those typical chessy lovebird montage things people see in romantic subplots. It might be the calmness of the air or the sleep edging its way through my train of thought but I can sense our heartbeats in sync. A lullaby to my woes, perhaps, but someone like me can hope that this bond is knitting our souls into a comfortable blanket, however mysterious and unpredictable it may be.

Trigon's box rattles on the table. I almost forgot that it was there in the first place. I feel his presence, cursing disgusting words at the edge of my aura but I pay no heed. 

After all, I'm a billion times luckier now.

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Eyoooo. Could I request some Ardyn x Reader birthday nsfw to celebrate the wonderful man? ‘ a ‘

It seems fitting that I break my rules for Ardyn, lol. I’ll get this one out so it’s only a day late for his birthday! ❤

You asked for NSFW, I drank some wine, so you’ve been warned…😉

Taglist: @idiotflowerex

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

A Present for Two

You snuck into his office while Ardyn worked.

Today was his birthday and you had been planning the perfect gift for him.

He is reading papers upon an old couch in the messy room.

Throwing them aside as he finished them.

Creeping up behind him, you kiss him on the cheek.

“Ah, hello, love.” he replies coolly.

You knew you could never scare him.

You kissed his cheek, again, then slid over to whisper in his ear.

“Happy birthday!”

You drop a wrapped package into his lap.

He smiles as he turns to kiss you fully.

“Open it!” The anticipation is killing you!

“Darling, now what did we discuss about haste?” he teases.

You gave him a mock glare as he laughed, starting to open the box.

He stared at the contents for a moment, blinking.

“Dearest, you seem to have forgotten something.”

This is your moment!

You came around the sofa and removed the box from his hands.

Bending over to whisper in his ear, again.

“No, I’m just wearing it.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Ah, then…may I unwrap my birthday present?”

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you down so that you straddled him.

“Yes, you may.”

His hands tease the hem of your shirt before removing it in one swift motion.

Revealing a wine colored teddy covered in black lace.

“Ohh, you’ve outdone yourself.” His velvety voice coos.

He pulls back to admire you.

His eyes are hungry and his smile is sly.

“I think I want to savor this present, for awhile.”

He pulls you in, kissing down your neck.

Before throwing you onto your back on the sofa.

You smile as he gazes down at you.

Slowly, he lifts your hips to remove your pants.

Running his hand up your leg.

“Hmm, garters. I love the finishing touches…”

He meets your lips with hunger

Before nibbling down your jaw,

To your ear.

Whispering in that gravelly voice, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

His kisses are hot down your neck, leaving you breathless.

Next he’s kissing down your chest,

Nibbling on your collarbone.

He gets to your breasts,

Slowly pushing the cups aside to tease your nipples.

Soft whines leave your lips.

He simply smiles at your pleasure,

Leaving time to attend to each of your beautiful breasts in turn.

Swirling with his tongue, grazing them with his teeth.  

Next, his kisses linger on your stomach before moving towards your core.

You moan but manage a thought through the ecstasy,

“But it’s your birthday, at least let me help.”

“Oh, and what, praytell, do you have in mind?” his smile jokes, but you do not.

“Get over here,” is all you say as you push him down upon the sofa.

He obliges, swinging his legs upwards in an exaggerated manner.

You turn, back to his face, to undo his trousers.

His breath gets heavy as you take his length in your hands.

Mouth hot, you start to lick his head.

He moans in that sultry, unexpected way.

He always loves getting head.

Teasing him, you lick at just the tip.

But, oh, his moans turn you on.

You want to pleasure him.

You want to have this bit of control.  

Bit by bit, you wrap your mouth around his length.

Down you work, still teasing him with your tongue

Until you take all of him to the back of your throat.

His hips buckle. He loves this.

As you work, he can’t help but enjoy the view.

The wine fabric is darkened around your core,

Ardyn knows you’re just as excited as he is.

He wants so much more of you.

In his desires, he leans up to push the fabric away,

Before letting his tongue show his love for you.

Taken by surprise, you gasp and pull away.

But he’s moaning, enjoying the taste of you.

And he has such an expert mouth.

You spread your legs to settle your hips over his face.

Feeling his laugh of pleasure rumble through every nerve in your clit.

His tongue swirls, flicks, and sucks on all the right places.

Applying pressure frequently, but just enough to leave you desperate.

Soft moans escape your lips, but you want more of him.

You go back, working your mouth over his length.

Your moans stifled by the cock in your mouth.

His moans shivering through you.

It’s the best sort of competition, each of you trying to make the other cum first.

Your hips rock against his face, wanting more, wanting to feel more.

His hips buckle in your mouth, wanting to fuck you till you can’t breathe, wanting to feel all of you.

You pull away as the sensations overwhelm your very thoughts, taking hold of your words.

“Ardyn! Ardyn…” Is all you manage.

He’s not far behind, as you stroke him to his release.

His moans almost turn to screams as he cums.

Your breath is still gone, your body is in shock, he pants under you.

Finally, lifting your leg gingerly, you turn around to cuddle him.

He wraps an arm around you before kissing you.

You can still taste each other.

“So…that was only part of your present.” You smirk.

He smiles back at you. “Perfect, I have more planned for you, my hummingbird.” He kisses you.

Then he shifts you away from him so that he may stand.

“But first, I must return these reports. Duty calls, I fear.” He puts himself back together and gathers the papers.

You spread out on his sofa.

“I’ll wait here then.” You wink.

He admires you. “Please do.”

He makes for the door. It hisses open before him.

“Oh…the door wasn’t locked.” Is all he remarks as he walks out.

[megwritesfanfiction]

Let Go, Chapter 8 (Raven/??)

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. This is a work of fiction that I am not making a profit off of.

A/N: Chapter 9 is almost done, so you guys can definitely expect it in two weeks! 

Do you need to catch up? I got you! ->

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

WARNING - FLASHBACK CONTAINS MENTION OF DRUG USE.

Flashback

Robin had known she was struggling to deal with the events of her birthday.

They were used to her being withdrawn. They’d grown to understand her powers and the limitations they presented. Everyone understood that she needed to meditate and sometimes remove herself from situations that may cause her powers to flair up.

But, she hadn’t locked herself away in awhile.

No matter what was going on, Raven would come out for at least two meals and at least two or three television/team nights a week. Granted she would sit in the corner of the couch with her nose buried in a book, but she was there.

Until one day she wasn’t.

Robin understood her need for privacy. Her birthday was far from a happy day despite it ending with friends, cake, and ice cream. He informed the team that Raven needed space. He couldn’t find the words to tell them about her failed suicide attempt.

She wasn’t neglecting her duty. Raven swiftly responded to each alarm before disappearing in the midst of her soul self, so he couldn’t fault her.

Logically, he knew that she was coming out of her room some portion of the day. Demon or not, she couldn’t survive on just air. The masked titan had found his suspicions were indeed correct, but he hadn’t realized she was leaving the tower.

When she stumbled into the common room dressed in a tight black dress, high boots, and neon bangles, the smell of alcohol and ash hit him faster than he was able to comprehend the scene in front of him.

Raven was drunk.

Drunk being the understatement of the year. Heaven knows what she had flooding through her system…

Her hair was out of sorts, and he was pretty sure there was vomit on her dress.

“Raven?” Robin questioned quietly, unsure of the scene in front of him.

Her eyes rolled from left to right as her wobbled. Her back hit the wall behind her as her hands went out in front of her, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed walking over to her. “Are you drunk?” He steadied his hands on her shoulders, the smell of her night out burning his sinuses.

An acidic belch bubbled from her stomach as her head slumped forward, eyes going wide before relaxing again, “Yep.”

“Look at me,” he commanded.

“No,” she groaned taking a uneasy step back.

Pinching her face between his thumb and index finger, he tilted her head toward the light to check her pupils. “What did you take?”

“Nothing.”

“What did you take?” Robin questioned sternly, alarmed at the size of her pupils. He could only see a small sliver of violet.

Raven closed her eyes for a moment, brow wrinkling in thought, “Aside from alcohol? Some pink pills with little bunny rabbits on them, an orange one with a pizza, and one that was bright blue.” She smirked. “I snorted some-“

“What!?”

“Too loud,” she groaned, pushing him away from her. “And you asked, so don’t get pissy if you don’t like the answer.” She stumbled toward the kitchen, leaning over the sink as she felt her stomach bubble.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

She laughed bitterly, “Really?”

Robin sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she nodded proudly.

“But-“

“Fuck off and let me puke in peace please,” she groaned, fingers pulling her hair back.

“This isn’t the solution.”

She nodded. Her hands pressed against the edge of the sink as she pressed herself up straight. “Then what is?”

Robin looked at her, mouth agape.

“Huh? You seem to be so full of solutions in between judging how I deal with things! So you tell me, what I’m supposed to do!?” She shouted, turning sharply to face him. Her chest heaved as she unleashed her anger.

He was at a lost for words.

“What? I’m supposed to smile? Pretend everything is fine?” She snapped, running a hand over face roughly. “Act like I’m not going to kill you all in the end?”

“You don’t know that,” he shook his head. “It’s not over yet. There’s still a chance.”

There wasn’t. “Even if there was,” she slurred, shaking her head as her eyes blurred with tears and head throbbed. “It’s already ruined. He already broke me, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Raven,” Robin breathed, taking a step closer to her. “I think we should talk about this when you're sober.”

“I really think it doesn’t matter.” She turned her back toward the sink. “Just leave me alone.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Flash Forward

“Well, well,” Roy whistled amused as he approached the fire. “I didn’t know you smoked.” The sound of his bag swinging from his fingertips.

Raven rolled her eyes playfully. She could hear the dust crunch underneath his boots as he rocked back and forth on his heels with smug amusement as she exhaled. Keeping her eyes on the fire, she brought the cigarette to her lips, “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I bummed a few. I’ll buy you another pack at the next stop.”

“Not required. I have a carton in trunk,” he chuckled, dropping the bag by her seat. Using a stick, he carefully moved the pot resting on the iron rack toward him.

“Shouldn’t you have put things in the pot before putting it on the fire?” If he’d asked, she could have just levitated it unto the fire safely. “You’re gonna burn yourself.”

“You realize, I’m not just some pretty city boy, right?” He chuckled as he poked the fire. “Can you toss me the bag?”

Her wrist flicked delicately as the bag scooted next to him.

“Show off.”

Raven shrugged unapologetically as a slow satisfied smile curled on her lips as she continued to smoke. “You know, I could have moved that pot lid too.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckled removing the foil packs from the bag and placing them in the hot pot. “My stick also works quite well.” Roy guided the stick into the lid handle and lifted it back to the pot.

“So would pot holders and tongs,” she remarked.

Lifting the mentioned tools from the bag, he raised a curious eyebrow, “I have silverware and plates to make up for my lack of pot holders.”

“Fancy,” Raven smirked.

“The fanciest hobo meals you’ll ever eat, my dear,” Roy assured. He took a seat on the log next to her, leaning back on his elbows comfortably.

“Hobo meals?” She frowned, removing her vibrating phone from her back pocket.

Changeling.

She quickly ignored the call with a sigh.

“Yep,” he confirmed, glancing at the phone from the corner of his eye as he stretched casually. “Basically, some meat and vegetables expertly packed inside a bundle of aluminum foil.”

Her phone buzzed again. “Sounds tasty,” Raven commented, her fingers pressing the ignore button once more. She inhaled loudly, hoping to catch a whiff of the meal cooking in front of them. The sweet aroma from the firewood mixed with the smell of cooking meat and the ash of her cigarette. “Smells good.” Her phone buzzed again.

“Won’t be ready for a bit.”

Her fingers pressed the side button once again to send the call to her full voicemail box. At least, Changeling couldn’t yell at her anymore.

“There’s beef and chicken,” Roy informed as her phone glowed again. “The vegetables on the menu tonight are potatoes, green beans, zucchini, corn-“

Raven’s eyes drifted down seeing Changeling’s notifications flood the front screen of her phone, “None of those are vegetables.”

If you’re going to ignore my calls…

Now, he was texting.

At least have the decency to tell me why.

“What the hell do you call potatoes, green beans, and zucchini then?” Roy laughed as he lit his own cigarette, eyes still casually on her phone.

You just ignored my calls.

“Potatoes, sure,” Raven sighed as her eyes moved from her phone to Roy. “Zucchini and green beans are fruit, I believe.”

I know you’re there.

“Yes, but we treat all of those things as vegetables,” he argued with a smirk.

She shook her head, attention split between Changeling’s serious text and the silly conversation with Roy, “But it’s a not a vegetable. Just because you treat something like a vegetable doesn’t make it a vegetable.”

I know you’re ignoring me.

“That’s fair,” Roy shrugged, taking in her argument. “But, who's to say they don’t want to be treated like vegetables? What about what they want? ”

You never had a problem telling me to piss off.

“Are we really having this conversation?” She questioned, glancing at him brows knitted with confusion. Her phone buzzed, screen illuminating.

He shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips, “It’s an important conversation.”

So, I’m trying to figure out why you couldn’t tell me you’re leaving?

Raven felt her heart slam against her rib cage as she stared at her phone. “Uhh,” she stammered, blinking as she fought for control. “I don’t think-” Her fingers quickly unlocked the message screen without thought, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. “I think they’re more concerned about being cooked alive if anything.” She started to type.

Gar, I want-

She sighed, thumb tapping the delete button.

Gar-

What the hell was she supposed to say? Her emotions were tangled with amusement from Roy and panic from Gar’s texting.

“Yes, but,” Roy kept his eyes on her phone as he lit his cigarette. “You don’t speak ill of the dead. We’re honoring the sacrifice these brave plants made for our nutrition.”

She couldn’t decide which was worse, her conversation with Roy or trying to explain herself to Gar. “Yeah,” she murmured. Raven honestly hadn’t really heard what Roy had just said. Her mind tried to untangle the messy web of words jumbled in her head.

I can see you typing.

Shit.

I’m sorry. Raven typed looking at the unsent message. I didn’t think me leaving was going to be a big deal. It wasn’t a complete lie. She honestly figured Changeling wouldn’t care enough to bombard her with messages. One voicemail and a couple of confused text messages were to be expected, but this was unexpected in the best and worst ways possible. Inhaling, her fingers continued to craft a response. I thoug-

“Alright,” Roy breathed, exhaling the end of his cigarette. “I tried,” he muttered as he tossed the butt of his smoke into the fire. Standing with another loud sigh, he stepped in front of Raven.

Her fingers froze, stopping her work on the unsent message. Raven slowly lowered her phone to stare at him intently, “Yes?”

“I’m going to apologize for this now,” he told her seriously. His lips were tight as he rocked back and forth on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back. “Because after I do it, I’m not going to feel bad.”

She slowly leaned away from him, brow raising curiously.

Roy inhaled slowly, hands going out in surrender as he looked up to the night sky, “I’m sorry.”

“Okay?” Raven questioned slowly. Her eyes wide and confused.

Roy snatched the phone from her hand, sprinting away from her.

“Roy!” Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Raven leaped from her seat chasing after him. Her phone illuminated brightly in his hand as he led them away from the fire. What the hell was he gonna do with her phone? And where the hell was he going?

His pace slowed as he stopped in front of the cliff. “I already said I’m sorry,” he called as he tossed the phone into the cliff.

“What the fuck?!” Raven screeched charging at him.

“Whoa,” he shouted, sticking his arm out to grab her before she went off the cliff. “Watch yourself there.” Roy wrapped another arm around his waist and pulled her another step back.

“Watch yourself?!” Her pulse pounded in her head as she watched her the light from her phone disappear into the darkness below. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

He shrugged, unapologetically, “I didn’t want you to fall.”

“I can fly!”

“I forgot about that.”

Her chest heaved as she struggled to make sense of what exactly had occurred.

“Be careful anyway,” Roy warned gently. His arms slowly released from her waist as he turned to walk back to their fire.

Raven stood at the edge of the cliff, feet sinking into the dust as she looked at the abyss. Her fists curled at her sides as her head throbbed. What the hell just happened? She pivoted sharply, giving into rage, “Harper!”

“One sec, Rae,” he answered. Expertly ignoring the sound of her angry steps, he knelt by the fire carefully pulling the pot of food from the fire. He dusted off his hands and looked up at her. “What’s up?”

“Are you fucking serious?!” She roared. “You just threw my phone off a goddamn cliff!”

“Yes,” he confirmed, using his stick to knock the pot lid off. “I remember. I was there, and I also apologized before hand.”

“You’re lucky I don’t toss you off that cliff,” Raven warned. Her fingers tore through her hair as she struggled to control her rage. She briefly remembered a time where she would have actually tossed him off the cliff.

Not to kill him.

She’d only let him fall far enough to make a point.

“I am indeed.”

She closed her eyes for a second as she placed a hand on her abdomen as she breathed deeply. “I am trying very hard not to murder you right now,” she whispered as she felt her body tremble.

“Sit down,” Roy commanded softly. He stood, folding his arms in front of him.

“Fuck you!”

He bit back a dirty remark. “Sit down,” he repeated calmly as he walked over to the log seats. He had to be patient. After all, he’d just thrown her phone off a cliff and she’d graciously decided not to sentence him to the same fate. “Please?”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat as he walked over to him. Violet eyes narrowed dangerous as she slowly sat down.

Roy sighed taking out his wallet, pulling out a worn piece of paper and presenting it to her.

“Your will?” Raven questioned sourly as she eyed the paper. If he was hoping to calm her down, he was shit out of luck there. This just gave her more time to plan where she was going to hide his body.

His eyes widened as he gestured for her to take the paper.

She scoffed, snatching the paper from his fingertips. “Okay?” She questioned, staring at the photograph confused. “A photograph?” She added, looking to him, feeling the tension in her brows lessen.

Roy sighed as he took a seat next to her. His elbows rested against his knees as his fingers laced together. Jasper eyes focused on the fire in front of them as he nodded, “Yep.”

Raven looked back at the photo. A beautiful woman with long black hair smiled brilliantly toward the camera. In her lap, she held a chubby cheeked red haired baby that was loosely wrapped in a fuzzy yellow blanket. “Your mother?” She questioned. Why was he showing her this?

“No,” he pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips. “That’s my daughter.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite their unpredictable lives, they were all creatures of habit.

Nightwing was, by design, a creature of habit in almost every aspect of his life.

But the others…

Starfire, for example, monopolized the television on Monday and Thursday night starting at eight in the evening. About ten minutes before her first show, she’d make a large bowl of extra butter popcorn and during the last commercial break of her final show she’d grab a pint of frozen custard to enjoy.

Terra always had the same pre battle ritual. Once they’d arrived, her feet would slide to a sudden stop. Crouched and feet planted in a battle stance, she’d lace her fingers, crack her knuckles, and toss her head from left to right.

Cyborg regularly indulged in a midnight snack. Typically, around eleven or eleven thirty he’d start preparing his midnight dish. Waffles, steak and potatoes, super meat leftover sandwich… Something heavy, hearty, and simple. If they had a long day of crime fighting or the pantry were bare, Cyborg would head out for some takeout to indulge in.

“Sweet baby Jesus, dude!” Cyborg jumped stepping into the kitchen, hand clutching his chest.

Changeling smirked, looking at the clock on the side wall then casting a glance to the brown paper bag in his hand.

Eleven forty-five.

Just as he predicted.

“The hell you doing up?” Cyborg wondered, stepping into the kitchen. “Had I known, I would have gotten you a veggie burger. I went to that diner near the bay.” He carefully unpacked his midnight meal, taking a seat across him Changeling.

“I’m not hungry,” Changeling shrugged, leaning back in his seat to watch his friend organize his food in front of him.

Cyborg carefully unwrapped his burger. A delicious triple patty burger, slathered with four different selections of premium cheese, a quarter pound of bacon, lettuce, tomato, the chef’s super secret sauce, and served with spicy Cajun fries. With a happy sigh, he licked his lips as his fingers curled around the burger.

The green man waited until the burger was at his friend’s lips. “You know,” Changeling spoke, suppressing a smile as his friend lowered his meal. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Alert the media,” Cyborg smirked harmlessly.

He figured since Raven wasn’t here, someone else had to pick up the slack in slinging sarcastic comments at Changeling department. “You realize I’m not dumb right?” Changeling questioned folding his arms in front of his chest, casting his friend a hard stare.

“B…” Though he’d outgrown his old code name, Changeling found he couldn’t escape the nickname. “I was joking, I wasn’t tr-“

“Of course,” Changeling shrugged innocently.

“We know you aren’t stupid, B,” Cyborg sighed, feeling bad about the quip. “I mean we might give you shit from time to time, but…”

“Right, right,” Changeling nodded. “I get it.”

Cyborg, seemingly satisfied, picked his sandwich up again.

“So…”

Cyborg froze, mouth stretched over his burger as he prepared for his first bite.

“Care to tell me why Raven told everyone but me she was leaving?” He questioned calmly, green eyes fixated on his friend.

Cyborg dropped his burger, staring at his friend in panic.

“Well, me and Terra, but…” The changeling shrugged as he trailed off. His eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer.

Cyborg swallowed hard, eyes wide, and fingers twitching nervously as his mind searched for the correct response to that question. “I think,” he started slowly. “I think you should talk to Raven about that.”

“So, you’re saying I’m right?”

“Garfield-“

Changeling chortled bitterly as he leaned back, “I’m Garfield now.”

All he wanted to do was eat his damn burger in peace. “I mean, that’s your name.”

“You never call me Garfield.” Unless it was something serious.

“All I’m saying is,” Cyborg started, keeping his eyes away from the changeling and on the table in front of him. “I think you should talk to Raven.”

“About why she didn’t think I needed to know she was leaving?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But it’s true,” Changeling nodded. He pressed his palms to the table as he stood up. “Thanks for confirming my suspicions.” He walked out of the kitchen. “Enjoy your burger.”

Cyborg scowled, dropping his burger back in the bag, “A man can’t even eat in peace in this got damn mutha fucking tower.”

So much for his midnight snack.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Daughter?

Raven pulled the photo closer to her face as she examined the baby staring back at her. She could see Roy in the fiery curls that framed the baby’s head like a little halo. Her dark eyes and skin were clearly from her mother.

“Her name’s Lian,” Roy commented as he lit the cigarette.

Since when did Roy have a daughter? And how didn’t she know? Did anyone know? “You’re a father?”

“I am,” he acknowledged with a small nod.

What the hell was she supposed to say to this? How was she supposed to feel? Her rage had fizzled in to confusion, shock, and a weird pang of dread as she stared at the photo.

“I’m also a drug addict,” Roy commented casually.

What? “What?” Her head snapped to him, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Well,” he exhaled, blowing the smoke toward the fire. “I don’t use drugs or drink right now, I’m sober, but…” His brow wrinkled trying to figure out how to word this. “I’ll always be addicted, so I’m a drug addict with or without the needle between my toes.”

There were so many things she could comment on Raven couldn’t pick just one. “What am I supposed to say to this?”

“Anything you want,” Roy shrugged, unbothered by her shock.

She looked back at the photo and then to the redhead, mouth open as she yelled, “You don’t get to throw my phone off a cliff and the dump your damage in my lap like it’s nothing!” Her chest heaved as confusion bled back into anger.

“That’s fair, but you’re not worried about whatever’s going on in Jump or your phone anymore, so I’d say it was worth it.” Roy tossed her a cocky smirk, running a hand through his hair. “And I figured you’d have mercy because I have a child. Low yes, but…”

Raven felt the color drain from her face as she remembered the unsent text message she’d been crafting to Changeling. He really was going to think she was avoiding him, now.

So much for her fairytale romantic moment.

Not that she was expecting it, but…

He cleared his throat, voice fading to a serious tone. “I’m not asking you to tell me why you left Titans West-“

The fire illuminated the planes of his face and made his eyes glow. Even without her empathy, she could feel the sincerity radiating.

“But don’t think I’m not smart enough to see that you’ve got some major emotional baggage of your own,” he told her. “And that’s okay.”

Raven’s face softened with shock, the sound of her heartbeat deafening in her ears.

“It’s okay that you’re ‘damaged’. Fuck, I’m damaged,” he smirked, turning to face her tenderly. Roy placed a hand on her knee and giving it a little squeeze. “I like to think that the damage makes us better. Makes us real.” He looked at her softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

A sad smile curled on her lips as her eyes stung with tears, “Right because you can’t be a superhero without being broken.”

“It’s not about that,” he told her gently. “So, I read somewhere that in Japan they put gold in the cracks of their broken pottery,” Roy recalled with a smile. “Because the cracks makes the pottery beautiful and unique. Sure, you can have a perfect manufactured piece, but the ones with cracks have a story. They have character. They’ve experienced things.” He gently bumped her arm with his shoulder. “You have character. Your experiences, good and not so good, make you who you are.”

“That’s really beautiful,” Raven whispered, sniffling as she wiped her eyes.

He exhaled loudly, “Great because I didn’t actually read that lovely little piece of information. I heard it in an AA meeting. Or was it NA?”

A loud cackle escaped her before she could stop it. She almost hated how she couldn’t stay mad at him, “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am. I’m also damaged too,” Roy started again, clearing his throat as his tone became serious. “No matter how fucked up we are, we’re worthy of being whole. So what if we have cracks.”

He sounded like her therapist.

“And it seemed like those text messages were taking little pieces from you,” he told her gently. She didn’t need to know that Roy was aware of who she was talking to. “Honestly, it seems like everytime you’ve touched your phone chipped away at you so-“

“You chucked it off a cliff?” No use crying or plotting murder over spilled milk now.

“I did,” He nodded with a small chuckle. “I’ll buy you a new one when we get to Chicago.”

Covering a smirk, her fingers traced of the photo she still held. “We’re days away from Chicago.”

“Exactly. You need some time to unplug.” If they really need to reach anyone, Roy had his phone and they both had their communicators. “Untangle yourself from whatever’s keeping you from being whole.” His cigarette firmly tucked between his lips, he went over to the pot.

Raven felt her shoulders slouch and relax as she watched him carefully remove the foil packs from the pot. “I’m still mad at you,” she told him with playful seriousness.

Roy laughed. That was fair.

To be Continued 

[hpdrapery]

trust

fandom: harry potter ship: harry potter/severus snape word count: 1490 also on ao3 and ffn

Having someone to trust is surprisingly freeing, even if that someone thoroughly embarrasses you at work with chocolate and sparkly stickers.

“What makes you so sure it was me?”

Harry looked near-comically indignant, and Severus looked away momentarily to hide his smile. It was a miracle he was still alive, if he truly was that oblivious to his utter lack of subtlety.

“You’ve been sending me all sorts of ridiculous gifts and tokens of affection for a full year now. I would have to be brain-dead, or close to it, not to figure it out immediately,” Severus said dryly, taking a seat. It seemed this conversation might take awhile.

Harry just looked at him, starting to open his mouth, and then immediately closing it again. This process repeated itself a few times, and this time, Severus couldn’t completely bite back a snicker.

Face reddening, Harry sat down across from him.

“Look, Severus...For what it’s worth, I didn’t think you’d open it in public like that, and I certainly didn’t think...” He winced, probably out of secondhand embarrassment. Severus couldn’t blame him, though it made him feel even worse. “Kids are mean, okay? Well, I mean, you know that, I suppose, considering you complain every damn day about how awful they are, but...I wouldn’t think you’d be that upset over a couple of twelve year olds laughing at you.”

“I’m not upset that children laughed at me,” Severus said crisply, occupying himself by Summoning a pot of tea from the kitchenette. He turned his head slightly, all the better to hide behind his hair.

“Alright, then what’s the problem?” Harry leaned forward in his seat a little, as though practically crawling into Severus’ lap would get him a more satisfying answer. “Are you upset that I sent it at all?”

“Potter,” Severus muttered with a sigh, pouring them both some tea. Naturally, Harry interrupted before he could say anything more.

“Harry,” he insisted, giving him a sharp look. “You agreed that you would call me Harry.”

Severus briefly considered kicking the insolent brat out of his sitting room altogether, but resisted the fleeting urge, handing him his cup of tea instead. He could remember the days when he never would have let Harry Potter into his sitting room to begin with.

“Right. Harry. As I was saying, you sent me chocolates and a note.” He took a bracing sip of tea, barely able to maintain his composure as he recalled the worst of it. “There were heart stickers on the note. I...It looked like a gift from a giggling third year. The problem is that students are now discussing my love life, all thanks to a man who seemed quite passionate about the idea of me deserving my privacy after all I did in the war.”

Harry shrugged, inching a little closer to the edge of his chair again, and ran a hand through his absurdly messy hair. Severus clenched his free hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching out and trying to fix it.

“I thought it would be funny,” he offered weakly. “Or cute, or something. It was a joke. The stickers, I mean, not the...overall sentiment.”

“What the fuck?” Severus breathed, unable to say anything else.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered sheepishly. “It was stupid, I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, really,” Severus murmured, taking a certain sort of satisfaction in how embarrassed Harry seemed to be now. “What the fuck? You presumably went out, bought a variety of stationery, heart-shaped stickers, and chocolate, then took your time writing the note, arranging the stickers just so...” He couldn’t help it. Picturing Harry doing that, and for him, no less, was just too much. Severus started laughing.

For a split second, Harry actually looked scared, green eyes going wide, but then he started laughing too.

“Yeah...yeah, I guess it is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” he asked between giggles.

“Not to mention the fact that you came all the way to Hogwarts after sending it, to...what? See how I liked it?”

Harry nearly snorted as he set his teacup down on the coffee table, and that only set off Severus’ laughter once again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed with someone like this.

“Yeah,” he admitted, shrugging. “I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“You need a job,” Severus teased, feeling far lighter and more carefree than he had in awhile. “It’s been, what, over a year since you graduated?”

“I told you, I’m taking some time off to figure things out. Maybe you could learn something from me for once. A break would probably do you some good as well.”

“Yes, well, not all of us are blessed with heaps of gold waiting at Gringotts. I need to work.”

Harry’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and Severus knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Don’t even think about it,” he ordered, glaring at the younger man for good measure. “I won’t accept your money, Harry. I’m not a charity case.”

“Well, anyway,” Harry said cheerfully, returning his attention to his tea. It was a painfully transparent attempt at turning their conversation away from the subject of finances. “I’ve trusted you with something, what with letting you laugh at my amazing, heartfelt gesture. Your turn.”

“It’s childish, trying to force me to open up to you like this.”

“But it’s been working, hasn’t it? You’re starting to trust me more.”

Severus frowned, finishing his tea. He couldn’t argue with that. He was, slowly, even if it didn’t seem like much in comparison to the way Harry opened up to him so readily, treated him as though he was someone worth pursuing. He got up, walking to his bedroom. He knew what he would share with Harry today.

It took some digging to find it, but eventually, Severus retrieved the old, expensive chess set from his closet, where it had been hiding underneath a steel grey sweater he’d never actually worn. A brief, sad smile flickering across his features, he carried the box back out to the sitting room, setting it on the table in front of Harry.

“Lily gave me this for my fourteenth birthday,” he said. That sentence was hard to get out all on its own, but he found that he trusted Harry not to push for more.

Few words passed between them as they unboxed the chess set and set it up, occasionally making eye contact.

“I’m rubbish at chess,” Harry admitted with a soft laugh, thumb running over the smooth alabaster of a rook.

“So was Lily,” Severus replied, barely louder than a whisper. Was this how it felt to bare his heart to someone, or at least pieces of it?

“So we already know you’d utterly destroy me if we played,” Harry said, giving him a playful smirk.

“Maybe you’d learn something from me for once,” Severus replied easily, turning his earlier words back on him.

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, getting up. At first, Severus was worried that he might be preparing to leave, but instead, Harry just sprawled out on the sofa with him, head in Severus’ lap.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I like it when you talk about her.”

“It’s getting easier, with you,” Severus confessed, another thing he wouldn’t have dared to say not long ago, and still wouldn’t to anyone else.

“Good,” Harry said, closing his eyes and yawning. “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

Anything. The dizzying freedom of so many possibilities was one of the reasons, Severus had tried to hold back. He feared that once he started confiding in Harry, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Are you planning on taking a nap here?” he asked dryly.

“Mm, might do,” Harry murmured, shrugging. “I’m pretty comfy.”

Severus rolled his eyes, running his fingers through Harry’s dark, tangled hair.

“Most people would still be afraid I’d do any number of horrible things to them if they fell asleep anywhere near me,” he commented, still playing with his hair.

“I’m not most people,” Harry said. “I trust you. Completely. I find it’s quite freeing, actually, and I’m happy to nap with you as often as you’ll let me.”

He was serious about that, apparently, since Harry really did fall asleep not long after, looking completely open and vulnerable, just like he’d claimed. Sighing, Severus continued playing with the other’s hair, glancing at the clock. He had another hour before he had a class to teach.

He read articles in the latest Potions journal as Harry slept, still mulling over his fixation on trust.

“You...mean a great deal to me,” Severus forced out as soon as he caught a glimpse of vivid green, Harry blinking up at him sleepily. “I’ve grown to cherish your presence in my life, and I...even thought your gift yesterday was quite endearing, heart stickers and all.”

Harry was right. Trusting someone with his feelings, and having them accepted, felt more like freedom than anything else he could think of.

[crytill5am-blog]

All That Remains of Lance McClain [Part 4]

yo, sorry that everything is taking a bit longer to update and post! I’m currently looking for a job that I can handle along with my schooling!

I also know I promised this update a long time ago, but when I originally wrote it, I wasn’t happy with how it turned out, so I decided to completely re-write it, which then took ages to edit until I was 100% satisfied with it.

Preview:

The others nodded and made themselves more comfortable as Shiro leaned back over, pressing the play button on the cassette player. Alexa’s voice flowed through the room again, dragging team Voltron into the story easily.

They were silent as they stared at the paused frame of the opening to the kitchen. The four humans and two Alteans were speechless, their eyes wide as they glanced up to one another and then back down to the film they had been watching. None of them knew what to really say. From all that they’d ever learned about Lance, they’d believed that he had a large, friendly family waiting for him back home. To hear all of this new information, from a woman who resembled Lance so much she could only be his mother, on a recorded film, was shocking to them.

“He never even told me...” Hunk’s voice broke the silence, the tall yellow paladin staring blankly up at the blown up images of the open doorway, eyes shining with water. To think, he and Lance considered each other close enough to be brothers, but the other had never wanted Hunk to find out the truth about where he came from and who his family was, rocked him to the core, “I mean, he never really went back home for the holidays, but he always told me it was because he wanted to use the flight equipment to practice when no one else was around.”

Pidge sighed, closing their eyes, setting their glasses aside so they could rub their face roughly, reeling from the knowledge they’d just gotten from watching only the first few minutes of the film. She glanced down, a wave of curiosity and worry washing over her as she looked around at all the pictures and books still scattered around, “Neither of us really knew... God, and Iverson was such a fucking dick to him, always telling him he didn’t belong in fighter class. Shit.”

Shiro was silent as Keith stared angrily up at the woman in the center of the room, he turned to glare at them all, hurt and anger shining in his eyes, “Why didn’t he tell any of us?! Why didn’t he come tell us that what we knew about his family wasn’t true?! God!” Keith punched his knee in frustration, staring angrily down at the floor while the others eyed him warily, “He should have at least told Hunk! The two of you have been best friends for years!”

“Perhaps he felt, for some reason, that he could not,” Allura spoke softly, her eyes trailing over all the paladins sadly, “We all already believed him to have a large happy family waiting for him back on Earth, perhaps he felt that we would not believe him if he told us the truth...”

“There was also the talk of some sort of curse on his family, that his mother-I am assuming she is his mother-mentioned!” Coran spoke up, his usual cheery tone more subdued and quiet in this moment as he watched the other paladins come to terms that everything they’d thought they’d known about their blue team mate was a lie, “He may have felt that we would ridicule him for it. Although... he has only truly ever spoken to us about his mother; I have never truly had a conversation with him that revolved around his other family members.”

Everyone frowned, thinking back to all their interactions and conversations with Lance about his family. Though he’d always been the one most homesick out of them all, so much so that he described is as a ‘constant ache in his chest’, he’d never gone into detail about the family he’d left back on Earth.  Shiro frowned, trying to ignore the hot stab of guilt in his abdomen from the knowledge that he hadn’t tried to reach out and learn more about the other paladin, and turned his attention back to the screen before him, “If we really want to learn more about Lance, I’m afraid that this is the only way we’re going to be able to do that right now. Let’s continue watching.”

The others nodded and made themselves more comfortable as Shiro leaned back over, pressing the play button on the cassette player. Alexa’s voice flowed through the room again, dragging team Voltron into the story easily.

“I haven’t been home in so long...” Alexa sighed, shutting the door to the garage behind her, holding the camera steady so the messy kitchen could be caught on film.  There were books stacked on several counter tops, empty boxes left open in sporadic spaces of the floor. Dishes, dirty and clean, littered the area near the sink. She eyed the books as the camera continued recording, tilting it up so it could capture the empty kitchen shelves, “I should probably clean up sometime...” She trailed off, clearing her throat and moving through the kitchen, avoiding the island in the center.

Clearing he throat, she continued speaking to the camera as it recorded her journey, “I guess that all that’s here are just memories of a family now...” she paused, turning towards the fridge, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of the paper still stuck to it. There was a photo to the other side, fridge magnets placed together to form the names of those that were in it, but she ignored it in favor of the flyer.

“In loving memory of Joseph McClain,” She murmured softly, a flash of a bright grin and green eyes briefly coming to her mind before she squashed it away. She would not grieve someone who’d been dead for years now. Not yet, anyway. The flyer had her older brother’s dates of birth, death and the date of his funeral, including heart felt words that were empty and meaningless at the time. The McClains had already suffered so much loss, that it was nearly expected for tragedy to keep occurring to them.

She turned away from the fridge and let out an incredulous laugh, “Looks like these are still here,” she mused, filming the large stack of cans of salmon, “Joseph used to bring these home everyday from the cannery, so much so that we got absolutely sick of salmon after awhile... well, everyone except Patty the cat,” she hummed, turning away from the stack of cans that seemed seconds away from collapsing. 

Seeing a take away flyer on the counter and chuckled softly, “I remember that only one restaurant would deliver take away here... so we had Chinese a lot,” Alexa sighed, a wistful sort of sound, walking through the kitchen to exit into the dining room. She frowned, “The tables still a broken mess from the night we left I see,” she murmured, recording the empty and long rotted packs of Chinese food left on the table, surrounded by stacks of magazines, books and even an old oil lantern. She sighed tiredly, quickly shoving in the chairs around the table, hoping to at least make them look slightly presentable, letting her fingers linger over the chair labeled ‘Great Gran Alex’.

“��s like a bomb’s gone off,” She mused, walking around the table, careful to keep filming her surroundings, “Killing everyone off except the furniture...” Alexa suddenly barked a laugh, picking up and flipping over the flyer left on the table, ‘Happy, Heavenly Sanctuary’ in bold elegant curves printed out on the front, a photo of a smiling old woman on the front, “My mum was the only one of us that could ever see great-grandma Alex living in a nursing home.”

She set it back down, passing the table to head into the sitting room/library. She hummed to herself, pausing in the middle of the room to lift the camera, turning in a slow circle to show the towering book cases, filled to the brim with books. An old stone-and-brick fireplace stood proudly at one end, with big, overstuffed armchairs placed sporadically around the room. ‘The house doesn’t look abnormal...’ she mused to herself with a frown, eyeing the stacks of loose books around the armchairs, ‘there’s just too much of it... like a smile with too many teeth.’

She was silent for a while, before turning back to the fireplace and filming it as she turned the camera up, “You know,” she began hesitantly, a small smile curling her lips secretively, “even the fireplace has a story. Grandma Alex told me the bricks that built it were from the original house, back after it sank,” Alexa mused, turning and walking out of the cramped, over stuffed sitting room. The camera caught sight of empty carton boxes, left open on the couches before it was turned to the hallway outside the sitting room, edged by the stair case. 

Alexa paused, looking at the book cases and coffee table that littered the hallway, a bright smile lighting up her features when she spotted the old music box. She hurried over to it, moving the camera to her left hand as she reached out, letting her fingers trail over the top, the name ‘Danielle’ printed in elegant, golden cursive on the top of the music box. Alexa hummed and turned the handle, a sweetly tinkling melody filling the empty hallway with its song. The box popped open, a small wooden figure in the middle twirling in lazy circles, “Great grandpa Malcolm built this music box for auntie Danielle, along with the rest of the house,” She stated proudly, zooming in the camera so that it could clearly catch the image of a lake ingrained in the wood, the head of the Lochness monster poking out from it cheerily as the music slowly winded out to a stop, the lid of the box shutting as the song came to an end. Alexa moved the camera around shakily as she transferred it to her right hand once again, filming the pictures hung on the wall and left on the table beside the music box. A photo of a young girl turned away from the camera, sitting in a star-chair with ‘Danielle McClain’ written on the back stood directly beside it. 

Alexa turned away from the pictures, walking a few steps beside the table and coming to a stop in front of a door. Alexa frowned and took out the key from her pocket, turning it over, “Mum always told me to stay out of the basement...” she said slowly, pushing the key into the lock only to sigh as it didn’t unlock the door, “I’m not all that surprised,” She huffed, turning to walk away from the door, “I’ll try to open it up a bit later if I find the key.”

Alexa walked over to the front door, weaving past more moving boxes to stand in front of it, thinking about whether or not she should unlock it to leave later. Her eye caught sight of more missing posters and she sighed, “My mum wasn’t much of an optimist, but she never gave up believing that Camera was alive,” She murmured, lifting the posters to turn them over so she wouldn’t have to keep seeing her older brother’s face. As she turned, more book cases filled to the brim were caught on camera, even books squashed into empty areas around a door could be seen, “A lot of stuff got left behind that last night here,” She mused, turning to a door that was locked, the edges glued together by a foamy material, extra prevention to stop nosy children from opening the doors. 

Alexa walked over to it, looking through the peephole and into the other side, “Grandma Alex told me that every McClain that’s ever lived here has been buried somewhere in the library...” she whispered, frowning down at the camera before pulling away from the door, turning towards the stairs that lead to the second floor of the large house. She began to walk up the stairs, being careful to avoid the precariously stacked books on the stairs and the photographs lining the wall up. She stayed mostly silent as she did, lost in the memories that plagued this place, “When Cameron disappeared,” Alexa murmured softly, “my mum sealed up all the bedrooms... then Alex retaliated, and drilled in peepholes.”

Alexa snickered at the memory, the image of her mother and great-grandmother arguing about both of each others actions clear in her mind as she walked across the second floor landing, briefly looking back into the sitting room from up there. She was silent for a few moments, simply staring down at the couches and armchairs, before turning to walk past the bedrooms. She stopped in front of a bright pink door, green ivy vines painted on its surface, and the camera up and into the peephole to catch a glimpse of the bedroom inside. It was decorated with the toys of a young girl, shades of peach and green, purple and orange painted on the walls. A dollhouse lay open to the side, a desk beside it opposite what could only be described as a princess bed. The silky curtains hid it from the view of the peephole, but you could see the back end of the fireplace to the other side of the bed, painted in a pretty sky blue with vines and birds trailing up the sides, as if it were a window into a secret world. Branches were carefully stuck to the side, against the walls of the room, making it seem like the tops of the tree branches surrounded one when they sat there, playing happily within a room of dreams, “Patricia always seemed like the kind of girl I imagined I’d be great friends with. If she hadn’t died in 1947,” Alexa muttered, shaking her head as she pulled away.

Alexa turned to the other side, noticing an opened doorway and frowned, “Huh... that’s surprising,” she mumbled, hesitating for a moment before entering through the slate blue-grey door and into the room. She gasped and smiled widely, holding the camera up to record the entire room. It was painted to replicate being in the sea, various sea life seemingly swimming lazily through the currents on the walls around the empty room. Dust covered the sand-colored floor boards, scraping lines the only thing indicating that the room had been disturbed. There was no furniture, no personal effects, nothing inside this room beside the open ocean, and Alexa hummed softly, “I spent a lot of time playing in great-uncle Aidan’s room. I think mum sometimes regretted not sealing it up because of that,” she laughed lightly, fully entering the room and walking around happily, letting her finger trail over the beautifully painted walls, “They looked so real as a kid, and I loved that a lot-” Alexa cut herself off with a small frown, narrowing her blue eyes at the sight of the book, seemingly glued to one particular part of the wall.

She sucked in a surprised breath as she walked closer, eyes widening at the sight of the padlock on the book, seemingly sealing it up. She pulled out the key in her pocket again and eyed it warily, before slowly pushing it into the lock, turning it to see it pop open, “Joseph always told me there were secret passages within the house...” she murmured, opening the front ocver of the book. Inside was a handle and she frowned, gripping it tightly before pulling it upwards, seeing the secret door open smoothly up into a small, cramped hallway, “But at the time, I never believed him,” she whispered guiltily, furrowing her brows. She eyed the surprisingly well lit secret hallway, before setting the camera on the edge and hoisting herself in and through.

“It’s time to find out what my mum has been so afraid of.”

[artificialqueens]

Just Strangers, Prologue (Sashea) -Panic

Summary: Shea Coulee is supposed to be a fashion designer, NOT an assistant campaign manager, but when she finds herself out of school with no job, she’s forced to take a position working for Trinity Taylor– just in time for the election, with a cute boss, a lot of events to go to, and a secretary that won’t stop calling everybody “sis,” Shea realizes that maybe, just maybe, she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. Warnings: (past) abusive relationship), homophobia in future chapters.

A/N: Alright, here we go! I’m back at it again with a new chaptered fic, and I’m super duper excited! In this, Sasha is a campaign manager for Trinity Taylor, who’s running for New York governor, Shea ends up being her assistant, and madness ensues.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out an update every week, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

Also, I am writing Sasha’s perspective of “To Be Alive” but it’s being very difficult, so that could still be awhile.

*This is also published on ao3 under the name “itwilleatyourbabies"

Without further ado, Enjoy!

-Panic

“The world works in mysterious ways, Shea-baby.” Shea’s mom would whisper to her at night, right before she went to bed, snuggled away in her pink sheets, the sounds of Chicago echoing outside her bedroom as her mom placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Even then,  Shea had never believed her,  she didn’t believe the world worked in a specific way, it just did, it just was. To Shea, the world didn’t exist for any single person, or idea, or event, the world just existed because it could.

But Shea still nodded along when her mother spoke. Wishing desperately that the world would just know what she needed, what she wanted, and would plop those things down right in front of her… fate. Sure, there were times when Shea thought that fate might be real. When she received her letter from the New School for Design in New York City, Shea’s heart felt like it was going to burst, her dream of designing clothes was inches away from her face and it felt right, it felt like this was where Shea was meant to be her whole life; it felt like… fate.

That is until it wasn’t anymore. It felt like fate until Shea was twenty-three and out of college, struggling to keep her Lower East Side apartment while she job hunted in the fashion industry. It felt like fate until she was buying value brand items at grocery stores and seldom touching her laundry because she couldn’t afford to do it. It felt like fate until the dream of New York City had turned into a nightmare.

She thought about going back to Chicago, spending more time at home, and planning her next move from there. Shea tried to convince herself that “her next move” was designing gowns until the right person picked her up, but she was quickly realizing that “her next move” was more along the lines of, what the fuck does one do with a fashion degree?

But Shea was fierce, Shea was strong, and Shea was not going to admit defeat to this magical city just because she hadn’t found her footing in fashion. So here she was, on a crowded subway at 8:30 am, on her way to Civic Center, to interview for an assistant campaign manager position for Trinity Taylor– a Democrat running for New York governor.

Although a job in politics was never Shea’s plan, she had considered herself quite an activist for many minority groups in her high school and college years, and after the election of The Orange Demon, in 2016, Shea concluded the politics were her only chance at making money from resistance. So she searched, she searched for any political job she could get her hands on, and for awhile, it seemed like nothing was there. Until she sat down and emailed Mrs. Taylor herself.

To Whom it may concern,

  My name is Shea Coulee, and I am a twenty-three-year-old female who is looking for a job in the political field. I recently graduated from college and was wondering if you had positions that were available. I have attached my Cover Letter below if you are interested.

Thank you for your time.

  Shea Coulee.

…

If she was honest, Shea didn’t expect anything from it.

…

Two days later, nothing

…

One week later, nothing.

…

“Even just an email saying ‘no’ would have been better” Shea muttered.

  …

  Almost two weeks had passed, and Shea was starting to give up when an email came in. She checked it, almost with her eyes closed.

  Ms. Coulee-

  Mrs. Taylor would love if we could schedule an interview with you. We’re desperate for the help and have a few paying positions available. How does this coming Monday at 9:00 am work?

  - Aja Storms, secretary to Mrs. Trinity Taylor

Shea was giddy! An interview had to be better than nothing, right?

  And so she was here, walking up to an oddly shaped building, sort of like an L, there’s a small picnic area out front, and the gate was propped open by a rock, pushing into the gate, Shea approached a locked door.  praying that she would be able to land any sort of job. Straightening her dress she rang the bell and admired her appearance in the glass. Her shiny black hair was slicked straight back, and she had gone with a simple pink, off the shoulder sweater dress that reached about mid thigh. She paired it with a chunky belt and strappy gold heels. At first, she considered it being “too much” but upon looking through her closet, she realized it was decked out for a fashion designer– not a politician, and this was the best she was able to do.

A nasal cough shook Shea out of her thoughts. She glanced around to find out where the sound was coming from before realizing that a cough had come from a small box placed slightly above the door bell.

“State your name and business.” The box spoke again.

“Shea Coulee. I’m here for an interview?” Her voice was shaking, why was she nervous? She would kill this interview, she knew that much for sure.

The box never replied Shea’s only response was the clicking of a door. Grabbing the door, Shea pulled and entered and was immediately faced with a desk.     The woman sitting at it was paying very little attention to Shea, which gave her a moment to check out her appearance. Her hair was a light lavender color and was curled in gentle waves around her face, it landed right on her shoulders and her pastel blue blazer that she wore, barely covering the gages that sat in her ears. Upon noticing Shea, she flipped her chair around to face her.

“You must be Shea, right?” She started. Shea noticed immediately that she had to be from Brooklyn, the accent gave it away, it was clear as day. Shea nodded.

“Alright sis, I’m Aja, we’ve emailed,  I’m just going to walk you to Mrs. Taylor’s assistant and she’ll go ahead interview you, kay?” Once again, Shea nodded.  Aja stood up, and Shea immediately noticed her impossibly high heels. Aja leads her into a large, exposed brick room filled to the brim with mismatched couches and chairs of yellow, gray, orange, and black.  A few tables cluttered with empty doughnut boxes and messy paperwork. The room was unnecessarily warm and filled with people, laptops propped on laps, somewhere laughing, some were chewing. And some were dead silent. Aja zig-zagged Shea through the maze of the chairs and papers. Finally taking her by a desk, where a small blonde woman was squealing over her ridiculous piles of paper, muttering to herself. “Why did we spend this much on shirts? Why in the fuck did we spend this much on shirts?” Turning into a separate hallway, Shea noticed four doors, two on the left, one door closed, the other propped slightly open. On the left, another door was closed, but a large window showed that the room inside was a conference room.  A final door was at the end of the hallway, a sparkling nameplate read “Trinity Taylor” right on the front. Aja lead Shea to the propped open door on the left, even though it was open, Aja still left a few short knocks before pushing her head in. “Hey, Pep? I have that girl you’re interviewing.” Aja whispered across the door.

“Bring her in.” replied a voice on the other side of the door. Aja moved aside so Shea could enter.

“Sorry Mrs. Taylor couldn’t interview you– she’s busy, but her assistant will know what she looking for, so… uh… break a leg, sis.” Shea nodded, pushing her way into the office.

It was light. A big window was opposite Shea and the multiple lamps around the desk and floor lightened up the room. On one side of the room, another door (this one, Shea noted, was closed and appeared to be locked) next to it was a shelf full of banker boxes, all tagged with things like “social media management- 2012, 2013,2014,2015” “Pride documents.” “Juneteenth documents.”  Right in front of the window was a desk chair and desk, situated so that the woman working was facing the door. Upon noticing Shea’s entrance, the woman stood to shake Shea’s hand. Her black hair fell in large curls to her shoulders, brushing against her clean white blazer. Shea grabbed her hand and was shocked by the large diamonds that decorated her fingers and wrist.

“Hello,” her voice was light, soft, almost… motherly? Shea thought to herself as she shook the woman’s hand, “I’m peppermint, the assistant to Mrs. Trinity Taylor, and you are…?” She sat down, and Shea did so as well, finding herself in a very uncomfortable plastic chair, white– like her surroundings.

“I’m Shea, uhm, Shea Coulee, and I’m, int-interested in a job here?” Shea cursed herself for sounding so uncertain. Peppermint laughed.

“No need to sound nervous, doll– I’ll be honest with you, we’re so desperate for help around here, this interview is almost entirely for formality sake, it’ll be fine.” Her words reassured Shea, whether it was her actual speech or her calming voice Shea didn’t know, probably some combination thereof, before she could speak, Peppermint continued, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your background in?”

“Fashion design. I just finished school this last May.” Peppermint smiled and clicked her pen a few times before writing Shea’s words down a notepad.

“Alright, Ms. Coulee, what started your interest in politics?” Shea held back rueful laughter.

“I was always interested in the social change aspect of politics throughout high school and college, but if I’m completely honest- I’m in desperate need of a job and this seemed like a good option.” Peppermint nodded.

“I don’t think many people choose to go into politics, politics really chooses the people who are going to to be in it.” If Shea was honestly, she had little to no clue what Peppermint meant, but she nodded along anyway, partially to be polite, and partially because she really needed this fucking job.

The interview continued like many do, Peppermint questioned her past work experience (she didn’t have much). Her five-year plan (she didn’t have one). How she would describe herself (strong, passionate, determined… she ignored the voice in her brain whispering “lonely” and “desperate”). Peppermint asked her weaknesses (sometimes she speaks without thinking, she’s quick to love or hate, she’s terrified of rats).  Her strengths (She’s resilient, brave, and loyal).

“Okay, okay, the last question,” Peppermint smiled, flashing rows of bright white teeth at Shea, “When can you start?”

Shea let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding.

“As soon as I can.” Peppermint nodded, and ripped a sticky note off of a pile, jotting down a couple of things.

“Alright, we’re in desperate need of an assistant campaign manager– ours does so much I’m constantly worried she’ll implode from stress, and I’m sure an assistant would really help her out.” Once again, Shea nodded, not entirely sure what a campaign manager did… or even what a campaign manager was.

“You can start tomorrow, you’ll spend your first week following her around, learning the ropes of what the job entails, and then you can get to work. The work day starts at around eight am, and ends at about five pm, in theory, it’s only Monday through Friday but we often spend weekends and nights doing events, parades, and things of that sort. Sound good?”

“Sounds like information overload.” Shea let out a nervous laugh and Peppermint joined her, her laughter booming across the office. She smiled, at Shea and took her hand.

“It’s not easy, but it’s rewarding. I have a feeling that you’re going to do great. And don’t worry, your boss is the best,” Peppermint walked to the door, and held it open so Shea could exit, “actually… do you want to go ahead a meet her before you go?” Shea nodded. She didn’t know what to expect, but to have even an inkling of an idea of the people around her would be nice.

  Peppermint scooted past Shea and walked into the hallway before motioning for Shea to join her. Together, they walked to the closed door next to Pepper’s. Peppermint raised her fist to the door to knock before stopping not even an inch from the dark wood of the surface.

  “Just a warning,” Peppermint whispered, lowering her hand, “She really is great, but it’s pride season and Juneteenth season and if I’m honest… she’s super stressed out right now so please, just be kind.”

  “Of course!” Shea whispered back, smiling at Peppermint, who seemed relieved at her words. Peppermint, like Aja, only knocked on the door a few times, and the opened it without a response.

  “Sasha?” Pepper spoke slow, like she was trying not to startle a young child, “We just hired your assistant, and I’m assuming you’d like to meet?” She heard another girl respond; and, the scuffling of papers, but from her place behind Peppermint, Shea couldn’t quite make out the words. Peppermint nodded and stepped slightly inside the office, leaving room for Shea to enter as well.

  This office was the exact opposite of Peppermint’s. The walls had been painted a pastel yellow color,  filled with art prints that Shea had never seen before, as well as large pieces of poster paper that were filled with names and dates. A calendar hung loosely on the wall next to the desk, at least eight different colors decorated the days with writing.  Succulents sat on a dust coated window sill, a small, but empty picture frame in the middle of it all. The right wall was entirely made up of bookcases, they held large, heavy looking textbooks, dark black bindings with multiple editions that looked straight-up terrifying. Binders sat on another shelf and Shea could make out the neat cursive tags that read “finances” “Juneteenth” “Pride” “Support Cards” “Support Info” “Possible Debate Topics” “Maps” “Supported Areas” “Data Entry.”

  In the middle of the room sat a large, L-shaped desk, the side that sat up against the wall was covered in neatly organized piles, binder clipped together, with similar tags as sat on the binders on the opposite wall. The shelves above had boxes of granola bars and nut packets, as well as a few coffee cups and water bottles. The desk that was facing Shea, however, was a little more hectic. A few roughly organized piles of paper sat scattered around, a half empty coffee cup sitting on top of one of them. A laptop sat on another pile, and a couple of gray T-shirts were folded next to a pile of cards that said “I Trust Trinity Taylor” on the back. At the center of all this madness, sat a woman at a desktop computer, typing frantically until she had heard Shea enter the room.

  She looked up from her work and stood up from her desk chair as she reached out the shake Shea’s outstretched hand.

  “Sasha Velour.” She introduced herself, she sounded out of breath.

  “Shea Coulee,” Shea responded taking in the sights of her new boss. She stood, probably just a few inches shorter than Shea. Her hair was a bright blonde color cut like a bob, and ended at her chin. She greeted Shea with large blue eyes, rimmed with thick, round, cherry red glasses,  as she motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs that faced the desk. As Sasha worked her way around to sit next to her, Shea was able to get a better look at her appearance, she wore a knee-length black pencil skirt and red pumps with a stark black turtleneck. She flashed a bright smile at Shea through her ruby red lips, and in the moment, Shea swore she could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Entranced by her soon to be boss’s lips,  she didn’t even notice as Peppermint quietly excuse herself from the room.

  “I know you probably just went through a crazy interrogation with Pepper, but I’ve got to ask– what inspired you to go into politics?” Her voice was deep, inviting, almost… comforting?

  “I’ve always been really interested in social change, I guess, and my planned career path wasn’t working out so here I am.” Sasha laughed and nodded.

  “Understandable. I came here to become an artist,” Sasha gestured vaguely to the art around the walls as she spoke, “but, making a career in the art world didn’t seem too likely after a while. Thank god I got my degree in political science.” Now it was Shea’s turn to laugh and nod.

  “Wish I had been that smart, my degree is in fashion design, I have no idea what to do with that.” Sasha gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Well, working for Trinity is honestly amazing, and I’m super excited for your help! June is such a stressful month.”

  “Totally! If I’m honest, I have no idea what campaign managers do, but I’m excited to find out.” Shea chuckled.

  “There are days where I have no idea what campaign managers do, but mostly I work on data entry, making sure we know who’s donating, keeping track of volunteers, planning events, making sure Trinity knows when she goes to events and handling social media and press. Some parts are more fun the others.” Shea nodded, at a loss for any sort of words.

  “That’s… a lot.” She finally said. Sasha laughed as she stood up.

  “Yeah, well, it’s basically whatever needs to be done in order to be prepared,” She offered her hand to Shea, “but anyways, I’ll walk you out? It’ll be a busy day tomorrow.” Shea nodded gratefully and took Sasha’s outstretched hand.

  They made a little more small talk as they exited the building, only stopping so Sasha could say a few words to Aja.

  Sasha, Shea concluded, was definitely going to be an interesting boss. She wasn’t much older the Shea, only twenty-five, and up until recently, she had been living with her (now ex) fiance. Shea told her a few things about herself too, about how she was from Chicago but didn’t really want to move back home. Sasha understood that and told her how she was originally from Urbana. Once they had made it outside, Sasha shook Shea’s hand again and reminded her that work started around eight am, but if she was later, nobody would really be angry (“we all know the traffic fucking sucks, here.” She had told Shea with a laugh). As Shea departed, she knew one thing was for sure:

  She had no idea what the hell she had gotten herself into.

[philanddanxreader]

Dorms #2

Hello,  Love bugs.

Dan X Reader

Warnings- Smut 

Dorms sequal?-anon

 This picks up three weeks after Dan has left uni. Here is Part 1 but it's totally not necessary to read.

It had been 3 weeks since Dan dropped out of school. It was now the second semester and you we're dying without your study buddy. He was always there to hang out with to study or to watch some trash movie to get your mind off of things. You were mostly upset about how things we're left off with Dan. You had both felt a magnetic pull to each other. That was before he ditched you. Now when you walk past Dan’s room you don't feel butterflies thinking about Dan. Now all you can think is how you miss him. The both of you text each other almost every day but you haven't seen him since the day he took his last box over to Phil's. The last night that Dan was in the dorms the both of you had finally gone all of the way. The both of you had become cuddle makeout buddies pretty quick into meeting each other but you had to keep telling yourself that it was just a platonic thing. Well, at least that was before the last night in the dorms. You had actually stayed back in the dorms an extra day instead of going home to be with him. The sex for you was amazing. You were pretty sure Dan was into it to as the both of you had been sexting over text and pictures. He was the only person in the whole world that you would ever trust to do that with. That being said it was really fucking annoying that you hadn't seen him in person for so long. It was a Saturday night that was beyond boring. You had possibly had a few drinks of liquid courage. You and Dan had been talking all evening and you could tell he was trying to sext you. Since you had nothing to lose you decided to call him. You clicked on the little photo of Dan in your contacts before hearing the ringing coming through the phone. Just as you were about to lose your courage you heard Dan’s voice coming from the phone.

“Hey! It’s been awhile since I had talked to you. How are you?” Fuck. Okay, liquor help me out.

“Hey. Ya, it's been a long while. That's actually kinda why I called. Just wanted to talk to you.” Well, really you wanted to hear his voice.But you know it's the same fucking thing.

“It has been. I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I have been a royal dick to you.” They why haven't you called me.

“I understand. We have both been in a crazy bit of time. Listen is it too bold to invite you to come over?” Good job finding your balls y/n.

“Actually would you mind coming over here? Phil's gone and I don't really feel like running into people and answer a bunch of questions. I will sweeten the deal with the bonus of alcohol.” Damn him making you wear pants. You, of course, would do anything to get away from campus. Plus if it means seeing dan you would do it.

“Yes but you owe me.” You couldn't help the stupid smile on your face. He made you feel all stupid and giddy.

“I think I’m actually ok with being in debt with you.” Fuck you and your adorableness.

“Can you send me the address again? I have only been to Phil's once so I just want to make sure that I don't go to a murderer's house.”

“You bet. I will text it to you. It's about a half hour trip. You know if you're going to be staying late you should maybe bring a bag. Just because you don't want the trains to be shut down for the night and get stranded.”

“ Fuck you’re smooth.” oops that one was meant to be an inner dialogue.”See you soon bean.”

“See you soon bean.” You missed hearing him call you Bean. It kinda started one day when Dan was being too adorable for life and you said that it was annoying you. So you said that you were changing his name to Bean. He decided that it wasn't fair if you could call him bean when he said you were cuter and nicer than him. So The both of you have a disgustingly cute pet name to call each other.You quickly tossed a bunch of stuff in your backpack. You didn't even bother trying to bring homework as you didn't have any plans to work even a bit. A long train ride later and you were standing outside of the tall apartment building. You had texted Dan that you were there and that you were locked out like a puppy. You started to feel nervous. It's not like you hadn't spent nights cuddling Dan before. That time you failed your speech you spent four nights in a row cuddling into his chest. Just as you were thinking about the short four months that you knew each other Dan knocked on the door successfully scaring you and pushing your thoughts away for now.

“You’re an ass!” Dan opened the door for you as he ushered you into the warmth.He looked skinnier than before. He was wearing his favourite jeans and the t-shirt you tried stealing because it was like wearing a cloud.

“Good to see you too.” Dan had pulled you into a hug as the both of you inhale each other's scents. Fuck did you miss him?

“I missed you. Was that not super lame to say?” Dan and pulled you into the tiny elevator as he was still hugging you.

“I would actually be mad if you didn't miss me. I would feel stupid for missing you so much.” Dan placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. It was like the two of you had picked up from where you left off three weeks ago.

“Bean.” You felt tears tease the corners of your eyes. Stupid emotions. We're you actually falling head over heels for him?”

“Don't cry, love.” The elevator stopped at the floor and the both of you walked out as Dan lead you to the apartment holding your hand. Once inside Dan took your bag and coat off of you before taking your face in both of his hands. “Why are you crying?” You felt silly as Dan burned holes into you as he attempted to search your eyes for his answer.

“I’m just a wreck without you, Dan. I know I sound like some crazy girl but I just miss you in my life. You must think I'm some sort of stalker.” That's when you felt Dan’s lips crash into yours in a messy kiss. Just as Dan had his hands on the sides of your face you pulled him closer by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck so you could play with his hair. This made Dan moan into the kiss as the both of you pressed deeper into each other. The both of you needed to take a deep breath but you we're sure that if you broke the kiss he would disappear. Dan was the one to pull apart. He continued to kiss down your neck as you took some deep breaths.

“Should we take this out of the doorway. I Keep wanting to toss you to the wall and fucking take you right here.” you giggle as you nod and follow Dan to his room. It's smaller than his dorm room but it feels exactly the same.

“It feels like you never left.” Dan grabbed you into another hug as you rested your head on his shoulder. You didn't feel like crying anymore but if you were being honest you didn't really feel in the mood. Dan could finally read your feelings and knew something was wrong. He pulled you to his bed where he sat down then pulled you in to cuddle up.

“Tell me how school is going.”

“Thank you.” Dan knew exactly what you meant. He was planning on talking about everything. He just assumed it would be after sex in his bed. He could never try and push off talking when you were so clearly upset.

“Tell me Bean. Are classes bad? Did you finish your maths assignment? Did you finally tell Mark to fuck off? I always hated sharing a wall with him,” You couldn't help but laugh as Dan asked you all of these questions. You knew that even if school wasn't meant for him he was still missing it a bit. You told him all about classes and how this semester was thankfully easier. You told him that Mark was trying to get in your pants but you have told him time and time again that it wasn't going to happen. The last thing you wanted to talk about was how you missed him.

“I think the worst thing of all is missing my study buddy. I miss having you around to help me or even just to sit with. I don't want to sound like I'm some clingy bitch but I had just become so used to you that everything feels weird.” Dan was running his hand along your back as you talked. You were waiting for him to respond with something about how the two of you had discussed that maybe emotions weren't so good to add to your relationship.Thankfully Dan let a breath out letting you know he was going to say something.

“I fucking miss you too. Life has kinda been a downward spiral since I left. I thought leaving was the right thing to do. I still think I am right. It's just I’m not sure what I do now. I'm also worried about youtube and what if it fails. I don't have any real skills so what would I do? I have wanted to see you since the second day I moved out. I just don't want you to get in a relationship with a loser. I'm pretty sure I have fallen for you and your cute act. I needed to say that before anything else happens. I don't want this to just be sexual or just a friendship. I need you. After this time without you, I now know at least one thing for sure. It's that I need you as my rock just as much I hope you need me.” Well if you weren't crying before you were now.

“Kiss me you big, stupid, handsome man.” Dan pulled you up as he kissed you just like the way he did in the hall. The lust had returned quickly between the two of you. It was like a literal flame was burning for each other and there was nothing that was going to stop you two.

“ Fuck Dan. It's been too long.” Dan didn't have much of a response besides moaning into your neck as he started to nip and suck at your skin. You stripped your shirt as Dan took a moment to do the same. The cold air hit you as you felt a little shiver run through you. Dan noticed and stopped kissing you immediately. “Don't you dare stop. I have come too far not to be fucked by you. Dan smiled as he pushed you off his lap as he walked to his chair to grab the blanket on the back.

“Here put this on your shoulders. You will look like a superman.” You take the soft item and wrap it around you as Dan rejoins you on the bed.

“Super Woman. Now come back here.” Dan pulled you back on his lap as you feel his hands slip behind your back to undo your bra. “If you think I'm cold now.” Dan pushed his lips to yours to attempt to make you stop talking.

“Don't worry baby I know one way to warm you up.” As you bra was tossed to the side you were surprised by Dan’s lips instantly on your right nipple. The left was between his fingers making sure it wasn't left out. You couldn't help but release a little moan as you felt Dan’s teeth graze over the sensitive nub.

“Can we relieve ourselves from our bottoms? Your cock has been brushing up against my thigh every so often and I need you to fuck me with it.” Dan laughed as he lifted you off his lap so the both of you could take off your pants and underwear. Once the both of you were naked as the day you were born you couldn't help but feel the warmth on need build in your stomach. As Dan made his way give the other nipple attention you reached down to find dan's cock already hard in just as much need as you had. Dan had slipped his hand down to insert a finger in you. He smiled into your skin like a little boy.

“You’re so wet, darling. Do you need something? Have you been fucking anyone else? Because we both know that this is all mine. Your pretty tight cunt is mine.” Dan had started to rub his thumb on your clit as he added another finger.

“Only yours. I don't want anyone else. Only you.” Dan had started to kiss you as you rocked your hips to match the movement of Dan’s fingers. As you started to rock the blanket that was placed on your shoulders fell from you.

“That's right. All mine. My cock is hard for you love. You’re the only one who could make me have precum already falling from my tip.” You couldn't wait anymore as you didn't want to cum just from getting finger fucked by Dan. You would much rather enjoy cumming with Dan.

“Dan I’m going to cum. Take your fingers out.” Dan’s smirk returned as he laughed a little more to himself than to you.

“Trying to tell me what to do pet? Well, I would much rather see you wither around my fingers like the little slut you are. Getting off just with me fucking you with my fingers.” You couldn't respond as you moaned and cried out as you felt the waves wash over you. You had the strongest orgasm that you haven't had for at least three weeks. You could never seem to replicate Dan’s doings. Just as you finally came down from your high Dan removed his fingers before grabbing your chin with the other. “Was that good?” You didn't know you could talk until you squeaked out a Dan. He smiled as he started to stroke his cock as he waited for you to fully recover for round two.

“I'm ready. Your breathing was never normal but you couldn't wait for that to return before needing to be fucked by Dan. His cock wasn't that thick but long. Dan knew what to do with it and that really what mattered.

“Ready? Well, crawl on.” You lifted up as Dan held his cock so you could slide down on him. As you reached the base of him you felt his hands reach for your hips to help guide you up and down. He didn't wait very long before starting to thrust into you as he helped bounce you up and down his member. Hopefully, Dan and Phil’s neighbours didn't have thin walls as the both of you were letting out all of your moans that you could never let escape from your lips in the dorms.

“Put your hands on my shoulders. I want to speed this up.” You obliged as you felt yourself meeting every thrust with him feeling pure bliss. Normally you didn't like the cowboy position but it was great for now because you were able to watch Dans’ face as he fucked you. The other great thing was that you were able to kiss Dan as much as you wanted. He tasted like he always did. It was a mixture of toothpaste and cherry. The cherry was most likely from his lip balm but the mystery was always kinda nice. You were lost in the feeling of pleasure and happiness before you felt your clit being pushed on. Dan was rubbing little circles on the nub as he wanted to cum with you and his own orgasms building quickly.

“Fuck Dan. Count us down. I want to come with you.” Dan continued his pace as if nothing was different.

“Five, four, three, two, two and a half.” You smacked Dan lightly on the chest as you couldn't hold off anymore. Orgasm control was never your strong suit. “ One. Okay, love let go. Dan waited a few more seconds as you felt yourself climax for the second time this evening. Once Dan knew you had hit your peak he finally let his warm seed spill into you. The both of you rode out your orgasms as the room felt hot with the smell of sex in the air.

“Well, that was spectacular. What time is it? Dan looked at you confused as he lifted you off of him careful not to disturb you.

“It’s like one am why?” You smiled as you kissed Dan with a soft peck.

“I just wanted to make sure we still had a lot more time to keep fucking the night away.

[yamlog]

12 oct 2019 (i have decided that in my remaining time i might as well just be all Dear Diary-ish and the lack of date/time in the formatting is quite alsdkfj. anyway, so here goes:)

dear diary (?)

i calmly explained my thoughts and my decision to a friend who’s been through similar struggles and for the first time there was no pushback, no ‘why are you so stupid’ or ‘why are you so dramatic’ or ‘why can’t you see the bigger picture’ or ‘i’m going to call your housephone and speak to your parents’, all of which don’t really help. the only thing she tried to do was extend the deadline from the dec of my 28th birthday till my 29th birthday, which i acceded to. there was the ‘uhh but 2.5 years is really short arh it’ll go by like nothing’, but other than that remark there was no judgement and no protesting or disapproval. and it soothed me, i guess, to be heard and accepted and not told that i’m doing something wrong. and i felt less alone, and just a tiny bit more understood. 

i told her about the book i was reading, and the injustices of a school system that failed a child who sought help. i think it takes a certain bravery to seek help. i don’t have it in me. i want to do this on my own, not because i am brave but because i am afraid and tired. i’m tired of feeling anything at all, especially of having feelings for someone i really really really really wish i didn’t have feelings for anymore. i want to turn it off like a tap but i just can’t, and nothing i do or he does can change it. he could become a serial killer or a woman-hater and i would still find myself unable to stop loving him. i think there’s something lodged in my brain that makes me unable to reason and rationalise my way out of attachment and emotions. nothing. i. do. works. i am tired of feeling erased - like the story he removed from his highlight - and discarded. and i am tired of feeling like everything is out of my control. i don’t think talking about it to an adult (as if i weren’t one) is going to fix my feelings. i don’t want to take pills and rely on them. i don’t believe that i won’t be reliant on them long-term, no matter what MR says. i just don’t believe it. if a tree can’t bear fruit because something is wrong at the genetic level, no amount of high-grade fertiliser is going to make it. 

and since i set the deadline, things have started to sharpen into focus. i have a list of affairs to settle, and things i want to do/ get done before i expire. 

the first being, i want to use the camera more, the crazily expensive vintage camera MR saved up really long for to buy me, which he then put in a wooden box with a coating and locks that he installed himself. it was a testament to how crazy teenage love can be, and i have done similar things in my time. but this is the best instance of me being at the receiving end. i took out the camera today, dusted it off, and loaded in a fresh roll of ISO800 film. i took a few shots downstairs when i sent my friend off. it feels good to hear that crispy click. it’s reassurance that the photo will come out right, that the settings were correct, that i didn’t mess up. i’ll take more especially when i am overseas, visiting my cousin. because it might be the last time i see her, if i don’t get a chance to visit again by my 29th birthday. it’s going to be winter time, and i can already recall how painful my fingers felt as they’re out in the cold fumbling with the even colder metal gears and knobs. i have also decided that once i can, i will sit down in my room and post everything that i’ve taken so far. i want there to be a clear demarcation between then and now. the photos that i have taken in the past, when i was happy and content, they Cannot and Will Not be mixed with the ones i have started taking today. there must be a line between pre-decision and post-decision, pre-break and post-break. it feels wrong and messy and unacceptable otherwise. there must be a line. i’ll get to it.

aside from this, i haven’t decided what else to sort out. i thought that maybe i should write those stories ive been dreaming up, the wacky ones that take place in singapore. ghost stories too. but try as i might, i can’t figure out a resolution. i feel like i should have the whole storyline in my head before i even start writing, so i can work towards an end. but i’ve also read somewhere that sometimes it’s better to let the story write itself. just start writing it, and then go with the flow. my fear is that i won’t be able to reach an end, and i’ll just keep going and going and going as the story grows and expands beyond my control. i guess i really fear losing control now. it’s just too much risk that i’m no longer willing to take. i guess i’m damaged, irreversibly. 

i want to make small zines and give them to my friends. i made one during invigilation, as part of inktober for my drawing twt acc. it’s made of scrap materials and i manually snapped a rubberband in half so i could use it to bind the scrap paper i poked holes in with my only pen at the time. we can’t really bring stuff to invigilation so i had to make do with existing trash on the table. 

--

hearing horror stories about teachers getting in trouble because of what they post on social media. ive been open about attending p*nkd*t and now i’m not sure if someone could dredge up a photo of me at the park from 4 years ago and use it to justify my unsuitability for the job. it really is a nightmare. and im not one to be paranoid, but i think i should be. 

long, long day tomorrow. my legs are battered and bruised all over and tomorrow it’s go time again. 

i tidied up some things i’ve collected in my bag - pieces of things from small gifts from friends that i had saved to stick into my journal. i arranged them on the page and stuck them down, it took about 3 minutes. as i worked, my friend said that she could never do that. do what? i asked. make things look nice so effortlessly, she said. she said she tried to bujo for six months but nothing she did turned out looking nice. it ties in with her drawing style. she said she wanted to participate in inktober, but she hates having to go over pencil with a pen, but at the same time she cannot bring herself to just draw with pen first. i’m not like that, i guess. i just draw with pen without hesitation, the same way i write or tape things down in my journal. it’s not bravery, it’s recklessness, i think. i recklessly commit all the time. i don’t think ‘what if i fuck up? what if i stick wrong and in the process of trying to remove it i end up tearing the paper?’ i don’t think, i just go. and if i make any mistakes i just work around it. draw over it, stick something over it, extend the line into a box or a part of a doodle. i’m meticulous when it  comes to some things, but completely not when it comes to creative expression. or with love either. i don’t backtrack, and i don’t think ‘what if i fuck up’ i just Go and give my 100% and love whatever’s there. i don’t think my approach is wrong. i think i need to look before i leap, but still leap. some things are fundamental to me.

my memory’s really bad today. my friend said it’s the shock and grief and crying, it affects your ability to retain information or remember things. even when im trying to remember what ia te for lunch just 10 hours ago, i have to struggle to remember. i ate downstairs. chicken rice, for the first time in ages. it was hard, taking that first bite, and i couldn’t finish half of my plate because i just felt so sick with grief my stomach protested when i tried to scrap up another spoon of rice. i made myself finish the soup. i think i’m still running a fever. it’s just the impact. i’ll be wobbly and insubstantial like a spirit for awhile. then i’ll come back, and solidify, i hope.