#the hair really adds a certain maturity to her look which is working so well with how they styled her this time

[butmakeitgayblog]

Okay yes! I knew she went darker than her usual hair color. It's giving... youngest billionaire CEO ever... or just hot af woman

Like. Oh my fucking god she looks so good it's— I'm... 😮‍💨

Who has a profile like that?

Who has a figure like that?? And the fit of that jacket is 💋🤌🏻

Just. Her face. And she.

Nobody touch me.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? - Part 1

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All  Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

Humans always strived to be better, faster, and stronger. So it was only natural for them to turn to genetic manipulation. Splicing the human DNA with that of animals. Bringing about a new half-human, half-animal race called Hybrids. They were like most things humans deemed different, scary, and an abomination. They were not allowed to be independent in fear of rebellion against the elite pure humans. These Hybrids were soon seen as lesser compared to the pure humans and were quick to be sold as servants to the rich and shady, and pets to the common families. The only problem was when the families no longer wanted their designer pedigree hybrid they were either abandoned, sold, or worse.

Hybrids didn’t have a voice. They were not allowed to live on their own unless they were fully educated with a bachelor’s degree. Due to these standards, many were sent back to the adoption agencies to be rehomed again and again until they reached a certain age. Then they were put down to make room for more returned hybrids.

You were working with the government on a program that could fix the hybrid rehoming issue. Having presented your idea to the board they seemed interested and were willing to grant you a small fund if you could give them the results they needed. They gave you a handful of Hybrids, one being Jimin the poster boy for the government. He was genetically modified to create a male calico with the classic calico print which was only found on females.

They succeeded and though Jimin was a male his features were more on the feminine side making him seem too androgynous but not what the market wanted. He was left to be used as a model on new billboards and television advertisements for government services and legislations regarding Hybrids.

Another participant was your neighbor’s hybrid, Taehyung. He was a golden retriever and was volunteered by his owner, an older gentleman who recently lost his wife. He was worried for the young hybrid that one day when he shall pass he will be alone and scared. You were quick to guarantee him a place in the program to help him become more self-sufficient in case anything should happen.

You were currently packing your things, not that there was much, living in such a tiny apartment. However, you were preparing for a call within the week regarding moving into a larger government-funded home where you could comfortably house the number of new participants of your trial program. The place was fully furnished with everything a large family of hybrids would need, all you had to bring was your clothes. Everything else was paid for to create the perfect environment for the hybrids. Rent, utilities, food, and anything the hybrids needed were all reimbursed by the government.

Since it would be a few days before you would hear anything, you thought it was best to start thinking of activities for the hybrids to get to know one another. Whilst also basking in your last moments of freedom before devoting yourself to the program. 

On that note, you had finally finished packing and decided to spend your hybrid-free moments treating yourself to some food. Pulled from your thoughts of a delicious omelet by a loud ping from your jean pocket. A reminder on your phone in bold letters.

H-week!

Today marked the first day of your heat, this explained the nagging twinge in your back you had been ignoring, you thought it was from hunching over to pack. Searching your top draw you saw the empty blister packet of heat suppressants, great another thing to add to your ever-growing to-do list. The pharmacy was a little further than the restaurant you wished to visit but not too far out of the way. So you set off hoping to get back in time before it gets too dark, your eyes did funny things at night.

See you weren’t exactly human yourself, you were an experiment. The world was creating new hybrids and well, you were genetically modified within the same year as Jimin. Supposed to be the new designer breed the ‘Fox-Hybrid’. The problem was it didn’t work, you were born entirely human. Sure you were a bit more agile, and your ability to hear and smell things was better than normal. You were still essentially human.

Once a month since you were thirteen, you would get a strange feeling in your lower abdomen. When you discussed it with the scientists for your check-up, they had explained it was a heat. Whilst foxes usually had a heat once a year lasting three days, yours would happen once a month lasting three days but a lot milder. 

Since that day you have taken a low dose heat suppressant to nullify any pheromones. You were grateful because it wasn’t as painful or as long as a human period, but it wasn’t as debilitating or humiliating as a real heat.

You had grown up seeing Jimin on occasion and were familiar with how debilitating hybrid heats and ruts were. Even so, the two of you became friends, both failed attempts at modification.

Though you never understood why they said fox hybrids didn’t exist, you had seen them. Sometimes in grocery stores, restaurants, or nightclubs. They would be there, they would wink at you or wave, give you a smirk with a twitch of their ears or a swish of their tail. Were they mocking you for being a defect?

The only good thing accompanying your long journey was the music humming softly in your headphones. Used to drown out the loud sounds of the city, as your ears were sensitive. It also helped you ignore the side-eyes from Hybrids who would not so subtly sniff the air as you passed. 

You caught a flash of orange and looked across the street. A simple fruit shop that had a colorful awning flapping in the gentle breeze.

Moving around the store was a shopkeeper in a green apron, shirt, with his bronze hair sticking out underneath a matching cap. He was putting down a tray of banana’s and as he stood, a pair of ears and a bottle brush-like tail were visible, he turned as if sensing your presence and locked eyes with you, tipping his cap. He dusted his hands on his apron, leaving you shocked. A Fox hybrid in public! No one else seemed amazed or even spared him a glance. How could no one see this?

It was like a scene from a movie, as a truck drove past leaving the man looking completely innocent and human talking to a few ladies. He was quite good-looking and charming, but there was no sign of a tail. The women were quick to fall for him, purchasing an oddly large selection of fruits and vegetables. You turned back to the path ahead of you shaking your head in disbelief, before continuing on your way to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy catered for humans and hybrids alike and was never too busy. Which made it your favorite store to collect your script from, as there was little to no waiting time. Handing over the script, you strolled around the store wondering what you would need for these Hybrids. Toothbrushes? Combs? If they had a lot of body hair would they need the silky coat shampoo formula or the soft fur body wash? Placing the hybrid shampoo and body wash back on the shelf you shook your head honestly this was overwhelming. 

Rubbing your aching stomach, you were too uncomfortable to really get into hybrid care right now. You wouldn’t have to worry about any other heats apart from your own as it was decided with the board they would all be male hybrid participants. This stemmed from Taehyung being already a willing participant from the start, they thought it best not to mix male and female hybrids.

You would however have to deal with their ruts, albeit once or twice a year. You chewed your lip in thought pausing in the makeup section of the store. You caught your reflection in the small mirror and preened thoughtfully, your eyes were expressive and angular, your hair due to the modification was a brilliant copper.

You were quite beautiful, eerily so, like the man at the fruit shop. Your features were so similar. Even though you were a defect and he was the real deal. “Ma’am your order is ready.”

Turning surprised you grew hot in embarrassment, stammering to make an excuse, “Sorry, I was just thinking about a really strange fox hybrid at the fruit shop.”

Many occupants in the store turned confused and you heard an old man say, “Fox hybrids don’t exist, they are sinister creatures and not to be meddled with”

“She must be a conspiracy theorist,” one woman whispered to her hybrid snake who was donating venom for anti-venom.

Paying for the medication you left quickly and took one of the small pills as you stepped out of the store. Why didn’t anyone else see them?

You headed back towards your home, not forgetting the reason for your trip. You were excited about an omelet at your favorite restaurant when two apples came rolling across the pavement. 

They rolled towards you, quickly picking them up you carried them inside the store, “excuse me, sir you dropped some of your apples,” You saw his shadow in the darkened store, two pointed ears, and the flick of a tail.

“Are you a fox hybrid?” You asked curiously and he laughed. It was strange like snickering but at a pitch that was not fit for a grown man, like a child’s giggle sharper with a few squeals, or like a bird chittering. You know the sound. He was Gekkering like a fox.

“Thank you,” he took the apples gesturing you over to the side, “let me get you some blueberries, they are my favorite.” 

“Oh thank you, sir, how much do I owe you?”

He shook his head, thrusting a black plastic bag into your hands, “It’s okay, we have to look out for one another.” 

What a strange man…

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[1kook]

skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

[bukojuiice]

something in the rain   — todoroki shoto

ೃ you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.

ೃ  pairing: shoto todoroki x fem! reader

ೃ  tags: childhood friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff

ೃ  warnings: none! 

ೃ wc: 1k

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr!  if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

ೃ song inspo: film out by bts

Puppy Love…

What a sweet and trivial concept.

Was it not?

You and Shoto met each other at the tender age of 7. Roughly two years into his intense and odious training brought upon him by his father. His mother who still unwaveringly continued to support him, would sneak the half and half boy out in between his trainings. Whether to bring him out to play in the local playground, run around in the flower fields, or to just go shopping in the local grocer. These simple things were enough to make the boy happy. Even for just a short moment.

Then, during one fated day, the sun was about to go down, and no other child was frolicking around the playground.

It was just you.

Alone on the swing, your eyes cast down on the ground, wriggling your feet and dipping them into the play sand. You hear a faint creaking sound of the seat next to you and now you were accompanied by a boy the same age as you were. Heterochromatic eyes filled with innocence and love, a smile that looked like it never left the curves of his face, floofy half red and white hair that gave him a very distinct yet striking appearance.

“Why are you all alone?” He inquires, tilting his head. “It’s almost night time too. It’s going to get scary…”

“You came here alone too.” You snapped back, averting his gaze and your mouth forming into a pout.

He shakes his head, “No I didn’t. My Mommy is just there.” He points to a faint silhouette of a woman not far from the two of you.

“Oh.” You blink. “Well, um- my house is just over there! So, my parents don’t need to always keep an eye on me!” You cross your arms, pointing to your house a few feet away from the playground.

“You’re lucky. My dad keeps an eye on me a lot. He’s scary most of the time too and I think it’s because of my quirk…” His shoulders visibly slump as he breathes out a hefty sigh. “Mommy takes me out to go play when I’m done with my training and I’m happy because of it!”

“D-do you wanna play on the slide?” You ask him, twiddling with your fingers. A faint shade of pink present on your cheeks. “If it’s okay, I wanna share my happiness with you!“

His eyes sparkle. “Sure! But…. wait! I don’t even know your name yet!”

“Ah my name’s (Y/N)!”

“I’m Shoto!” He grins, his eyes sparkling once more and you can’t help but become flustered even more.

 Oh, how you wish to see those bright blue and grey eyes again. His fluffy white and crimson hair, and just… feel his lingering presence in your life once more.

Why did time have to go by so fast?

Why did he have to leave?

After a year of feeling nothing but the purest and most blissful emotions whenever you were with him, that all came crashing down when Shoto and his family moved to another city. The reason why was because the neighborhood that you lived in wasn’t “healthy” for him or rather, it was too friendly and Shoto was getting attached to you even though he shouldn’t.

Heroes are built to be as strong as steel after all. Emotionally and Physically. Endeavor doesn’t want his son to be a soft little marshmallow who only beams so brightly whenever he hangs out with the little girl from the quaint neighborhood.

…It’s been 12 years since then.

You’re now a perpetually tired and no-nonsense sophomore college student. Studied hard enough to get a scholarship at one of the most prestigious universities in Japan and now it feels like you’re drowning in a massive amount of school works and extra cred.

Now, looking back at your whimsical childhood life that was only made possible because of one particular Icy-Hot boy, you get a sudden feeling of euphoria course through you as you reminisce the good times.

There was a feeling of inevitability when you met Shoto.

There was something about him that drew you in.

Even at such a young age, you had the sense that the two of you would be together.

That a moment in time would come in where he would look at you in a certain way and the two of you would cross the threshold of friendship into something so much more.

Which proved to be true, as he has always felt the same way as you did.

The two of you knew each other a little better than everyone else.

All the little secrets shared through giggles and fits of laughter, the embarrassing moments shared in a small and dusty playground, and the sweet little memories that the two of you were too young to understand, but what your prying yet loving mothers both noticed.

Your lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. Like two shooting stars descending from the night sky. It was always fate.

It was fate that the two of you met. It was fate that the two of you would become friends, playmates, and childhood sweethearts.

But you guess it wasn’t fate that the two of you would remain friends forever.

You are still hoping for a sign in the sky or a word from the stars.

If the two of you are fated to meet again.

The soft boom of thunder and sparkle of lightning awoken you from your slumber.

You had fallen asleep whilst studying for your finals. Just ten minutes of rest. You whispered to yourself.

Those ten minutes ended up becoming an hour and a half wasted and instead of studying and memorizing the chemical formulas, you ended up dreaming about ramen instead.

Some pages of your chemistry book were creased as you had ended up using it as a pillow. You pay this no mind as you mindlessly rub your eyes out of habit, looking out the window, as rain had begun to pour outside.  

You continue to observe the rainfall as the soft sound of droplets hitting the windowpane was so soothing to you, giving you a momentary peace of mind.

Your short meditation moment was soon interrupted with the grumbling of your stomach.

“Mom and Dad aren’t home till 9…” You stretch your arms, groggily murmuring to yourself. “Might as well have a trip to the convenience store.” You hop out of your chair, reaching for a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants from your closet, trying to channel the comfy girl look as you head out.

You lock the door to your house, opening your umbrella as you whistle your way to the convenience store, taking each step carefully hoping you don’t step on any dirty puddles and hoping you see some cute little frogs on the pathway.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a black sedan parked not too far from your house. You raise suspicion a little bit until you remembered that a new family was moving in the house near you, so you decided to just brush off your skepticism.

“Welcome to Conbini! May I kindly ask you to leave your umbrella by the door?” The cashier greets you, trying to force a customer-friendly smile. They might have had a rough week and you don’t want to be labeled as those jerk kinds of customers so you nod at her and leave your parasol at the entrance.

“Oh my god.” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands when you notice that your umbrella was gone from the parasol stand, another customer possibly mistaking their umbrella for yours. You sigh in defeat. “You know what, heck it. I could care less at this point.” You pull up your hoodie, dashing your way back home, hoping you don’t end up getting sick from this careless situation you’ve put yourself into.

You stop in your tracks once again when you see a dashing-looking man standing in front of the gates of your house.

tall, well built, half and half colored hair that was wet and tangled, wearing a long and patterned coat, hands in his pockets… it felt as if he was waiting for someone to come out of your home.

Could this be…?

He was alerted by the sound of your steps rippling with the puddles in the pavement, turning to face you, his umbrella twirling with him.

His eyes grow wide at the sight of seeing you, and you notice his chest rise up, like a feeling of relief and of hope.

“(Y/N)…?”

“S-shoto?”

These are still the beautiful heterochromatic eyes you know and love. Only this time, it had a darker hue reflecting from his orbs. These are eyes who have seen and who have gone through so much.

You can’t even believe it.

Here he was, standing right in front of you. The boy you loved all those years ago.

Even more handsome, mature, and striking, and yet you could feel this broken emptiness radiating from him. Emotional scars that still run deep through him and… at this moment, you just want him to bare his heart to you. All this pain and suffering he has felt all these years.

You feel droplets of water sliding down your cheek like crystal teardrops.

“It’s really you…” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands due to your blissful bewilderment but Shoto rushes to you with his umbrella, shielding you from the storm.

He was a bit too close and you could feel the heat rush up to your cheeks again, a feeling you have not experienced in so many years.

“Ah. I’m sorry.” He steps back a little from you and you can hear yourself internally monologue “nooo” as he takes a few steps away. “It’s been 12 years isn’t it?” He catches your attention again.

“It is. Yeah...” You nod, still looking up at him, a certain twinkle in your eyes and an inexplicable feeling growing in your chest. “W-what brings you here?” You add, your voice soft and sweet, whether you did this on purpose or not will forever remain a question.

“My family… we’re moving back here.” He replies quickly. solemn, yet there was a tint of excitement in his tone. “My father thought it was best if my mother, my siblings and I lived in a different house than him after… all the pain that he made us go through… and so… here we are.”

“Oh! Would you like to come inside and have some coffee?” You ask, pointing your finger to your humble abode. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” You giggle jokingly, trying to keep the atmosphere light and warm despite the cold weather present around you.

You start heading to the direction of your house, knowing that Shoto will follow you inside until… 

he grabs you by the arm, enveloping and pulling you in for a tight yet soft and comforting hug. A feeling that you’ve been wistfully longing for such a long time. 

A feeling that only Shoto Todoroki could give.

“I missed you so much (Y/N)… can you share your happiness again with me?”

In the midst of the rainy summer season that brought nothing but dim and grey skies, wet and damp atmosphere, and endless floods of sorrow, you were his spring. The rosebud opening in the watery sunshine.

The whimsical girl with grass-stained knees running around the meadow with him… like a prophecy telling him that new beginnings were about to come, your personality and your appearance reminded him of the cherry blossom trees that symbolized a time of renewal.

You were the rainbow after a storm. Spreading light and color to those around her…

The one who brought back light and color to his life again.

 “from all the memories stored in my heart”

I only picked up and connected the ones of you.”

  ೃ taglist: @chibishae34  @lovelytarou​ @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy @laudthingcat​

[127-mile]

Kiss and tell.

Pairing: Sicheng x female reader.

Genre: College!au, babysitting, horror | Fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings: Fingering (it’s not detailed, I don’t know how to write smut), orgasm denial, kind of fear inducing phone calls, mention of Sicheng selling drugs, strong language.

Plot: You have to babysit on Halloween night, and invite Sicheng to join you. But something feels wrong when the phone starts to ring.

Word count: +5.1k.

A/N: This is part of the 90′s love collab by @quokkacore​ and formely by @/etherealereine | This is inspired by an urban legend. | The title has nothing to do with the story, I came up with the idea after.

"What are we doing tonight?"

You are startled when you feel hands on your waist from behind, and if you were not so acquainted with the perfume immediately intoxicating your sense, you would have freed yourself from the sudden embrace. "I don't know what you are doing, but I am working tonight."

The warmth against your back disappears, and you meet your boyfriend's gaze. "Working? It is Halloween, you can't work." he answers, and you scoff, pushing him away when he tries to grab your book. "Care to tell me how I am supposed to pay for food if I don't work?" he seems to think about ir, running his fingers through his hair.

"Why don't you ask your parents? You'll go back to work next week." you knew what he was about to say even before he opened his mouth. Not that he is an open book, but because it is a recurring conversation between you. "You think my parents are going to give me money to cover what I didn't get today, just because I preferred to go party and spend my saving in alcohol?"

"Why not?" you heave a sigh, you love your boyfriend, of course you do, but you are tired of this kind of conversation. It leads to the same ending every time. "Because my parents are not yours, Sicheng. If your parents can take care of all of your expenses despite you being an adult, mine can't."

"They do not cover all of my expenses! I work too, I have money of my own!" he says, a hand on his heart in faux offense. "Selling bad quality drugs is not a job, Sicheng, it is false advertising and tricking naive kids who think they will become cool if they get high before class."

"Now you are just being mean, Y/n." Sicheng sighs, and you shrug. "I just need to you to understand that I need to work, I can't call my parents for money when I feel like it. So I'm sorry, but you'll have to find something to do tonight, because I am not going out."

"Alright, whatever." he answers, and even though you were expecting him to leave and sulk, he stays. "I'm sorry, baby, I just wanted to have one last Halloween with you, that's all." you roll your eyes, and you put your hands on his cheeks. "You need to stop being dramatic, Sicheng. This is our last Halloween as students, not our last Halloween as a whole, except if you plan on breaking up with me once we graduate."

When he pursues his lips, and seems to think about it, you hit his shoulder. "Eh! Do you really have to think about it?" he tries to stay stoic, but he fails, because a smile brightens his face right away. "Of course I do not need to think about it! Why would I break up with you? Dummy."

"You are an idiot, Dong Sicheng." you mumble, and he leans to kiss the tip of your nose. "I am your idiot." he whispers, and you pretend to gag. "That's disgusting, what is wrong with you?" he rolls his eyes and he takes a step back. "So there is nothing I can do, or say to have you by my side tonight?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry." you are not really sorry, because you know your work is way more important than whatever party he was planning on bringing you to. "But," you start, and he straightens up. "maybe you could stop by around 10pm, to spend a little bit of time with me, what do you think?"

Sicheng's eyes widen and he cocks his head to the side. "Wait, really?" you nod, and you wonder when he is going to jump in place from the excitement you can see in his eyes. "You never asked me to come!" of course you never did, and for many reasons, but why not? "I know, but at least we'll be able to spend Halloween together. Okay, there will not be alcohol, or music, but we'll be together."

"I don't care about the alcohol or the music!" he exclaims, and you chuckle. "Alright then, come at around 10." you take a pencil out of your bag, and Sicheng hands ou his hand so you can write the address on the palm of his hand. "Don't lose it, I don't know their phone number so I won't be able to call you to give it again."

"Do not worry, I'm not going to use my hand at all!" he answers, and you heave a sigh. "You have class this afternoon, and you use this hand to write." he shrugs as he looks at the black ink bleed a bit onto his skin. "I won't write then, I'll listen, and remember everything." this is impossible, especially for Sicheng who can't focus for more than five minutes at time, but you trust him.

"Sicheng, we are going to be late, are you coming?" the young man turns around when he hears Johnny's voice behind him. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming." he gets up from the bench and he swings his backpack onto his right shoulder. "I have to go practice, but I'll see you later, alright?"

"I don't think I'll have time to wait for you after class, so you'll see me tonight, at 10. You better be on time, or I'm going to bed without you, alright?" he nods with fervor, and he leans to kiss you gently on the lips. "I'm never late."

"Careful with your hand!" you yell as he starts to run towards his friends who wolfwhistle at the public display of affection. "Promise!" he answers, and you are pretty sure you hear him curse at his friends before disappearing.

You put your book back in your bag, and you get up. Your afternoon classes are quite boring, but now that you know you will see Sicheng tongiht, it does not sound so bad.

"Alright, let's go over the rules one last time," the older woman says as she walks around the house to pick up random things off of the floor. "the kids have to do their homework, take their shower, and be ready to eat by 7 o'clock." you know better than to follow her around, so you hum to let her know that you are listening.

"I trust you to make them something healthy for dinner," she adds, and for the first time in five minutes, she finally stops walking. "you can take whatever you want from the fridge if you are hungry, or thirsty, make yourself at home."

"They are not allowed to watch television, candy either. They have to be in bed by 8:30, and because it is Friday, you can let them read, or play until 9, then you'll put them to bed and turn off the lights." she reads over a list of numbers she hands you. "This is the number of the restaurant, and the emergency numbers if you ever need them, which I hope you won't have to use."

"You can watch the television when the kids are in bed, and if you want to sleep, you can use the guest bedroom next to the downstair bathroom." the woman takes her coat, so you get up from the stool. "You can give one piece of candy per kids coming tonight, and I'll try not to come home too late."

"You need to relax," you say, and the lady takes a deep breath. "this is not the first time looking over the twins, I know what to do, I know the rules, and you can trust me, I'll respect them. Enjoy your date." the older woman puts her hand on your shoulder, and she nods. "I trust you, good evening. Kids, be good with Y/n!"

The two kids agree from the living room where they are playing, and the lady opens the door before disappearing in the car who's been waiting for her for at least ten minutes now. You close the door, and you join the boys in the living room.

"Alright kiddos, it is time to do your homework!" they both whine, because "it's friday, we can do them sunday" but in the end, you succeed, and you watch with a certain pride as they work on their calculus worksheet.

You, and the twins jump when you hear the doorbell, and you turn on your seat. It is probably children trick or treating, and you feel bad for leaving the twins alone, because they are not trick or treating, they are doing their homework, and it is sad, they should be allowed to be outside, in their little costumes instead of doing math.

"I'll be right back." you say as you stand up. You grab the bowl of candy, and you open the door. Three little vampires are watching you expectantly. "Oh my, I almost had a heart attack!" you gasp when they hiss and you try to stay quiet as the young man walking them around the neighborhood looks ready to die of embarrasment.

"Here you go." you drop candy in each of their little basket, and you close the door. Before putting the bowl back near the door, you pick a couple of candy and you put them on the table. "Let's make a deal, if you do not say anything to your mother, I'll let you have these candy."

"Deal!" the twins shout together, and you chuckle as you hand them the candy. "If you finish your math in the next five minutes, you'll have time to take a shower, and watch tv for a little while before dinner."

You know you should listen to the mother's rules, but you want to see them smile. You want them to feel comfortable around you, and how do you get kids' trust? You break one or two rules, and you let them do what they are usually not allowed to do.

Pretty quickly, the math homework are done, and the kids are in the shower. They are old enough to be left alone in the bathroom, you know they won't flood the room, well, at least, you hope they won't. You do not want to have to wipe the floor.

You soon find yourself busy cooking something for the twins that you forget all about Sicheng probably getting ready to meet you, if he did not lost the address like you said he would. At least, it gives you the opportunity to focus on what you are doing, and when the twins are back in their pajamas, the meal is not burnt, which is a victory.

"Veggies?" one of them says with a wince, and you sigh as you put the plates in front of them. "Your mother said to eat something healthy, it's good, trust me." you do not trust yourself on your cooking skills, but you can't say that to the kids or they'll end up spitting the food back into their plates, and thank you but no thank you.

During the meal, you have to stand up a few times to open the door to give candy to the children, and sometimes to college students trying to see if they still can get candy. Spoiler alert: they can.

And before you know it, the kids are in bed, and you are on the couch, all alone in this big house. A horror movie is screening on the television, but you barely watch it, your eyes are stuck on the clock above the doorframe leading to the staircase.

Ten more minutes, you think, smiling to yourself.

10:42 pm.

Sicheng is either late, lost, or could not read the address on his hand after practice. You wonder if you should sleep until the twins's mother comes back from her date, or if you should wait a few more minutes to give Sicheng the benefit of the doubt.

But when then more minutes pass, you stand up.

You grab the almost empty bowl of candy, and you settle it on the kitchen island, and you walk to the front door to make sure it is locked, and you are startled when you see two eyes looking at you through the window, but you heave a sigh of relief when you recognize Sicheng's smile.

"You are late, I shouldn't even let you in." you mumble as you open the door, and the young man takes a step forwards, until he is close enough that his nose almost touches yours. "I am late, you are right, but I am also crazy handsome tonight, so I know you will not leave me hanging in the dark and the cold. he answers, and you hate how right he is.

"What were you doing? Drinking with the boys? Hooking up with a mysterious disguised girl you found in Taeyong's basement?" he shakes his head, and you push yourself away from the door to let him pass. "I did drink a beer with the boys, but there was no mysterious girl in Taeyong's basement, just a rat."

You roll your eyes and you close the door. "We can't make noise, the twins are sleeping, and as much as I love you, their mother pays me well, so I don't want to lose them." you explain, and when you turn, you find yourself pressed against the wooden door. "You are the one who has to stay quiet, not me."

"I'm always quiet." Sicheng scoffs but before you can say anything to defend yourself, he kisses you. The kiss has nothing sweet to it, but you don’t mind one bit.

"Couch." you say after breaking the kiss for air, but Sicheng shakes his head. "We've done it once against the door, never again!" Sicheng seems to remember, and he starts to laugh so you hit him in the chest until he takes a step back.

"There is absolutely nothing funny about it! It was painful!" you mumble, but he thinks otherwise. He falls down on the couch, and before you can join him, the phone rings and you jump. The ringing comes from the kitchen, and it is so loud. It echoes against the walls, so you run to pick up, not wanting to wake up the twins.

"Are you even allowed to answer the phone?" Sicheng asks, shoulder pressed against the doorframe leading to the kitchen. "I don't know, maybe." you let a sigh of relief when the phone stops ringing, and you tense for a second when Sicheng wraps his arms around your waist. "So where were we."

You are about to turn around when the phone rings again, and you pick up right away. "Hello?" the other side of the line is silent, and you wonder if you should hang up, but soon, you hear a heavy breathing that brings shiver down your spine. "Hello? Can I help you? Miss Lee is absent at the moment."

"Have you checked on the kids?" the voice asks, and you frown. "What? Who are you?" feeling Sicheng's breathing against the back of your neck is not helping right now, and you try to shug him off of you. "You should check on the kids."

"But why?" before you can get an answer, the person hangs up. "What the fuck." you whisper, putting the phone back on its set. "What's up?" Sicheng asks, and you shake your head. "I don't know, someone asking me if I checked on the kids."

Sicheng hums, and you turn on your heels to face him. "That's probably a prank, you know, it's Halloween, and teenagers like to scare their neighbors." he is not wrong, you both did this kind of prank when you were still in high school.

"Come on, forget about it." he takes your hand, and he leads you back to the living room. He pushes you gently on the couch, and you settle on your back, Sicheng hovers over you, one leg on the couch, and the other on the floor for stability. His lips are close to yours, and you break the distance by taking his lower lip between your teeth, and he groans a little too loudly.

"I thought we had to be quiet." you say, and he rolls his eyes, his finges wandering underneath your top to feel how warm your skin feels against the coldness of his fingertips. "yeah yeah, whatever." his lips slide along your neck, mouthing at your jaw, and each bite is soothed by his tongue right away.

You close your eyes, trying to lose yourself into the feeling of Sicheng's mouth and fingers, but you can't quite get rid of the feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can't seem to forget about the sound of the breathing on the other side of the phone. Teenagers or not, it was scary.

When Sicheng opens his mouth to speak, you realize that you completely zoned out, and you look up at him. "What?" he sighs, and you feel his fingers against the button of your pants. "Can I?" he asks, and you nod. You definitely need to change your mind, and you know Sicheng's fingers are going to do wonders.

He prompts himself on one hand, and he uses the other to pop open the button of your pants, and to slide the zipper down, way too slowly for your liking. "Come on, don't be a tease." you whisper, and he chuckles. "Eager, aren't we?" little shit.

Sicheng likes to tease, but he decides otherwise tonight, as his hand slides inside of your pants and panties, fingers already through your  folds. "Don't worry, I'll make you feel good." he whispers against your ear, and you bite your lower lip. His voice is so low, you would give everything you have to hear it more often.

(I’m bad at smut, so we’re leaving it at that, sorry.)

"Don't stop, please, I'm- I'm so fucking close." you say, and he tries to move his fingers deeper, but with your pants and panties around your thighs, it is hard for him to move as much as he would like, but he makes do. "Sicheng, Sicheng, Sicheng." you repeat his name, and he smirks. This is the most beautiful song he has ever heard.

You open your eyes wide when Sicheng stops moving, denying you of the orgasm you've been chasing for the past five minutes. "What the fuck?" you exclaim, and you notice how Sicheng's eyes veered towards the front door. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" you ask with clear annoyance in your voice, and you feel like crying when he pulls his fingers out and clean them on your pants, which is disgusting. He stands up, not even bothering to help you and he stops in front of the door. "I heard something."

How did he hear anything over your moans? You straighten up, buttoning your pants back and when you feel like your legs are back to normal, no longer shaking and feeling like jelly, you join him. He has his ear against the door, and he puts his index finger against his lip for you to stay quiet.

Once again, the phone rings, and makes you jump. Your heart misses a few beats, and it is honestly ready to jump out of your ribcage. "Do I answer?" you ask, your breathing quickening. "Yes, go." so you do just that. You go back to the kitchen and you pick up the phone.

You hear the heavy breathing right away this time, and even a chuckle when your own breathing hitches in your throat. The voice is masculine, there is no doubt. "Who are you? What do you want?" panic can be heard in your voice, and you do not even bother trying to sound calm.

"Did you check on the kids?" you close your eyes, trying your hardest not to hang up and lock yourself in one of the rooms of the house for the rest of the night. "It's just a prank, nothing more." you tell yourself, and when the man laughs, a real hearthy laugh this time, you realize that you said it out loud.

"Come on, this if your job as a babysitter, making sure the kids are alright. You wouldn't want anything to happen to them, right?" you shake your head even though no one is here to see it. "Check on the kids!" this time the voice is louder, and as cold as the bead of sweat rolling down your back.

"How do you-" before you can ask your question, you hear the beep signaling that the person has hung up. "Sicheng?" you turn around, but the young man is nowhere to be seen. You wander in the living room, and in the bathroom, but he is not here. "Sicheng, where are you?" you ask in a loud whisper, but you get nothing.

A kick on the living room window makes you scream, you cover your eyes with your hands, as if not seeing what happens would make it stop. "Please, please, please." you do not want to fucking die, not here, and not after being denied a fucking orgasm. When a hand lands on your shoulder, you turn and attack without looking at who or where you are hitting.

"Stop, Y/n, it's me!" Sicheng whines, taking a step back. When you open your eyes, you see him holding his stomach. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asks, shaking his head. "What? You were gone, and someone knocked on the window, so I got scared!" you say, frantic.

"I was in the restroom and I didn't hear any knock." he answers right away, letting his arms fall back on his sides. "What was the sound you heard?" you ask, tilting your head to the side, you need to know, or you are going to cry on the spot. Well, you are already crying, you can feel tears running down your cheeks.

"Calm down baby, it was nothing, just a loud engine. I'm sorry if I scared you." he takes a step forwards, drying the tears on your face with his thumbs. "Calm down, it's okay." you shake your head, looking around. You came here so many times, and yet, this is the first time you do not feel comfortable in this house.

"This is not okay! Some madman is calling me, asking me to check on the kids, someone knocked on the window, this is not fucking okay!" he takes a deep breath, and he tries to smile, but he realizes that it might not be enough to reassure you. "It's just kids playing a trick on you."

"Well, they need to stop because it's not fucking funny, Halloween or not!" your voice breaks into a sob, and he pulls you against his chest. "Don't worry, if they call back, I'll answer and I'll tell them to stop before I find them and kick their ass, I do not care what age their are, I'll do it."

"Sit down." you sit down on a stool around the kitchen island, and he opens the fridge to pour a glass of water that he hands you. "Take a dreep breath, it's fine, alright?" you nod, sipping on the water. You are honestly surprised none of the kids came down to see what was going on after you screamed.

Wait.

You know the twins, and you know they are light sleepers. They would have woken up by now, you stand up, maybe a little too quickly because you see stars dancing, and Sicheng is quick to be by your side, trying to help you find your balance. "What is going on?" he asks, he sounds genuinely worried this time.

"The kids. There is something wrong with the kids! I screamed, they should be up, they never sleep over loud noises!" Sicheng stops you when you stry to walk to the staircase. "The man on the phone told me to check on them, what if he found a way in, and did something to them and that is why they are not waking up?"

"Come on, don't be silly. They are probably sleeping, they probably did not even hear you scream. This is a prank, Y/n, just a prank!" he sounds angry, and you frown. Sicheng is hard to anger, so it is not normal for him to react so quickly. Well, it is maybe not anger, but it is definitely impatience that you hear.

"Stay here, I'll go check on them if that makes you feel better. I won't wake them up, so they'll never know I was here." he forces you back down on the stool, and in less than twenty seconds, he is gone. You can hear the floor creaking under his weight, and you know when he stops to check the multiple doors.

Of course, of fucking course, now that Sicheng is gone, the phone rings again. You try to ignore it, you really try, but the sound is awful. It is loud, and it hurts your ears, so you have no choice than to stand up and picks up. "What the fuck do you want? The kids are fine! Who are you?"

The man giggles, and you hear nothing else for a minute or so. "Did you check on the kids yourself? Because you definitely should." you can't take it anymore, you have to know. You hang up, and you go up the stairs, you do not mind if you die, you just need to know what the fuck is going on, and who is playing with you.

One thing is sure, if you survive, and find whoever decided to play this little game, you are going to make his life a living hell.

Once you are upstairs, you stop in front of the kids' door. The door is closed, and once again, Sicheng is nowhere to be seen. You really wonder what he is doing, but of couse, you do not think he might have anything to do with what's been going on.

"Come on, you can do it." you push the door open, trying not to make it creaks, because you do not feel like explaining what is going on to two scared kids. The room is dark, but it is quiet. You hear their regular breaths and you could cry ouf ot relief. Sicheng was right, it is nothing but a prank.

You close the door, and start to go down the stairs. Something feels off, you think. You know the feeling of being watched even when you are supposed to be alone? Yeah, that's what you feel right now, but when you look over your shoulder, you see nothing but a long dark hallway. Maybe that's the problem. The constent darkness.

"Fucking hell." you almost trip over your own feet when a scratching sound is heard against one of the walls. You jump the last few steps, and fortunately, you fall back on your feet, but the pain in your ankles is almost too much.

"Have you checked on the kids?"

You turn your head so quick towards the voice that you know you'll be in pain tomorrow, and your eyes meet.."Johnny? What the fuck!" you exclaim, and the man laughs. This is the laugh you heard on the phone, but you did not recognize it with the constant sizzling. He is not alone in the living room, your friends are all there too.

"What?" you turn and see Sicheng halfway down the stairs, smiling like an idiot. "Happy Halloween my love!" you frown, and you let yourself fall on your butt. "You couldn't be there for Halloween, so we decided to bring Halloween to you."

You want to cry, but you also want to beat them. "I hate you all so fucking much. You have no idea how scared I was!" you look up at Sicheng who crouches down in front of you. "Is this why you were late? Is this why you disappeared earlier?" he nods, unable to stop smiling.

"Yeah, I had to open the back door for them." he leans in to kiss your forehead, and you close your eyes at the contact. You should be mad at him right now, but you are too tired for that. That's a problem for future you, and also for future Sicheng. He is going to regret that.

"I hope you had fun, because it is over." you mumble as you stand up. You open the door, head tilted to the side, glancing at your friends one by one. "It is time to go home, you too Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes open so wide it is almost comical. You need to be alone to recover, because you are pretty sure your heart has not beat normally for an hour.

"What? Why?"

"Because I do not want to see you right now!" he nibbles on his lower lip, probably waiting for you to laugh, but you stay still. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you would freak out so much." he tries to explain, but you shake your head. He needs a taste of his own medicine. "I don't care, Sicheng, we'll talk about it later."

If Johnny sees you smile when Sicheng lowers his head, he says nothing about it, he just winks at you. They all get ready to leave the house when the phone rings, and they all stop dead in their tracks. "Oh come on, you are going to wake up the kids at some point, that's not funny."

"That's not us." you heave a long sigh, of course it is one of them. They probably asked another basketball player to help them out, so you walk to the kitchen and you take the phone. "What?" the breathing sounds different this time, and the voice is too. Lower than Johnny's, raspier even. "I think it is time for you to really check on the kids." you roll your eyes. "The kids are fine."

You turn to watch your friends when you hang up, and this time and you see something you have never seen in them: fear.

[aroclawthornes]

Blooming Brilliant, an Aroace Willow Park Manifesto

[id: a gif of a heart locket opening. One half of the locket displays a picture of Willow Park from The Owl House, winking and making peace signs with her fingers. Blue and yellow stars surround her. The other half reads "willow park my beloved." /end id.]

Greetings! It’s me, User Aroclawthornes, and instead of working on all the time-sensitive homework I have I sat down and wrote an essay explaining why I think Willow Park OwlHouse could plausibly be read as aroace, and why it would be a thematically enriching interpretation. I’ve never written anything like this before, so it’s oddly formal, a little pretentious, and contains a lot of qualifying language, but I'm confident that it gets my point across. I’m not intending to speak over other interpretations of Willow or assert that it's the only true way to read her, but it's a headcanon I find interesting, and I think there’s a lot of evidence to back it up, between certain elements that Willow’s arc employs to some good old overanalysed symbolism. If you're aspec, I hope this is validating; if you're not, I hope it's interesting; if you don't care, scrolling past it is quick, free, and easy.

Some disclaimers on terminology: I’m speaking from an aroace perspective, and so when I say “aspec coding” I’m generally referring to both orientations as a catch-all - a lot of the coding surrounding Willow could go either way. I’m also going to be talking about commonly accepted “aspec” narratives, but I’m aware of the limitations of this insofar as my experiences are only a single facet of the diverse range of aspec people in this world, so anyone who wants to add or argue anything - respectfully - is encouraged to.

Analysis below the cut!

The Thing About Plants

I’m not going to pretend that an association with plants is historically indicative of aspec coding, because, frankly, there haven’t been enough aspec characters to establish it as a convention, and it’s also a fairly wide-reaching branch of symbolism. However, I am going to propose that lighthearted comparisons between asexual people and plants (however misguided on functions of plant reproduction they are) are fairly common elements of budding ace teenage humour, as are related quips about photosynthesis.

[id: a screenshot of Willow from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her sitting on the ground while casting a spell over a small, pink flower. /end id.]

I’m also not going to claim that the colour green Belongs To Aromantics, and therefore that All Plants Are Belong To Us, but in tandem with everything else I’m about to cover, the connection between Willow and plants seems like a fairly plausible nudge to a relatively common element of aspec humour.

“Half-a-witch” Willow and the Late Bloomer Experience

[id: a screenshot of Willow with glowing green eyes, from "I Was A Teenage Abomination", depicting her summoning a mess of thorned vines. /end id]

Willow is literally nicknamed “half-a-witch”, in reference to her supposedly incomplete state - this is a sentiment eerily reminiscent of the pressure to find one’s “other half”, which affects aspec - especially aromantic - people particularly profoundly. She’s considered a late bloomer, someone who hasn’t reached the societal milestones of growth at the expected age, and who is derided and considered immature as a result of this perceived failure. However, we quickly discover that Willow is, in fact, an exceptionally competent and powerful witch - taken out of the restricting frame of the Abominations track, she’s able to grow into her own, “complete” person, therefore proving that she was never really lacking in anything in the first place. Like real-life aroace people, she was perceived as limited and immature based on the expectations and judgements of other people, but Willow was never deficient in anything, least of all herself.

[id: a screenshot of Willow and Luz from "I Was A Teenage Abomination". They are holding hands - the former is laughing with her eyes closed, and the latter is grinning, while covered in abomination goop. /end id]

As far as symbolism goes...the track Willow is initially put in literally requires her to conjure up another humanoid entity, with the expectation that she will therefore prove herself to be a whole and mature person. Only with this ability, she’s told, will she be successful and happy as an adult. The shapelessness of her attempts at conjuring an abomination reinforces this connection in my mind - if I may reference this quote from Ducktales 2017‘s (absolutely stellar) A Nightmare On Killmotor Hill, in which the protagonists explore their own subconscious fears via. the dream realm, for a second:

“I think that’s supposed to be my romantic interest, but I’m too threatened by the concept, so it never takes shape.”

A lot of young aroace people find themselves in situations where they attempt to convince themself of their interest in someone in an attempt to be “normal,” or end up lying in response to family members or friends’ questions about crushes. While Willow’s abominations, first and foremost, represent the expectations from her school, classmates, and family to be a successful, “complete” witch with a profitable future, I think that with an aroace interpretation of Willow they could also very easily be read as representing some latent insecurities over a lack of attraction, or pressure to find a significant other.

(I’m not condemning Willow’s dads, by the way - they seem like perfectly lovely fellas, and I’m confident that they were doing what they thought was best for her. They’re certainly very quick to drop everything to assure her future in Escaping Expulsion, so obviously they care about their daughter very much.)

Greens, Blues, and Yellows: Colour-Coding Willow Park

A while back, I made this post comparing Willow’s palette to the aromantic and aroace flags:

[id: a screenshot of a post depicting the aromantic and aromantic asexual flags, colour-picked from images of Willow in her Hexside uniform and casual dress respectively - these are overlaid on top of the flags. The caption reads "observations on willow park". /end id.]

The grey-and-green aromantic flag has long been the accepted mainstream symbol of aromanticism, and, as the above post - and many others - demonstrate, Willow’s palette reflects it near-perfectly. This could easily be a coincidence, owing to the palette of the standard Hexside Plant Track uniform, as well as her hair and eye colours - which are obviously supposed to be reflective of her plant-related abilities. However, given how fond of employing hidden meanings The Owl House has shown itself to be, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to claim that there’s at least a chance that her palette was constructed with the flag in mind.

The latter is...a bit more problematic for me, although it’s fun to joke about. The blue-and-yellow aroace flag was only created in December 2018, relatively late into The Owl House’s initial production, and it’s still relatively obscure, although on the rise in popularity as the accepted aroace flag (I only recently started using it myself), so I don’t know if Willow’s casual wear is enough to verify the presence of any deliberate subtext. I think it’s a fun coincidence, however, and (as was pointed out in this post) it’s cool that these blue and yellow stars surrounding Willow occur in the same frame as Luz’s bisexual decor:

[id: a photograph of Luz, Gus, and Willow, all surrounding a disgruntled-looking Principal Bump. Luz has flowers in the colours of the bisexual flag decorating her hair, while Willow is surrounded by bright blue and yellow stars. /end id.]

also seen above: powerful bi/aspec solidarity

Conclusion:

Do I genuinely believe that Willow is being deliberately written this way? If you’d asked me, say, two months ago, I’d have said probably not - as far as queer representation in kids’ cartoons has come, it has a ways to go, and focusing on transgender characters seems like a more obvious (and equally invaluable) route to go down. I can name maybe five explicitly aspec characters off the top of my head, two of whom have been written as alloromantic and/or sexual in adaptations or continuations of the source material (I have...some grievances with 2005 Doctor Who). But the emergence of Raine, an explicitly nonbinary character on Disney Channel, has given me a little spark of hope, and so, even if it’s never confirmed, it’s comforting to be able to see a character with such strong elements of aspec coding and think to myself, just maybe, that there might be some intent behind it.

I also...really want to see interesting things done with Willow. We’re halfway through Season 2, and despite some promising setup for her arc in the Season 1 finale, she’s sort of been left by the wayside lately in favour of developing the more “plot-relevant” characters, such as Luz, Amity, Eda, and Hunter. Frankly, I think it’s a disservice to her Season 1 development, despite how much I adore all the characters I just listed - beyond any personal motivation, the prospect that Willow could be aroace adds a lot of sorely-sought depth to her, and, as detailed, a lot of this has already been set up in her earlier episodes. I just...I think it’d be neat. Rarely do you get a kids’ show so brazenly queer in its themes as Owl House, and aspec people deserve to be included in that.

Willow would also be great aroace representation because, well - those five or so aspec characters I mentioned being aware of are all white or “raceless” (...also written as white, basically), and so an aspec Asian character would be a really lovely step forward in this area. Additionally, all the characters I referred to are also conventionally skinny, and Willow is not only fat, but written in a way that doesn’t treat this feature as a caricature. People who are more knowledgeable on these topics than I are absolutely free to make additions, as is anyone who feels like I’ve left certain details out.

tl;dr: Willow’s association with plants could be read as a cool nod to aspec humour, her “late bloomer” narrative is eerily reminiscent of some common aspec experiences, her palette speaks for itself, and it’d be really cool if we could diversify the so-far fairly bland sphere of aspec representation.

I’m going to conclude this by linking Rose by The Oh Hellos, because they’re my favourite band, they share The Owl House’s initials, and I also think it’s a good Willow song. Peace out.

[galacticxcosmos]

𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 ♕︎ jjk

Pairing :- Jungkook X Reader

Genre :- Suger Daddy AU, Romantic, Erotic, Angst and Fluff

Word Count :- 3.5k

Summary :- You didn't need a Sugar Daddy, but you still have one. What could make things worse? You having feelings for him probably?? But things were already messed up beyond your imagination, you heard of the saying, "Love hurts", but this much??

Warnings :- Explicit Sex, Noona kink, Dom Jungkook, Sub reader, A lot of angst (idk how I managed to write), mature theme, confused feelings, Jungkook with his smooth ass lines to melt your heart.

A/N:- I am still working on my series, mean while I just posted this quick Oneshot. I did go into depth of literature to give out the finest of my capabilities but it's not that bad, you can give it a try I guess. P.S:- Ignore the typos ans slight grammatical errors, I am too lazy to do proof reading. :P

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The night fell, covering the sky with a dark blanket, the one that had holes through which you couldn't see light spots that resembled shimmering starts. You were standing in your large walk-in wardrobe, looking over the racks on racks of designer dresses, trying to decide what you were going to wear tonight.

A pit of uneasiness formed in your stomach, the feeling where you go back to back with feeling nauseatic to not feeling anything at all. You wondered what you were doing, why you were still doing this, even though you knew perfectly well why you still did.

You didn’t need a sugar daddy, yet you had one. You might have succeededly lied to everyone but lying to one's own self is indeed a difficult job. You had a good job when you first met him, you had your apartment, you had a decent income. A really good income, actually. There was just something about him, something that drew you in and captivated you and when he’d made the offer you hadn’t been able to refuse.

He got you a bigger apartment, you didn’t need to work. The only thing you needed to do was look pretty and be available for him whenever he needed or wanted you. You’d made one mistake in all of this and it was the one thing that kept you here and somehow simultaneously made you want to leave. You made a mistake, did something that you weren't supposed to.

You had fallen in love with him and you were falling harder.

You weren’t sure how much more you could take if you were being honest. You had given up so much just to be near him and you were starting to realise that the sex and accompanying him to certain events as his ‘friend’ weren’t going to be enough. You wanted more and you knew that he wouldn’t give it to you.

That was one of the most important rules that he had put in place when this first started. No one was to know about the two of you. Not one single person. You didn’t want that anymore though. You hadn’t wanted that in a long time but you knew that it wasn’t going to change.

You weren’t even the only girl that Jungkook had and your heart hurt a little bit more deeply each time he gained another conquest. Jungkook might be paying you to keep you around, for whatever reason you didn’t know, but that didn’t stop him from being the same playboy that he’d always been.

You sighed, pulling out a short black dress for the event tonight, knowing that Jungkook would love the way that it hugged your body tightly. It was sexy, but not in a way that flaunted your body, just the way that Jungkook liked it. The black fabric hugged your curves in all the right places, the long lace sleeves covering your arms adequately. The scooped neckline covered up to your collarbones, a cutout back showing just the right amount of skin.

You walked over to the floor to ceiling mirror, slipping on your black heels and double checking your appearance, knowing that Jungkook would be here soon. Just as you finished adjusting the way that your hair fell around your slender shoulders, the doorbell rang. You let out a small sigh, knowing that Jungkook was here to take you to the new years eve party.

He always rang the doorbell when he came, despite the fact that he had the code to get in and the fact that you’d told him repeatedly that he didn’t have to. You figured it was his own way of keeping certain boundaries in the relationship that you shared. You walked over to the bed, picking up the red clutch that you’d filled with your things earlier, glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving the room.

You pulled open your front door your eyes landing on the beautifully put together man waiting for you. His dark brown hair fell across his forehead in a soft wave, his silk soft lips pulled up into a small smile, his beautiful eyes wandering over you in approval of your choice of outfit.

He was wearing a quite obviously expensive black suit that accentuated his body to perfection. The crisp white shirt he was wearing had the first couple of buttons open and you wondered how he could manage to add a casual influence to the outfit and still look as good as he did. "Noona..." His voice was effective enough to send chills down your spine.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked in that soft, melodious voice of his that seemed to make your insides melt whenever you heard it. You found yourself nodding, stepping out into the hall beside him and pulling your door closed, steeling yourself to your feelings and the night that was to come as he wrapped an arm around your waist and leading you to the elevator.

You sat at an elegantly decorated table, drinking another glass of champagne, surrounded by beautiful rich people who talked about nothing and yet somehow never ran out of things to say and wondered what you were doing. Why you were here, why you kept doing this?? Confusion was bubbling up inside you.

You didn’t belong here, you knew that you didn’t belong here and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, to remove yourself from the situation you had willingly put yourself in for something as silly as love. You downed the rest of your glass, waving over a waiter and grabbing another with a small thank you and continuing to drink the one that you had just taken.

It wouldn’t be so bad, if the man you loved actually harboured some kind of feelings for you in return, but he didn’t. You knew he didn’t and yet you just couldn’t seem to tear yourself away from him, desperate for any scrap of attention he threw your way.

You let out a small scoff, taking another sip from the crystal glass that you held. You didn’t even know what number drink this was, you’d had a fair few since Jungkook had disappeared, leaving you alone in a sea of people that you didn’t know and didn’t really want to know.

It was late, you knew it was late and you found yourself wondering just how late it was. Was it almost midnight yet, almost the new year? A time when people vowed to themselves to change in some small or significant way that they never usually saw through. Did you really want another year of this? Another year of being nothing but a plaything, something to be hidden and kept a secret? Another year of loving someone that would never feel the same way about you?

Your eyes drifted around the room, taking in the countless people adorned in jewels and expensive suits. Did you really want another year living a life that you knew you shouldn’t be living? Hell, half of the people here thought you were an escort and to be perfectly honest you weren’t exactly far from it. You missed your old life, where you were respected and had friends, where people didn’t look down upon you because you were nice and a hard worker.

Your eyes landed on Jungkook, arms wrapped around a beautiful girl on the dancefloor, your mouth dropping open slightly from shock. He was kissing her. Right in front of you, in front of everyone else, in the middle of the large dance floor.

You felt a stinging in your eyes, knowing that you were going to cry and that you needed to get out of there. It was the final push you needed, the final nail in the coffin. That you couldn’t do this anymore was the only thought you seemed to have as you rose to your feet before unsteadily leaving the large and opulent ballroom.

Back in the apartment that you had called home for such a long time, you were sat on the floor in the middle of your bright living space, two suitcases open in front of you and surrounded by clothes that you were trying to pack.

Your phone had been vibrating incessantly for a while before it had stopped completely, probably Jungkook wondering where the hell you had gone and what had happened but you had ignored it completely.

You had changed into comfortable leggings and a sweater, much more to your liking. You had begun to raid the closet, grabbing the least expensive items that you had purchased since you had moved in here.

You wiped your eyes for what felt like the billionth time, wondering when you were going to stop crying about this. It was for the best, you knew it was for the best. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself and you should have had this much respect for yourself before this entire thing started. You were pulled from your thoughts at the loud banging that sounded out on your front door, your eyes shooting up to look at it as you nibbled on your lower lip nervously. You weren’t going to let him in, you couldn’t let him in.

Your eyes grew wide and you froze as you heard numbers being punched into the keypad at the door and you could have slapped yourself for your stupidity. You’d forgotten to change the code, how could you forget to change the code? Your panicked eyes locked with his as he walked into your apartment, his eyes filled with a frustration that changed to slight panic as he took in your position on the floor, surrounded by suitcases and your belongings. “No-- Noona... What are you doing?”

There was a slight tremble to his voice that he couldn’t seem to hide and your eyes took in just how disheveled he looked, his hair no longer perfectly styled and now looking as though he’d run his hands roughly through it more than once. You dragged your eyes from him, looking back down to the suitcase in front of you and reaching to pick up some of the clothes beside you, tucking them into the suitcase as you spoke.

“I don’t want to do this anymore Jungkook. I deserve better than this and I need to learn to respect myself again. I’m going home.” You looked up at him as you finished speaking, noticing the way that his face had seemed to lose a little color, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply.

He began to walk toward you, closing the distance between you quickly and you dropped your eyes from him once again, reaching out to put another stack of clothes into the suitcase. His hand found your own and you almost flinched from the contact, refusing to look up at him and meet his eyes as he spoke to you in his soft, calm voice.

“I don’t want to lose you, I can’t lose you. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Just tell me what you want Noona, please.” There was a desperation in his tone, one that he didn’t seem to care to hide at this precise moment. Your eyes slid shut as you drew a shaky breath, knowing that he couldn’t give you what you so desperately wanted.

“You can’t give me what I want Jungkook, I know you can’t. I’ve done this for as long as I can, this needs to end now.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your heart seemingly breaking more at your own words. You wished he could give you what you wanted, you wished for it with everything that you had, but you knew it wasn’t a possibility.

Jungkook’s hand tightened around your own when you tried to pull it away, a hand reaching out to force you to look at him. The tips of his fingers felt ever so soft against your skin and you had to fight not to lean into the touch. “You don’t know what I can give you Noona. You don’t know what I would do for you,” you could hear the nerves in his voice when he spoke and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his own as he continued to speak. “Noona, listen to me. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to fall asleep every night holding you. I want to come home from work to see you dressed just like this. I want everyone to know how much I love you, because I do love you, Noona. You and only you.”

Your heart almost stopped beating with his last words, your eyes widening as you looked into his own beautiful orbs. Your brain scrambled to try and process what he’d just said to you, that he loved you the way that you loved him. When you took too long to respond, Jungkook drew in a shaky breath, before speaking once again. “I was just scared. I knew that there was something about you the first moment that I met you and I wanted to keep you by my side as much as I could Noona. I know you think there have been others besides you, but there hasn’t. I’ve loved you for a long time, I want a relationship with you. I want you by my side forever Noona..”

You sat there, looking at him as he crouched before you, your mind frantically trying to process what he was telling you. You wanted nothing more than to believe him, but there was one thing that kept nagging away at you. “What about the girl earlier tonight? I saw you kissing her,” your voice shook when you spoke and you almost cursed yourself for showing how nervous you were about that question. You wanted nothing more than to believe him, but you knew that you needed to know.

Jungkook’s voice was soft when he answered you, a certain look in his eyes that made you believe him. You knew that he was telling the truth.

“She kissed me, I pushed her away and went to look for you, but you were gone. I’m sorry.” His hand gave your own a gentle squeeze, his eyes searching your own. “I really do love you. I want to give us a chance. What do you want?” Jungkook was practically handing you everything that you had wanted since you’d met him to you on a platter and you were feeling overwhelmed. You had dreamt of this for so long and you’d suddenly found yourself at a loss for words now that he was offering it to you.

Unable to form any words, you answered him in the only way that you could, leaning forward and capturing his lips with your own. He instantly reached out to you, settling himself more comfortably on the floor and pulling you into his lap, his hands gripping your waist tightly as though he was scared to let you go.

You shifted yourself so that you were straddling him, somehow never once breaking the kiss. His tongue brushed the seam of your lips, looking for access which you granted, his tongue dipping inside as your hands reached up to tangle in his silky hair. The kiss quickly grew more heated, both wanting each other with a desperation that was surprising. Jungkook’s lips pulled away, moving along your jaw to your throat, nibbling and sucking on your sensitive skin and causing a small moan to escape you as heat shot through you straight to your core.

His wandering hands found the edge of your sweater as he removed his lips from your skin, pulling the sweater up and over your head quickly and throwing it somewhere in the room, before quickly returning his mouth to your neck. You ground yourself onto him, a small whimper escaping you as your hands flew down to push his jacket off of his strong shoulders. The action caused Jungkook to let out a small groan of his own as he pushed up against you.

His voice was practically a growl against your ear when he said “Bedroom, Princess. Now,” his tone changed, dominance was evident and you didn’t have to be told twice, getting to your feet with Jungkook following quickly behind you into your plush bedroom. You had barely made it into the bedroom when Jungkook pulled you against him once again, your tongues tangling together with the same desperation that had been present in the other room.

Your hands flew to his shirt, fighting with the buttons for a few minutes before you finally managed to get them undone, the fabric falling to the floor as Jungkook maneuvered you toward the bed. His hands reached down to unclasp your bra, that quickly disappearing too, before he also removed your leggings and your panties, finally pushing you down on to the bed.

He quickly removed the rest of his clothes, before joining you on the bed and settling himself between your parted thighs, capturing your lips once again in a searing kiss. You whined into his mouth, desperately wanting him to touch you, the sound seeming to let him know exactly what you wanted from him as he removed his lips from your own and ghosting soft kisses along your throat.

He kissed his way along your collarbone, finally reaching your chest and drawing one of your stiff nipples into his mouth as one of his hands drifted along your thigh, eventually reaching the place that you wanted him the most. His tongue circled your hardened nipple as he drew a finger along your wet slit, a soft moan escaping him when he felt just how wet you were for him. Your hips bucked up, desperate for more contact with him and you felt him smile against your skin before he gave you what you wanted.

You moaned as he slid a finger inside your wetness, his thumb drawing circles into your clit when he eased another finger inside. His mouth came up to meet your own, your small whimpers and whines being caught by his mouth as his fingers worked you, your small hands gripping his shoulders tightly. You were a shivering mess beneath him when you finally pulled your lips away from his own, your voice coming out as a shaky whine when you spoke.

“I want you inside me Jungkook, please.” He chuckled against your throat, where he’d moved his mouth when you had pulled away. “Whatever you want, Princess,” was all he said as he removed his fingers from your wetness. He shifted, aligning himself with your entrance before slowly pushing into your wet heat.

You both moaned, Jungkook burying his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself to the hilt before giving you a few seconds to adjust. His hands moved gently along your arms, fingers wrapping around your wrists to hold your arms above your head. He began to move almost painstakingly slowly, before suddenly slamming back into you with a force that pulled a surprised whimper from you. Your moans and whimpers filled the room as Jungkook continued to pound into you. “Is this what you wanted Noona?” he asked, his breath coming in short pants as he fucked you hard. You couldn’t find your own voice, your own whimpers and moans coming out as breathless pants as he continued to slam into you and you could only nod in response.

Jungkook released one of your wrists, your freed hand instantly flying to tangle itself in his soft hair as Jungkook shifted slightly, the new angle allowing him to hit you even deeper than before. Your legs began to shake slightly, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you grew closer to your release. Your walls clenching around him told Jungkook just how close you were as he moved his free hand to rub circles against your sensitive bud and that was all you needed to fall over the edge.

Your body shook around him, your walls clenching him tightly as your orgasm washed over you. Jungkook’s movements became more sloppy and less controlled, before finally reaching his own release. his body tensed, head buried in your neck as he groaned your name, coming deep inside of you. He collapsed against you, his grip on your remaining wrist falling away and you held on to him gently, almost afraid to let him go. As if he sensed your worry, his lips quirked against your shoulder before he lifted his head, brushing a soft kiss on your lips and looking you straight in the eyes.

“I love you Noona, and I always will” he said gently, brushing his lips against your own once more. You gave a small smile as he pulled away, unsure of how this one day had ended the way that it had but unbelievably happy that the man that you loved also loved you. “I love you too Jungkook,” you whispered, "Don't say 'too' it sounds like a contract" he pouted that had successfully melt your heart, "I love you Kookie" he giggled at the nickname, "I love you more" he wishpered, you placed your lips against his soft ones, a happy smile of his own gracing his lips as you captured them in yet another loving kiss hoping the night to not end.

The End.

Feel free to like or reblog, you can follow me for more. Let me know how was it in the comments, this is the first Oneshot that I have written in this account

~peace out.

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Detective, Stripper and Executioner

Pairings:

Main: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Secondary: Veronica x Zoey, Ina x MC (mentioned)

Warnings: Mature themes, mention of death

A/N: I wrote this after I hit my head, so don't mind me 🙈

The sun was already going down to let the moon shine in the sky, when Bea Hughes threw out a still smoldering cigarette on one of the city streets.

"I thought you quit."

The brunette turned at the sound of a familiar voice and saw her best friend and partner she could only dream of, smiling in her direction. She and Zoey were practically an inseparable duo after they graduated and lived together for a short time.

At the police station, they were second to none.

Zoey, was the best at talking and getting information, even the toughest guys are no match for her charm and cunning. Bea, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of her partner: cool and composed, with a hint of madness that was her ace up her sleeve.

Everything changed after a certain event that shook Bea's world and made her resign from the service for some time and completely cutting herself off from public life. The situation was so dramatic that the woman even pushed away her best friend, whom she damn well needed at the time.

But Zoey understood.

She always knew that what brought the two of them together was stronger than titanium and that they would always find a way to get back together. She loved her like sister and couldn't imagine life without Bea's sarcastic and cold comments.

"Because I dropped it." the brunette shrugged her shoulders, a smile visibly pulling at the corners of her mouth, just as a pleasant feeling grated on her heart. "On the ground, didn't you see?"

Zoey couldn't hold it in and laughed ruefully. Bea wasn't entirely sure if it was from her idiotic joke or just the fact that they were finally seeing each other. It had been a long time since she had felt such inner peace and happiness as she did now, listening to the black-haired girl laugh.

"Zoey, it's really good to see you." she walked up to the woman and gave her a friendly hug, letting the contact last minimally longer than usual.

"I wish the situation was different." the black-haired woman sighed deeply and her cheerful expression changed to one of clearly painted fatigue, which didn't escape Bea's attention as she nodded thoughtfully.

It wasn't until she got closer that she could see how big the bags under her eyes were and how much her eyes had lost their natural youthful glow. Bea felt guilty that because of her, Zoey was sure to have a lot more work to do, which even aged her mildly in appearance.

Bea is not the emotional type, but she was really worried about her friend.

"Detective Hughes, Wade." a feminine authoritarian voice interrupted their conversation and both women visibly tensed. Zoey straightened immediately as Bea slid her hands into the pockets of her coat. This is going to be good.

A woman with light brown hair and skin as white as milk, whose beauty rivaled that of many goddesses, walked toward them. The way she walked exuded power and dominance, making the heads of onlookers automatically turns in her direction. Everything from her feet to the top of her head had to be perfect.

“Chief Kingsley! How nice to see you." despite the cheerful tone with which Zoey spoke those words, the note of sarcasm was impossible to miss. The black-haired woman shifted from foot to foot, visibly troubled by the presence of the third woman.

Bea only watched Ina with cool, calculating eyes, who did not even take her eyes off her from the beginning. The woman hadn't changed since the last time they'd seen each other, and that was when the brunette had the opportunity to get to know her up close. Very close.

To this day, the scent of Ina's perfume could be smelled on her bed sheets.

She cringed as inappropriate memories began to flood her consciousness, stimulating something in her that she didn't want. There was no time for weakness in the workplace and women and romance were the worst of them.

"Who's the victim?" she asked once she was sure her voice wouldn't break under the strain of the very upsetting emotion that like a virus, had seeped into her system and was slowly wearing it out.

"Ford Tuantie, 28, single with a definite overactive sex life. He was strangled."

Another female voice interjected before Ina had time to say anything and the startled women flinched at the sound of it.

"Jesus!" Zoey was horrified, jumping away from the woman kneeling on the ground. "You should walk with a bell around your neck!" How long have you been here?" she asked surprised to see Veronica carefully scanning every last detail of the victim's body, furrowing her brows every now and then in wonder.

Veronica Lombardi was one of the best pathologists in the entire country. Her work ethic was as impeccable as the room she worked in. Her only flaw was her sharp temper, which she considered her greatest asset and source of pride.

The only person who was able to bend her was Bea. Though lately, Zoey's been doing it. On many levels.

"All the time, that's the job." she shrugged her shoulders without taking her eyes off the victim. "You'd know if you were doing yours properly." She added teasingly, winking at the woman. A red blush of embarrassment spread across Zoey's face.

Ina grunted loudly, visibly annoyed by the spectacle.

She stepped between the two women and focused her attention on Veronica, who made no secret of the fact, that she would be most happy to ignore her. "You mentioned about a sex life?"

Bea moved away a piece further, dragging an even redder Zoey with her to question potential witnesses to the incident, leaving the two women alone with each other. The tension between them was highly visible. Anyone who worked with them knew, that Ina and Veronica together, were only good at jumping down each other's throats.

"The man lying here is a perfect example of why I prefer women." she said proudly, tilting her head slightly to the side and tucking the genetic sample into a container.

"To the point, Lombardi." Ina snorted visibly disturbed by her subordinate's unnecessary comments.

"Of course." Veronica rolled her eyes discreetly. "I found several sachets of condoms in his pockets. In addition to the strangulation marks on his neck, there are visible scars on his body from fingernails, rather feminine if I may add." seeing the chastising gaze of her superior again, Veronica only sighed.

Ina nodded and walked around the man's body looking for any particular clues, but was unable to see anything special.

"He still had this in his pocket." Veronica carefully handed the woman a crumpled paper, which when unfolded turned out to be a flyer for an exclusive adult club in a nearby area.

After a brief examination, Ina nodded in acknowledgement and approached Zoey, who was talking animatedly with the witness, almost giving the impression that she was flirting with him.

"Wade, you and Hughes go to the strip club where our victim was last seen alive." just as Veronica had earlier, the woman held out her hand with the flyer and showed it to the black-haired woman, who scanned it with a sharp eye in a flash.

Zoey's eyes lit up and she had to concentrate hard not to show her superior how happy she was to be going to such a club. There's rarely time to relax in a job like this, so every opportunity like this is worth its weight in gold.

Plus, sexy women.

"Oh god, stop drooling already Wade." Ina crossed her arms over her chest, chastisingly looking at the woman standing in front of her. She never would have expected to be assigned a bunch of kids like that. "Pathetic." she chuckled as she walked away, leaving Zoey alone with herself.

***

"You'll like this." Zoey said excitedly, parking the work car in front of the large building from which the hushed rumble of music could be heard.

"A strip..." Bea said grimly as she turned her attention to the large led sign with the outlines of a cocktail and a naked woman. "Club." she finished looking towards her partner, who was looking impatiently at the large door leading to the supposed paradise.

"Well don't tell me it won't be interesting!" Zoey darted out leaving the dazed brunette behind and without looking back, disappeared into the fog and the glow of dim red lights.

Bea didn't like places like this; loud, overcrowded and dripping with visible sexual tension. The music rumbling in the distance made her slightly dizzy, and the thick fake fog floating around, limited her vision.

It was distracting, and the last thing she needed was trouble focusing on her work.

Having trouble finding her partner, Bea leaned against the nearest pillar and scanned her, surroundings once more, this time more calmly. Her gaze stopped on a single dancer who, for some reason, particularly caught her attention.

The woman's cascade of blonde hair glinted in the muted red light, imitating as if sparks were dancing between the strands. She wore a carnival mask over her face, but Bea was sure she was the most recognizable figure here. Her shapely body bent to the rhythm of the music, intimidating everyone who looked at her with its divinity.

In front of the stage was quite a large crowd of fans, who surprisingly were able to stand on their own feet.

As if sensing the brunette's gaze on her, the woman raised her head, crossing their gazes: hers mysterious and inviting, Bea's cool but excited.

The blonde winked flirtatiously, definitely sensing how Bea was responding to her hypnotic hip movements, which, accompanied by slow, sexual music, were impossible to look away from.

A slightly out of breath Zoey interrupted their moment, as she shielded her view of the stage and made Bea snap out of her strange trance.

"We're looking for a dancer nicknamed Queen B. Blonde hair, mostly performs in pink lingerie and a tiara on her head. She's supposedly very popular here, so I think we'll have no problem finding her."

"Not even a little bit." whispered Bea, who, without saying anything else, began to head towards the stage where the woman they were looking for had just danced. A strange feeling of indefinable excitement grew in Bea with every step, that brought her closer to meeting this mysterious Queen B.

As she walked backstage, a sweet rose scent hit her nostrils, enveloping her senses and making her slightly dull. How long had it been since she had smelled such a sexy feminine perfume? And how long had it been since the last time anyone had affected her in any way other than repulsive?

"I knew you'd come here." an especially lowered female voice echoed through the room, causing the women's heads to immediately turn in its direction.

From a distance Queen B was phenomenal, but up close she was arousing feelings of such intense lust in Bea, that she had not yet felt with any other woman. She almost felt guilty. Almost.

Zoey looked questioningly at her partner, but when she looked away, she smiled in understanding. This would be fun to watch.

"I'm detective Hughes, and this is detective Wade." she nodded in Zoey's direction, trying to ignore with how much curiosity the blonde's eyes were skimming over her body. "We're here to ask about your yesterday's client, a certain Ford Tuantie."

The blonde mused for a moment tilting her head to the side and revealing a piece of her slender neck. If Bea could read women's language, she would have thought she was doing it on purpose to distract her.

"Ah yes, Ford." she began, completely changing her tone of voice to a more formal one.

She stretched out in one of the comfortable looking pink couches and indicated to the others to sit too. Without a word of objection Zoey and Bea complied with the woman's silent request and followed suit, occupying the sofa next to her. The blonde seemed very pleased with herself for some reason, but her face became formal again.

This woman's ability to change her emotions was remarkable.

"Ford and a couple of his colleagues were popular VIPs here. From what I recall, they even formed a club for themselves." the woman shifted her leg over and clenched her thighs together, absolutely certain that Bea would take notice.

She wasn't wrong.

"When was the last time you saw him?" asked Zoey, noticing how Bea was focused on everything else but the blonde's words, which was totally unlike her.

But that was the truth. Bea watched diligently as the woman's full and seductive lips spoke words, whose meaning didn't even reach her in the slightest. It was like a charm had taken hold of her, and she didn't want to look for an anti-spell.

How many lonely nights had it been?

"Today he was here for a while. As I think about it now, he was clearly arguing with one of the members of this club of theirs. It almost would have come to hand-to-hand, but the security here is very good. Nothing goes unnoticed here." again that cursed wink, as if the last part of her statement, was specifically directed at Bea.

"The bartender can tell you more, he heard the whole incident and I don't like to gossip. I'm a fan of discretion." a flirtatious smile, flutter of eyelashes. Women who know how their charm works on others, are damn dangerous.

Zoey nodded and rose first from the couch. "We'll contact you if we have any other questions, thank you." without looking back the woman left the room. Her behavior worried Bea, who saw the strange look Zoey gave the two of them, before she disappeared back into the depths of the club.

Bea moved to follow her, but something stopped her. Obviously.

"Detective?"

She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. How could one stupid word she said, have more of an impact on her, than her entire previous relationship? She clenched her hands into fists feeling the blonde's gaze burn a hole in her back, but said nothing, waiting for the other to continue.

A strange silence descended on the room, not even drowned out by the rumbling music from the main room and the whistling of the men. At this point, the two of them were in a completely different reality, which was even more dangerous than coming face to face with a murderer. Or rather, that's how Bea felt when she began to hear the clatter of heels heading her way.

She turned on her heel and immediately her neck was encircled by the blonde's arms, which clung to the brunette's stiff body. Fortunately, Bea had her poker face trained, so when she looked down at the satisfied blonde, her expression betrayed no emotion, not even the slightest.

"I'm here almost every day." she muttered and her hot breath brushed against the brunette's neck, a pleasant lightning bolt coursing through her body.

Bea had to use all her rationality to disentangle herself from her embrace and move away, instead of pressing into her inviting lips. She momentarily felt the absence of this woman at her side. She cursed in her mind at her weakness. She was acting like a horny teenager.

Queen B rolled her eyes playfully and bit her lower lip. Now she looked like a child, who was trying with all its might to solve a mathematical equation on its own, but no matter how much it wanted to, it couldn't. After a few moments, her face clouded over, which completely knocked her out of her character.

"Be careful, Detective Hughes. There's more going on here, than you think." was it possible that worry was painted on her face?

"What do you mean?" she asked, but the woman's face returned to its previous flirty expression and Bea knew she wouldn't get her answer, and she didn't have time to force it.

Turning around, she walked out of the room this time, squinting to find Zoey. She didn't spot her anywhere so she figured the black-haired girl would be waiting for her outside.

When she emerged from the club the moon was already towering in the sky and the air was cool and refreshing.

Zoey leaned against the hood of the car, moving her leg every now and then as if in nerves. She looked mightily pissed off and Bea was sure it was her behavior, that had caused the black-haired girl to be in this state now. If she had heart, it would have broken in half at the thought of the conversation, that was probably about to take place.

"Damn it Bea!" irritation in her voice was definitely noticeable. "Get a grip on yourself, you're a detective, not a frisky teenager! People's safety is in our hands!"

Jealousy?

"I know I acted unreasonably, which could have affected our investigation, I really do." Bea said cautiously, but the trigger had already set off much earlier and steam was almost coming out of Zoey's nostrils. There were moments when the black-haired woman scared her to the core and right now, the brunette would most like to hide inside her four walls.

"You don't know shit Bea..." in the blink of an eye her voice went to the verge of crying, as if all the negative emotions that had been accumulating during their separation had just exploded and pierced the fake facade of her composure. "That day, you weren't the only one who lost someone. I lost someone too." tears began to drip from Zoey's eyes, which Bea felt like wiping away, but she didn't move. "My best friend."

Those words hit her right in the feels.

"Zoey..." Bea said her name in a pleading tone, which worked the other way and upset the black-haired woman again.

"I don't feel like talking to you anymore tonight." those were the last words Bea expected to hear. She had an incredible urge to run up to her, hug her and apologize for all those moments of separation, but she respected her too much to invade her space

As the black-haired woman approached the car the deafening silence was pierced by a terrible bang, followed by Zoey's body falling to the ground, motionless, with a loud thud.

"Zoey!"

[ironmariposa]

Tattoo Confessions

Rated: MATURE

Also found on Ao3

He’s nearly asleep when he feels fingertips brush lightly over his shoulder blade. It happens again and he blinks his eyes open. Heather is there, her head propped up on a pillow, her fingers brushing lightly over his bare skin. They’re both still naked from their earlier activities but neither are shy about it. It’s still new enough between them to be exciting but not so new that Heather isn’t so shy about being nude in front of him. At least not anymore.

And well, he’s never had a problem with being nude. In front of anyone.

“Eighteen. What are they for?” He realizes she’s talking about his tattoo, which is in the spot she had been touching.

Ray takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He doesn’t talk about the tattoo much. Luke and Sarah know. Tyler probably does. But it’s not something he really cares to share with just anyone.

But Heather’s not just anyone. So far from just anyone. She’s everything he never knew he could dream of. She’s his past, his future, his right now.

Her fingers smooth across his brow and he opens his eyes again, “I’m sorry.” She whispers, “I don’t need to know if you aren’t ready.”

“It’s not that.” He says as he takes her hand in his and turns to his back, pulling her to him until her head is on his chest and his arm is around her. He lightly starts to trace over her hip and she shivers in his embrace. He knows she’s not cold. Her body is so sensitive to his touch and he can’t say that it doesn't thrill him. He takes great joy in it.

“Each mark represents how many years my dad has been in jail.”

“Oh.” She whispers and tilts her head to look up at him. He meets her eyes with a soft smile of his own.

“Each year marks another year he’s been gone from my life.”

“When did you start getting them?”

“When I was fourteen.”

“So young.” She whispers and he hums in agreement, “Luke gave them to me. Adds a new one each year on my birthday.”

She’s quiet after that confession. And soon her breathing grows heavy. He’s hard again having her naked body against him, but he lets her sleep. They still have plenty of time before she has to pick up Lily. And anymore these days he’s always hard when he’s with her. It’s a constant ache he has for her.

Summer is over. A new school year has started. A new group of Seniors, their friends off on their own adventures, and Carp has grown quiet. It always does this time of year. It won’t stay that way for very long but for now it’s enough for them to enjoy it. To soak in the quiet. With Sarah and Lily back in school, and Luke finally back at work, it gives them plenty of alone time. This, them, is still so new and they can't seem to get their fill of each other.

Ray doesn’t think he ever will with her.

So they spend a lot of time in bed. He’s certain she’ll grow tired of him. He just hopes it’s not anytime soon.

Heather wakes an hour later and slides on top of him. His absolute favorite position because he can watch her body move over him. They take their time, something they both just recently discovered they enjoy. For the first few weeks they were so desperate for one another, it always happened so fast between them. And though the desperation was still there, they have learned to slow it down, take their time, that dragging out their orgasms was just as satisfying.

More satisfying in his opinion as he pushes his arms back behind him to lift his upper body to take a nipple in his mouth. Heather throws her head back with a groan and starts to move faster. His hands find her hips as he helps her along. He’s incredibly close but doesn’t want to finish until she comes first.

His mouth moves to her ear as one of his hands moves between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit, “Look at you riding me. Fuck Heather. It feels so good. So fucking good. Look Heather. Look at us together.”

She pulls her head back and her eyes open to meet his. He leans in for a kiss before looking down at where their bodies are joined together. With a squeeze of her hip and final cry, she comes. Her hips hitch and lose their rhythm. Ray flips them over quickly and pumps inside of her a couple more times before he’s coming. She’s still breathing hard and it feels absolutely amazing as they both come down from it.

He stays inside of her as he begins to kiss across her collarbone and down to her breasts. He spends some time with one then the other before finally lifting his face to her. She’s smiling brilliantly at him. Her hand lifts up to drag through his hair and he leans in for a final kiss before pulling out of her.

She groans with disappointment and he grins at her. She’s always talking about not stroking his ego more than it already is, but that groan there always does it for him.

As they dress, they discuss evening plans with their sisters. They discuss when they can next be together. Alone. Naked. He teases Heather that with fifty thousand they could get a lot of alone time in a hotel room.

Her laugh as she slaps his arm makes the joke worth it. He’s not serious. Of course he’s not. He knows she’s putting the money to good use. For college and for Lily.

But there’s a small part of him that wouldn’t say no if she agreed.

“What was your mom like?” She asks him

They’re out on the boat. Alone, as the sun attempts to shine through the cloudy sky. It’s October, but it’s south Texas so it’s still as hot as ever. Heather is wearing cut off shorts and a bikini top, he’s only in his swim trunks. They’re lounging in the back of the boat, she has her head in his lap and her eyes are closed as he lazily runs his fingers through her hair. He had been fishing but nothing was biting so he gave that up to give Heather his full attention, making her come with just his fingers.

She turns on her back and opens her eyes to look at him. His blue eyes meet hers and he knows what she wants to hear. A fairytale. A fairytale on how he had once been loved unconditionally, and it hurts, more than he ever imagined, that he’s not able to give that to her.

He wants to. He wants to weave a tale of a beautiful woman that loved and cherished him and Luke. Of how dinner was always on the table and lullabies were always sung to them.

No, instead she gets….

“Not really much I remember about her.” He tucks a stray hair over her ear, his head tilted as he follows his fingers over her bare shoulder, “Truthfully, I think she was a typical Meth Row mom. Not really involved with us, too caught up in her own demons.”

“Oh.”

“I remember her being mad a lot. I remember her being sad too. Anytime Luke or I would get into trouble she would say it was our dad in us. That we would end up locked up just like him.” His eyes flash to hers, “The drugs are what killed her, like most people out here. Luke found her. I think that messed him up for a long time.”

“Of course it did.” She whispers. His eyes find hers again and he gives a half shrug, “It’s fuckin Carp.”

She’s silent for so long after that. Her eyes searching the clouds for what he doesn’t know. He chews on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from interrupting her. He offers a soft smile when she finally focuses back on him.

“Fucking Carp.” She says and he laughs jostling her. She sits up and straddles him. His hands find her hips and pull her closer. He’s already semi hard from their earlier activities but having her center up against him has him straining. He grins as he lifts his hips to rub against her and she moans. Her mouth finds his and they make out like that for a long time. It feels so good and he’s finding he doesn’t need to rush things to enjoy them.

His hand tangles in her hair before untying her bathing suit top and letting it drop, exposing her breasts for him. He pulls back from her mouth and groans as he watches her grind down on his crotch.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He moans as she throws her head back, pushing her chest out. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes one of her nipples in his mouth, his hand taking care of the other.

He growls as she pushes away from him and stands up but soon realizes it’s to relieve herself of her clothes. He quickly pushes his own shorts down and she straddles him again. She wastes no time positioning him at her entrance and he slides in her easily. He drops his head back hard against the headrest as she starts a fast, hard rhythm. He’s glad she’s already come because he’s not going to last long with her bouncing on him like that and he doesn’t. Grabbing her hips he comes hard and fast, his mouth finding hers again as his orgasm shakes through him over and over again.

“Ray?” She whispers against his mouth. He answers with a hum, his mouth too busy with hers to give a proper response. She doesn’t say anything and so he pulls back after a moment, his eyes finding hers. His fingers dance across her skin and she shivers.

“We won’t end up like them, right? We won’t be another Carp zombie, will we?”

He cups her face and squeezes, maybe a little too hard but she doesn’t react. Her eyes are pleading. She needs his reassurances and it floors him that she will believe anything he says. No ones ever needed him like that before.

“You won’t Heather.” He promises, “I won’t let you.”

Her own hands come up over his, “But what about you?”

He pulls his hands from her as he shrugs, “Don’t worry so much, darlin.”

“Ray.”

But he lifts her from his lap and stands to pull his shorts up. He hands her her own clothes and tilts his head to the water, “Let's swim before we have to head back.”

On his nineteenth birthday Ray hands the tattoo needle to Heather to add another line to his back. She takes it and studies him for a long moment before turning it off, placing it back on the table. “You don’t need him.” She tells him as she brushes her fingers across his old tattoo.

Looking into her eyes, he agrees.

[eldrai]

Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

[youarejesting]

Sly like a... ? part 10

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

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You woke, confused you weren’t in the house you were in some sort of forest curled up on the ground. You stretch sounds piercing your ears as the bright sun beams danced through the trees. 

Standing you immediately stumbled falling onto the ground, looking down at your limbs your body locked up in fear. You weren’t human, bottle brush tail and fur rusty in colour. 

You got up onto your feet clumsy like a baby learning how to walk and stepped into the sun looking more carefully you spun around trying to see yourself more carefully. You saw you had two tails which raised even more questions.

“You look like a puppy chasing their tail, Kit,” a voice called from the shadows, from behind the leaves emerged another fox this one was silver and black. The eyes were familiar, you couldn’t figure out where you had seen them before. 

“Do I know you?” you asked curiously, catching a familiar scent, you were taken back to your days in the government home. 

“I should hope so Kit, I practically raised you,” The smile was almost the same as your old friend Felix’s. “I have been waiting for the day you would show up here,”

“Where is here,” looking around there wasn’t really any indication as to where you were, “Why am I like this?”

“The stories I told you about kitsune, gumiho and Huli Jing?” He asked, sitting tall, his tail wrapping around him elegantly, “they are all real.”

“So I am one of the fox people?” you asked, feeling a spike of excitement, a place in your heart filling the way it should when you knew who you were and where you belong.

“Not quite,” Felix smiled leaning down to lick your forehead affectionately, “you are a hybrid of sorts, you have never been a failed hybrid. It’s just the fox genes took over and gave you it’s power. I was the one to pull you out of the artificial womb. So you took one look at me in my human form and turned into a human, I was protecting our secret.”

“So I am a hybrid, but I can appear human,” you spoke slowly trying to process all the information.

“You can also astral project in your dreams and meet other foxes within this world,” he said, “I was waiting to see if one day you would appear and I am pleased to see you, all grown up.”

You felt yourself waking and you brushed your head under his chin and against his neck, “I have so many questions and I want to see you.”

“I will stop by soon in person, and we can chat, you may go through some changes,” he gave you a few more affectionate licks on the forehead.

You woke up beside Jungkook who was cuddled into your side.

Jungkook was softly snoring his leg draped over your waist as he laid face planted into his pillows. What a strange dream. You think the stories you had been telling Jungkook were getting to you, you were so desperate to find where you belonged you began making up elaborate stories. What a strange dream. All it did was make you want to see Felix again.

Stumbling into the living room you were greeted by the boys sitting around watching tv,  “Good morning,” You smiled and Seokjin smiled back following you to the kitchen and showing you a recipe for french toast. While reading over the ingredients he leant in and sniffed your hair and neck.

“Did you go out last night?” he whispered sniffing some more, “You smell like someone,”

“Probably Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone was clipped and he didn’t turn from the television, his hands firmly crossed over his chest.

“No this isn’t Jungkook, this is someone else,” He mumbled and pulled Yoongi who had been minding his own business, wanting to make a coffee towards you. A warning growl vibrated loudly in Yoongi’s throat before he was pressed against you and the sound disappeared. “That’s not Jungkook’s scent is it?”

Yoongi sniffed the hair around his ears and tail lifted and he let out a growl once more backing up, “Smells like a man,” he continued past making his morning coffee and you bit your lip confused. “Leave her alone, she is an adult and can see men whenever she wants.”

“But I didn’t, I told Jungkook the story, he asked me to lay with him until he fell asleep and I accidentally fell asleep,” I sighed and looked over at the balls all watching, Jimin and Taehyung turned away immediately. “I was home all night. I just woke up.”

You made breakfast and Jungkook stepped out sniffing the air happily. He bid everyone good morning and was ignored by Jimin and Taehyung which made his ears fall back in confusion. With a sigh you watched the boys head down the hallway and heard a door shut.

“Jungkook, you want some french toast?” he nodded, walking around the counter to give you a hug. Jungkook was extra affectionate in the morning and evening, often getting distracted in whatever mischief his hyungs were up too. Sometimes Jin would profess his skill in a certain video game or he would play games outside with Hoseok, the two liked listening to music and running around. “What is this smell, did we have a visitor this morning?”

“No,” you sighed, getting a little annoyed, were they trying to play a prank on you, “I woke up and there was just this scent on me, I haven’t gone out at all and no one has come over.”

He nodded making a face at the smell, “I don’t like it, it smells funny.”

“Well, I will go for a shower today, I just have to get the laundry started and clean up after breakfast” You looked at the schedule and all the boys nodded, they shared some jobs with you which made the work go faster. “Eat up, I have to talk to Taehyung to see if he wants to help with dishes.”

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[kopikokun]

Spilled Drinks & Study Sessions༄ mark l.

↳ When you’re forced into a study session with your next door neighbour Mark, who also happens to be your academic rival in school, things go south very quickly.

pairing; mark lee x reader

genre; fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers (more like friends, but anyway)

wordcount; 2503 words

author’s note; how the hell do you guys write e2l and make the transition so smooth? bro i could never. also, the header pic is different than what i normally do :/ it’s kinda eh, but i liked the picture so i had to do something with all that empty space

Request 26: Mark + “Oh, are you ticklish?” (73) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬.

The animosity between you and Mark is intense and painstakingly obvious to everyone around you. Well, everyone besides your parents, you suppose. 

   “Can you stop being so loud? You’re distracting me,” you grumble, angrily flipping through your homework. 

   “Well, I’m sorry for breathing.” Mark rolls his eyes at you. “Would you rather I stop entirely instead and drop dead right here, right now?”

   “At least it would be quieter if you did.” You press your pen down harder, taking your rage out on your poor, innocent worksheet. If you’re going to blame anyone for the excruciating torture your homework is enduring, you’d blame Mark. Even if it technically isn’t his fault, you’d still pin the blame on him. 

   “What’re you gonna do with my body? You wouldn’t be able to lift me, I mean, you couldn’t even open that can of Coke.”

   Your cheeks grow warm, mentally replaying the image of a grinning Mark as he effortlessly opened your can of Coke, the soft hiss of its fizz taunting you. Mark had puffed up his chest triumphantly like he was some kind of hero. For crying out loud, he had only opened a can of Coke, not saved his country. It still bruised your pride though, having to ask for help from Mark, your sworn rival since middle school. Childish, you know, but you’re certain that Mark thinks of you as such too. 

   “Whatever,” you fumble for a name to call him, “nerd.” Mark snickers at you. “My fingers were just slippery.” He arches a brow, challenging you, and you scowl. “I wouldn’t be able to lift you because you’re heavy, fatass. Not because I’m weak.” You twirl a lock of your hair around your finger. “And look who’s talking, Mr. I-Can’t-Open-Doors.”

      Mark flushes crimson as he silently fumes. “That was because I was pushing the pull door!”

   “That’s even worse, Mark,” you tease, unable to suppress a smile. “Dumbass,” you mumble below your breath, enjoying the way Mark seethes.

   “You’re calling me a dumbass? If I remember correctly, I was the one who placed above you last term.” Mark haughtily flips a page in his workbook. “Which I think is why your parents want me to tutor you.”

   You throw a measly eraser shaving at Mark in rebuttal. “You know that’s not why I’m here!” Another shaving is thrown at Mark’s head, yet he doesn’t even look up at you. “In fact, your parents probably wanted me here so I could babysit you!”

   Neither you or Mark are right. Your parents just chucked you together because they thought that after all those years of living beside one another and having weekly dinners together, you two would be absolutely wonderful buddies, and you can’t fault them for assuming such a thing.

   Logically speaking, you and Mark are supposed to be the bestest of friends. As much as you dislike the word, it seems as if fate has decided that you two are meant for each other. Gross. 

   In almost every situation possible, you and dear Markie boy over here have been unwillingly strung together—from group projects, to assigned seats, you two just can’t get a break from one another.

   Your parents had innocently thought that having a little study session while they went out for a double date with Mark’s parents would be beneficial for you two. Perhaps even fun. Fun, your ass. 

   All those years spent with Mark hasn’t made you friends, no, it’s made you rivals.

   Yeah, so not sworn enemies, but what’s life without a little exaggeration?

   You’ve always been a bright kid, some would even go as far to say that you’re ‘gifted’, but you think ‘persevering’ is a better word to describe it. You weren’t just born naturally intelligent or outstandingly athletic, no, you’ve had to work hard, insanely hard, for that. It hadn’t been handed to you all nicely wrapped with a little bow to match, just for you to tear it open and take. You’ve had to tolerate and undergo several sleepless nights, and many agonising hours of training. 

   Up until middle school you were top of your class in all aspects. You were idolised (well, as idolised as you could be for a middle schooler anyway), loved and acknowledged. It had been blissful. 

   That was until, little Mark with that stupidly cute gleam in his eyes came along, skipping over to you in those worn-out track pants and smiling toothily as he introduced himself as your brand new next door neighbour.

   You have to admit, initially, you and him were close friends. You’d walk home together, sneak out to go to the convenience store together, share snacks together, the list goes on. You’d even given Mark your very first kiss, right on the cusp on your twelfth birthday. He didn’t know that it was your first kiss though, and he’ll never know. You’d rather be shot at point blank range than give up such private intel. 

   But when one day, in seventh grade, when Mark had begun closing in on you in rankings, outrunning you at the park and gradually being everyone’s new favourite, you found yourself isolated. Even one of your friends, a girl with straight long hair that fell past her waist, started hanging out with Mark more than with you.

   And when you invited her to your thirteenth birthday, the first thing she’d asked was, “Is Mark going to be there?”

   And at that same party, you saw her, kissing the boy you had been crushing on for the past year. And it looked like Mark really enjoyed kissing her too. More than he did with you.

   From that point on, you began to distance yourself from Mark. It was gradual, slow, but you knew Mark could tell. When he finally surpassed you academically too, you started harbouring a resentment towards him, and the rivalry between you two started.

   You were somewhat hoping he’d confront you, at least wonder why your attitude towards him had seemed to change in the blink of an eye, but he hadn’t. And that stung.

   Obviously rumours had circulated in middle school about what was going on between you two. Kids, no, people love to talk. And talk they did. 

   It had been widely known that you and Mark used to be inseparable at one point in time, and it was jarring seeing how differently you two were acting around each other.

   Mark and that friend of yours had broken up some time after that, and evidently she was pissed. It seemed as if she had begun spreading gossip about you, claiming that you had been some sort of psycho ex-girlfriend and that you had threatened Mark to break up with her, essentially, she was villainising you.

   When high school finally rolled around, Mark’s ex had moved by then—you weren’t sure where and you didn’t care to know. The rumours eventually died down with her absence, and you thought that maybe, just maybe, you and Mark could finally make amends, bury the hatchet, as one would say. But that never happened.

   Looking back, you’re a bit amused at what an eventful and dramatic childhood you had. All those scandals at just thirteen? What a boss bitch. Present you would not be able to stomach that.

   You take a peek at Mark. He’s attractive. Of course he is. He had been a cute kid, no doubt, but as he’s aged, he’s matured into his good looking features. He’s not the rugged and manly kind of good looking, he’s got more of a sweet boyish look to him, and in your opinion, it adds to his charm. 

   “What are you staring at?” 

   Shit, you’ve been caught. No, caught? It’s not like you were doing something you shouldn’t have. “Nothing.” You reach forward to take a sip from the infamous Coke can. It’s lukewarm, but you gulp it down regardless, trying to appear unfazed.

   “Were you checking me out?”

   Disaster strikes just as those words leave Mark’s lips. The putrid sensation of warm coke leaves your mouth entirely, not because you’ve begrudgingly swallowed it all, but because you’ve spit it out from the sheer shock of Mark’s question. 

   “Hey! What the fuck?” Mark stands from his chair across from you and its legs scrape against the floor with a sound that makes your skin crawl. 

   You cough and sputter, gasping for air. Once you’ve gotten past that tight feeling in your throat, you wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. A few droplets of the sugary drink dribble onto your shirt. But fortunately, well for you at least, you’re not as drenched in spit-laced Coke as Mark is. 

   “Shit!” You lift your gaze to look at Mark, who’s surprised, to say the least. 

   Mark takes a breath to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he clamps his mouth shut, opting to groan in annoyance instead. “Jesus, why’d you even do that?”

   Your face burns in embarrassment. No way you’re going to admit to him that you were checking him out. Sort of. “I don’t know, it just went down the wrong channel, I guess.”

   Mark’s lips form a thin line of dissatisfaction. “Yeah, okay, whatever.” He cringes as his shirt sticks to him. “ I’m gonna go change.”

   He runs a hand through his hair, face upturned in frustration as he stomps up the stairs, his footsteps echoing throughout the living room. Your eyes follow his figure until he turns a left into his room. 

   You sigh. If you were home alone, you would have screamed in humiliation. The can of Coke on the table mocks you. You resist the urge to pick it up and hurl it into Mark’s neighbour’s backyard—well, your backyard. 

   A sliver of positivity presents itself in the form of you and Mark’s mostly unscathed worksheets. There are a few stray droplets here and there, but it’s barely noticeable. It would’ve been much worse for both Mark and you if you had drenched those as well. In fact, your homework wouldn’t be drenched in just saliva and Coke, but also in tears at that point. 

   You curse the can in your grasp, its aluminium smooth against your skin, before you dump it in the bin. Good riddance, bitch. 

   I should apologise. You can suck up your pride for that. No, this isn’t even about petty things like pride anymore. That shouldn’t matter. I should apologise, you think to yourself firmly.

   Alright. Apologising. Sorry. You inhale deeply, gathering your senses and calming your jittery nerves. Why are you even nervous? It’s not like you’re professing your undying love to him. Chill the fuck out.

   As you’re standing before Mark’s single, wooden door (which looks extremely daunting for some reason), it doesn’t dawn on you that perhaps you should knock first.

   If it had, then perhaps you wouldn’t be staring at a shirtless Mark, your hand still wrapped around his doorknob and your mouth hung agape.

   “Oh my God, Mark!” You cover your eyes, the door shutting behind you with a creak. You’re a bit ashamed at how fast your cheeks are overtaken by a hot, prickling feeling. “Why are you naked?”

   Mark, though just as startled as you are, has the common sense to reach blindly for the stained shirt he just took off, holding it in front of him. “What do you mean why am I naked? Why are you here?”

   You take a few steps back, your back pressed up against the door. “I- I came up here to say I’m sorry. You know, for uh, just now?”

   Your hands slowly fall to your sides as you burn holes into Mark’s carpeted floor with your eyes instead. 

   “Oh, uh, o-okay. Apology accepted, I guess.” Mark’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Let me just uhm—”

   You can hear his drawer sliding open and the faint rustle of fabric. All the while you keep your gaze glued to the floor, feeling your cheeks grow warmer by the second. Oh my God, you’re acting like a little girl who’s just held a boy’s hand for the first time.

   This isn’t the first time you’ve seen a guy naked—for fuck’s sake, Mark’s not even naked. He’s all covered up where he should be. Why is the sight of just his bare body from the waist up making your mind go blank and your palms grow sweaty? It’s not like you have feelings for him anymore. No, you don't.

   “You can uh, you can look up now.”

   You steel yourself, looking up to face Mark. Why did you have to steel yourself? It’s not like he’d have taken even more clothes off once you looked up again. You feel like slamming your head into the wall.

   You fiddle with your fingers, searching for something to say to try and ease the tension. “Uh, sorry. For spilling that Coke all over you, I mean.” You scratch the nape of your neck. “And for you know, walking in on you changing.”

   “Why didn’t you leave?”

   Your shoulders slump. “Huh?”

   Mark chuckles confidently, like he’s unabashed. His cheeks are ablaze with colour, though. “I mean, why didn’t you just back out of the room when you walked in on me changing? Why’d you just stand there?”

   You blink at him. Why didn’t you just leave? “I- I froze up, okay? Don’t bully me!” Your ears are burning.

   “Yeah, okay, okay.” Mark raises his hands by his sides, that entertained smile never leaving his lips. “Let’s go back down, okay? I still need to finish my work.”

   You chew on your inner cheek. “Yeah, whatever,” you try to find a creative name to call him.

   “Yeah, I know. Nerd.” Mark raises his brows at you, still with that amused grin. You wish you could smack it right off his stupidly handsome face.

   You huff, turning on your heel and practically booking it to the stairs. Mark catches up to you in no time with long, languid strides. Stupid long ass legs.

   “Hey, wait up, loser,” he says, a hint of delight in his voice. He pokes your side and you jump, shoving his hand away and mustering a weak glare at him. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

   You gnaw on your bottom lip. “No, I’m not, fatass!” Despite your harsh tone, your cheeks deceive you, blossoming with warmth yet again.

   Mark smiles genuinely this time, although there’s no sarcastic edge to it whatsoever. “You getting shy?”

   “No, I’m not.”

   “Hey, don’t be upset!” The next thing Mark says is nearly incomprehensible, but you hear it. Oh, you definitely do.

   “You look cute.”

   Your head swivels to look back at Mark, and you realise that he hadn’t meant for you to hear that.

   The faintest of smiles teases your lips, before you turn away, denying him the satisfaction of seeing you break out into a grin. “Yeah, whatever, Mark.”

   Now, it’s Mark’s turn to be enveloped in heat as a red tint spreads across his cheeks.

[the-voltage-diaries]

You’re my Mocha Lisa - Eisuke Ichinomiya

Disclaimer: Coffee Shop AU. Also has shameless self insertion. It’s basically an indulgence on my part lmao.

Word count: 1860

Author’s Note: Congrats on the 1K, @leoamber66​​​! Here’s a li’l something as my congrats~ Also, thank you @akaiiro-yume​ for proof-reading this at like the last second LOL. P.S. Thank you for just like... existing. You pulled me out of my writer’s block every time, leove. Every time I couldn’t write, I remember you doing something - ANYTHING - which made me wanna write for you. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. Love ya.

“Are you certain?” I ask, dubious. I raise my brows at the woman standing on the opposite end of the counter for good measure while I wait for a reply.

Yuki - and I know her name not because I’m a stalker but because she comes here every morning, just saying - looks from her thoroughly rummaged purse up at me and blinks once.

Cute. Very cute.

“Absolutely,” she nods just as her fingers start sorting through the bills again. This woman has no idea how badly I hoped she was kidding, does she.

“So... a grande cup of black coffee. Will that be all?” I might seem all cool and calm on the face, but on the inside, it’s like I’m praying to her conscience to at least order a chocolate pastry to go along with this disaster. Or like a cookie. Heck, I’ll even give it to her for free.

“Yep.” She looks up again and smiles, and I can’t help but notice the way her heels don’t really do much to hide how adorably short she is. I find it almost endearing, the way she has to look up at me every time she needs to say something. It makes me want to ask her more questions just to get her to do that.

Wait. What am I even thinking? Focus on the damn order, Ichinomiya.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” she begins while handing me the change, “how long have you been working here? I think I’ve seen you around ever since I started coming to this place.”

My brow twists into an uncertain furrow at that, not used to receiving any personal questions from her. I pause, tearing away her copy of the receipt, and take a glance around to make sure there’s nobody else to whom the question could have been directed. Much to my relief, there aren’t any other customers waiting in line, possibly because it’s still very early in the morning and the cafe is pretty quiet, to interrupt what could potentially be our small conversation.

But apparently, I take too long to reply and Yuki takes it as a sign that she’s tried to cross an invisible boundary. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, of course,” she hurriedly adds, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment. 

“That’s alright. And to answer your question, I’ve been working here since the place was established,” I answer honestly, without missing a beat. But god do I hope she doesn’t try to probe any further into what I said. That’d be a little embarrassing.

“That long? Wow...”

I scoff quietly, smiling. While she bites her lip with her eyes swimming in a pool of faraway wonder, I turn around to get started on her coffee. A certain calm descends between us, with just some light music playing in the cafe.

“It must be nice,” she mutters a little later, mostly to herself before speaking louder. “Being the only employee here, I mean. It’s so quiet in the morning. Feels calming, doesn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

On the inside, I wince at the nonchalance of my response. I’d have loved to correct her that ‘No, I’m not the only employee here,’ but that’d make the explanation a little awkward.

Why? You’ll come to know soon.

After that, we fall into another quiet bubble of our own, and soon enough, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts along with the air, touching every little cranny of the space it manages to cross.

If only I could add some damn milk into this bitter concoction...

Once the black coffee is read in all its biting glory, I pick up the marker to write her name on the cup. “Oh! It’s Yu-”

“Yuki, right?” I cut her off, smirking. “My memory is not so bad as to not remember the name of the one person who recites it every morning to me, you know?”

“O-oh... right..”

One glance in her direction is all it takes for me to catch an embarrassed red pop across her cheeks, and she bites her lip adoringly, directing her gaze away. I know I’ve said it before, but I find this woman absolutely adorable and her blush is probably the icing on the cake.

So, I decide to prod a little further.

“I hope you find it in you to actually finish this today,” I wink, handing her the warm cup. “It does take some effort to make, after all.”

“What... What do you mean?” She questions and I don’t miss the way her blush deepens. She knows what I’m talking about.

“Mm, I wonder.”

“Hey, I like black coffee, okay!”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well,” I shrug, “I don’t exactly blame you.”

She gives up and huffs - of course, I find it endearing - and sits down at a table nearby, taking out her mobile to text someone - it better not be a boyfriend- wait why do I even care - with the drink in hand. I know what’s about to happen in less than a second and I keep an eye on her, thoroughly prepared to savour every second of it.

Yuki takes a sip of her drink and, almost immediately, makes a face like that of Baby Yoda provided he sucked on a lemon. It’s weird and shows blatant disgust. “Pfft,” I scoff, amused, but not loud enough for her to hear me.

The reason why I predicted this would happen is because she has been coming to the cafe and ordering black coffee every morning for the last three weeks, but every single time I catch her making weird faces as she sips it. Every single one of those times when I leave to check my mails, I come back to an empty cafe with a half-finished cup of coffee in her place.

I wonder, is she trying to look mature or something?

I’m still watching her quietly but reluctantly sip her drink when the door chimes, welcoming a new customer. The woman walks straight past the order station and to Yuki’s table once she spots her and sits down, sending a quick greeting her way.

Oh, so the one she was texting earlier was a friend.

Wait, why do I care again?

“So,” the friend begins, and I can’t help but overhear what she says. “Have you asked him out yet?” At that, my ears perk up. Asked who out?

“Would you be quiet!” Yuki whispers, glaring. She’s all fidgety and blushing.

“You haven’t, huh?” the friend smirks. “I saw him, he’s hot. Be quick, or he’s gonna be off the market soon.”

“Zela!”

“I’m being honest.”

“I know...” I pretend to wipe some of the glasses kept nearby when I catch her sending a quick glance my way, but my eyes or ears don’t divert their attention. “But what if he already has a girlfriend?”

For some reason when I hear the touch of desperation in Yuki’s voice, I feel a mild jealousy bite at me. After all, who IS this guy she wants to ask out?

“His name was Eisuke, right?” the friend, Zela, asks and for a second, I cease all movement. 

Was that my name I heard?

“Shut UP, he’ll hear you!” Yuki whisper-shouts, and I wait with bated breath for her to continue. “But.. yeah.. that’s the name.”

“Damn, the name’s just as hot.”

“ZELA!”

“WHAT?! I’m just appreciating the goods. Unlike a certain someone.”

The friends continue their banter, but I’m much too distracted by what Yuki said earlier to pay heed to it. My name isn’t so common, and I’m about a hundred percent sure I heard my name.

Does that mean she wants to ask me out?

The thought makes me smile, and I register the reason why I didn’t want her to have a boyfriend. I’ve been taking her order every morning, making an attempt to see her every single morning since the first time three weeks ago because I want to see her, even if it’s for a handful of minutes. I find her cute, and I definitely would want to see more of that gorgeous blush swim across those supple cheeks.

Wait, is that creepy? I hope not.

The realisation that she has an interest in me is a happy one, and I scoff at myself, waiting for her friend to leave her for like ten seconds for me to make use of this opportunity.

And apparently, the universe agrees because just then Zela gets up and walks over to the restroom, finally leaving Yuki alone. I quickly brew another cup of coffee and add the milk I’d been dying to add with three cubes of sugar. I walk over to her with the cup in hand, and she looks up in confusion. “Allow me to treat you to a much better coffee. Today, 6:30 PM in front of the Tres Spades.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” She mumbles and she absentmindedly grabs the cup.

“I’m asking you out on a date. That’s what’s going on,” I wink, and just then the cafe door chimes for the second time. "I better see you there, Yuki.”

“O-oh...” Another wave of red colours her cheeks before she takes a deep breath and looks at me, right in the eyes. “You will see me there, Eisuke,” she smiles.

“Glad to hear it.”

I turn around with a smile and see Zela coming back out of the restroom in my periphery. My gaze shifts to the person who walked into the cafe just moments ago, and I acknowledge him with a nod when I realise it’s another employee.

“Good morning, Mr. Ichinomiya,” he mutters, bowing his head a little.

“Wait, Ichinomiya?” 

The split confusion makes me look down at the ground with a smirk while I untie the apron and set it on one of the tables. I stay still, patiently waiting for the dots to connect in her head.

“Isn’t this cafe owned by the Ichinomiya Corp-”

Heh. About time.

“Oh god. Are you THE Eisuke Ichinomiya?” She whispers, shock lacing her tone like the most avid of blues. “Like, the owner of this place?” At that, I turn my head to look at her.

“Welcome to Ichinobeanya. I hope to see you again soon.” My lips curve up in a half-smile when I see how awed she looks, and without wasting another second I grab my jacket and make my way towards the door, sincerely hoping to see her again in the evening. “Don’t forget your promise.”

I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble, “I won’t...”

And it’s when I’m almost out of the door and onto the street when I think I hear Zela say “He gave you this new coffee, didn’t he? See, I’ve been telling you, you don’t need to drink that yucky black coffee to impress him!" 

An embarrassed "Shut up Zela!" is the last to reach my ears as I finally close the door behind me with a laugh, looking forward to the evening with an excitement akin to that of a child.

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - May 2020. May! The time when Australia decides to be slightly less hot *happy dance*. Hope you are all keeping well. Time for another round of my fic recs for the month. 

Of Eclipses, Ley Lines, and Full Shift Werewolves by tabbytabbytabby (7/7 | 26,981 | Teen)

Derek has been noticing his control slipping in the days leading up to the Solar Eclipse. When he goes to look over the Hale land with Peter something happens, forcing both him and Peter to shift into full wolves. Stiles finds them, discovering that Derek has been changed into a wolf pup with none of his memories, only able to recognize people by their scent. After a talk with Deaton Stiles discovers there are ley lines in Beacon Hills, specifically on the Hale property, which caused Derek and Peter to shift. Unfortunately for them there's nothing they can do to reverse it except sit and wait. Which is easier said than done when none of the pack can understand why Derek only wants to be around Stiles.

Gorgeous by Livinginfictions (6/6 | 6,366 | Explicit)

Derek didn’t actually notice anything strange until the middle of the pack’s second year, but once he realized how many layers of clothing Stiles wore all the time, he couldn't stop noticing it. Curiosity and worry ate away at him every time the weather turned warm, until he felt he had to do something about it.

Smile On The Sidelines by clotpolesonly (1/1 | 2,258 | General)

Derek was not pining.

Not to say that he didn’t miss Stiles, didn’t want to be with him at that moment (or literally any moment, to be quite honest), but he wasn’t one of those obnoxious clingy people who lost track of the world as soon his boyfriend was out of his sight.

It was just a basketball game anyway.

Discovery Channel Taught Me by xxjinchuurikixx (1/1 | 19,350 | Explicit)

Derek goes into rut in the early winter, and he can't stand being near Stiles. Stiles comes over to make sure Derek isn't dead. Good job, Scott.

*

“Stiles… You have to leave. Please--just go away.” “It's okay, buddy… We're gonna get through this.” He touches Derek's chest with his own, fingers brushing Derek's neck. “I'm here.”

The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me (Is You) by distortedreality (1/1 | 17,936 | Explicit)

Derek is fairly certain the new kid is either an incubus or a witch. Turns out he’s actually his mate. Stiles is 98% certain the brooding guy in the leather jacket is fantasizing about stringing him up by his intestines. Turns out he’s also wrong.

A High School AU in which Stiles is Derek’s mate and Derek leaves a dead deer on Stiles’ porch, buys a lot of fast food, and lies about economics.

In One Kiss You'll Know All I Haven't Said by aussiebee (1/1 | 1,726 | Teen)

Derek accidentally kisses Stiles goodbye. They aren't dating.

It becomes... a thing.

Run To You by Emela (5/5 |  31,969 | Mature)

A witch casts a spell, turning Derek feral and leaving him the equivalent of a frightened puppy. Stiles is the only one he trusts to protect him and of course, Stiles is only too happy to help. (Which has nothing to do with all these feelings he's suddenly having, okay? Derek's just a really cute werewolf puppy.)

Finders Keepers by inhystereks (1/1 |  3,340 | General)

“Sorry, I know I’m kind of staring, but she didn’t tell me you were so good-looking,” Stiles babbled, wanting to hit himself even as the words left his mouth.

“She,” the guy said, something in his expression shifting. “Laura.”

“No,” Stiles replied with a frown. “Lydia. Who’s Laura?”

“My sister,” the guy said, brows furrowed once more. “Who’s Lydia?”

“My best friend,” Stiles said.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse (1/1 |  2,746 | Teen)

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight."

Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

Illuminated by ZainClaw (1/1 |  5,013 | Teen)

"Because I'm falling in love with you and it's scaring the hell out of me."

princecharmingwinks special mention (a series I love! Would recommend the other works that are part of this series too.)

Best. Friends. Ever. by EvanesDust (1/1 |  1,651 | Mature)

“Sorry. I lost my friends or I should say they left me.”

“I can’t find my brother either, lost him in the crowd.”

“Oh. What’s he look like?”

“6ft, dark hair, green eyes… handsome, I guess.” She pulls out her phone and pulls up a pic. “Here, this is what he looks like. What about your friends? Maybe I’ve seen them.”

Stiles looks at the phone and gapes at the photo. Handsome is an understatement, he thinks to himself. “Forget about them. Your brother’s more important. Shouldn’t let him wander around all alone.”

Please spread the word if you love these works. All the love to the amazing authors on this list and all fic writers in general <3 See you all next time! If you have any recommendations of your own or fics that you feel need a bit more of a boost, send them my way and if they “spark joy in me” I’ll definitely add them!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXLI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: That’s right PoA gifs are making a comeback -Danny

Words: 3,121

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Three: A Brief Talk.

Mel was packing up the stuff she'd taken to the mission when someone knocked on the front door. 

She heard Erick said he'd get it a second later. Mel put everything in her bag and hung it over her shoulder, rushing out of her room. Dumbledore stared at them with a smile.

"I must say you worked faster than expected."

"We did our best — Oh!" Erick went to the living room and grabbed his bag, drawing out the men's wands. "These are from the death eaters — maybe you'll be able to track them down?"

"I could, if Ollivander hadn't gone missing," Dumbledore said sadly. Mel didn't ask about it, she wasn't ready for any more bad news. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Mel approached. "I'm upset."

Dumbledore gazed at her quietly.

"I said I'd tell you everything and I will, but you must wait a bit longer. We'll visit Harry's house tonight, and pay a visit to Slughorn."

"You said we couldn't talk to him."

"This time will be different. This time I'll go with you."

"How wonderful," Mel said sarcastically.

"I'll get my stuff," Erick gave her a look that was meant to stop her rudeness.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "do close the door on your way out, Mr Flint."

She followed him out in silence, her uncle approached the entrance of the Dursley's house and knocked on it.

"Were you in danger?"

"No."  

"Then you know I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell us everything," She replied. "You keep withholding information and I'm not some disposable thing you can use as you please —"

"That was never my intention," Dumbledore interrupted. "By the end of the year you'll know all, and you'll understand why I've acted this way."

Mel seriously doubted that but she'd been proven wrong before, she was willing to hear his side of the story.

Mr Dursley complained all the way to the door, he opened it abruptly, freezing at the sight.

"Good evening. You must be Mr Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and stopped at a considerable distance from his uncle. He looked torn between amusement and panic, holding a pair of trainers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

The young witch eyed Mr Dursley up and down and held back a smirk. He was wearing a reddish dressing-gown. The last time she'd been standing this close to the man he'd looked gigantic, now he was barely able to reach her nose.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said happily. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times. It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing. What do you think, Mel?"

"Oh, it's been years," Her voice trembled with contained laughter. "The house looks exactly as I remember, though. Is your chimney still the same after the Weasleys burst through it?"

Harry snorted at this, and this caught the old man's attention.

"Ah, good evening Harry... Excellent, excellent."

"I don't mean to be rude —" Mr Dursley spoke.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia— Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Mel looked at the boy, it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him: He was muscly big, with the body of a trained wrestler. She didn't like that he'd be able to kill a child with his bare hands and call it a sport.

"Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?

Dumbledore crossed the hall and she followed, Harry jumped the last steps and approached them.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving?" He inquired.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" The Dursleys were all glaring at them.

"Yes, I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable."

"Sir," Harry started anxiously. "What happened to your — ?"

"Later, Harry. Please sit down."

The boy looked at her searching for an answer, but she had none. It was her first time seeing Dumbledore's injury as well. She walked up to the armchair and stood next to where her uncle had seated. Harry sat in front of them.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment, but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore.

Mel took her glass and inhaled the sweet scent before drinking it, hiding her grin. She was starting to feel less annoyed now that Dumbledore was torturing the Dursleys with his displays of magic.

"Well, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you, kids, that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

"Oh. Right..." Harry muttered.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit a few of Sirius's personal possessions. Emily knows this of course, but Sirius left the other half of his gold to you and your brother, Mel. As well as the rest of his belongings, which you'll be able to use once you're of age."

It was obvious Leon was going to inherit stuff from Sirius, the man was eager to provide for his new family, he wanted to be there, make sure his son would never be left to his luck.

"The slightly problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" Mr Dursley interrupted. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore without further explanation. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place. To the three of you."

"He's been left a house?" Mr Dursley questioned.

"He's not done talking," Mel snapped, Mr Dursley turned purple at her statement.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

"Me neither," Mel accepted. "I don't need it, nor I think my brother will want to use it once he's old enough."

"Brother?" Mrs Dursley asked in bewilderment.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Your brother should be the one to take it, but we can't be sure if the rules apply since Emily and Sirius decided to use her last name. While Sirius' will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"I bet there has," Harry lamented.

"Quite. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry stood up in distress.

"No..."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if we're allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately, there is a simple test."

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Mr Dursley yelled.

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

Mel left her glass on the coffee table and waited.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited..."

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags.  Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the brats and the Black bastard! Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"As you can see," said Dumbledore over the yelling, "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry with repulsion. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"No," Mel replied, "we need him far from them."

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T !"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry demanded.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore brightly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You three are the rightful owners of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Wonderful, I own a haunted mansion," Mel sat heavily on the armrest of Dumbledore's chair.

"Do we have to keep him with us?" Harry asked.

"Not if you don't want to. If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, let's do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

"You're not allowed to leave your duties unless we ask you otherwise," Mel added.

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good. There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," said both of them, then Harry added, "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted. He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..." Harry blushed.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry, picking up his telescope and trainers.

"I'll help," Mel said.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his room. The only time she'd managed to look around was when they rescued him on the Ford Anglia. It was evident this was the only place in the house Harry was allowed to exist freely: A bit messy from running around and packing everything in a hurry, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Cozy," She teased.

"Shut it," He replied, hastily picking up his stuff. "I should've known... of course he wouldn't leave me..."

"You had your reasons to doubt," She shrugged, then added. "We both do..."

Harry stopped and looked at her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Mel helped him pack and soon enough everything was in place, she grabbed Hedwig's cage and smiled at the creature.

"Hi there..." She looked back at him. "I'll never forget the look on your uncle's face when we arrived, he looked so frightened!"

"I'm glad I don't have to stay," He picked up his stuff and guided her out. "Because he would murder me if I did..."

Mel snorted, following him to the hall. However, Dumbledore hadn't moved.

"Professor?" Harry spoke. "I'm ready now."

"Good. Just one last thing, then... As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —"

"No," said Mrs Dursley.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," He smiled, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

"Preposterous," mumbled Vernon.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore's air changed, and although it wasn't obvious, he was once again emanating power, now more than ever he looked like a man no one should try to upset.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. I'm thankful Emily agreed to move in next door all those years ago and relieved a bit of Harry's misery. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?"

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Mel would've loved to add a few insults of her own, but she knew there was no use, they would never learn, would never feel guilty for treating Harry the way they did and to be honest, Dumbledore was right, Mel and her mother were his real family.

"Well... time for us to be off," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Until we meet again."

Mel looked at them one last time without saying anything, something in her felt different, there was a bittersweet emotion that kept her from enjoying herself, and at the same time stopped her from snapping.

"Bye," said Harry shortly.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the boy's trunk and owl. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case. And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Erick was waiting patiently against the front of her mother's car. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and when he saw them he quickly approached.

"All good?"

"Yes, we just wanted to chat a moment before leaving."

"Chat?" Erick raised a brow, he knew the Dursleys weren't friendly people.

"We'll explain later. C'mon, time to go."

"We're not taking the car?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It'll be faster if we use magic. Keep your wand at the ready."

"But I thought we're not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked.

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you and Mel permission to use any counter jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me... This will do."

He stopped at the end of the street.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Erick looked down briefly at his hand and paled.

"Professor, I passed my apparition test last month, I can take Mel so you don't tire yourself out."

The idea of Dumbledore 'tiring himself out' was laughable, but Mel didn't want Erick to feel stupid, and it appeared that Dumbledore was of the same mind.

"Very well, Mr Flint, if it's not much trouble..."

"It's not."

"You know where to go."

Erick offered his arm to her.

"Ready?"

"Like we have a choice," She groaned, firmly holding onto him.

Next Chapter —>

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