#there were so many other good joke i can draw/edit as long as i remember them

[nicolefirekitty]

in order of episode, the drawings (and meme) that i made based on jokes made during watching danny phantom with my friends @enthusiasticscientist and @megadrivemenace alongside others time to time (o7 to the man who's probably first and only experience with the show was pp)

entire call did a double take at "woo take it off"

i don't remember who said it, but because of them we established vlad calls maddie a bad bitch

the image speaks for itself, everyone's bisexual for ember

can't believe technus got fucking banned

whole ass ghost invasion while we discuss what walker does in his freetime instead (he plays prison life on roblox and forces others to roleplay with him)

we saw dash and kwan and collectively decided yeah (and joked that danny would call him that (he would not survive that encounter))

johnny's shadow popping out from the water fountain and stopping tucker from drinking had us joking that johnny 13 is racist

[cupcakeslushie]

For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four weeks). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

[alwaysonf1]

are they flirting?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: And this my loves, is the end of 'A Week.' Forever is within reach.

Charles’ every thought is filled with things regarding the way Iman dances. The schedule meant that there were two games that would happen while they were filming. Everyone was given the choice to go or not to go, but all of them jumped at the chance to experience the energy of the first night.

And despite how even now Charles wants to deny it, he’s more than just fascinated by this part of college life that he never would have gotten to experience. No, most of his interest lies with the girl with the bright smile dancing along to the band’s rendition of New Edition’s “Can You Stand the Rain.” Every move is made with a fluidness and grace that most only attribute to ballet.

As it winds down, and the girls take their seats he finds himself wishing for a repeat of the same performance. Maybe then he could look at all of them and not just stare at Iman the entire time.

Movement to his left draws his attention and breaks him out of embarrassing himself if Iman caught him looking at her for so long. He sees Lewis embracing someone and he assumes it’s a friend of Iman’s mom, but when they pull away, he’s met with the smiley face of Logan Sargeant.

The young Williams’ driver is chatting it up with Lewis as if they’re best friends. All while Charles can’t remember a time, he’s ever seen them interact. He’s not even sure he’s ever seen them look at each other.

It’s confusing and as if sensing his gaze, they both turn to look at him. Lewis wears a smirk and Logan’s smile is just as bright as when Charles first looked their way.

“Hey, Charles.”

“Hello.”

The silence following that greeting is loud, even in a loud stadium. As seconds tick by Logan’s expression morphs into confusion and then Charles watches as he looks to Lewis and the lightbulb clicks on.

“Oh! Sorry for crashing. I had some time to fly out here and I like to visit Iman when I can. Lewis said it would be fine for me to come since this is the last day of filming.”

That answers so little, but it does give Charles an opening.

“You know her?” he asks.

The smile returns. “Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Met at some of the competitions here.”

His explanation makes sense. Iman seems to have been somewhat involved with her brother and mother’s line of work all her life, even if it was in a more covert way. That meant she probably crossed paths with many drivers, even him, without any of them knowing who she was or her relation to Lewis. But Logan seems to know.

“Hold on. Have you always known about her? Them?”

Lewis laughs and Logan joins in. The other drivers walk over, their attention drawn away from the game that restarted. Most seem as confused as Charles was, but they greet the American driver warmly, nonetheless.

“He didn’t know until they were like eleven or twelve. They were already friends and she wanted me to meet him. We trusted him to keep the secret and he hasn’t let it slip even a little bit. In fact, he was on my side about not doing this at first, but hey, you know how siblings are, they get their way.”

“Really? You both lost against her?” Alex asks, amused.

“I rarely win against her. She knows how to divide and conquer, so she made some good points and so I helped her convince Lewis.”

“Giving yourself a lot of credit there with that help, huh Sargeant?” Lewis jokes.

Logan nudges him and laughs. “She’s the one who tells it like that. We both know I was there to just nod.”

This comradery is shocking. Charles feels like he’s in an alternate universe as he sees them talk and laugh together. He turns to look at his teammate and sees the confusion he knows is on his face too. Somehow, he’d managed to just accept that Logan of all people has known, but this dynamic change between the drivers is the real stunner.

It takes a bit, but he zones back into the conversation between the two.

“Like that time, she called my dad an ass and some things I’m just not comfortable repeating,” Logan says.

“Is he still scared of her?”

“Yup. He said something dumb, that’s on him.”

That subject is one Charles is interested in, but a throat clear draws his attention to Daniel.

“Any particular reason you didn’t want to?” Daniel asks.

“She’s my baby sister, I always want to protect her from how things can get. Ya know?”

A chorus of agreement sounds because everyone gets it.

Charles definitely knows. What he often deals with in the industry and with the media was the same, but also different from what Lewis got hit with. Sometimes he wanted to keep his family far away from the spotlight, but he left the choices in their hands and did what he could to limit some of the stuff that people would write and say about them for clicks.

The arena erupts in cheers, forcing the groups’ attention on the field. Southern’s team is leading by far and they’ve made another touchdown. The joy of the players can be seen by the way they celebrate in the end zone and Charles is reminded of how much he likes the camaraderie in sports. It’s there, but not as strong in motorsport. An expected outcome when even your teammate is a rival for a win.

For the rest of the game, they’re focused on the football part of it. It’s a good game and though the team is running away with the win it has its tense and exciting moments. When it ends, they allow everyone else to make their way out, post celebration, and then head to the tunnel that Iman told them to meet her. She’s already there near the exit with her bag and changed into her outfit for dinner. The green dress she’s wearing compliments her brown skin and fits her perfectly.

As they reach the last few feet Logan moves to take the lead. He jogs to her, and Iman drops her bag to hug him tight. There’s an uncomfortable churn in Charles’ stomach.

“Hey, Lo. Didn’t know you were coming,” Iman says.

“I had time and Lewis said it would be fine. Plus, it’s your last season. Have to see my big sister perform as much as I can.”

Logan removes himself from the hug and puts some distance between them as he says it. From the way Iman’s eyes narrow Charles can tell it’s a wise decision.

“It’s less than a year difference, you dork.”

“Still a difference.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Lance asks.

“Uh…”

“She’s twenty-three,” Lewis says.

Daniel coughs. “Twenty-three?” 

“You don’t remember your age?” Charles asks.

Iman gasps and lightly slaps his arm, which makes him laugh. “It’s a fresh twenty-three. And there are too many numbers in my head to keep track. And to answer the question I know is there, I took a little over a year for a gap. It involved working as a mechanic and traveling. If I wasn’t in GA or deep within the Mercedes or Williams areas, you would have run into me at almost every grand prix.”

A weird feeling fills Charles. He doesn’t like that they could have met sooner and didn’t. He gets why, but for some reason he wishes he’d gotten the chance. Though if he's honest the reason isn’t that mysterious to him, he’s just pushing it out of his head. He can’t linger on it for too long or he’ll do something stupid.

“But enough about that. We need to leave now to get to the restaurant on time. All questions can be asked there.”

And with that she picks up the bag - which is then taken by Logan - and they all follow her out to the cars. She gets into the one Logan is driving. Lewis does as well and without question Charles follows them. He’s been attached at the hip to the Hamilton siblings all week, so he finds no reason not to be now. 

And he ignores the smirk on Carlos and Daniel’s faces as they watch him go.

Once inside Logan pulls off while Iman puts the address into the GPS. Then she turns up the volume to a song and both of them basically scream the lyrics as if they’re the only two there. Charles looks to Lewis who is amused and looks at them in adoration. He finds himself smiling and humming along to the song, but let’s them have their moment.

Minutes into the drive, and a few songs later, Charles’ eyes shift to the rear view mirror just as Iman looks into it. She sees him and winks, all while continuing what has turned into screeching.

The dumb smile on his face can’t be helped.

###

Laughter fills the restaurant, the three tables they’re using all having various different conversations but all in a happy, upbeat mood. Things were a little awkward when everyone arrived, no one knew where to sit and were clearly uncertain with how the tables should mix. Iman had to take control and get them to sit anywhere, even if that meant it was between two drivers. 

Iman found herself in between Logan and Charles, with Lewis right across from her. All three were carrying the conversation while she ate off her and Logan’s plates, her mind mostly consumed with eating as much as the oddly delicious asparagus while refusing to order more. 

Before she knew it both of theirs was gone and a pout formed on her lips. One that she’s hyper aware of to the point that she shakes her head a little and pulls it together. Reminding herself that she’s being silly.

Her stomach doesn’t get the memo though. It does a weird swirl, and it makes her wonder if she should order more of it. She shakes her head and tunes back into the conversation, focusing on the way Logan wheezes as he laughs at something that Lewis said. Something that Iman knows wasn’t that funny, but that the two of them clearly think lists her brother as king of comedy. 

It's almost a reflex as she turns to meet Charles' gaze and give him an eye roll about their theatrics. He’s wearing a bright smile and laughing softly, but with the way he looks at her Iman knows that laughter is largely because the two men are ridiculous.

Having that sort of connection makes her feel sane and pushes a laugh of her own out. But it causes an itch in her throat and before it can get any further, she reaches for her drink. Just as it reaches her lips her eyes notice her plate is no longer in front of her and instead it’s one that looks like it once held what Charles ordered.

Iman’s eyes move back to the man, and he’s immersed in the conversation with a producer and Lance. She stares at him for a while, lips parting to speak and then his head turns toward her. Charles winks at her, motions toward the plate, and then rejoins his conversation.

A soft grin forms on her lips and she grabs her fork, digging into what she promises herself will be the last of her new found addiction for the night. Mid chew she looks up and meets Logan’s gaze and he has a smirk on his face. His eyes twinkle with amusement and a knowing look that she hates to see on him. It’s the signal that he’s either going to say something she won’t like that he knows something that she doesn’t or something she doesn’t want to address.

Quickly she swallows the vegetable and glares at him.

“Shut it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar.”

His hand moves to his chest, and he fails an expression of faux hurt. “I would never.”

Yet again Iman finds herself rolling her eyes, but when she stops her attention is on her brother who wears a similar expression to Logan’s from moments ago.

“I’m sick of your shit.”

Lewis gapes. “Mine?”

“Both of yours.”

“Hey. I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s mean!”

Exasperated is not a fitting enough word for how she feels in the moment about their antics. Despite her ignoring certain signs and feelings herself she’s smart enough to not ignore them noticing all of that. And the fact that they want to comment and encourage it. No one ever tells the cons to having the world’s biggest cheerleaders by your side.

“Either of you open your mouths to say anything that’s running through those brains of yours when you speak again, and I’ll pop you.”

Both lean a bit away from her at that and a smile forms because she knows they won’t push it. At least not for the night. There’s no universe where she’s delusional enough to think that the subject is dropped forever. 

Lewis breaks the ice first, asking her questions about the rest of her season and making a joke that he’s going to be spend more time on the plane this season than he has all the others. From there it’s jokes and catching up with each other. Those close to them join in here and there, some even bring their chair to their part of the table to talk. At some point Charles joins back into the mix and he speaks like he’s been in on all the jokes as long as they have. And he ensures that her water is always topped off and slips her a piece of the cake she swore she wants none of.

By the time the night is over it’s like a peaceful high. They all head back to the hotel, Lewis got her a room for the night, and it’s both hard and easy for her to drift off at ease. In the morning they met for breakfast as their last meeting before everyone, except Logan, were headed to the airport. There were hugs all around and Charles is the last to embrace her, both of them lingering longer than the norm.

She and Logan wave to them until the vans are out of sight. With them officially gone Iman sighs and turns to head back into the hotel. Logan is giving her a look, his brow raised a little as he grins like the cheshire cat.

“Shut up.”

“Nope.”

She walks away and he keeps up with her quick pace and as the elevator doors close, he has a million and one questions and opinions on a situation he got to experience for less than twenty-four hours. 

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: Mij hasn't known a moment of peace while Fixer has been in the bacta tank, but the commando is finally awake, and it's time to find out how much he heard you say. Warnings: I don't think any. Attempts at flirtation. Not edited. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader Word Count: 1098

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Mij Gilamar is many things. He’s a Mandalorian, a surgeon, a sergeant in the GAR, a damn good Sabacc player, and your newest friend. He’s kept you updated on Fixer’s condition for the past several days. He informed you early on that Fixer’s condition wasn’t quite as critical as Sev had made it out to be. You knew the Deltas were shaken seeing Fixer injured that badly. They weren’t used to having to send someone home to the medbay. The games of Sabacc helped to keep your mind off the fact that the other Deltas were now off as a three-man team in the middle of a firefight. Sure, General Jusik had gone with them, but you know it has to be difficult not having their brother with them.

The medbay doors slide open in front of you, and you’re instantly greeted by the smiling face of the Mandalorian doctor. You’re grateful they asked him to come back on as a trainer. You’re not sure that the other doctors here would view the critically injured clones as worthy of being saved. Your anger at how your friends and the other troopers are treated by the Republic grows every day, but it gives you hope to know there are some out there who truly do care about what happens to them.

“How are you today, ad’ika?” Mij asks as you make your way over to him.

“Good. Even better now,” you say with a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, but I know you’re not here for me.” He throws a glance over his shoulder. “Fixer! You have a visitor.”

Your heart stutters at the sight of the commando sitting on the edge of the hospital bed in his blacks with a datapad in hand. He doesn’t look injured or tired anymore. He looks whole, and the smile on his face when his eyes meet yours is worth all the days of stress and heartache you’ve endured. It takes every ounce of self-control not to throw your arms around him.

“I didn’t believe him when he said you’d been by every day,” Fixer says, setting the datapad to the side and focusing his attention on you.

You turn to shoot your best evil eye at Mij, but he’s already made his exit to give you two some privacy. What else had he told Fixer. You shift your weight from one foot to the other. Does he remember what you told him that first night he was brought in?

“Of course I did. I was pestering Mij about your condition every chance I got.” You don’t trust yourself to look him in the eyes for too long, so you focus your gaze on the way his hand rests on the edge of the mattress. His fingers lightly press into the foam, and you wonder briefly what they would feel like on your skin. “I was so worried about you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. Though, I have to admit that it’s nice to know that someone would care if I didn’t make it…especially when that someone is you.”

“Me?” You don’t try to hide you smile when you look back up at him.

He nods. “You. It’s rare for us to meet someone who handles Scorch’s humor and Sev’s…everything as well as you have. Boss joked about making you an honorary Delta just to try to keep those two in line, but I shut that down quickly.”

You heart sinks. The chances of you ever going on a mission with them is slim to non-existent but knowing that Fixer wouldn’t want you there even if you could be stings. Maybe his brothers were wrong. Maybe he just wanted you to leave them all alone.

“Not that it wouldn’t be nice to see you more,” he continues, drawing you out of your thoughts. “But I’d never be able to focus. You’re very distracting.”

“Aren’t soldiers supposed to be able to tune out distractions?”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes slightly like he’s debating his answer. “Absolutely. I can tune out most background noise like the sound of voices or nature and put my attention where it needs to be, but I can’t get you out of my mind when you’re not around. It would be impossible if you were close by.”

Your feet move on their own until you’re just a breath away from his body. The rise and fall of his chest and the deep brown of his eyes are like stepping out into fresh air after breathing in the recycled air on a ship for weeks. He’s beautiful and alive and he thinks about you when he’s gone.

“We need to celebrate your recovery.”

You run your fingers along the new scar above his jawline.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and you want to kiss him. You want to taste the life on his lips and feel his breath against your skin.

“You did say we could go anywhere I wanted,” he smirks.

So, he had heard you. His eyes open and search your face for any clue you regret what you had told him all those nights ago.

“I did say that, and I meant it. All of it.”

Your words seem to be confirmation enough for him as his hands find your waist and pull you closer to him. You're so close that you can count the shades of brown in his eyes. Your heart thrums in your throat as you lean forward.

“Am I interrupting?” a voice asks from somewhere behind you.

You jump away from Fixer and fight to keep the string of curse words in your mind from spilling out of your mouth. So close. You were so close to finally kissing him. You turn toward the owner of the voice, ready to tell him that yes, he was interrupting. But the words die on your tongue as a tall figure in all black armor approaches. A six-legged creature who looks like a wrinkled mass of skin stares up at you and sniffs the air curiously.

“Sergeant Vau.”

Fixer’s voice is back to its usual serious, no-nonsense tone. Any hint of the playful, flirty tone that had laced it before is gone. The tension in the air is almost suffocating.

“You should go,” Fixer says to you. His eyes don’t meet yours.

“Yeah, uhm…good night.” You throw one final glance at him before you step around Vau and make your way to the door. You almost miss the sad, quiet ‘good night’ that slips past Fixer’s lips.

[a-bombyx-mori]

poking around on spotify earlier and saw that ghost hit 1 mil monthly listeners,,, holy shit!! and their work has been a constant in my life for about 7 years now holy fuck.

gets me thinking about their impact and stuff. still have mixed emotions about everything because they sure did get good and bad attention while they were online. it's gotta be satisfying to see so many people enjoy your art and music and for them to even pay for it. then there's all the problems that come with any fanbase or online presence in general. and I've been here a while so here's just a few things that stand out to me about. everything? things I've thought about a bit?

(this became a long reflection ramble thing whoops.)

I've never really had other songs or writing at all describe the weird mental shit I've been through. yep, it's probably dumb, but ghost and pals songs helped me identity my problems. they became a source of catharsis when I was in fucking middle school and still are to this day. hell, evolve was the first thing that got me thinking I had been in a horrible relationship (along with twisted love ofc). aoapp was a reflection of my anxious attachment for a long time. I wouldn't have been able to make personal progress the past few years without analyzing songs too much.

and don't get me started on their drawings,, their artstyle has always been so charming in its own way. for a long time I tried to emulate their techniques so I could be an artist too. AND THEIR PV EDITING?? mgnghfh full course meal. I still set stills as backgrounds every so often. the fucking colorbars picture was my email background for years until google decided to stop loading it sometime last year.

I still admire them so much.

but there's also things they did that feel off. like I'll never get over how the new chattering was supposed to be a joke. you can't go and make a polished banger showing off your improvement and then say "yeah lol I only did this cause my friend joked about doing it so I said bet." or smth along those lines. (ghost said they remade it cause creep-p joked about it. in a tweet I think? gotta find it.) at that point, it also becomes a slight against your fans. you can't act like everything you make is (essentially) worthless without unintentionally shaming those who enjoy it. it's like that one mirror reflection picture thing.

the whole deletion of specific songs/most of their old discography is also it's own complex beast. ideally, an artist should be in control of when their art is displayed, but you give up that agency when using the internet. hell, there's mirrors of my old Instagram pages, and I'm nowhere near ghost's notoriety. thats the nature of the internet. shit is saved and copied and reuploaded all the time. the only way you can prevent that is by not uploading it at all or going through copyright law/terms of use/etc.

when I first started listening to ghost, they had their old work in an unlisted playlist. cool. then another channel I believe? then later on there was no official way of getting them so ofc people reuploaded them. was that the best thing to do? nope. but people enjoy their old songs and wanted access to them. and not everyone has a local back-up of music cause they're afraid it'll become inaccessible lost media.

them deleting most of their music vids is similar. this happened around like 2018ish? people started reuploading their current songs because. guess what. they weren't officially avaliable. people were thanking translators and such who had the pvs on their channel because they had access to it again. I believe something like this happened a second time but I don't remember for sure.

THIS DOESN'T EXCUSE ANY OF THE PATREON LEAKS BTW. those were paywalled benefits so that's a fundamental breach of privacy (and site rules, I'm p sure).

also less serious thing but they set up a premiere at the end of 2019 for a new song or whatever and it turned out to be a fucking joke too. just like a dr phil picture or smth. only upset at that cause back then I'd get the biggest fucking adrenaline rush whenever they were about to release something. then again I was also depressed as hell so that's an old me problem imo.

there's probably other drama or whatever I'm completely forgetting about, but probably for the better. in the end it's all about the art we're here for in the first place, and the artist behind it. I hope they're doing well after detaching from social media.

uh. long essay thing over now. I think

[hitboxesonstockimages]

Even if I explain it, I’m not sure if you’ll find the joke funny. Explaining jokes is kind of like an autopsy. You’ll understand more at the end, but unfortunately the joke is dead. But the gimmick is putting hitboxes on images. Hitboxes are a video game mechanic that are typically invisible boxes used to represent the effective areas of attacks and bodies. Hitboxes are discussed and analyzed often in fighting games especially, and typically shown in fighting game guides and resources as I depict them here. Green hitboxes represent the character models, and are often called “hurtboxes” because they represent the area your character can be attacked at. Red hitboxes are the attacks that characters perform. How many games register whether or not an attack hits is through interactions between these invisible boxes. If an attacking hitbox (red) comes into contact with an opponent’s hurtbox (green) the attack connects. That’s just the gimmick. The joke is basically about applying video game logic to real life, I suppose? As the name implies, we started off by putting hitboxes solely on stock images, not for any well-thought out reason, I suppose mostly because we thought the poses and nature of stock photos in general were just kind of silly and funny. But we found more success and better humor in putting hitboxes over other, better-known images. Sometimes the joke with those merely involves a funny pose, which the hitboxes draw attention to, but sometimes it involves an IRL action and implies that what is happening is an attack of some kind. Ultimately, the joke boils down to “(recognizable image) is a video game attack now.” If you’re a certain flavor of terminally online person, it’s funny. While I’m on the topic though, and perhaps this is a bit of vanity, but I don’t quite consider this blog to be the same as other gimmick blogs, or at least the modern generation of gimmick blogs. Where other gimmick blogs are merely trying to tack the same single joke onto the ends of other posts, and often that joke isn’t very funny to begin with, I feel as if making these hitboxes is a bit more transformative than that. I definitely wouldn’t be pretentious enough to call my silly MS paint edits “art,” but I feel like there is something short of that line here, a sort of postmodern, digital-age response to remembered events and images. The reason I so often go long stretches at a time without making a hitbox is because I don’t want to force the joke; I need a certain spark to work with. I’ll see an image and feel the “hitboxiness” of it that others don’t possess, or I’ll get a good idea for one that I have to make out of the blue. I think what makes this blog entertaining, and why so many people enjoy it, is because they enjoy seeing the “hitboxiness” in images that they wouldn’t otherwise detect until they see the hitboxes. On stock images.

Since I don’t have access to the inbox for lore reasons, if you want to ask a question you can just reblog this original post and I’ll probably answer.

[saturnsummer]

helpless.

han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.

ao3 link

notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.

edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.

words: 4130 words.

it’s been a terrible day for sol.

forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.

she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)

sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”

sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.

that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.

sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.

but joon hwi hasn't.

she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.

thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)

she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.

what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.

“you’re still up?” he asks.

it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)

joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.

and he couldn’t understand why.

until now.

joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?

joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.

for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.

“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.

“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.

“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.

“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.

“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.

“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)

joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.

not. at. all.

-----

the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.

sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.

sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.

“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,

she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.

joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.

“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”

“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”

“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.

i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.

joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.

-----

it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.

but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.

joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.

and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.

sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.

the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.

“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.

later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.

-----

she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.

all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.

as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.

“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.

the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.

then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.

joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.

the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.

and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.

-----

joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.

his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.

his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.

with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.

and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.

-----

when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.

“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.

“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.

“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.

“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.

“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.

“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.

“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.

joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.

“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.

his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.

“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.

“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)

joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.

i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.

because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.

-----

sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.

when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.

she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.

after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?

joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.

because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.

-----

bonus:

“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.

“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.

well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.

[eureka-its-zico]

Damage

Request: You meet JB in a bar and have a one-night stand

A/N: My friend has asked me for JB fics none stop. I haven’t been able to finish one, because I get stuck in my head and think everything is trash. I think this one is okay, at best. I’ve edited as much as my eyes can stand. Either way, she seemed to enjoy it. I hope you all enjoy it in some way too. Much Love, Jenn

p.s. It’s named Damage because I literally had the song of the same name from H.E.R playing on repeat the entire time.

Jaebum X Reader

Genre: SmUt

Words:5534

Warnings: semi-public sex, rough play, some ass-slaping - you get the picture -

There was a time that the idea of sleeping with a complete stranger from a bar would’ve never crossed your mind. It wasn’t that you were a prude. A part of you secretly wanted to know what it felt like to be so overwhelmed by another that they made you less cautious and more adventurous. No one ever seemed able to stir that emotion in you, however. 

Until you’d met JB. 

Now, as his fingers traced across your skin, his lips kissed at the hollow of your neck, you couldn’t imagine an alternate universe where you didn’t say yes. Where you weren’t pressed into the backseat of a stuffy cab not caring that you had an audience while JB’s hand made its way between your thighs. His mouth hungrily lapping up your moan as his fingers slid under the edge of your panties. 

A part of you should’ve felt embarrassed. You were passengers in this cab. The obvious audience of the older man up front would’ve normally made you shove his hand away with your cheeks pink; pretending to care if they watched. 

But JB was a force you weren’t used to. One that threatened to consume you and god, did you want to be consumed. 

EARLIER

————————-

“Come on, Y/N. You can’t be sad forever about that asshole.” 

Your fingers skimmed the paper of your beer smearing an image of a heart in the condensation. Your teeth drawing in your bottom lip as you thought about what your friend was saying. Of course, she was right. It was two weeks, give or take, since you broke up with Mark. You’d had your days of wallowing, eating copious amounts of ice cream, and crying on the couch watching rom-coms and asking why can’t your life be like this? 

There wasn’t any doubt your ex wasn’t off doing the same. Hell, he’d made sure to take pictures of his latest escapades and made sure to share it to his social media. Not that you were looking at any of it or anything. 

“You’re right,” you huffed out in defeat. 

Why was it so hard to let him go? It wasn’t like he’d had such a hard time deciding to end your relationship. 

“I’m sorry. What was that? Can you say it a little louder for me please I’m hard of hearing.”

You shot her a look of disbelief that sent her head falling back with laughter. 

“This one time you might be a little bit right.”

You took a swig of your drink to hide your own smile. 

“Plus, how can you be sad over that loser when the hottest dude is five feet away.”

You followed her eyes to see what had her making such a bold claim. There were plenty of good looking men and women in the bar. How could one person possibly hold the title when your opinion could be different? 

It wasn’t. 

You found him easily. No longer needing the guide of your friend to find who it was that’d caught her attention. And sweet Jesus he was hands down the best looking in the room. 

He was leaning up against the wall. His eyes half crescent moons as he smiled. One hand holding a beer that was close to his lips as he replied back to whatever his friend said. You shamelessly watched how his lips wrapped around the bottle to take a drink. The sharpness of his jaw and the expanse of his neck. 

You wanted to know what he looked like with his mouth on you and tasting the sweetness between your thighs. 

The desire for it caused your legs to squeeze together to give yourself any sort of friction. Your mind still going over the fantasy you were creating with him in the starring role. Suddenly, he was looking back at you. A harsh blush rose to your cheeks at being caught but refused to look away. 

God! What am I doing?! 

You’ve never been the one to make the first move. Of any kind. Eye contact felt like a first move of showing interest, but you were more than interested and a part of you wondered if he could see it. See that even this far between your spaces in the bar how badly you wanted to know how he tasted. 

A gasp brought your attention back to the position of your friend. Her mouth agape in shock but that threatened to spill into a smile at any moment. 

“Hollleeeeey shit! Did you just give that guy ‘fuck me eyes’ from across the bar?”

You scoffed at the idea before shooting a cautionary look back in his direction. Using your elbows that were on the top of the bar you swiveled yourself to face the many rows of liquor. Fighting the urge to look back at him again or acknowledge your friend bouncing in her seat. 

“Yes you fuckin did!”

Your reply was a quick swig of your drink as you tried your best not to grimace at the taste. You’d been babysitting it too long and now it was lukewarm. 

“I've had my heart broken. I’m not dead,” you replied. 

“Let’s go over and talk to them!”

Your head whipped in her direction so fast you swore you’d ended up with whiplash. Yes, you were looking. And yes, this man did provoke unholy fantasies, but that didn’t mean you were ready to be that close. 

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I think this will be good for you.”

She ignored your burst of panic and waved down the bartender who acknowledged her sooner than you would’ve liked. 

“What can I get you ladies.”

“Two shots of tequila, please.”

“What are you doing?” 

She wiggled her brows at you and rubbed her shoulder up against yours. Her weak attempt to pump you up with excitement for whatever diabolical thing she’d planned. 

“Just a little liquid courage before we head on over.”

“Heading towards the door, you mean.”

Your words came out as a grumble. A pout setting in as the bartender set down the small glasses in front of the two of you. Which she quickly slid hers to click beside yours. 

“You, my lovely friend, are going to have both.”

“Are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning?”

“Nope. Just trying to help you get some guiltless sex with a stranger.”

“Wow. You’re so amazing,” you deadpanned. Your hand snacking out to grab one of the shot glasses downing the first one. You were sure the reaction you were having looked like a cartoon character. God, this stuff was disgusting. “I’m pretty sure that stuff causes forest fires.” 

The bartender offered you a lemon, amusement flashing in his eyes. You were hoping he could see the thank you in yours with your mouth shoved full of lemon. 

You left it sitting in your mouth; teeth clenched tight against the softness and the peel exposed between your lips. You wondered if this was picture worthy and received your answer moments later when your friends’ camera flashed in your face. Your vision erupting in sparks of dark spots that left you unable to see. 

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

With the peel still held between your lips you made a face at her. Her mouth opened to reply, and suddenly it closed. Her eyes wide and darting from you to whoever was now perched beside you. 

You remembered you still had a shot left and decided it was time to meet your fate. Your legs moved to turn you to sit straight on the stool when you realized someone was beside you at the bar. In perfect horror movie fashion, you glanced at your right and saw the man who’d caused your need for liquid courage. 

He was just there. His body casually leaning against the bar with an air of coolness that didn’t seem forced. He was talking with the bartender. The two of them locked in a conversation like they were old friends and catching up. Maybe they were. 

Up close he was even more striking. His hair was perfectly slicked back to make it appear short, but it was anything but. The gel he’d used was beginning to wear off and displayed hair that was beginning to fall into his eyes. 

You wanted to run your hands through it. To grip it as you rode his tongue. 

It felt like he must have had a sensation of what you were thinking. He ended his conversation and turned to look at you. A spark of laughter lit up the dark brown of his eyes and you swore you were swooning in your chair. 

“I see you must really like lemons.”

Your brow furrowed as you wondered what the hell he could be talking about. He must have caught on to your confusion and patted a single digit against the lemon peel still peaking like a smile between your lips. Your eyes shot wide with horror as you not too gracefully spit it out onto the napkin. 

“Oh...my...god,” you whispered at the wood of the bar. Praying that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Hi!” Your friend shot an arm over you with her hand extended for him to shake. “My name’s Vanessa. This is my lovely friend, Y/N. The lemon sucker.” 

Your head jerked in her direction and you hoped she could see how much you wish you could hit her. 

The man beside you, however, looked nothing but amused and took Vanessa’s hand. You couldn’t keep your eyes from looking at his fingers; the way it practically covered all of hers. 

“Nice to meet you both.”

He released her hand and shocked you by leaving his hand open and waiting for you to take. You glanced up at him and then back down to his hand. You took it without waiting too long, because you didn’t want him to think you were rude, or worse, weirder than he probably already did. The minute your hands folded around the other you swore it was electric. 

“My name’s Jaebum. Everyone calls me JB, for short.” 

Jaebum. JB. You would call him whatever he wanted. His voice was soft as he spoke and forced you to move closer to hear him. You wondered if that’d been his plan. It was the only thing you could think of as his thumb caressed over the knuckles of your hand before he took it away. 

You dropped your hand down to the side of your skirt and fought not to rub it against the fabric. The attraction you felt for JB was something that’d come unexpected and you found yourself inexperienced. It felt overwhelming this need to touch him. To be touched in return. To know how he sounded with your lips wrapped around his cock and those same hands on the back of your head. Bending you over and smacking your ass until it was cherry red. 

You were still staring at each other as these devilish thoughts played out in your head. His eyes roamed your face and you wondered what he saw there. If JB could see the dirty scenarios he held the starring role in. His gaze slid over you from the tips of your toes, over the exposed legs from your skirt, your chest, and back up to your face. 

There was no denying he’d thought of his own scenario with you in mind. His pupils fully blown with lust when he brought his eyes back up to you. Your pulse thudded wildly as you struggled to remember how to properly breathe. 

“Did you girls want to come back over to our table?” The question was meant for both Vanessa and you, but when he asked his gaze never left you. He only looked away to point to his indicated spot. “It’s just me and a couple of my friends. I promise, we aren’t weird or anything.”

A bright smile spread across his lips and if you weren’t swooning earlier, you were definitely doing it now. You were nodding your head yes, unsure if you could trust yourself to talk. Vanessa, unfortunately, didn’t seem to have that issue. 

“That would be amazing and so good for her. Her boyfriend just broke up with her. She’s very vulnerable.”

Oh. My. God. Was she winking like an idiot? 

You looked back at her and couldn’t keep the horror off of her face. Luckily, JB laughed it off. He reached out to grab the drinks he’d ordered and motioned with his head for you girls to follow. You waited for Vanessa to start forward before you fell into step beside her. Your arm shooting out to wrap itself around hers just so you could use it to pull her in tight. 

“What in the hell was that!?”

“I’m trying to help you here. Most men love the idea of a girl on the rebound.”

“Because they think they’re easy, Nessa.”

“Precisely.” 

She flicked her finger up like she’d just made a great discovery. The only thing she was about to discover was that you were, in fact, desperate but for a whole other reason. 

No part of you could remember your ex looking at JB. And while the idea of any sort of relationship with him, physical or otherwise, made you excited there was still that small voice in your head. The not so fun responsible part of you reminded you that you didn’t know him. He could be a weird pervert or a serial killer. Ninety-nine percent of serial killers were usually attractive. 

You let out a sigh not sure how to tell her nicely to butt out. 

“Just, help me less. Ok?”

She regarded you for a moment. Her arm peeling itself out of yours before bringing you in quickly for a one-armed hug. 

“Alright. Girl Scouts honor I won’t say anything else.”

“Thank you!”

And you meant it. Lord knew she only meant well, but in the end it came off embarrassing. Like the two of you were sixteen and in high school again. With you passing notes to all the boys you liked because you were too damn nervous to say anything to their face. You thought it was romantic. In reality, it just seemed well, kinda awkward. 

The two of you stood beside the pool table and you did your best not to fidget with your bag. The weight of six new sets of eyes made you feel like an animal in a zoo. 

“Guys, this is Vanessa and Y/N. I invited them over to hang out with us. If that’s cool.”

The friends all seemed to go from caution to excitement at seeing you in two point five seconds. All of them agreeing it was cool, and waving you all over to find a chair to sit in. 

You were following Vanessa to seats in between two  of his friends, when a soft hand on your arm stopped you. You knew without looking it was JB. Your body reacting instantly to his touch as if it’d been set on fire. 

“You can sit next to me. If you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Your voice was breathy. Like you were telling him a secret the two of you only needed to hear. The chair in question that sat beside his own, was inches from him. So close that when you sat down your knees were next one another. 

He regarded you briefly before he turned his attention back to his group. His arm snaking around your chair to rest on its back. You were aware that it was a show of dominance. Of signaling to his friends and anyone else who cared to look that you were his. The thought of it sent a thrill through your body of being claimed. Only wishing he would claim you another way too. 

JB’s group of friends were fun and easy to get a long with. One of them in particular, Hyun-Bae, was incredibly funny. He told stories that were entertaining and knew when to use his humor to make everyone laugh. It was enough to make you almost forget the man beside you. Almost. 

You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between everyone talking, JB’s hand that’d rested comfortably on the back of your chair had moved. His fingers brushed along your skin from your shoulder to collarbone. Each stroke deliberate; sexual and not. Like he could read that you found it comforting but also craved his touch. 

You ached with the urge to kiss him. To taste the liquor on his tongue. All those times you turned to imagine yourself leaning in and doing just that, you’d met his gaze. The two of you shared  a look of knowing and wondered if he’d just been waiting for you to close the last inches of space between you. You were looking at each other now; eyes hungrily glancing at the others lips. 

You wanted to be brave. To just close that space and tell him just to take you home. Screw this dance of cat and mouse. You didn’t want to be chased. You wanted to be owned. 

Instead, a soft, “Excuse me,” came from you as you rose up from your chair. You couldn’t get your  feet to walk fast enough to the bathroom. You were moving so fast you practically took someone out on the way inside. Getting inside the bathroom, you quickly shut the door and turned the lock. 

You were instantly greeted by your reflection in the dirty, marker-ridden, mirror. What you could see of yourself was defeated. A huff of frustration left you as you removed your bag from your shoulder and placed it on the hook on the back of the door. Your feet scuffing the ground as you took a somber approach to the sink. 

You told Vanessa you could do this. You didn’t need help to tell a hot guy you wanted him to fuck you until your legs were far past jello and more like liquid. And every time you were given the opportunity to do something at all, you backed out. 

You rested your hands on the sink and leaned in. Examining your makeup and how very un-messy it was. 

“Note to self: just fuckin do it.”

Yup. The greatest of pep talks. 

You weren’t ready to leave the sanctity of the bathroom but a knock sounded on the door. Reminding you very quickly that there were actual people who probably needed to use it. You moved to pick up your bag when another knock came. 

“Yea, yea I’m coming. Chill.”

When you opened the door, however, JB was just there. His body pushing into the bathroom causing you to step back to give him room. He closed the door without looking back. His body fully facing you as the door clicked closed behind him. 

“JB? Sorry I was just using the restroom-”

“Is that what that was? I mostly heard talking; no flushing.”

His lips spread in an amused smile no doubt at your expense. Your eyes were probably as white as the moon. How long had he been waiting out here?

“Sorry. I just got a little impatient waiting for you.”

In one fluid motion, his arm snaked around your back, and brought you to his chest. JB was prepared for you and his other hand was already holding your face giving him the perfect leverage to crash his mouth down on yours. The moment your lips met that electricity you’d felt earlier flared back to life. This time, it flared across your skin and sparked in every spot he touched. 

The kiss started out a brush of lips and soon became more. His tongue danced at the edge of your bottom lip and you gladly opened up to him. Your hands plunging to make a mess of his perfectly gelled hair at the same time his tongue slipped inside your mouth. 

You were eager to respond. Eager to caress his tongue with yours. His mouth tasted of the bittersweet liquor he’d sipped on for the last hour. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to taste yourself on his lips made your body ache to be touched in other places. For your fantasies of his mouth on you to begin here. You didn’t care where. 

JB seemed to understand what you needed. He broke from the kiss fast and turned you around. His body pressed against your back and his hands at the edge of your skirt. You watched in the mirror as he moved your skirt up to your hips exposing your thong to the room. 

He watched you, his lips hovering over your ear before giving it a playful nip, and those same hands were now laced in the strings. JB moved back just enough to squat down so his hands could move them down your legs until he reached your ankles. 

“Step out.”

You followed his command without question. Your head tilting back to watch the little bit of cloth he held in his hand get scrunched up even smaller and placed inside the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and your body froze with anticipation. Whatever he would ask you to do, you knew you would comply. 

“Spread your legs.”

The demand in his voice was feverish. His own need on display as his hand caressed up your calf until it was between your thighs. A finger teasingly moved across your opening, causing a soft gasp to exit from your lips. You did as you were instructed and waited until you heard an approving, “Hm,” from his lips. 

The room swelled as the anticipation grew. The reflection you’d seen moments ago was washed away and the woman who’d taken her place was eager and ready to offer up her own demands. 

JB moved to stand on his feet with his hands traveling along the curve of your legs and up onto your hips. There his fingers dug into the soft flesh as he leaned into your back, his eyes on yours in the mirror, as he spoke into your ear, “Place your hands on the sink.”

“Spank me first.”

A shiver of shock ran through you. You couldn’t believe you’d said it, but after your request had left you, you’d refused to take it back. Your body craved to be reprimanded by his hands and the smirk on his lips told you plainly he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please spank me. Please, JB.”

His hand curled up to wrap around your throat as his index finger danced at the edge of your lips. 

“How bad do you want it?”

“I want I-“

The smack reverberated like thunder in the small room. The sting was instant and beautiful. The heat between your legs was aching and your ass jetted against his jeans for any kind of friction. JB stepped back, denying you any form of relief, and landed another smack on your exposed cheek. 

This one made your knees wobble as the pleasure rolled through you. Your hands on the sink was the only thing that saved you from showing him what he’d done. 

“You love that don’t you?”

JB already knew you did, but he wanted to hear you. He needed to hear you say how much you loved feeling his hand leaving its mark, red and angry, on your skin. 

“Yes,” you gasped. “It feels so good.” 

He landed another smack and you couldn’t keep yourself quiet anymore. Your moan loud and aching like your pussy. Luckily, his hand was still on your throat and silenced you by placing his fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them immediately and this time you could feel JB rut against your ass. The hardness of his cock pressed against the fabric of his jeans gave away just how turned on he was at your bathroom escapades. 

He pulled his fingers free from your mouth and, with the same fingers, slick and wet, placed it between your legs. The two digits moving to slide between your folds. First, scissoring around your clit; caressing the delicate bud until you gave him the moan he worked for. 

When the soft sound left you JB slid them deep inside you causing the noise to become louder. A shudder ran through your body as you backed up into him. 

His fingers removed themselves suddenly, and you couldn’t keep the disappointment from escaping you. A whine you were sure sounded like you were close to tears. JB gave your ass another smack and all it did was drive the need inside you closer to madness. 

His hands planted themselves onto your ass and you felt him kneel down. Those two strategically placed hands lifting up the flesh there leaving your pussy exposed and aching in his view. Your hands were gripping the porcelain of the sink so tight you’d thought it’d crack. Your body trembling in anticipation of what he might do and the need to cover yourself up playing tug-of-war in your head. 

The idea of any sort of hiding vanished when his mouth planted itself between your legs. His tongue snaking out to flick across your clit made you back up to greet his mouth. JB quickly took that moment to slide his tongue from clit to ass. The sensation was so foreign and new to you, you weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed, but the pleasure you got quickly washed the thought away. 

JB gave you no time to pull yourself together. His face was back between your legs with an eager tongue to lick up every last drop. His tongue swirled around your clit and sent light flicks when you were least expecting it. Each time your legs threatened to crumble, but JB held you there with steady hands.

His tongue explored you thoroughly and put to his memory what made your knees weak. What caused a soft mulling sound of need to claw up from your throat. And what caused your grip on the sink to become almost violent. 

Between each languid lick his tongue would find itself taking long strides all the way up and back down to your peak. Your body had now grown accustomed to the new sensation, and you welcomed it greedily as you pushed back against his face. 

When JB knew you were so close to your sweet release he focused his tongue more on your swollen bud. Each new caress of his tongue gradually made it harder for your arms to hold you up. For your legs to keep from shaking uncontrollably. 

Your orgasm continued to grow; blossoming between your folds with an ache that your body felt. You were so, so close and with a final thrust of his tongue you felt your world spin and that sweet heat between your legs finally sent shockwaves all over your body. 

You came moaning so loud anyone else would’ve thought you were screaming. Your head thrown back and riding the sensation of his greedy mouth taking everything you had to offer. 

When his lips finally released from you, your body was still coming down from your orgasm. The loud panting that came from you as you leaned against the sink completely spent. You watched in the mirror as he pulled a golden foil packet from his pocket. His eyes sinfully watching you as he ripped it carefully with his teeth. JB’s finger moved quickly to take out the slick rubber from the packet and begin to work it down his shaft. 

You’d been so consumed with recovering from his tongue that you hadn’t realized when he’d taken his cock out of his jeans that were now shameless at his ankles. He put a few fingers inside your wetness that caused you to gasp. Your body was still recovering from what had just taken place. 

He used your cum to lubricate himself and placed himself at your entrance. Already the tip of him stretching you out with the delicious sting that told you he was thick. You couldn’t wait. 

You moved to push back into him to help him inside and he pulled away. His hand smacking down on your ass making you even more eager. 

“Patience is a virtue.”

He tried to be funny, but his voice was deep and throaty with his own lust. You were close to pleading with him again like before, but he let it be known quickly he had no intentions to wait. 

JB slid inside you and you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. The feel of him making your breath catch. His girth much thicker than you’d imagined, and your body shook from the pleasure of feeling yourself stretch around him. 

His thrusts started off slow until he knew you’d had enough time. His hands found an anchor on your hips and used them to pull you in to meet his hips. A string of curse words fell from your mouth as your hips rocked back into him. 

Each movement felt like he was going deeper. JB’s hands on the cheeks of your ass kept you spread open to him and left no friction to catch his thrusts. Every single one was felt as he buried himself inside you in a rhythmic timing that left you moaning. 

You caught your reflection in the mirror, and glanced over to watch him as he worked. The way his hips bucked up only to be brought down. His hands stationed on your hips and bruising the flesh there as his grip got tighter. JB looked up and caught a glimpse of you in the mirror. His eyes locked with yours as he continued that unrelenting pace. 

He removed a hand from your ass and used it to wrap back around your neck. When he knew he had a good grip, he used it to pull you close to his chest. The angle of him in this new position somehow made him feel like he was pushing into your gut. 

Your mouth opened to make another sound, a moan or a scream you weren’t sure which, when that hand in your throat tilted your mouth towards him. His own came crashing down on your lips with his tongue that tasted of you slipping inside. You eagerly opened your mouth to him, and your tongue quickly moved to get a taste. 

JB deepened the kiss as his hips began to thrust harder into you. The movement building up your orgasm with each brutal movement until it threatened to spill over. 

“You taste so good with me on your lips.”

Your words fell earnest from your lips. You meant every one of them. You’d never tasted yourself so pretty on anyone else’s lips. JB obliged as he took your lips back. His mouth silenced another moan as his last free hand found its way back to your clit. Your body jumped at the added sensation. Your mouth tore away from his as another moan dripped from your lips. 

You were so close. You could fill yourself ready to cum if only he would let you. JB must have been close too, because his thrusts started becoming more violent and sporadic. Hitting in all the right places.

 At the same time as his fingers made small circles around your clit, a singular hard thrust of his hips sent his cock deep inside you. Your vision erupted in a sea of white. Your orgasm sent your body rutting back against him. 

He rode your orgasm and somehow made it grow in intensity as he continued to move his hips. His own breathing going ragged as you felt him finally release into you. 

When you both were able to breathe again, you’d realized you were laying over the sink. JB’s forehead resting on your back as you both struggled to regain your composure. 

JB was the first to move. The first to begin the arduous process of cleaning up. Like a voyeur, you watched him as he threw away the spent rubber and tuck himself back inside his jeans. A smirk creased your lips when you noticed he now had noticeable wet spots on his tee shirt. 

“You know, I don’t even know anything about you.”

You weren’t sure why you made the comment or why it mattered. You’d just had sex with the man in a damn bar bathroom. But JB didn’t seem to mind. His own smile curling his lips as he salvaged what he could of his hair. 

“What would you like to know?”

“Well,” you began as you started to situate your skirt. “What’s your favorite color?”

It was a silly question. By the look on JB’s face, he knew it was, but he humored you anyways. 

“It used to be blue, but I think red might be a new favorite.” 

“Why is that?”

You were wondering where your panties had gone until you spied a bit of the black cloth hanging from his pocket. JB walked over to you in a few steps and planted a soft kiss down on your lips. One that spoke plainly, this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see each other. 

“Because it currently matches the color of your ass.”

JB was out the door and in the bar’s hallway before you’d even got a chance to respond. 

[moonbaby26]

(gif from Jason Passaro’s youtube edit here)

Title: One Shitty Friday Night (Part 1)

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Colossus x Shadowcat

Summary: Set after the events of Deadpool 2, you and your boyfriend Peter are on a double date downtown with your fellow X-Men Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) and Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat) when Deadpool and Russell arrive unexpectedly. Chaos and violence naturally ensues, including taking down mafia henchmen, dealing with news media and paparazzi who circle in with the action, and a jealous Peter. This will be concluded in Part 2 with the mixed reactions of Logan, Charles, and Erik when you all bring Wade and Russell back home, etc. 😄

Notes: For simplicity’s sake as Piotr R. is normally called “Peter” as well, he’ll just be referred to as Colossus here.

Warnings: Some alcohol use. And it’s Deadpool, so a lot of cursing and irreverent jokes of course. This started out as just crack!fic that became actual fic that had to be split into two parts because it hit post limit. Holy cow.

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

Kitty all but snorted, trying to put her drink back down on the table before it could end up fully sideways instead as her laughter left her trembling.

Colossus sighed quietly, but you could still see the warmth in his eyes as he looked down at her before helping dab up some of her errant wine off the table with a thick cloth napkin.

It was late Friday night, and save for your semi disapproving, large and very Russian designated driver, the other three of you were now several drinks deep and a bit too loudly enjoying Peter’s retelling of the Led Zeppelin cover band debacle. You’d been there with him that night, but it never got old the way Peter told it.

“I shit you not, and this guy still keeps hitting on Jean.” Peter continued, his third nearly empty glass of craft beer still in hand. “Scott’s about to fry the dude. They’re playing Immigrant Song, and these lasers start up. All dudebros in the club go wild, and Scott tries to sneak off a warning shot. Freaking air balls it! I have to move like forty people and it still blows a damn hole in the wall. But nobody even noticed! Fake Robert Plant is screaming his heart out and everybody is just eating it up. I swear my Dad could have flown in there, cape billowing and they still would have thought it was part of the show!”

You were at risk of being elbowed in this small restaurant booth, with how animated Peter was as he spoke beside you. But you didn’t mind. The lighting was dim, possibly verging on romantic, the smell of good food from the kitchen reminded you of what was to come, and you were just enjoying time with some of your favorite people.

When Peter did finally drop his hand again though, the not so subtle movements of it then up your thigh also promised something much more personal later tonight. Maybe it was the warmth from the mixed drinks you were also nursing, but you shifted your leg a little, pushing even more into his touch under the table. Your movement just signaled your silent agreement to him that tonight would be a perfect night to be throwing clothes on the floor as soon as you got back to your shared room at the mansion.

It’d been a long, tiring week after all. Helping teach classes during the day and training your ass off in the danger room every night, you didn’t think it was unreasonable to cut loose a bit now.

Even Colossus was chuckling a little at last, but the big guy was always softest around Kitty. You in particular had been one of her biggest supporters when she’d first confessed her attraction towards him. You’d noticed his bashfulness with her as well, and all the little glances he’d given her long before she’d ever worked up the courage to ask him out.

But that seemed so long ago now, it was hard to really remember a time when they weren’t together. Almost as long as you and Peter really.

You glanced up as the waiter came back by to check on you all, saying your food would be out in a few more minutes and asking if anyone needed more drinks.

“Oh gosh, we’re really running up the tab right?” Kitty smiled.

You could see the little bit of relief in Colossus’ expression as she waved the waiter off though, her current wine glass still nearly full. “I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Peter glanced at you and you nodded as well. A buzz was fine, but you didn’t want to be climbing the mansion stairs full on drunk tonight. “I’m good.”

As the waiter left, your conversation got a little more subdued. You leaned into Peter somewhat, hip to hip in the booth as he put his arm around your waist.

Kitty was now talking about a movie she thought you should all go see next weekend if you could. You were just in the process of agreeing as you’d wanted to see it too, when Colossus suddenly went stock still, a look of real surprise on his face.

Kitty evidently noticed as soon as you did, you both staring up at him in unison.

“Do not turn around,” He instructed to you and Peter, eyes locked on something behind you.

Of course when told to do one thing, it would take everything in Peter’s willpower to not do the opposite. But to his credit he actually did hesitate. “Do we need to be dodging something? I mean, I can move us if I need to, man. You just gotta let me know.” Peter stated.

“I don’t think he’s seen us yet. Please do not draw attention.” Colossus responded, still frustratingly vague to the rest of you.

But he hadn’t metaled up yet, his skin still entirely human looking. So on the plus side, it couldn’t be someone he thought an immediate physical threat.

You glanced to Kitty for some hope of explanation as she was seated beside Colossus and facing the same direction. But she was too short in comparison to him, and couldn’t see all the way across the booth dividers as easily as he could. “Well who is it?” Kitty demanded quietly.

But you heard an impatient voice carry over clearly from the nearby restaurant entrance.

“Look, you know he’s here. I know he’s here. Don’t make me leave you guys a bad Yelp review. I will totally Karen that shit up. I’m just here for him.” A pause. “...And some of the cannolis. God, I love those things. You went a little scarce on the filling last time though. Don’t make me add that to the Yelp review.”

You heard the hostess stutter, fear evidently building. “Sir, firearms are not allowed in this restaurant. The owner, he, I...I can’t.”

There was a loud sigh from the man, the distinct sound of a gun cocking, and then all hell broke loose.

“WADE!” Colossus screamed, your entire table flipping as he stood up, metal now encasing him in this even larger form.

Abruptly you were now standing back by the entrance yourself. Peter had one arm around you, and the other around Kitty as he let you both go just as instantly, having just brought you there before he disappeared again.

That little flare up of vertigo from the speed and sudden stop didn’t mix well with the alcohol, and she and you both stood there another moment, queasy as Peter appeared again with an armful of guns.

It would have been comical as he clearly had no idea where to put them now, but everyone else that had still been in the restaurant was already screaming and running for the doors in a panic.

The owner of the multiple guns couldn’t care less about the crowd however, only turning his full focus to the lot of you then in exasperation.

“Oh my God, you anti second amendment, mother fuckers. I’m in the middle of a job here!”

“You can’t just point guns at innocent people, Wade! We have talked about this many times!” Colossus retorted, all seven foot of him now standing over Deadpool with paternal like annoyance.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s called a threat. I wasn’t going to kill her you overprotective, asshat! Now Giovanni is probably holed up in some pussy ass panic room, or he’s already ghosted me out the back door! And yes, I know that is such a stereotypical mob boss name and totally sounds like the Pokemon villain. Fuck him and his always trying to take Pikachu! He had a talking cat the whole time who just wanted his love, but no, got to have the electric rat. Fuck!”

“Language, Wade!” Colossus scolded. “There is still a child present!”

And honestly in all this insanity, that was the first time you actually noticed Russell also still standing there. Everyone else in the room had now fled out into the street.

“I’m fucking fourteen,” The boy replied defiantly. “And yeah, we were working!”

“Daddy and angrier metal daddy are just talking, hon.” Deadpool commented, waving a hand.

There was a small gust of air beside you and you looked to Peter knowingly. Wade’s guns were now all on a table, though intentionally still distant from your current position. “So I just made a couple laps.” Peter spoke up. “The cops are already coming, and there’s still a bunch of guys in the basement. They were opening some crates, probably getting weapons? I didn’t know if we were taking them out yet though. I didn’t touch anything. But is Giovanni like a big dude with gold rings and all?”

“I’m telling you besides the drug and human trafficking, it’s practically more criminal how much he sets back Italian-American stereotypes. They are an honest, manicotti making people goddamn it.” Deadpool answered.

You really were starting to regret the amount of drinks you’d had. If you’d known tonight was going to be anything like this, you would have gladly stuck to water. Your head was already trying to throb a little as you finally spoke. “So, does this guy actually have warrants out on him? If the cops come, they’re all going to end up shooting each other most likely. Can we just defuse this by giving him up to them?”

“I would say we assist to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, if that is the case, yes. I’m sure the Professor would prefer that.” Colossus agreed.

“Freaking goody two shoes, all of you.” Wade sighed. “But he has to get arrested or dead okay? I don’t get paid otherwise.” He paused though, then looking back up to Colossus before suddenly elbowing him. As if he’d even really feel that. “And hello rudeness, are you not going to introduce me to your little girls night out club here before we go bust some heads in a gratuitous X-Force/X-Men hotties crossover?”

“X-Force?” Kitty asked, sounding as already over this as could be.

“Well, we are a little empty on the roster at the moment. Some...unfortunate parachuting incidents. Wind advisory that day. You know how it goes.” Deadpool shrugged.

By her expression, no. She did not know how it went.

But the sooner you started, the sooner this could be over. Colossus motioned to each of you in turn, “Peter, (Y/N), and Kitty. These are my teammates and friends.” He nodded back to Deadpool, “And this is Wade.” And then to the boy. “And Russell.”

Of course you already knew who they both were. It’d been a bit of a scandal really, with the whole Essex House fiasco and the deaths that had occurred there. Fair or not, a lot of the blame had ended up on Juggernaut the second time around though you thought. Which is why Charles hadn’t had to deal with too much bad press in the aftermath.

You could not let this become another Essex House situation for the X-Men though. You were about to speak up about heading to the basement together and Deadpool staying out of your way so you all could neutralize everyone without any fatal hits, when he gasped dramatically, making you freeze again.

“Kitty!? Like an actual girl named Kitty? Oh my God, this whole time I thought you were his cat!” He hit his own leg, laughing. “I’m thinking, holy shit this guy loves his goddamn cat, but who am I to judge you know? I had a dog named Mr. Shuggums. Cutest little fucker.” He took a breath. “I miss him.”

“Wade.” Colossus groaned. “We do not have all night.”

Okay, so there was still something sweet about Colossus gushing about his girlfriend even to this manic mercenary. But no kidding, this show really needed to get on the road here.

“Guys, why don’t we just let Peter disarm them all, Colossus, you grab Giovanni, and Kitty and I deal with anyone who still resists? No one has to get hurt, and then it’s all done, easy.”

“And then we go find somewhere else to eat. Killing me here. I wanted that damn calzone and tiramisu.” Peter sighed, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again. “More guns coming up.”

He disappeared at once, but when he didn’t return immediately as you were so accustomed to, you and Kitty exchanged a nervous look.

And after only another few seconds, your instincts told you something had definitely gone wrong.

“Is the basement directly beneath us?” You asked Deadpool sharply, already reaching out a hand to Kitty. Your adrenaline was starting, all good feelings gone as it was now time to act.

But you’d worked together long enough now, you didn’t have to explain your plan to her or Colossus.

Yet when the previously mouthy merc had no instant response, just staring at you in thought, it was clear he hadn’t done any recon beforehand at all. He’d literally just walked in here and expected everything to work out.

“Perfect.” Kitty said sarcastically, glancing quickly to Colossus as she took your hand. “You’re our backup, dear, in case our vertical entrance doesn’t work out. Come find us.”

“Always.” He said, already turning, his weight shaking the floor as he ran to look for any stairway downward while you and Kitty dropped straight through the floor.

It was surely a risk of its own to use her phasing ability so blindly as this. You could end up in a too small crawlspace, in underground piping, a sewer system, anything really. She’d make sure not to go solid until it was safe, as to not impale or bury you alive of course. But if Peter were in trouble, there was no time to waste by ending up at a dead end and having to go back up and try again.

You’d held your breath, as there was no way for you to process oxygen either as your lungs and every other part of you shifted through the other matter. It was darkness and insulation, pipes, and conduit that flashed by at first. But in the fractions of seconds that it took to fall, you had already powered up. The white light of your energy field overtaking your body, shielding you both as you did fall into a larger open area.

It was even darker than the restaurant above, all concrete and dampness. The glow from your body was the brightest thing there as much more men than you’d expected all turned in surprise. You saw the glint of multiple gun barrels now, but the thing you wanted to see most was Peter’s silver hair as you’d scanned the area for him instantly.

There was a stairwell in the distance. He was laying near the bottom of it. But you had no time to be shocked or afraid, only anger swelled as you released Kitty’s hand, making you solid again. “I’ll get him.” Was all you said. Letting her know to protect herself as you flew to him. Bullets couldn’t hurt her if she was ready for them. But Peter would be defenseless without one of you now, and by means of your power of flight you were the faster of you and her.

The man closest to Peter had a different kind of gun though you realized. Something you didn’t recognize at all as he aimed at you. You splayed your palms to create an energy shield in front of you as he pulled the trigger.

It didn’t make a sound though. But everything around you instantly distorted as pain exploded through you. You saw five or six of him now, as your feet hit the ground, unable to concentrate enough to fly then. But even as you stumbled, realizing your shielding wasn’t fully stopping whatever that weapon was doing, you were still able to expand your shield rapidly, hitting the man with the force of a car in your pain and sending him flying into a nearby wall, the weapon clattering to the ground lightly against his now limp body.

But you still felt like you were going to puke.

“Kill them you idiots!” Someone screamed.

You dropped yourself, laying over Peter just as quickly, grateful to feel him breathing as you focused through the pain to extend a shield around you both as the gunfire started.

“Bitch!” Another man yelled as Kitty just walked unharmed through all the flying bullets towards you.

“Shadowcat actually,” She said, skilled enough in her powers to choose what was solid and what wasn’t. Just the outside of her fist being all she needed to crush his nose in one punch with a squirt of blood, and only the end of her foot used as she swept her leg after to knock his own right out from under him.

Even among your own team, sometimes people could forget that that petite Jewish girl was about as skilled a martial artist as anyone could be.

“Babe?” You heard against your ear though, glancing back down to Peter. There was real relief even in the chaos as you saw him smile up at you.

He talked back against your ear in the noise as Kitty continued to utterly wreck the guys around you. “I fucked up a little, right? That gun...they already had it going, aimed at the door when I came back, a trap...I think I hit every stair on the way down...I still see like three of you right now.”

“Ditto.” You breathed.

And then there was another even louder noise as the remnants of a door also came flying down the stairs. Colossus barreled in behind it like a stampeding elephant, Deadpool right behind him as they leapt over the both of you and joined the fray.

“We found the basement!” Deadpool announced gleefully, swords swinging. “Don’t think they’d even locked the door back actually, but fuck if big Russki doesn’t love a dramatic entrance!”

For a moment you thought all your words about at least trying not to kill had been for nothing, thinking Deadpool was going to chop these men into literal pieces. But even as blood sprayed left and right, you realized he was just cutting tendons. The men then unable to hold their guns, unable to stand at all as he crippled each he reached in succession.

It was still completely horrific, but hell, how much could you really ask for from someone like him? Especially when you yourself had slammed that one man into a concrete wall as if he were a ragdoll. You glanced over anxiously for a moment, glad to see him shifting a little, but still crumpled exactly where you’d thrown him. He was alive, a small relief at least.

——————————

Obviously the other gunmen hadn’t had a prayer either though once you’d all been down there together.

Colossus already had a still cursing Giovanni slung over one shoulder as you were now helping Peter back up and trying not to step in all the blood as you all walked over to Kitty.

“What a mess...very interesting weapon though,” She spoke of that odd gun that’d been used on you and Peter, it now in her hands as she turned it one way and then another examining it. “I’m bringing this back with us. The police don’t need anything like this. Hank and I can figure out how it works. And how to defend against it hopefully before we run into another one of these out in the field.”

“It seems this Giovanni was more a threat than expected,” Colossus said, giving the still squirming man an unhappy look, before looking back to you all. “Are you alright, Peter?”

“I’m still hungry.” Peter grumbled, an arm over your shoulder to still help stabilize him as his other hand went to his head as if it were pounding. He also had some bruising starting on his face, no doubt from his tumble down the stairs. “I wouldn’t have drank so damn much if I’d known we weren’t going to eat...”

With the speed of his metabolism, that alcohol likely was hitting him pretty hard now on his already empty stomach.

“We should turn this guy over and get out of here.” You agreed. Though you didn’t feel so hot yourself. Still a little nauseous from whatever that weapon did to your senses. But at least you weren’t seeing triple of everything anymore.

“Hold it, girl scouts!” Deadpool piped up, chipper as ever as he grabbed something at Giovanni’s neck before any of you could think to stop him.

The man choked just a moment though, before a piece of metal snapped off into Wade’s hands. It was a necklace, with a symbol of some sort. You saw just a glimpse of it before Deadpool pocketed it. “No proof of finishing the job, no payday for DP. No payday, then no liquor, no coke, no hookers. Am I right?”

It was too difficult to tell when if ever he was serious, and you all chose to ignore his comment, starting back up the stairs. The odd sounds of bullet fragments falling back down the stairwell caught Peter’s attention though as he gave a grossed out look to Wade for a moment.

The now impact deformed bullets were starting to work themselves back out of all the bloody holes in Deadpool’s costume. You knew where you’d seen that before of course, but Peter was the only one that actually said it aloud.

“Damn, you and Logan would be a pair.”

There was a pause, and you could swear even with the mask, you thought you saw Wade’s cheekbones move in a way that signaled he was outright grinning from ear to ear. “At least someone gets it. He still won’t return my calls though. Such a diva lately.”

Once you did get to the top of the stairs, you only found a very agitated Russell standing there, Wade’s guns in his arms. “You took long enough, the cops are outside you know. I’m not going back to jail for you!”

“Cool your tater tots, kid.” Deadpool responded lazily, in no hurry, but grabbing the weapons back to holster them all regardless.

“I could have finished this faster! I would have fried their asses!” Russell argued.

“You would have been shot. Fire does not stop bullets.” Colossus only answered matter of factly.

Russell made a face, but Wade cut him off before he could say any more.

“Now now, listen to metal daddy. No sass. And actually, I think there’s something we should talk about, champ. X-Force is way more badass and all, but we don’t exactly have a training and junior member tier yet. Maybe later. You might want to think about riding home with these guys and checking their setup out. I don’t have any powers myself to relate to you like that, except me being very shootable, devastatingly charming, sexy, smart, and a competitive level Skee-Ball player...”

Deadpool sighed, continuing. “But these guys have a Danger Room. Which is totally not a sex dungeon, yeah I was bummed about that too. But they could let you unleash that school shooter level teenage angst and burn all the shit you wanted until you really figure out your powers.”

Russel bristled. “I’m not a school shooter you prick! And you always said the X-Men were neutered dweebs and-”

Wade coughed loudly, ushering Russell forward suddenly as you all continued to walk. “Hah, kids. Such darlings. Mishear everything don’t they?”

Colossus only answered without offense though. “The offer is still open, Russell. Though you have said no before. The Professor would never turn down a young mutant in need.”

It was Peter who surprised you a little, a smirk on his face as he contributed. “Freaking sweet house too, man. Xavier’s loaded. Big screen TV, a pool, basketball court, your own room, supersonic jet. Bunch of cute girls as well, or cute boys, you know whatever you’re into.”

“I’m not gay.” Russell huffed, but actually looked to be listening now as he didn’t immediately spit back with a sarcastic retort.

Though you gave Peter a weird look and he just grinned. “What? I stayed for you didn’t I, babe? Just saying. I wasn’t exactly on board with the whole team thing before that either. I know where he’s coming from is all.”

“It’s up to you, Russell.” Kitty said more diplomatically, before returning to the matter at hand. “We’re parked at that parking garage two blocks south. Everyone meet back there, Colossus and I will hand this guy over to the cops out front. The rest of you, I’m sure there’s got to be some emergency exit you can sneak out of. Probably better to split up actually. Less attention.”

—————————

Just as Kitty had suggested, Deadpool and Russell went out one way, and you and Peter another. You came out onto another street behind the restaurant. And you’d just finally started to relax again, Peter taking your hand in his own and walking away like an honest to God normal couple for once, just out on the town together before you noticed an oddly placed white van with distinct lettering on it.

Peter saw it too just as the light from a camera hit you both.

“Hell,” You breathed.

“Want to run?” He asked seriously.

“Too late, they’d just film us ditching, and say we had something to hide.”

Your headache was returning in full force you thought as you steeled yourself, seeing the reporter now in a full sprint towards you.

“It’s Quicksilver! And (your codename)! The X-Men are here!” A woman shouted.

As you walked closer to the news van, the camera flashes only increased. It looked like a small group of paparazzi had also camped out here, hoping for this exact result. How did word travel so damn fast?

“Marcia Fletcher, WAFN nightly news!” She introduced herself at once, her camera man there just as quickly, huffing a little from the run as he got you both in focus.

You could see the lights on on his camera as she shoved her microphone in front of you and Peter. “You’re on live coverage of the Ruffiano’s restaurant shootings with WAFN. Is it true that Giovani Marcello was apprehended here tonight by the X-Men? And how did you know he was here when he’s been on Interpol’s most wanted list for four years?”

You knew without looking at him that Peter was happily deferring the speaking role to you now as you tried not to look rattled. You attempted to think of what Charles would and wouldn’t want you to say, even with the pain in your head and lingering nausea. “We didn’t know who was here. We were in the area and saw people running and went to help, that’s all.” You lied.

“But the reports of gunshots, witnesses also said Deadpool had drawn a gun on a restaurant employee and Colossus was seen inside. Is Deadpool now affiliated with the X-Men again? Did he shoot anyone?”

“Deadpool is not affiliated with the X-Men. Colossus was here tonight, but he only would have been defending anyone he thought in danger. Deadpool did not shoot anyone.” You tried to keep to short truths that time.

“But then why was Deadpool there? Should people really believe it would be a coincidence that the X-Men and Deadpool would be at the same incidence at one time if not working together?”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? Are you affiliated with us?” You replied before you could stop yourself, though still restraining the annoyance you really wanted to put into that statement. “Trouble attracts a crowd.”

Peter made a sound, a restrained laugh you knew. But before the reporter could blurt out another question, one of the now growing number of paparazzi called out, “(Your codename), hey look here! Is it true you and Quicksilver are still dating!?”

You knew better than to be baited, humoring any of them just made it worse. They were like piranhas. But Peter couldn’t help it, turning to look as so many cameras flashed. His arm slid around you protectively. “Why wouldn’t we be, dude?” He called back.

“Are you saying the photos of (your codename) and Gambit were before you two reconciling?”

It took every ounce of your self control to not respond, but oh God did you want to. It was the mission in Tanzania. You knew it. You, Storm, and Gambit. Peter had stayed in the U.S. for that one as it’d been the holidays and his Mom had wanted both he and Wanda over for some time together.

After the mission was over, the three of you had ended up on one of the beautiful Tanzanian beaches for a single day. Just a single day to yourselves.

You’d had the audacity to wear a revealing bathing suit though and you and Remy had been photographed together, him shirtless of course because it was a goddamn beach. And laughing and smiling because, surprise, you were friends! And they’d cropped Ororo out in all the closeups for complete loss of context.

It’d been a thing in some of the tabloids for a while, but you really thought that had finally blown over. Of course if anyone asked Remy, he liked to play coy on the whole subject to keep up his God’s gift to all men and women sex symbol status.

“Peter, let’s just go,” You whispered in his ear, sure anything else said would only make things worse.

But you could read him all too well, and when he turned his face to look back at you, you already knew what he was going to do. You didn’t try to stop him, because never would you humiliate him on live television with any type of rejection, but oh, you would never live this one down. Never.

He kissed you hard. And there was nothing fake about it, honestly the kind of kiss usually reserved for your bedroom as you felt heat rising up in you. The camera flashes clicking over and over as you could still taste the alcohol he’d drank before.

When he finally released you again, you gasped a little. He gave the photographers a ‘fuck you’ look, before speaking just to you. “Now we can go.”

“Fly or run?” You breathed.

“Fly please. I’m still about half out of it.” He admitted.

You powered up to some surprised and excited sounds from the crowd. Your whole body glowing white again in the energy you emitted.

“Wait, aren’t you going to stay and talk to the police!?” The reporter shouted.

“They know where to find us if they need us.” You answered, extending your energy field around Peter, before you took off vertically, making sure to get sideways over the rooftops as soon as you could though to breakup their camera angles and finally give you privacy again at last.

You landed gently atop the parking garage only a few moments later, letting him go again as you powered back down.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, just taking your hand again though.

“No.” You said truthfully. “But, I have no idea what we’ve really just done. We still have to go home...home where the Professor always watches the 10:00 news with his late night tea.”

Peter sighed, only half joking. “We could always go stay with my Mom for a while?”

You just moved in closer, pulling him against you as you laid your head on his shoulder. “We’ll survive, babe. Somehow we always do.”

“I think that says more about you than me though. Pretty sure I’d be face down in a ditch somewhere already if it weren’t for you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck then before raising your head back up to kiss him once more. Much softer this time, and even longer than his jealous little display a few minutes ago.

He made one of his little noises of contentment, hands sliding down to squeeze your butt through the thin pants you were wearing. As he pulled your hips tighter against him, he broke the kiss enough to speak regretfully. “I really was hoping to get lucky tonight...”

“Same.” You smiled. It had been a while. Mostly from you both being so tired by the time you finally got in bed. Passing out on each other had more been the norm the past couple weeks. “We get some food in you, and see where things go?”

“Gross! Get a room!”

You startled at the sudden shouting, having wholly thought yourselves alone up here in the moonlight.

Peter rolled his eyes, yelling back at Russell, “Kid, we have one! And we’d already be back there by now if it wasn’t for your little mafia hunting shenanigans!”

You looked over to see Deadpool and Russell both standing in the doorway to the parking garage stairs.

Wade whistled, leaning back against the doorframe. “Way to take down that Marcia Fletcher a notch! I always found her too uppity to be honest. I think she’s still butt hurt that they didn’t give her the lead anchor spot when Carl Sanderson moved to the early bird morning show. Tanya Meyer on the 5:00 news though, that’s my girl.”

You blinked. “How...how do you know-” It was literally minutes ago, it would have taken them just this long to walk here.

Deadpool lifted up his cell phone. “Facebook live, bitches. Don’t you follow WAFN? The recipes they post from Saturday morning cooking with Pat are always delish.” He looked back down at the phone though, happily reading. “Hah! Peggy Fredrickson from Brewster, New York thinks Marcia’s contouring and drawn on eyebrows are getting worse. Fire your makeup person, Marcia.” He tapped something on the screen. “Like comment! Oh, and Michael Morris from Ridgefield says who wouldn’t do Remy LeBeau. Damn, Michael, all out and proud on main.”

Peter let go of you, taking an annoyed breath. But then looking back to you. “Please let me at least prank Remy, something, anything.”

“But he didn’t do anything.” You replied, though only more stressed now that this was already blowing up on social media.

“Exactly! He should have at least denied it! But no, Mr. cool Cajun can’t admit that you’d actually choose me over him.”

“Hey now, I think you’re looking at this the wrong way, Quickie.” Deadpool interjected. “There’s always the ménage à trois option. I mean he’s French right? And Michael from Ridgefield is just spitting truth. Who wouldn’t want to do Remy LeBeau? He could shuffle my cards anytime.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” Russell groaned. “Can we go find your damn car now?”

But you didn’t move yet, still looking fully at Peter. “Wade’s just trying to get under your skin. We all know how Remy is. He’d flirt with a piece of cardboard if it suited him. It doesn’t mean anything to him.” You recognized that Gambit was physically attractive of course, you had eyes too after all. But that was the only extent of it. You loved Peter. Not to mention you wouldn’t at all want to get on Rogue’s bad side. She and Gambit were tumultuous enough without someone else being added to the mix.

“This is adorable, really. But I did bring ‘good job team for sending a little girl selling, gentrification funding, pencil dick mob boss to butt fucking federal prison’ cannolis. Want some?” Deadpool offered, lifting up a large takeout box you somehow hadn’t noticed before.

Peter’s shoulders dropped a little, still heavily annoyed though eyeing the box. “So does this mean you’re coming back with us too?”

Wade shrugged, “The kid doesn’t know you guys. What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t at least go and make sure he actually wanted to stay in your little mutant commune before I ditch him there?”

“You aren’t my damned dad.” Russell said, though almost sounding too tired to argue further at this point. He reached up, taking a cannoli from the box and biting into it as he started to walk back down the stairwell. “What floor is the car on?”

“Just one down from here, you already passed it. Black SUV,” you answered. Colossus and Kitty must not have been here yet if Wade and Russell had made it all the way to the top deck without finding them.

Peter grabbed your hand again, walking with you to the doorway as he grabbed three cannolis out the box begrudgingly with his other hand. He passed one off to you, before biting into the other two in quick succession.

And you only had a moment to see all the thick scarring under Wade’s mask as he lifted it just enough to start eating one himself, before turning to follow you both out and down the stairwell.

———————————

(Concluded in Part 2 here)

[accio-victuuri]

Devil Timeline : GG and Web before the official meeting.

Disclaimer that this is All CPN and nothing is really proven. As with all these things, feel free to disagree. Don’t crack your head open thinking, we’re all just clowning here. some info on here are taken from different sources and others I added in. 

What is this timeline/theory all about?

This CPN is all about them liking each other as early as 2015-2016. This is different from the love at first sight theory from 2017 & with them keeping in touch till they meet again in 2018. Part of this speculation is that they are ex-boyfriends. Also that Web was punished (what for and if this is even true, we don’t know.) by his company in 2016 before hosting Day Day Up. I don’t buy the ex-lovers part/punishment. My take on this Devil Timeline is that they were lowkey fanboying each other or have a crush on e/o. Where they in contact or have they met? Yes. possibly. 

Plus, It’s not too outrageous to believe that they know of each other. GG is a koreaboo and he most probably heard of UNIQ. Web on the other hand, most likely heard of XNINE. 

So where are they between 2015-2016?

GG joined the reality program x-fire in 2015 and went on to debut with xnine on 2016 as the main vocalist. Notable acting job was superstar academy. Web on the other hand, was busy with UNIQ. Promoting in Korea, China, Thailand, Brazil and Japan. Notable in 2015 was the release of EOEO. In 2016, he joined the cast of Chinese Odyssey part 3 and was also announced as an assistant host for Day Day Up.

What are some key points to this Timeline? 

1. Love Mole : It all started with this photo. Web holding a picture he drew of someone smiling and with a Mole. A mole on the same place as GG’s.

Another explanation for this is, he was actually drawing himself. there is a fake rumor that says Web is fixated with GG’s mole because he had one on the same site when he was a kid ; then disappeared over time. It goes on to say that Web jokes that GG stole his mole. (this joking tho was done during CQL shooting).

Recently, you can see in his photos that it’s there again. It’s literally the LOVE MOLE! but yeah, going back -- the delulu interpretation here is he was drawing GG. 

2. GG’s dream lover : 2016, On GG’s vlog for Qixi he talks about a “dream lover” and drew it on paper. He goes on to say that he left the face blank as appearance doesn’t matter- It’s about the feeling.

Now onto the drawing of GG, bxg compares the features of the figure to Web.

3. Parallels : Similar posts from 2015-2016. There is not too much out there and we can’t really verify cause of GG’s weibo post restrictions. I can’t find ones aside from the example below cause most of the same posts that we have screenshots of are from 2017 onwards.

On 6/2015, Web posted a picture of himself visiting a spongebob exhibit. On 2/2016, GG shared a picture from his visit of the same place with his friends. It’s too far apart if you ask me and so many people love spongebob, so this could really be a coincidence and not them cueing each other.

4. How long have they really known each other? : The Usually reserved Web was so open with GG during that 2017 TTXS episode. Remember that Web only started being an assistant host on 2016 and is usually very shy. But he interacted with GG in the simplest way by imitating his gesture. Tho the TTXS bros were the first ones who did it, he went ahead and did the pose too. His smile was also teasing.

Compare this with their CQL interviews and GG recalling what he said to his bandmate who was scared that it’s Web who he’s gonna battle with.

I don’t think he said that because he doesn’t know who Web is. Again, it’s too familiar. Like, don’t worry it’s just Web, I know him, he’s good, he won’t kill you. In this interview he proceeds to say that he has faith in his bandmate but after watching Web dance, he knew they could not win. 

Also add Web’s reaction in this interview, trying to wave GG off when he kept on saying he knew of Web for a long time already. 

GG, you just met in 2017, why are you saying you’ve known him for a very long time? “know of” is such a broad term. It can be you know them personally or because Web has been a celebrity longer , that’s why he knew of him. we are betting it’s the latter.

So if that’s what we’re thinking, then why did he say that he knew they couldn’t win AFTER seeing Web dance. If you’ve been a fan and KNOW who wang yibo is- the first thing you will find is that he is an EXCELLENT DANCER. It doesn’t match up. Unless, It’s really GG who first followed Web’s career?

I can go on and on about things these two have lied about from eggplants to carrots and that waterfall scene. They have a say on what narrative they want to put out in this interviews, whether they honestly forgot things or are actively refusing to give information. It’s up to them what they wanna say. 

5. Love clues from 2015-2016 : 

Web’s ideal type : Suzy from Miss A (which was i guess everyone’s ideal girl in the KPOP world during that time) and Taeyeon from SNSD. I know there are parallels of how Suzy and GG look alike and how Taeyeon is kinda like GG. They are both vocalists and are older than Web. 

GG’s ideal type : He said he wants someone who is gentle but can still stand on their own. Also someone with personality. Plus, he doesn’t care if his other half can’t cook because he will do it. When asked what he will do if him and his friend like the same person, he says if he really likes the person then he will fight for it. 

6. The first table read : This is a new entry based on the BTS released last night. We only had snippets of this when they were joking around but this new video shows more. GG just naturally turns to Web and like he’s done it before. There is still some shyness when they were talking about pants but it doesn’t look like two people who have only interacted today. Especially Web’s demeanor, there is a time or two that he hesitates when joking, but that could be because he is testing the waters. 

There was Absolutely no barriers (from GG) in tapping Web’s back a couple of times. If I’m a stranger just watching this, I’ll tell you these two have known each other for quite some time. Not just from that 2017 meeting and beyond.

7. A 2016 drawing - Over the years, we have learned that GG, like many artists put clues in their drawings. with things up to interpretation, as most of the time, he does not explain things outright. One BXG pointed out this drawing he made of a heart + bunny + cat. the Bunny is obviously him, so, love with a cat? Plus the look of the cat, like it’s looking at an innocent bunny. I know power dynamics between the two is a complicated topic, BUT---- 

8. WILDCARD: I know this is a popular fake rumor out there but we don’t really have evidence. No picture and I don’t have a screenshot of a fan account. It says GG went to a Uniq fanmeet on 6/22 in Guangzhou cause he wants to research about idols. This is before he went on xfire. The date 6/22 matches with the 622 coincidence. Consider this as fanfic but this lives in my mind.

That’s it. feel free to add thoughts or some other info you have about this timeline cause I’m sure that I don’t have it all. It feels so good to finally put this out because it’s been sitting on my draft for some time T.T. I am sure there are other explanations for this timeline.This is all CPN anyway. Please don’t take seriously. 

This posted was last edited on 11/28/2020 12:53 PM

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

The Mercer Legacy - Part 2

Pairings: Reggie x Luke x Reader, Willex

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: swearing

a/n: ahhh here’s part 2 of The Mercer Legacy!! I have been super busy and also told myself I wouldn’t write more of this until Sunset Swerve was finished (which it’s technically not bc it’s still missing an epilogue but shhhh) but I’m really excited to share this with y’all!! As always, please let me know what you think and comment/send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist!! Oh, let’s all pretend that Luke and Reggie are in their concert blacks backstage at the event from Part 1 in the second edit, thanks :)

Part 1  Masterlist  TML Masterlist 

___

You met at the place where your front lawns touched, both of you storming out of your houses at the same time to confront each other.

“I can’t believe you lied to me!”

“I can’t believe you tricked me!” 

You both paused, having yelled at each other at the same time and needing a moment to comprehend what the other had said.

“Really?” You spoke first, quirking a brow and pursing your lips as you stared down your best friend. “You’re going to whine about a harmless prank when you’ve been living a freaking Hannah Montana double life?!”

“A Hannah Montana double life?” Alex repeated as if he couldn’t believe those were words that had just come out of your mouth. 

“Yeah, asshole. You’ve got secret cute friends, you’re in a secret band-“

“Actually can we talk about this inside?” He cut you off, looking around frantically as if he just remembered that you were outside and anyone could hear you. 

You glared at him for interrupting but turned to lead the way back towards your house. 

“Now I understand how Lily felt,” you grumbled and you could practically hear Alex roll his eyes. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” 

___

“So what I still don’t understand is why you didn’t just tell me all of this to begin with,” you finally spoke after Alex explained to you everything about meeting the guys and forming the band. You were sat across from each other on your bed, normally you’d sit side-by-side against the pillows or cuddle but this was serious. “Do you not trust me?”

Alex snapped his head up at that, looking you straight in the eyes as he spoke. 

“No! Y/N, of course, that’s not it! You know you’re my best friend, I’d trust you with my life!” He rushed to reassure you. 

“Then why not this?” 

Alex sighed. 

“I don’t know, it just...it all happened really fast and telling you slipped my mind and then it seemed too late to tell you and I just- I didn’t want you to be mad at me,” he rambled and you shook your head fondly. 

“You’re an idiot, you know that right?” 

“That’s why I need you, you have all the brains,” he was quick to respond, breaking out the innocent look he usually reserved for parents. 

“Kiss ass,” you grumbled but gesture for him to join you against the pillows anyway. 

“I’m glad you know now,” Alex said quietly as he settled next to you, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him. “Don’t replace me with Luke and Reggie though.”

You laughed at that, quickly reassuring him that you could never before pulling out your phone. 

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked curiously, trying to get a look at the screen. 

“I’m changing your contact name to Hannah Montana,” you answered simply as you tapped away on your phone, doing just that. 

“Oh my gosh, seriously? You’re never gonna let that go are you?” He groaned. 

“Listen, I really don’t think you’re appreciating how clever that was. I’m a genius.” 

“Of course, my genius best friend,” Alex teased, hugging you closer to him briefly. 

You nuzzled your head into his shoulder, grateful for the show of affection. You knew Alex wasn’t a very physical person so the fact that he was comfortable enough with you to express his affection in this manner was huge. You always joked that he was the brother you’d never asked for and it was like he caught the cuddle bug when the two of you hung out. You’d spent many an afternoon or sleepover cuddled up just like this. 

“Oh! I should probably text the guys and let them know you’re alive,” you spoke after a moment, reaching for your phone once more. 

“The guys,” Alex repeated in disbelief at the casual reference to Luke and Reggie before the rest of your statement registered in his mind. “Wait, let them know what?!”

“Shhhh, it’s fine,” you waved him off as you sent a text in your group chat. “I just might’ve threatened your life for lying to me.”

“You threat- y’know what, I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore,” he sighed exasperatedly. 

“You really shouldn’t,” you laughed. “Luke says you’re late for band practice.”

“Oh shit!” Alex exclaimed, sitting up suddenly, the movement forcing you to sit up as well. “I gotta go- wait, do you wanna come with? I’m sure the rest of the group won’t mind.”

“Do I want to come... y’know I was joking about me having all the brains in this friendship but now I’m starting to think it’s true,” you huffed as you followed your best friend out of the room. 

___

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” Alex apologized as he rushed into the garage where the band apparently practiced. 

Upon entry, you found the garage had been converted to a well-lit and nicely decorated studio, equipped with everything you assumed a band of high schoolers could need. As you followed Alex in he gestured over to a couple of armchairs and a couch clustered across from the band setup for you to sit in before he quickly made his way behind the drum set. 

“No problem man, we know you were making up with- y/n!” Luke exclaimed, catching sight of you seated in one of the chairs in front of him. 

“What’re you doing here?” Reggie blurted out, having spun around to face you when Luke had said your name and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Um, Alex said I could come watch you practice?” You tried to explain but it came out as more of a question in your flustered state. “He didn’t think you guys would mind but if you do I can just head back home...”

You moved to stand up from your chair but the boys were quick to stop you. 

“No!” They shouted simultaneously. Thank goodness for guitar straps because each boy nearly dropped their instrument in their haste to keep you from leaving. 

“You just... caught us off guard. That’s all,” Luke explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you heard Alex groan from the back, drawing your attention. 

“What’s up?” You called back to him, settling back into your seat and sending Luke and Reggie a grateful smile before giving your best friend your undivided attention.

“Huh? Oh! I, uh, one of my sticks looks like it’s starting to crack,” he excused, sounding like he hadn’t meant to be heard. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him, knowing he was leaving something out but you wouldn’t push it. At least not in front of Luke and Reggie. “Anyways, where’s Jules?”

“She just ran inside to grab some water,” Reggie answered, and if on cue the studio doors opened and a smaller girl carrying an armful of water bottles who you assumed must be Julie stepped in. 

“Y’know, one of you guys could’ve offered to help,” she huffed, walking over to each of the three boys to hand them a bottle. 

Like Luke and Reggie, it took her a moment to notice your presence as she jumped slightly when she turned around and spotted you. You smiled sheepishly, feeling that embarrassed heat rise into your face once again. 

“You must be Y/N!” She exclaimed, grinning at you. “I’m Julie. Do you want a water?” 

You graciously accepted the offer from the curly-haired girl, thankful that she didn’t seem to mind that you were there. After making sure you felt welcome Julie was all business, getting the band started on their rehearsal. The same could not be said for the guys. 

Luke was the first to start goofing off while Reggie had been pointedly averting his gaze whenever you looked at him. It was a complete tone shift from the confident boy who had winked at you at the debutante ball but Luke’s showing off seemed to empower him. The brunet, on the other hand, hadn’t wasted any time doing silly rockstar moves and adding in guitar riffs that you could tell weren’t typically apart of the songs by Alex and Julie’s fond but exasperated expressions. Not long after, Reggie joined in on the shenanigans, the two boys competing for your attention. 

For his part, Alex did seem to be doing his best to maintain his professionalism but, well, once Luke and Reggie started acting out you weren’t surprised that he followed. You thought it was cute, your best friend was jealous. Whether it was because he thought you were stealing his friends or they were stealing you was yet to be seen, but you thought it was endearing despite knowing that he had nothing to worry about. 

Well, maybe he had to worry about you stealing Luke and Reggie. Despite not knowing them for very long the two boys had quickly grown on you and you were grateful for opportunities like sitting in on band practice to get to spend more time with them, even if you weren’t talking or interacting with them directly. You got the feeling that music was a language of their own, especially for Luke. Even as he did everything in his power to gain and keep your attention you could tell that each song was important to him. 

You were surprised and bummed when they finished rehearsing, your personal mini-concert over. However, you hadn’t realized practice being over didn’t mean you had to go home. Apparently, the guys often stayed late in Julie’s garage just hanging out. 

“So, what exactly do your parents think you’re doing when you’re here?” You asked Alex much later, having just noticed the sun had long since set and wondering how the boy had escaped his parents’ curiosity and strictness for so long.  

You had migrated to the couch at some point in the evening, your legs draped across Luke’s lap as you stretched out on the sofa. Reggie and Alex occupied the two closest armchairs. 

“Usually I just say I’m at your house,” Alex shrugged and you sat up abruptly, staring at him as if he were insane (which, by the way, he was). 

“And you never thought to tell me that I was your alibi?” You questioned in disbelief. “What if they had checked in?!” 

“They wouldn’t have checked in.”

“They’re helicopter parents!” 

“But they trust me,” Alex smirked and you huffed. 

“Right. How could I forget you’re the Golden Boy. Every parent to ever exists trusts you immediately by default,” you groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. 

The guys all laughed at that and you smirked victoriously to yourself, proud that you were able to do that. The boys led the conversation after that with you jumping in occasionally, just content to be there. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before your eyelids grew heavy and you decided to close them, believing you could still listen and participate in the conversation with your eyes shut.

The boys didn’t realize you were asleep until Luke felt you shiver, your legs still laying across his lap. He looked over to find you with your eyes closed, a peaceful expression on your face, and goosebumps all over your arms. You were freezing. 

Realizing that there were no blankets nearby, Luke began to slowly shrug off his flannel so as to not disturb you. The same flannel that Alex had made fun of him for wearing because “It’s June in LA and it’s a million degrees out.” Well, suck it, Alex, because now he was able to drape it across your torso. 

A warm, fluttering feeling erupted in his chest when you unconsciously grasped onto the fabric, snuggling further into the material. 

At this point, Alex and Reggie had caught on to the fact that you had fallen asleep and while the boys did resume their conversation, there was a noticeable shift in volume. Luke flinched the next time he felt you move, thinking their talking had woke you up. However, he looked to see that your eyes were still closed, no signs of consciousness to be found in your features and he let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Hey, Reg can you go grab a blanket from the loft?” Luke asked, looking away from you to give his friend his signature puppy dog eyes. 

It turned out he didn’t need to though as Reggie had already jumped up from his seat and started making his way quickly and quietly to the ladder. He made it up and down from the loft with no troubles but it didn’t last. Barely two steps away from the ladder Reggie tripped, falling into Alex’s drum set. Luke and Alex watched with wide eyes as at the last minute the boy attempted to launch himself in the opposite direction, not wanting to damage the drums and he nearly managed to save it, until he knocked the high-hat over with his foot. 

The cymbals hit the ground with a loud crash and you startled awake, eyes flying open and heart racing at the sound. 

“What the fuck was that?” You gasped, sitting up as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. “Was I asleep?” 

“That was Reggie knocking over the cymbals and yeah, you were knocked out,” Luke chuckled, smiling lightly at you. Alex had already jumped up, rushing to the back to make sure his high-hat and friend were okay. 

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay Reg?” You asked, your head snapping to the band set-up just in time to see the boy in question stand up, brushing off his pants before carefully making his way back to you. 

“Yeah, I’m all good,” he replied cheerily before handing you the waded-up ball of fabric. “I was grabbing you a blanket, you were shivering in your sleep.” He explained softly and your heart warmed at the gesture.

“Aww babes, that’s so sweet,” you cooed accepting the blanket from the blushing boy even though you were no longer sleeping. As you set down the blanket you noticed Luke’s flannel already laying in your lap and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the realization that he must have placed it over you in your sleep. 

“Babes?” Alex repeated as he walked back, looking at you funny and you sent a puzzled look back. 

“What? I used to call you babe all the time before you got permanently relegated to ‘asshole.’” Alex rolled his eyes at that while Luke and Reggie chuckled. 

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Alex huffed, pulling you off the couch and you pouted. 

“Well, bye I guess!” You whined, waving at the boys while Alex tried to forcibly remove you from the garage as quickly as possible. “Asshole.” You cursed him quietly under your breath. 

Part 3

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @bright-molina @reg-peters @calamitykaty

TML Taglist: @bright-patterson @marinettepotterandplagg @everyonesannoyedwithme @dream-a-little-bigger-x @percico-heronstairs @starjane312 @ifilwtmfc @jatphatones @cherrymaybank @sorrowfulfragmentation @stargazing-dreamer-girl @daisybutterlions @mynameisntluke​

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Healing Hands

A/N: I wrote a sequel to Healer! Though I think it could be read as a standalone too. It’s actually longer than Healer is but I wanted to write about what happened afterwards. It’s cute, it’s a little bit funny and a little bit steamy. Enjoy!

Title: Conrad Sewell - Healing Hands

Summary: Draco arrives at the readers flat to build the bookshelves.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Requested:

Warnings: a little bit steamy 

Word count: 1.6k

A knock on the door signals his arrival. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t settled since you walked out of St Mungo’s.

“I brought Chinese food,” He says as way of greeting.

You groan, moving to the side to let him in, “My saviour. I am so hungry.”

He places the food on the table, leaning against the kitchen counter as you grab the plates and cutlery. It all felt very domestic; having Draco in your kitchen, in your home. It felt right.

“How was work?” You ask him, grabbing the takeout boxes.

“It was long, but I had this one patient – hurt herself building a bookshelf, if you can believe it.”

“She sounds like an independent woman,” You state, raising an eyebrow as you lift a forkful of food to your mouth.

Draco swallows his mouthful, “I don’t doubt it, but she was the highlight of my shift. It helped that she was cute.”

“Was!?” You shout, affronted.

He laughs, hands up, relenting, “Okay, you’re always cute.”

You point your fork at him, “That is correct, Draco. I’m ridiculously cute.”

Draco smiles; the kind of smile where his eyes crinkle and his teeth show. It makes him look so much younger and you wonder how long it has been since he’s had evening like this.

“You didn’t have to do this, Draco. I completely understand if you just wanted to go home and sleep.”

“I want to do this. I want to spend more time with you,” He says, honestly.

“You know Draco, I think you might be too good for this world.”

“Don’t be silly. Now hand me the instructions.” Draco mutters, grabbing the instructions and holding the close to his face – an attempt to hide the blush you had so easily brought to his cheeks with a number of words.

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

The bookshelves start to take shape in no time at all. Draco does most of the work, only accepting minimum work from you.

“Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again,” He says as if it’s a good enough reason.

“Nonsense. Hand me the instructions, Malfoy, I am the resident expert on Ikea flatpack.”

“I think the screwdriver begs to differ.”

“Oh, we’re making jokes now. We’re joking about my injury?” You gasp, holding your injured hand to your heart, pouting at the blonde-haired man in front of you.

Draco laughs; the sound of it making its home in your heart. At Hogwarts, you never knew such a warm, luscious sound could fall from his mouth.

You remember your vow from earlier; determined to make that sound the soundtrack of the rest of your life.

Draco focuses on connecting the piece of wood that would make the back panel of the bookshelf. “How did you get into writing?”

“It was a coping mechanism after the war.”

He nods silently, a sign for you to continue. “I picked up a pen one day and didn’t stop until I had written my first book. It needed editing, desperately, so I did that. And then there were further revisions and such but after a couple of months, I had my first book, I sent it off to a publisher, and I was sleeping through the night again.”

“That was the worst part of it for me as well,” Draco murmurs, “The not sleeping. I’d be awake for days on end. I did try to sleep but every time I closed my eyes, I saw it all again, every awful thing I did. I started to avoid sleeping, eventually crashing after a few days.”

“Is that why you turned to healing?”

Draco nods, “My family… they did so much bad through the war. There would be no redemption or if there was, there would be very little. I wanted to help people; I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. So I started to read what I could on the subject; raiding my family’s library and it went from there. I love what I do, it’s helped me become a better person.”

“That…” You pause, thinking of the right words, “That is a very noble reason to become a Healer, Draco.”

A blush stains his cheeks, “Thank you. Do you talk to anyone from school?”

You take a sip of your drink, “A few people, not many. Hermione and Ron never fail to send me flowers after a book is published. Neville sends letters from Hogwarts, telling me how happy is to be teaching. Do you?”

“Not really. I spoke to Potter not long back, wanting to apologise for my actions in school. He forgave me, surprisingly. Hermione was harder; I was so awful to her, but she still forgave me. I have no contact with anyone from Slytherin.”

“You aren’t the same person as you were at school, Draco. They know that and they understand that.” You state, remembering the conversation you had with Hermione when she had mentioned that Draco had stopped by and asked for her forgiveness for his actions through their education.

Quiet falls between the both of you; the only noise coming from the hammer being used on the bookshelves. It’s comfortable, and you’re practically assaulted with visions of a possible future – complete domesticity for you and Draco; an office for each of you where you can write and he can catch up on paperwork, but the both you know that he would rather sit in your office on your couch so he can be near you through your thought process. You see early mornings in the kitchen, the both of you still bleary-eyed with sleep – soft touches and kisses exchanged over the first cup of coffee for the day. You see the celebration of another of your books being published coinciding with a promotion for Draco; champagne opened and quickly forgotten as Draco presses you into the couch in the living room.

It’s over just as quickly as it began, and nothing has changed yet everything has changed – for you. Draco continues to build the bookshelves. You, on the other hand, have been knocked breathless by the strength of how much you want the man in front of you.

“I never asked: what do you write?”

You blink, recovering from your realisation, “Romance, mainly. Some Fantasy.”

“I have to admit, I haven’t read anything of yours.” Draco says, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You chuckle, “That’s okay. I bet you’ve read nothing but medical textbooks for the last few years.”

“Got it in one,” He says, smiling widely.

“I’ve got plenty of copies of my books. I’ll happily give you one.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer. It means I’ll have to come back for the others,” He says, cheekily.

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

Some form of sadness washes over you as the bookshelves finally stand independently. It’s as of Draco’s work is done, and the idea that you might not see him again for some time opens a hole in your chest.

You help Draco move the bookshelves into position against the wall; all the while, you’re wondering how you could see him again, trying to work up the courage to ask to see him again.

He beats you to it.  

“I would really like to do this again,” Draco says, grabbing his jacket from where he placed it on the back of a chair.

“What? Build my bookshelves?”

Draco looks at you unimpressed, “No, I meant see you again.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling; you don’t miss how Draco’s eyes home in on the sight of your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I’d like to see you again too,” You whisper.

You both linger in the doorway. Draco’s jacket still in his hands as if he doesn’t want to put it on because if he puts it on, it means that he’s leaving, and he doesn’t know when he is going to see you again, and deep down, he doesn’t want to leave you.

“Can I try something?”

“As long as it’s you kissing me,” You say bluntly.

Draco drops his jacket. His hands caressing your face as he brings his lips to meet yours. They glide together effortlessly, as if they were made for each other.  

He presses you into the wall, his body lining itself up with yours. A hand travels to your thigh, squeezing. One of your hands finds purchase in his hair, grabbing at the blonde locks and pulling, drawing a groan from his mouth. You smile into the kiss; Draco responds by biting down on your lower lip – something he had wanted to do since he saw you bite it. He kisses you with passion, with unrelenting feeling.

It’s almost too much; the feel of him pressed against you, it’s almost too much and you can feel yourself start to internally combust.

When you pull away to take a breath, Draco begins to press open-mouthed kisses to your jawline, travelling down your neck before settling on a spot to leave a dark purple bruise. One of your hands runs itself through his hair; the other begins to pull at his shirt, trying to get it off, off, off.

Draco continues his pursuit down your neck; very much enjoying the breathless moans falling from your mouth. He stops when you whisper one word: “Stay.”

He pulls back placing not one, not two but three light kisses to your lips. He relishes the sight of you chasing his lips. “Stay,” you repeat.

He nods, searching your eyes for the permission despite it being spoken, and that’s all it takes. All the both of them need to know.

****

Harry Potter (general) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @lupins-sweater @summer-writes

Draco Malfoy taglist: @cheapglitter 

Healer sequel taglist: @onebatch--twobatch @sydneyisnotawriter 

[boneswriteswords]

Just A Little Longer - Michelangelo

A/N: Here is my self indulgent Mikey goodtime lime. Let me live. (It isn’t a lime. Its a lemon. But lime rhymes with time.)

Unbeta’d because no one has the time for editing.

Also I have no idea if any of it makes sense so.....

~~~~~~

The bright neon LED lights of the alarm clock on your nightstand stood guard over you as you blinked awake. 2:04am. Awareness came slowly, your eyes dripping sleep even as the rest of you came online. You shifted, extending your body into a stretch, grinning when a muffled groan erupted from behind you.

A thick leg forced its way between yours. A heavy arm landed across your abdomen. A hard chest molded into your back.

Beyond your apartment walls, sounds of the city rage on. Waves of muted color trickle through the crack in your black-out curtains. Lines of yellow light bleed over the room. There are police sirens passing by as the house party three doors down blasts the newest Ariana Grande album. Someone honks their car horn in vicious repetition. If you strain, you can hear an muffled fighting and the shuffling of clothes as it turns physical.

All the noises harmonize and fade into nothing as you flip over, encouraging the limbs of your bed partner to stay entangled with yours. You’ve lived in the city long enough that the noises and the people and the lights don’t register much to you unless you focus on them. You know the sounds of danger from the sounds of the loud and that’s all you really need to know. Rainbow noise guided you, filtering through all the memories that you have access to you, and anything less has no space in your life.

Quiet nights are eerie after years of noise and you are more than happy having Mikey hold you in bed while the world keeps going around you.

REM does not return after closing your eyes again and you concede to being awake. It isn’t awful, not with the way Mikey clutches onto you as he shuffles - head nuzzling into whatever crevice he can reach. You can tell he is waking.

He can never remain asleep if he feels you are awake. He struggles to remain in a plan of existence where you aren’t. He fights himself awake and you never know if you need to be concerned or flattered by it.

You watch the lights as they bounce off objects in your room before looking back at him. Blurry lines. Soft shapes. Calming motions as they dance back and forth. They are beautiful but you’d much rather look at Mikey.

He has an arm curled loosely over your side while the other is resting under the pillow you both were using. You both liked long thick pillows that went from one side of the bed to the other. A small commonality made sweeter by your domesticity. His hand is curled limply and you remember that he had been stroking your head when you had fallen asleep earlier.

The muted light makes his green skin lighter. Shadows dip into the crevices of his skin and scars, revealing texture you usually only can feel. There is a darkness under his jaw and around his eyebrow ridge. You find yourself tracing the lines of shadow and light with your eyes, hurling the idea that anything could be more captivating out of the window. His breath is steady but his eyes are twitching behind his eyelids.

You see his eyes open. Three blinks and he is awake. You are jealous of how easy it is for him to go from one state of being to the next. He falls asleep quickly and he awakens even quicker. Deep blue eyes find yours and he smiles, moving his arm to drag you the tiniest bit closer. His lips twitch as he draws slow circles in the space between your shoulder blades.

There is an ache in your body, a reminder of the way he had rushed into your apartment as soon as the sun was down. The impact into the wall. Manic energy. Breathless laughter as pent-up passion bubbled over.

Your fingers trace down the side of his face, dipping down from the line of his throat to the pools of his collarbones below his plastron. He churrs the tiniest bit in response and it sounds a lot like the noise he makes when you tease the skin of his neck between your teeth.

You can’t leave marks on him. His skin just doesn’t color the ways a human’s might. Its thicker. Denser. Darker. Scalier. You can’t leave scratches either. It was a bit disappointing to find this out but knowing that he’d enjoy your marks if he was able to have them seizes you in ways you have never experienced. You imagine lining little rouge starbursts down his next and across the broadness of his shoulders and the way he would walk around with them proudly. Red lines connecting red flowers like vines.

His eyes scan over you. He is visual.

Its not always like this. You and him alone. Some nights its you and Mikey and the ghosts that follow you both. There are eyes in the shadows and they have many names and you never know who you are speaking to. They lurk while he cleans his weapons in the living room. They boldly take a seat next to you while you watch a movie tucked under his arm. Some nights, you pull up a seat at the table and serve them as Mikey makes a joke about something that happened during your day.

They exist and they try to make their home in your spaces and they take a toll on the nights when you are too weary to kick them out. A mix-match of traumas that spiral and float and smother and linger.

Mikey doesn’t just wear his heart on his sleeve. He rips open his chest and holds the organ up into the light directly. Makes you watch as it beats and pulses and moves his lifeblood through his body. There are no questions about what he does, how he feels. He is on display by choice, flitting about vulnerable as if there are no monsters in the world he lives in.

But there are days where he wraps himself up behind a glass wall to separate himself from the rest of the world. Deep-rooted hopelessness drains his light, his strength a house of cards edging towards collapse. His voice cracks and wavers. Its never his fault. No one asks for trauma. No one asks to be too late. No one asks for the life he’s lived.

Only recently has a door appeared in the glass. He always tells you where the key is so you can open it. You make sure to crack open the door and wait for him to invite you in further. If he does, you sit inside with him. If he doesn’t, you sit outside and wait for the wall to come down.

And then there are the days where you are translucent. You look down at your body and see through it, faintly incorporeal. A ghost. Light bleeds through you as you walk under the sun. Intangible and lost. You don’t feel real even as your ribs ache and the steady stream of your heartbeat remains. All that exists is quiet breathing.

All your worst nightmares are of you reaching out to hold Mikey’s hand but it goes through him. You can’t grip onto him and he walks away because he can’t see you.

Mikey tells you that he sees you. He grips your hand and squeezes and pulls you in close on the off chance that you feel like your floating away. He won’t let you but he doesn’t begrudge your fear. No one asks for the life you’ve lived.

Jeers erupt from outside but neither of you flinch. You just lean closer into each other. Mikey runs his hand up and down your spine, eyes wet, and you are astounded once more how stubbornly he loves you. How intensely he feels for you. How he believes so much that you both are it. The endgame.

You wish you could take the shadows that live behind his eyes and demand they leave. “You can’t have him,” you imagine you’d say, “He is mine. And I’m not scared of you. I love him too much.” If that meant pulling a seat up for them in the living room and offering them a whiskey laced with intention, you’d do it.

Mikey’s hand slips under your night shirt, his palm flat against the skin of your back and you melt against him. You have studied those hands and all the ways they make you feel things and you exhale harshly and slowly so as to not disturb the rays of muted light.

“You doing okay?” Mikey asks, voice dripping with drowsiness despite the awareness present in his baby blues. “Its late. Or early. Whatever. Was it a nightmare?”

“No baby,” you respond, pressing your mouth against his beak, “No nightmares tonight.”

“Good.”

You press another kiss to his beak before ducking down a little and pressing another one to the side of his mouth. The arm under the blanket shifts. His fingers stroke your head.

There is a lull.

“I love you.”

Its comes out unexpectedly but you aren’t ashamed of it. He already knows. That relationship milestone has long since passed. Even so, the words are splintered, cracked around the edges and easy to be drowned out by the sounds of screeching tires on the road and idiots on the street.

But the impact is till the same. The look he gives you is blue fire and he guides you closer for a kiss. It starts off light, gentle, a nudge against your mouth but his fingers cradled the back of your head as he deepens it. “Love you too. So much” is mumbled as he presses further into you.

Arousal simmers on the back-burner as an afterthought. You had fucked hard earlier - a frenzy, a reconnection after a week of only facetime calls and voice memos that left you worked up and over. You know you will fuck again when the sun is up because Mikey loves starting the days off right when you are both in the same place.

Right now is the time to relearn the shape of his mouth as he kisses you lazily. You pull back slowly. You stare at him and he stares at you, movements slow.  

A beat.

Two.

Three.

“You remember the talks we had?” you whisper before you could stop, brushing your nose over his, “when we had just met? The ones that lasted days at time?”

“Yeah,” he responds, his voice low, “That was a long time ago but I do. I don’t think I could ever forget.” There are flashes of light behind his eyes and you know he remembers each call. Each text thread that was either memes or philosophical questions that had you trying to unearth the truth of the universe. Each conversation that spanned days because real life creates lulls between responses.

“I fell in love with you there,” you whisper back, “Somewhere in those calls, I turned over to look into the phone and realized that you were mine and there would never be anyone else for me.”

“Yeah?” its a soft question that, from the look on his face, doesn’t require an answer, “You too?” You nod anyway. He deserves to see it.

He grins.

“I’m glad that we took our time,” you continue, wiggling as his hand scratches at your back the tiniest bit, “I like that we are friends. I like that I can say “Mikey is my best friend” when they ask me about my boyfriend. I’m glad that I got the chance to like you.”

“I like you too angel,” he whispers, his voice getting softer, warmth bleeding in the spaces between words. Heat singes around his eyes, “I like you so much.”

You hold him tighter, “no one knows my soul like you do.”

Mikey surges forward to kiss you again, his hand running down from your back to the side of your thigh. He rolls you both so he is half on top of you, maneuvering a thigh between your legs and pressing your chests touch as he slips his tongue between your waiting lips. You arms reach up to rest along the broadness of his shoulders, fingers dancing along the lip of his shell.

When he pulls back, his breathing is harsh, “you know mine angel.”

There is a sense of peace with knowing that all your exposed parts are being kept safe. The storms pass. Smoke is cleared. Petrichor sweetens the air. The dead are laid to rest so flowers can grow on their remains. The sun is bright.

Between you, pleasure kindles slowly. Hands roam and tug and cup. Kisses are scattered like constellations. There are murmurs of praise and whispers of awe. Time blurs as you sink down into it.

Mikey brushes his lips along the side of your face as he glances as the clock, the sun peeking its head above the skyline from the window, “Do you want me now?”

“Now.” You punctuate the word with a roll of your hips against his thigh. “I want to feel you.”

He sighs under his breath, hands shifting you until you are where he wants you. Your night clothes are removed and dropped by the side of your bed. His shorts follow, landing right on top of yours. He nestles firmly between your open thighs. “Okay angel. You can have me. You can have everything.”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. The slide of his cock into you has you gripping onto him. He draws it out, indulgent in the way you stutter and writhe against him. Its a seamless fit, despite his size. You are still prepped from earlier, wet and accommodating, and he drips like a faucet.

Mikey had never known sex could be like this. He always expected that sex would be purely physically, a thing that couples did to feel good and sate any hormonal urges. No one ever told him about how it feels when hands grip onto him, leaving trails of sparks and comets and tingles across his body that linger for days. No one ever told him that his lovers moans could vibrate along his vertebrate and resonate in the parts of his unknown. The void in his chest fills with liquid gold when he hears his named sobbed against his skin.

You hadn’t known either.

And even though you both do now, even though you crave each other more fiercely than you crave air, it always feels new when you collide. Every sensation has been redefined. Vulnerability has never felt so powerful.

You cry as you feel his cock pulse inside of you as he bottoms out and grinds forward. He grunts, his arms keeping your hips flush against his.

“How do you always feel so good?” Words emphasized with deep thrusts. Hard, slow, tapering into a grind before pulling back out. ”Always so good for me. Meant for me. Made for me to love. Made to take me.”

“Yes,” you hiss back, breath hot against his neck. Mikey adjusts, one of his hands remaining on your hip while the other slides to grip your arms behind your back. He presses you flush against his plastron, back arched off the bed and supported by the strength in his arms as he holds you. “Meant for you. And you found me.”

The casual, effortless show of strength spreads a warm haziness across your mind. You lean into it.

“Fuck - Mi...I-” There are tears in your eyes as you gasp and shudder as Mikey picks up the pace. Without warning, your mouth is covered by his and you can feel his smile against yours. A laugh bubbles up from somewhere and tapers off as the kiss turns hungry.

“Shh I have you,” he gasps between his own pleasured noises, “I have you. You are safe here. What do you need?” His hand strokes along your face as he rocks into you. His voice is breathless but full of intent. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” you babble as he grind right up against your good spot, “I want everything with you.”

He groans, breathing deep as the colors blur into shapes. He tucks his arm back under you, grinding harder, your clit catching along the hardness of his plastron. Your legs tremble around his hips. Mikey kisses you again before he ducks down to your neck and shoulder, his mouth hungry and burning. Ravenous.

Something about romance ignites a wildfire inside of Mikey. You exploit it as often as you can and he lets you because you both know that nothing is said without intent, without meaning. Honesty burns under your skin and shines through your eyes every time you press words of love into his skin like galaxies in a telescope. He basks in the attention. He worships under it.

In return, Mikey spills filth into your ears. The kind that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is but god does he know what you need to hear.

(”You feel perfect, hot and tight.”/ “I’m yours.”/ “I can feel you. You are real.”/ “I know, angel, I know. You’ve been wanting me so much. You need me. I need you too.”/ “I’m going to show you I love you. You’ll never doubt it. You’ll never doubt that I love you.”/ “Angel I’m not scared of your ghosts. They are scared of me.”/)

Mikey’s voice is serrated in ways no one but you have heard. Raw and carnal and deeper than most would expect, flashing dark around the edges the more passionate he gets, the more he reaches down inside of you to pull out the parts of you only he sees. 

You fall apart from the inside and can do nothing as the bottom drops out. You aren’t scared, not with the way Mikey holds you and chases away anything that could ruin this. His “I loves yous” bleed into your skin and you take hold of his pain and strangle it. There is no room for the grief and emptiness as violent tremors rack your bodies and hands cradle exposed hearts. The lights flash and dance as the decrescendo halts everything around you.

Heavy breathing fill the room. Whispered praise is soft and there is shuffling. You wipe each other down as best you can with the wet wipes you keep by the bed before pulling each other closer. The morning light is higher, peeking between the blinds and under the edges of the curtains. 

Eventually you’ll get out of bed. Clean up properly. Make food and spend time together with your clothes on. Relax in the knowledge that the day is a good one with no dark figures hanging in the corners, waiting to come in. But, thats for later.

For now, you lay close, breathing each other in. Hands are still roaming. No one has faded and there is no cold glass protecting warm skin. Mikey murmurs something and you smile. Your smile meets his smile and laughter joins in, glimmering in the light. You peck at his mouth and his fingers dig into the skin of your flesh before he grabs the comforter and hides you both underneath it.

Everything can wait. Just for a little longer. 

~~~~~

[starlitheaven]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠♡

♡ Brief headcanons on what he likes, how he feels about your tastes (I chose YA because it’s a genre that’s seen as childish or immature. I wanted to show that he isn’t a judgmental person), and how he’d enjoy it with you!

edit: I got carried away once again wow good thing this man isn’t real. I'd lose my mind

He personally enjoys philosophy, classic literature, nen theory, non-fiction, and mythology. He’ll literally read anything though. This guy doesn’t judge books by their cover. 

Due to his childhood in a harsh place like Meteor City, he appreciates being able to retain any knowledge or type of book. 

Surprisingly, the only thing he’s picky about is manga. (I think it’s canon that he reads manga, I just can’t remember where I read it lmao). Manga involves commitment, and he won’t pursue this unless it’s worth it!!

Now, when it comes to you, most of your first date would be discussing your book preferences. 

Even though this man has refined taste and is clearly well read, he won’t judge what types of books you like to read. 

You have many favorite genres in common, but some stick out to him.

YA novels? He’d ask you what makes this genre specific to young adults and how it’d compare to “adult” books. 

It’d kind of throw you off to be asked something like that, because it seems obvious to you. Yet you’ve read this genre since you were, well, a young adult. How to explain it?

He often tends to have this small teasing smirk that’s intimidating yet playful enough to lure you in. So you think he’s joking, but…

You look up from your contemplation and he’s looking at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, head tilted like a puppy, and eyes wide with curiosity. 

You explain to him how the topics aren’t usually heavy and if they are they’re subtle enough to sell while being understood to those who soak it in. The main character is also often going through some sort of change that is personal but specific to adolescents. Then, there’s almost always romance, but it’s a slow build and never graphic which is what you appreciate. 

At this, that small teasing smirk would appear on Chrollo’s face, “So no plastic covered gas station books for you? Those are quite graphic.” 

It doesn’t occur to you until later how he would even know that. 

In an established relationship, he’d enjoy reading to you and having you read to him. You both love hearing the others voice read poetry. IMAGINE this mans soft and deep voice reading to you omfg

Let me just paint a picture here:

Your wanderer of a lover has come back to you (early in the relationship you wouldn’t know where he goes, later in the relationship you know it’s a “job”). He doesn’t stay for very long, so you enjoy your time with him.

You’re having a picnic by the lake in a secluded part of Central Park in Yorknew, and sitting on a soft gingham blanket. The sun is setting, an orange halfway dip into the horizon. You’ve both finished your passionfruit panna cotta (you got him an extra one which he appreciated), and now Chrollo is sitting against a large oak tree with your head resting on his lap. 

You’re comfortably full and gazing up at him as the incoming dusk paints him in a warm light. The soft breeze and his calloused fingers delicately brushing your bangs away from your face soothes you into closing your eyes. 

His fingers softly trail from your forehead down to your cheekbones and end at your jaw. They instinctively curl to cradle your face and his thumb draws slow circles over the bottom of your cheek. He lingers like that for a moment, and before you can feel self conscious about it, he lets go and you hear him pick up a book of poetry. 

He only reads one poem to you that day and its transparency makes your heart swell:

𝘐 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴.

𝘐 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴,

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺, 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘦.

Love Sonnet XI - Pablo Neruda

[reyeslonestar]

Question what are some things you wanna see in season 3 of lone star? Character development, plots, anything

I want to see Tonya Kong write every episode. that's all. thanks for asking!

-

sadfkja I joke, I do have other ideas, but that is definitely high on my wish list! i'm gonna go through by character and talk about what I'd like to see for them, so this is gonna get quite long whoops...

the main thing that I'd like to see overall, though, would be evidence of an overarching season plan or arc - it doesnt necessarily have to be a plot that stretches through all the episodes or anything major, but I'd love them to have plotted out the season before they start. from watching this season and then reading interviews after the finale, they dont appear to plan many things from the start and end up throwing in ideas as they go along. if they plan it from the start they can foresee how theyre going to affect character development more, and they can have a bit more balance in the types of episodes they have, so that the season is less insane and more naturally ebb-and-flow with a few light episodes to break up the drama.

okay, onto the characters! just going to do this in billing order for simplicity's sake. customary reminder that these are just my own opinions and thoughts, and this is more of a wish list than a realistic expectation.

if you want to search for a specific character, ctrl F for one of these terms including the dash at the start:

-Owen

-Tommy

-TK

-Grace

-Judd

-Marjan

-Paul

-Carlos

-Mateo

-Nancy

press “j” to skip the whole post.

-Owen

okay so I'd love to see them actually develop his character. Owen has been given a lot of backstory with lots to play with development-wise, but to me it feels like the show never goes anywhere with it. he's got a lot going on what with 9/11, feeling responsible for the fates of his fellow firefighters, the codependence of his relationships etc. I'd like to see him go to therapy and see him grow some self awareness and seek to manage himself better, rather than all his screentime devoted to him being a hero when other characters have the situation handled. it would really show him as a good leader if he drew on the skills that his team has and refer to them for advice/ideas. realistically he is the main character, so I'd like them to develop him like one.

also, I kind of love the chief role for him? I think it would suit him really well. but it would drag him away from the 126 and split up the dynamics too much so it would make for bad tv and I wouldnt actually want to see that. good for his character though.

-Tommy

I love Tommy :) just wanted to say that.

so obviously Tommy's got a lot of grief to handle next season, and I don't want them to shy away from that. I want it acknowledged and processed. (I'd also like a little bit of seeing the twins' grief too, because they're also suffering a massive loss). maybe something with Judd helping Tommy learn to manage her grief with his own experience of losing the original 126, encourage her to go to therapy, plus Tommy, Grace and Judd all feeling the loss of Charles together. after all, Grace and Judd were his friends and they will be grieving too.

I'd also kind of like to see Tommy have something outside being a working mother. obviously we're going to need to deal with that a lot especially now that Charles is gone, but I feel like she's been assigned the Character TraitTM of being the working mum and I'd like to see them give her a hobby or something. idk. and give her a night off with Grace or something. give her something just for her.

-TK

okay so I think theres a fair likelihood that theyre going to return to looking at TK's addiction next season which im not averse to. I think him struggling with his sobriety would be worthwhile to see for his character and to show that its not a straightforward path, plus it makes sense with all the insane stuff they've thrown at them in s2. however, Id like to see it in the context of his friends and family rallying around to help and support him and show him that he's got people to rely on, and that he's allowed to rely on them, plus the support of his AA meetings and therapy. I also need them to lay the groundwork for him struggling, so putting in signs of him deteriorating so the situation makes sense. this storyline doesn't need surprises to be interesting or good, and frankly it shouldn't have any.

as for him and Carlos, I definitely want to see them househunting! I'd like to see the combination of househunting/Carlos with Tommy's kids/Grace and Judd having their baby have an impact on their perspectives regarding their future and spark that conversation (like, looking at houses with more rooms and thinking about kids, future, marriage etc). I think that maybe one of them, probably TK, or maybe both of them those boys have way too many parent issues having anxieties about being a dad could be an interesting way to add tension without being too drastic, and then that can be resolved in a way that reassures them of their relationship and reaffirms their strength as a couple. the talk about the future would also lay the groundwork towards a proposal at the end of s3.

-Grace

grace :) my love :)

I could watch episode after episode of Grace kicking ass and saving people over the phone. I'd love to see an episode set there? like, some kind of story within the call centre with all the handlers having to resolve that between them, but also tie in the first responders, so we see the fire team, the paramedics and Carlos all working but we only see the bits that Grace and the other call handlers hear, if that makes sense? also an actual Grace/Carlos team up where they are coming in from the different angles with different amounts of evidence and figuring out the best way to solve something together. plus I'd like to see her maybe get some recognition for being awesome at her job, maybe another handler coming to her for advice on how to solve something.

of course we've got the baby Ryder on the way, and I want that to go comfortably and smoothly for her. she deserves that. lots of wholesome excitement for her and Judd from the whole extended firefam, baby shower, gifts, the full works. pamper grace please.

-Judd

judd4captain2k22. please.

yeah I know its not gonna happen, but I loved judd stepping in as captain this season and I'd love to see that continued with him taking more leadership, and Owen deferring to him for advice/council in a work environment rather than personal life. maybe set up a long term idea about judd being a captain someday.

he's gonna be a dad :') so what are his anxieties about that? why were they putting it off before? was it related to his PTSD? he's got lots of people relying on him now, how does that make him feel? what if his kid loses him? id like to see him still using therapy as a tool to help himself deal with everything. lots of meaty questions to dig into there :D

-Marjan

I'd quite like to see more of her balancing her daredevil nature with the impact of that and realising how much danger she puts herself in sometimes. or on the flip side, maybe the team is dealing with a really dangerous situation and they utilise her fearlessness to save people. her relationship with social media could also come back? but bring in the development they gave her this season, and her Firefox presence is more serious, less flippant?

I think that theres now a space for her to explore her sexuality/romantic experience now that she hasn't got her engagement with Salim as a kind of failsafe. maybe she wants to put herself out there and date, but thats really daunting as shes never really had to do that before? personally I think this could tie in really well with a self discovery/exploration regarding her sexual orientation, but I doubt they’d go there with her, so thats just my headcanon.

-Paul

I want them to draw on Paul’s observational skills and perceptiveness more, especially on calls and in emergencies. I remember someone (sorry I cant remember who) pointed out that he would have been a great character to centre the arsonist plot around in terms of noticing the clues etc, so id love a storyline that revolves around him dealing with an emergency like that. I also really want a Carlos and Paul friendship so maybe them collaborating on a call to solve something, that’d be cool.

can we give Paul a girlfriend please. if im not complely insane, there was a reference to someone in like,, 2x04?? someone who put mayo in his sandwich? idk I havent checked (edit: it was aioli in his banh mi! thank you @meneatyoghurt), but if there is someone can we show him having a fun and loving relationship please. I dont need there to be any drama. just them having fun on a date or something.

-Carlos

so I know that some people are keen to see him in his police role more but I really don't need much of that. on calls with the 126 I'd like to see him be the officer in charge more, but I don't need police-exclusive storylines. I've talked about it here if you want to know why.

the only area that I'd like to see would be in the direction of reform/addressing the flaws of the system, and I think they can do that on a personal level for him, because he and Mitchell need a chat. if they'd gone with her decision in 2x08, he, Mitchell and the bank robber would all be dead, and I think thats gotta have some impact. also the fact that he was suspended for trying to preserve life. theres a lot they could work with there and maybe have him thinking about how he can do good and how he can effectively protect and serve. not to mention, the opportunity that would provide in terms of addressing his relationship with his dad and how he maybe sought approval by pursuing a police career?

also I’d like him to learn that he doesnt need to accept blame/preemptively put blame on himself and that he doesnt need to apologise when someone else hurt him. kind of want to send him to therapy. kind of want to send all the characters to therapy. but yeah, him learning that he can accept apologies and understand that he doesnt have to make people feel better for hurting him. hes allowed to be hurt and feel pained about it. and that can tie into his relationships with Mitchell, with TK and with his parents.

I think I mentioned most of the tarlos stuff in TK’s section, but I wouldn't mind at least one instance for them where we see it all from his perspective instead of TK’s.

finally ive mentioned above how i’d like a team up with Paul on a scene and both of them figuring it out together. I'd also like them having a friendship outside work, just the two of them, bonding over books and being relatively sane people compared to the rest of their friends.

-Mateo

Mateo is so sweet. I loved 2x14 and the recognition he got, more of that please! also theres still so much I want to know - one of the more consistent things they set up for him in s2 was his faith, so I want to know more about that. what's his relationship with religion and God? he's pretty isolated from his family so how does he feel about that? is his religion something that helps him feel connected to them? maybe the church helped him find a community when he first came to the states, before he got settled with the 126, and he finds reassurance in faith that God is looking after his family while he cant be there? I think maybe there's scope for a conversation between Marjan and Mateo about that, about that distance and caring for their families through faith and prayer.

also, if he's still with the horrible firehouse, I'd like to see the other firefighters being won round by his resilience and stepping up to look out for him, and someone backing him up against the captain. Mateo is used as the butt of the joke most of the time, but I'd also like to see a bit more acknowledgement of things like losing his house and the bullying hes going to get more of from this firehouse.

-Nancy

I think that her speech to Tommy in 2x14 was really telling, and I'd love to see them expand on that a bit more. first on the loss and fear of losing her friends and coworkers, but then also on her hopes and aspirations - she said she wants to be a paramedic captain so lets see her working to take her exams and qualifications, and showing initiative on scenes etc.

id like to see more of her being integrated into the 126 group. she and marjan turned up to the hangout together, so lets develop that relationship more. I would love it to be romantic but I'd also love to see that as a friendship. but also her forming bonds with others in the group as well as more of her and TK being a chaos duo. I love that they stole the ambulance, more of that insanity please!

-

I think thats it? if youre still reading, youre insane and I appreciate you a lot! honestly im open to all sorts of things in s3, this isnt a prediction or anything, its just stuff I think would be interesting based on where the characters are now. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Hallow-Peen {One-Shot}***

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, NSFW, Exhibitionism, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Halloween fun with Chris at a haunted house.

Note: Don’t judge me with the title. I was drawing a blank, and by the end, I had a better one, but I said what the hell let’s keep it. LOL. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Halloween!! 

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊  ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

  Halloween in Massachusetts means one thing, no matter which part. Scary fun. Salem may be the place of the witch trials that took place, but the entire state of Massachusetts goes crazy for Halloween. Usually, every year Chris being the adorable man-child he is, he would beg to go trick or treating. He’d wear the most basic costume in the world, usually a different animal onesie, just to get as much candy as possible. Candy was his sole objective--well, candy, dressing Dodger up in a costume and seeing all the kids' costumes.

 This year because of the pandemic, things are a little different. He decides that the only way he’ll be okay giving up the option for trick or treating is if you do something Halloween related. That was when he thought up going to a haunted house. You weren’t feeling like it because mother nature had the nerve to fuck everyone over and made it snow. Who wanted to get dressed in a costume that was probably most likely skimpy to freeze because she had the audacity to say, here humans take this? You were in a shitty mood, especially seeing that twenty-twenty was already at peak fuckry levels.

“Come on; you’ll be inside. It won’t be that bad,” Chris continued trying to convince you.

 Even though you were doing your hair and makeup getting ready to go, he could tell you really weren’t feeling it. You looked up from your seated position in front of the bathroom mirror to see Chris come around the corner with a camera on.

 “What are you doing, Chris?”

 “Making memories, sweetheart.”

 You rolled your eyes and went back to applying your mascara. You only felt like this twice a month. You knew this week’s irritability was only because of your body conspiring with mother nature and Chris to put a baby in you.

 Chris came closer and placed a sweet kiss on your exposed shoulder then trailed it up to your neck where he took his time. Thanks to your traitorous body, you moaned.

 “Don’t be mad. How about I put you in a good mood?”

 Chris’s free hand wrapped around your stomach to rest possessively just below your belly button. The warmth from his hand felt so comforting and soothing, but it also felt more than that. When he sunk his fingertips into your flesh, you felt the carnal undertones.

 “And just how do you plan on putting me in a good mood?”

 As a response, Chris nibbled your earlobe and pulled you back against his body. The press of his hard frame against your back. Your body working against you hummed, making you moan again.

 “I think you know just how I’ll put you in a good mood,” Chris whispered as his hand made it to the knot of your towel. With little to no manipulation, he had your towel falling to the floor. With lips pressed to your ear, he took a sharp inhale and moaned.

 “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

 From the mirror, you watched his eyes ravage your body. His eyes rested at your breasts for several long moments before they traveled down your body, only to stop again once he reached where your thighs met. The look on his face was that mischievous, aroused look. He slithered his hand up your sternum to cup one of your breasts before squeezing it. You both moaned in unison.

 “Mm, I’m sorry, baby. I forgot,” Chris cooed as he gently tweaked one of your nipples between his fingers. A soft mewl fell from your lips.

 That was when you remembered he was recording.

 “Is there a reason why you’re recording me?”

 A grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s spread across his face before he licked his lips to bite his bottom lip.

 “Memories.”

 “You’re such a perv. How many of these memories do you have, sir?”

 Chris shrugged nonchalantly as he peered off to the side as if he didn’t know an exact number.  

 “Two, Six, twelve somewhere in that ballpark,” he answered as he turned you and slid you back onto the sink. After a few seconds, he’d handed you the camera.

 “What am I supposed to do with this?”

 Chris again shrugged before he kissed your neck, then your shoulder. He trailed his lips down your body until your pert nipple was in his mouth. You softly sighed out and slumped back, resting against the mirror. Chris slowly swirled his tongue around your skin before he quickly flicked his tongue against your bud. Another moan escaped you. Moving your hand so he was in focus of the camera, you watched him through the display. Chris peeped up to you then quirked his brow before he gave you a small bite. The action sent your back arching, and you jutting out your breast to him like offerings on a platter.

 When he pulled back, he had your nipple between his lips. When it slipped from his mouth, the jerk and sudden cool air had you groaning. Chris kissed a path across your stomach and dropped to his knees before you. Following him with the camera, you pushed it out of your mind that he knew you were practically powerless to say no. He knew that this week he could have you whenever however he wanted. The look he gave you before he fastened his lips to your sex said he knew it full and well. Jackass, you thought.

 It was a brief thought because the sensation of his lips on your clit stifled any other possible thought than fuck yes. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed while your hand lowered, completely forgetting the camera within your grip.

 “Sweetheart,” Chris murmured. The coxing tone in his voice had you looking at him again.

 “At me.”

 The way he said it was so sexy. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you brought him back into focus on the camera screen again. that was when he kissed your clit in the slowest, most exaggerated way.

 “Shit,” you rushed out. Chris softly smiled before he repeated the action two more times.

 It was the that linguistically skillful tongue came into play. He licked, he flicked, he swirled, and he prodded. It was clear he wanted to tease you, make you so on edge that you would lose it. He was close to his goal. Keeping the camera on him, you got lost in the pleasure he was giving you. When you felt him dip his tongue into your heat, you brought your legs up to rest on the edge of the sink.

 “Mmm, you taste better than candy, baby,” Chris said against your sex.

 “So we can stay in tonight cause your trick or treat feast is right here.”

 Glancing at you through the lens, he smirked then sucked your clit into his mouth again. This time he wasn’t so gentle. The pressure quickly built-in your gut, and within seconds, you were coming. Chris wouldn’t let you clamp his face between your legs. He had his hands pressing your thighs back to keep you where he wanted. When he didn’t release you once you’d finished, you felt another creep up on you, and that one wiped you out.

 When Chris pulled back, his lips and beard were glistening, making you smirk. You watched him lick his lips clean, not wasting one drop, and you bit your bottom lip again.

 “You’re the devil,” you joked, making him laugh out loud. The sound bounced off the bathroom walls and had your belly quivering.

 Before he got up, he kissed your clit once more, making you arch again.

 “I prefer puppet master,” he teased, quirking his brow. Asshole knew this was not nearly enough. He knew your body wanted more. Chris took the camera from then turned it to you.

 “I could help you with that if you want,” Chris offered while palming his appendage.

 You hated him. You were in the process of changing your birth control with the appointment scheduled for next week. This meant that you were birth control free, and Chris knew this. Ever since you’d had the talk where you both decided that you wanted to have kids together, you’d seen a whole different side of him. Every time you made love, it became apparent he had a huge pregnancy kink. He always made sly jokes that he’d put a baby in you. You found it funny the first few times, but you quickly realized he meant it. That was why you decided to get off the pill and opted for something more reliable that didn’t depend on you remembering to take it.

 You not on birth control and ovulating was torture, and he knew it and played on it. Your eyes lingered at his hardness, and your mouth watered while your sex spasmed. You began to think and calculate if you could risk it. As if he knew it, Chris moved his hand so you could see the magnitude of his desire for you. Chris crept to you close enough for your hand to grip him. a groan escaped his lips as the camera he held was pointed at your hand, fondling him.

 “He wants to say hello.”

 Meeting his eyes, you watched him lick his lips, and you were closer than ever to risking it all. Using your feet, you pulled at the elastic of his shorts. In seconds, Chris was helping you, riding his hips of the material to stand before you bare from the waist down. Again, your sex pulsated, wanting his invasion more than anything. His dick rested on your pubis and spasmed every few seconds. You wanted him so fucking bad. Seeing you having difficulty making up your mind, he swiped the tip of his cock up and down your sex, nudging your clit. Every time he did, you whimpered. When you felt him circle himself at your opening, you almost wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him close. Almost. You closed your eyes, trying to find your strength.

 “Do you want him to?”

 Chris’s voice was husky. You bit your bottom lip and audibly gulped before you slammed your thighs shut. He didn’t need your words. Smirking, Chris nodded and backed off, pulling up his shorts. When Chris not so junior disappeared inside the shorts, you groaned.

 “Fuck!”

 Chris snorted, tapped the backside of your thigh closest to your ass. “Not yet, sweetheart, you’ll get there. Let’s go; Scott is ten minutes out.”

 With that, he walked out of the bathroom. You already regretted your decision.

 After finishing your makeup and hair, you put on your costume that was face mask compatible and walked into your living room to see Chris, Scott, and his boyfriend all waiting for you. Tens of pictures, a few posts to IG, a few tik toks, and countless sly ploys at teasing you, the four of you were off. With Scott driving and you and Chris in the backseat, you focused your attention on social media rather than the sexy man beside you with his hand on your thigh. Every so often, his grip would tighten then loosen only to do it again and again. With each tightened grip, you noticed his hand creeping higher and higher. He was not slick.

 By the time you got to the haunted house, it was dark, and the parking lot was packing up. The four of you walked to the line and waited for your turn. Chris, with his surgical mask in place, hugged you from behind.

 “You’re quiet. You okay?”

 “Perfectly fine.”

 He nuzzled your neck and moaned. “Cold?”

 “I’m okay.”

 “Let Dr. Evans know if you’re not.”

 The man wanted to kill you.

 It didn’t take long for your turns to come. After listening to the attendant shout out the rules, the four of you cautiously entered. You didn’t mind getting a little scared on Halloween. That was the point. As you walked through the entrance, you looked around at the décor that was clearly meant to be terrifying. The blood on the walls looked so realistic you paused.

 “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Chris whispered before kissing your temple and taking your hand.

 You walked along the designated path, taking in your surroundings. You knew the first scare would be coming up soon, and you wanted to be prepared.

 “This isn’t so bad,” Scott said. You glanced at him; he was laughing as if this was the homestretch rather than the beginning of the torture.

 As expected, someone dressed in bloodied slaughterhouse gear popped out of nowhere, revving his chain saw pulling a loud scream from you. Chris’s loud laugh echoed around you before you pushed him back when he draped his arm around you.

 “Not funny!”

 You walked ahead with the rest of them behind you, but not even four steps later, a trap door popped open, and out came a group of women dressed as the scariest witches you’d ever seen.

 “Oh my god!” Your shriek was loud but not louder than Chris’s laugh.

 Throughout the entire haunted house, there were jump scares galore. There were some that were scarier than others and some that had even Chris and the guys shrieking every now and then. Though you didn’t want to come out, you were enjoying the night. By the time you made it out, you were so glad to see the night sky.

 “I can’t believe you guys got scared,” Scott teasingly said to Chris and his boyfriend.

 “Those last few rooms really got me,” Chris replied.

 “Not nearly as much as they got, Y/N.”

 All eyes landed on you, making you cross your arms and pout.  “I didn’t even wanna come,” you whined.

 Chris snorted and approached you. “Poor baby. It’s been a hard night for her. we should cut her some slack.”

 Rolling your eyes, you turned your back to them and saw another Halloween attraction.

 “Ooh, is that a funhouse?”

 “Yeah, it’s up for one night. I heard mention of it on the news,” Scott informed.

 “Let’s go,” you blurted before walking off.

 It wasn’t part of the plan, but why not, you thought. It didn’t take long to walk across the field to the funhouse that was nearly deserted. Once there, you were informed you were the last bunch for the night before they closed up and packed it up. Chris paid the entrance fee, and the four of you walked in.

 “First one out wins,” Scott’s boyfriend said before dashing off to the right, leaving you and Chris to go left. You could hear him and Scott giggling like children until one of them tried to quiet the other.

 After a few minutes, the four of you crossed paths, which had all of you laughing.

 “They’re so cute,” you said to Chris once you were alone again.

 “Yeah. They’re not the only ones,” he said, wrapping his arms around you at the same time the lights flipped, coating the entire funhouse in a black light that was usually used in some of the putt-putt golf places.

 “This just got ten times spookier,” you said.

 “I don’t know. I think it just got ten times better. I like you in the dark.”

 You spun in his arms and kissed him. You’d been holding it in all night. Chris moaned and dropped his hands to your ass. His fingertips grazed the bare skin just underneath your ass, making you moan on his lips. Chris delved his tongue into your mouth to curl around yours before he began backing you somewhere. When your back touched a cold surface, you pulled away and slipped out of his arms.

 That was when you saw it was a magic mirror. “Wow.”

 You and Chris stood there as the mirrors began to move, changing design.

 “Holy shit!”

 Neither you nor Chris could stifle your laugh, hearing Scott and his boyfriend shout out in unison.

 “Did you guys know the mirrors moved?”

 “Nope,” Chris shouted back at them.

 “This is fucking awesome,” Scott exclaimed as the mirrors stopped moving.

 You and Chris continued on your path, searching for your way out of the maze. Every few minutes, the mirrors shifted, making it impossible to remember where you’d come or where you were going. Stopping, you spun around, trying to decide on the way to go. At that moment, you felt Chris’s lips on your neck, nibbling your skin.

 “I can’t think when you do that.”

 “Why do you need to think? We’re alone in here. I’m sure there are other things you can do besides think,” Chris coaxed.

 “Oh, really? Like what?”

 Chris’s hand came around to cup your clothed breast, making you melt against him. You could feel the beginning stirs of his erection pressing into your back.

 “I love you, sweetheart.”

 “I love you.”

 “Little Red Riding Hood liked the big bad wolf, right?”

 You knew very well where this was going. Smirking, you bit your bottom lip.

 “I’m sure in the beginning in the forest, she thought he was okay.”

 “Well, we can call this a forest,” Chris suggested, making you smirk.

 “We could. The mirror forest. Why do you ask Mr. Wolf?”

 Chris groaned by your ear then moved his hand to trail down your body to rest at your pelvis.

 “This wolf is ravenous.”

 If he only knew how hard it was to resist him and how ravenous you were right now too, you thought.

 “Ravenous, you say? How so? You ate not too long ago, Mr. Wolf,” you countered.

 “One taste is never enough. Can you help little red riding hood?”

 Chris then bit your shoulder before dipping his hand under the hem of your too short skirt to make connection with your searing pussy.

 “Fuck!”

 “I told you this costume was trouble.”

 “I was supposed to be wearing it around the house, if you recall. This was your idea,” you hammered home.

 Before he could speak again, you pulled yourself together and dashed off.

 “Tell you what, Mr. Wolf, you’ll have to catch your meal tonight,” you sang before disappearing.

 You giggled as you dashed around corners. If it was one thing Chris enjoyed, it was chasing. When you were sure you’d made enough turns that would elude him, you leisurely strode through the funhouse maze, counting how long it took him.

 “Little Red,” Chris sing-songed. “I can smell you, princess.”

 “What do I smell like?”

 “Mine!”

 Chris’s voice was deep and menacing but in the sexiest way. Once he said it, you heard his footsteps speed and knew he was coming. Running behind corner after corner, you didn’t put much thought into the direction you were going. The exhilaration of the chase had you so excited that you didn’t even see him come from behind one of the corners until it was too late.

 “Little red riding hood.”

 The look in his eyes had your belly fluttering and your panties soaking. Slowly you backed away from him.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what great big eyes you have,” you said.

 “All the better to see you and your curves, little red.”

 You smiled and watched him take one step to you, making you take another back that made him slide his tongue across his lips.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a long tongue you have.”

 “All the better to lick you with, little red.”

 He took two more steps to you. You only took one back. Your eyes dropped lower, your attention being drawn to the tent in his pants.

 “Oh my Mr. Wolf, what a big cock you have.”

 Chris smiled widely, eyes locking with yours, giving you that Gemini Flanagan smolder.

 “All the better to fuck you with, little red.”

 Once the words escaped his lips, he pounced on you, lifting you into his arms then pressing your back against one of the mirrors. His lips found yours and took control of a searing, soul-sucking kiss that left you so breathless you were at the point of risking it all.

 “Fuck it,” you grunted out. You could feel Chris smiling on your lips.

 His hands slid down, cupping your ass underneath the red skirt you wore. When you felt his fingers glide against your sex, you whimpered.

 “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

 You quickly nodded your head, no longer interested in keeping him at bay. You wanted to feel him, and you didn’t want to wait.

 “Fuck me!”

 “Here?”

 “Now!”

 Not needing to be told twice, Chris slipped your panties to the side with one hand and opened the fly of his pants, letting lose what your disloyal body craved. In a matter of seconds, Chris plunged his cock into you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You shrieked out but bit onto his shoulder to stifle the sound as much as you could.

 “You guys all right?”

 Chris didn’t stop thrusting into you; he was too far gone with desire. Locking eyes with you, you knew he wanted you to respond.

 “Yes! Eh-em, yes, we’re—we’re—fine,” you stuttered, trying to keep the pleasure from your voice to keep it even toned.

 It was hard. Your jaw dropped when Chris rotated his hips, sending his cock against your walls. You flung your head back, banging it onto the glass.

 “Fuck, you feel so good, princess. So fucking tight,” Chris hissed out.

 His pace never slowed or wavered. He kept it steady, kindling such a fire within you that you knew you’d be coming in no time.

 “Mmm, you’re gonna make me come, baby,” you hastily whispered.

 “Come on this cock, babygirl. Come for me.”

 The way he said baby girl had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Chris changed your body's angle using the mirror as a stabilizing force as he held you by your thighs at the crock where they met your pelvis. The new angle had you moaning loudly.

 “You love daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

 “Yes, I love daddy’s dick. Don’t stop Chris, don’t stop fucking me.”

 The way his thrusts sped, you knew he was close. He’d been holding out the whole week just as you had. It was hanging on by a thread.

 “You want it?”

 “Yes.”

 “Where?”

 “You know where. Fill me up, baby.”

 Chris’s eyebrow quirked as he looked at you with a question in his eyes.

 “Don’t say--,” Chris began.

 “I want it.”

 That was all the permission he needed. He pulled you up and hugged you to him, then kissed you.

 “I’m gonna put this baby in you. You want it?”

 “Yes, baby, give it to me!”

 Chris’s face contorted, and his thrusts staggered. You clenched around him, making him lose his control. As he groaned and whimpered, you did too.

 “Take this dick baby, take it. Have my baby.”

 “Yes, yes, yes!”

 You felt him erupt within you, and it shook you to your core. Your body shook, and you hugged him close, afraid you’d float away from the height of your ecstasy. After several long moments of the two of you coming down from your shared orgasm, Chris moaned into your ear.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a big load you had.”

 Chris smiled, shook his head, then kissed the tip of your nose. “All the better to knock you up with.”

 The two of you bust out laughing together, completely oblivious to anything else around you. When you quieted, you found Chris’s eyes on you.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to crack you all night.”

 You snorted at the pitiful look on his face. “I know, I’m not an idiot, and you’re not as sly as you think you are. I know you’ve been using my weakness this week against me.”

 The smirk he gave you had you rolling your eyes. “I hope you smirk like that when I show you the fruits of your labor,” you teased.

 About five minutes later, you and Chris met Scott and his boyfriend outside, and the four of you walked back to the car ready to call it a night. Once the four of you were in and on your way, Chris grabbed your hand and kissed it.

 “My, my Mr. Wolf, what a big cock you have,” Scott said in a teasing voice, making both yours and Chris’s jaw drop.

 “The better to fuck you with,” Scott’s boyfriend replied, making you and Chris gasp.

 “Oh my god, Scott!”

 “You two are some freaks. In the funhouse?!

 The entire drive home was mortifying as the two of them teased you the whole way.

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