#they won’t give a straight (got em) answer

[phangays]

If anyone asks me if Dan and Phil are dating I’m gonna refer them to this video and watch them get more confused than before

[marauder-misprint]

Gryffindor Wins

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

3.5k words

cw: fluff, drinking, smoking

Your ability to pay attention significantly decreases in three classes during the week. Charms, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sirius’ presence in a room is more distracting than it ever had been. Apparently, when you are trying to figure out how you feel about someone, they take up more space in your brain. It wasn’t like he was doing anything different than before, besides an occasional glance your way followed by a grin when he found you already looking at him. 

Pandora leans her head on your shoulder during Charms and instinctively, you rest your head on top of hers.

“You’ve been looking at him every five minutes all lesson,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“Why?”

You hum, looking over at Sirius again. He’s whispering to Peter. Peter nods along with a slight frown on his face. You’re curious at what they could be discussing in the middle of Professor Flitwick’s lecture.

“Just thinking, I suppose,” you respond to Pandora. 

“About… him?” 

You are about to answer when Flitwick calls, “Ladies! Please pay attention!”

You and Pandora sit up straight with muttered apologies. You give Sirius another quick glance. He’s also now sitting up straighter, no longer talking with Peter whose face is crimson. You and Pandora got a warning. Anyone else not paying attention would likely lose house points. ‘I should not have to tell you students to pay attention in your lessons,’ Flitwick had said in the past. 

So, Pandora’s question didn’t get answered, but judging by the way your eyes still drifted over to Sirius five more times before Flitwick dismissed the class, you were. You kept thinking back to what he said and what Remus said in the library earlier in the week. Sirius was giddy at the chance of a second date. For a boy known for getting around with the ladies, you wouldn’t expect him to be giddy at the mere potential of a second date. 

When Saturday arrives, you have no intention of getting out of bed before noon. Sure, you had told Sirius to talk to you after the quidditch match, but you never said you’d go to it. It is an 11 a.m. match in December. Your warm, cozy bed in the quiet of your dorm is much more inviting. To you, the choice is clear. You’ll stay in bed until noon, get lunch before everyone comes back from quidditch and if Sirius remembers, he’ll look for you in the library, where you plan to be reading. 

Your plans are thwarted by Dorcas as she throws open your curtains at 10 a.m. 

“Why are you still in your pajamas?” she asks, already dressed with her winter robe draped over her arm. “Do you not want breakfast before heading to the pitch?”

“‘M not going?” you grumble into your pillow.

“Bullshit. You always go. Up and at ‘em! Dress warm! If you’re not in the common room in ten, I will dress you myself!” 

Then she swiftly leaves the dorm, the door banging shut behind her. You lay still for a moment before groaning loudly. And then with every move, you groan again. Throwing the blankets off yourself and getting hit with cold air? Groan. Swinging your legs over the edge of your bed? Groan. Stretching and standing up? Groan and groan. Once dressed and out of the dorm, you groan louder and louder with each step down the stairs into the common room. Dorcas looks ever so pleased with herself when you arrive exactly ten minutes after she left you.

“Shame you didn’t want me to dress you,” she says with a sigh. “Marls gave me extra Gryffindor gear and I know a certain lion would’ve appreciated seeing you rep his house.”

You roll your eyes before looking at Dorcas’ outfit. Entirely Slytherin gear.

“She gave you Gryffindor clothes, yet you’re not wearing them?”

“Never do,” she says, smiling as you walk out of the common room together. “I won’t be seen in Gryffindor scarlet and gold.”

After a quick breakfast, you walk with the rest of the Slytherins to the quidditch pitch. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are being far more energetic than everyone else, as the houses in the match usually are. Your whole group is bundled up to fight against the frigid December air and once you’re up in the stands, you’re fairly certain that you’re not nearly wearing enough. 

Maybe I should’ve doubled up, Gryffindor underneath my Slytherin stuff… 

The thought leaves your head as quickly as it appeared. You knew your face flushed at the thought but no one notices. It’s far too cold. 

“Why am I here? My bed was warm,” you tell Dorcas.

“Because we theoretically like watching quidditch,” she responds with a smile.

“Theoretically.”

Despite the cold, the match is entertaining. Dorcas was right: you do like watching quidditch, even if you personally are rubbish at it. Yet, even with all of the excitement in the air, your eyes keep lingering on the Gryffindor stands. It’s like a magnet, the way it pulls your gaze, and you hate that you know exactly why you keep looking. 

Sirius is standing in the front of the stands with Remus and Peter. The trio is cheering on their fourth member as he passes the quaffle to his teammates, only to have it thrown back to him so he can chuck it through the goals. James was single-handedly leading the Gryffindors to victory; they got so far ahead that they would’ve won even if their seeker didn’t catch the snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupt in cheers as the Hufflepuffs counter with groans. It seems like within seconds, the entirety of Gryffindor house has left the stands and floods the pitch to greet their players. The Slytherin stands empty much slower. No one is in much of a hurry to face the herd of Gryffindors, despite it still being cold. Eventually, you reach the ground and are able to weave through the slower walkers since you are on a mission to get into the warm castle. As you pass the Gryffindors, you can’t miss Sirius clapping James on the back. Remus and Peter are talking with other Gryffindors.

It’s not until you get inside that you realize you’ve lost your entire group. You figure Dorcas went to congratulate Marlene on the win, but the boys and Pandora are nowhere to be seen. You walk slower. Maybe you just walked too fast in your determination to be able to feel your fingers again. 

Students pass by you. No one pays you attention. You wonder where your friends could have gone off to. Surely you weren’t walking that fast.

Then the face you had been watching for most of the match appears at the end of the corridor. You can’t help the small smile that appears as he makes his way towards you. 

“Congrats on the win,” you say before he pulls you into a hug and spins you around in the middle of the corridor. 

You look baffled when he sets you down. You hadn’t been expecting that from him.

“I didn’t do nothing, but thank you, love!” He’s too cheery to notice your expression. He puts his hands on your shoulders. “We’re celebrating in the common room. I know, I know, parties aren’t really your thing, but I’d love it, adore it, be thrilled, ecstatic, ten thousand and one percent delight if you came.”

You narrow your eyes at him ever so slightly before you consciously soften your expression and tilt your head. 

“Who said parties aren’t my thing?”

His eyes go wide. “Oh, um, dunno? Just heard it somewhere and it makes sense. You always seem to be leaving them.”

“You have to show up to parties to leave them.”

“So, will you come tonight?” He looks so hopeful.

You pause and tap your chin as if you’re putting deep thought into it. Honestly, you are thinking more deeply on who had told him you didn’t like parties, and wondering why that bugged you. 

“Will Dorcas be there?”

He barks a laugh. “Marlene’s on the team, darling. She’ll be there, but if you were hoping to come with her, I’m ‘fraid you might too late for that.”

“She’s already there, isn’t she…”

“Yup.” 

“Then what’s the password? I’ll show up.”

His face lit up, somehow appearing happier than he had looked moments earlier when he spun you around. 

---

The party is in full swing by the time you get there. No one seems to notice the portrait open and close, or if they do, they don’t care. The party is livelier than the previous ones you’ve attended. You found the drink table quickly, glad to have something to hold while you look for people you actually know. You’re not exactly thrilled when the first one you see is Remus. He doesn’t smile when he sees you, but he approaches you all the same. 

“You actually came,” he says coolly. 

“I was personally invited,” you reply just as coolly. 

You knew Remus was looking out for his friend, but you didn’t think that gave him the right to try to push you away from Sirius. Especially when it had been Remus who said you should get to know Sirius. 

Remus doesn’t respond. He turns away from you and disappears into the crowd of students. You frown. You hadn’t minded him too much until now. He was one of the more quieter Gryffindors, yet still quick with a sharp comment or witty remark. And he decided that you weren’t to be trusted because… you were hesitant to go out with Sirius?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by your name being yelled above the noise of overlapping music and conversations. You look for the source, who is upon you before you could form any kind of reaction.

“I’m so, so, so, so, so, so, so glad you came,” he slurs into your ear, having pulled you into a hug. Sirius appeared to have been celebrating the win for a while. 

You give him a smile when he lets you go.

“You invited me, and despite the rumors, I do like a party.”

“Come on, my friends are over here.”

He grabs your hand and leads you to the other side of the room. Lily, Mary, Peter, James and Remus are having a loud conversation when they come into view. You sigh a breath of relief when you see there’s an open spot next to Lily, which you take. As expected, Sirius sits next to you. You don’t mind that no one really acknowledged your arrival. It means that there are also no comments about how close Sirius was sitting to you. If he had sat down first, you wouldn’t be sitting as close. 

James is retelling portions of the game as if everyone there hadn’t witnessed it first hand only hours ago. You assume that they are all humoring him for the sake of his embellishments and the drinks in their hands. At some point, Marlene and Dorcas appear and stand in the middle of the group. 

“I think it’s truth or dare time!�� Marlene announces, holding onto Dorcas for balance.

The group murmurs agreement. 

“Wait, I need a refill!” you say, standing up. “Anyone else need one?”

“If you’re offering!” Peter says, leaning forward to hand you his cup. 

A few more cups get handed to you before Lily offers to help you carry them. While refilling everyone’s cups, you also grab a bottle of firewhiskey from the table.

“So we don’t have to get up again,” you tell Lily and she laughs. 

The group had shifted slightly while you were momentarily gone so that they are sitting in a circle on the ground, taking up more space than before. You and Lily hand out the drinks before taking the spots reserved for you between James and Sirius. It’s decided that the bottle of firewhiskey that you grabbed will be the spinner. Marlene spins it first, declaring that since she suggested the game, it’s only right. It lands on Peter. He picks truth.

“Boo!” Sirius yells at his friend. “Lame way to start!” 

“Have you ever broken a law?” Marlene asks.

“Yes,” Peter answers quickly.

The way he’s staring at Marlene tells everyone that he’s telling the truth. 

“Wait, what?” Lily gasps. “What did you do?”

Peter shakes his head, laughing. “That wasn’t my question.”

You swear the girls are freaking out about it more than the boys. The four of them are just laughing and trying not to choke on their drinks when they think they’ve composed themselves enough to take a sip. Peter spins the bottle and it lands on Mary. You lose track of how many times the Gryffindors have spun the bottle. It doesn’t land on you for a while. Instead, you get to enjoy the secrets and stupid actions of Sirius and his friends. You finish your second drink and open the firewhiskey to fill your cup. 

“Our spinner!” Marlene whines.

“I’m giving it back,” you say sweetly, placing it back in the middle once the top was secured again. 

“Humph.” 

Marlene spins the bottle and it lands on you.

“How fitting!” Dorcas laughs.

“Truth,” you say. You weren’t sure you were up for the kind of dares they were handing out. 

“Who was your first Hogwarts-crush?” Marlene giggles. 

Immediately, you start laughing. In retrospect, it is funny. At least, to you it is.

“Well?” Lily asks, nudging you.

You take a second to compose yourself so you can wheeze out, “Evan Rosier.”

“Isn’t he-” Mary starts.

“Dating Junior?” you finish for her, your laughter taking over yourself again. “Yes, yes he is.”

After a minute, you spin the bottle and it lands on Lily. 

“Hmm… Truth.”

“What’s the longest you’ve gone without showering?”

“I think a week? My family went camping so it wasn’t an option,” she says and goes to spin the bottle.

The game goes on. James hugs a second year and tells him that he’s going to do great things. Dorcas reveals what she thinks her biggest red flag is. Peter finishes his drink and then throws his cup across the room. Dorcas, having gotten spun again, licks the bottom of Marlene’s foot and proceeds to gag. Lily, James, Remus, Mary, Marlene, James yet again and then Sirius. 

“Truth.” 

“Merlin, y’all are picking so many truths!” Mary complains.

“Please, it’s James. I don’t need to be stripping down to my boxers right now,” Sirius defends his choice. 

“But you could be,” James says with a wink.

“No. Truth me, mate!”

“What would you rate your kissing style?”

Sirius cocks his head. “Like on a scale of 1-10? 10, obviously.”

You roll your eyes. Then you turn to where you think the music is coming from. It’s your favorite song. You slam the rest of your drink before jumping up. You hold your hand out to Sirius.

“Love this song. Let’s dance!”

He grins at you as he takes your hand, letting you pull him into the crowd of people dancing. It doesn’t take long before you decide you’re far enough away from the group. You’re chest-to-chest with Sirius as bodies seem to be pushing on you from all sides. Sirius, having sobered up slightly, is timid in his dancing for a moment. He takes in the grin on your face, how bright your eyes are and the way you’re singing along to the song at the top of your lungs without a care in the world. When the song changes, he finds the confidence to put his hands on your waist and you move closer to him. His breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t mind you this close, but it still throws him off for a moment. 

After a few more songs, you put an arm around Sirius’ neck to pull his face down closer to yours. He stops breathing for a moment. Is this it? Were you going to kiss him?

“I need air!” you say into his ear to ensure that he hears you. 

“Oh, okay,” he replies quickly, hoping you don’t see the flash of disappointment on his face. 

He follows you out of the common room. You pass Remus and smile at him. You can’t help but notice he looks out of place standing at the edge of the common room, no longer taking part in any of the festivities. But right now, you don’t care about him. You had alcohol flowing in your veins, a pretty boy following you and the high of a good party. Remus reaches out to stop Sirius once you pass him.

“Padfoot,” Remus warns in a low voice.

“Moony,” he replies, his voice just as low. “I’m going with her.”

“You look like a lovesick puppy.”

Sirius pulls his arm out of his friend’s grip. “And so what if I am?”

Remus shakes his head with a sigh. “Make sure it’s reciprocated before you get hurt.”

Sirius rolls his eyes before heading out of the portrait. You’re waiting for him, leaning against the stone wall with your eyes shut. The quiet and coldness outside of the common room is refreshing. You open your eyes when you hear the portrait close.

“Got those cigarettes?” you ask with a sly smile.

“Always.” He pats his pants’ pocket.

“Good.” 

Your smile grows as you grab his arm to stabilize yourself. Your smile directed at Sirius plus the way you’re holding onto him makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine. This is something he could get used to. If he could get you to do it without being drunk, that is. 

He lets you lead the way to the Astronomy Tower, not that he would’ve chosen anywhere else to go. Sirius has to support your weight more when you reach the metal stairs near the top. Why did alcohol make students seek out the tallest tower in all of the castle? He supposes it has the best aura to it, especially when drunk. 

You take your place at the railing, holding your hand out for one of the cigarettes. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke, or drink,” he teases, handing you one and lighting it for you once it’s in your mouth.

“Oh, I don’t,” you say with a smirk. 

You stand in silence for a while, each with your own cigarette this time. There’s no taking turns, no brief touches of fingers, no risk of accidentally dropping it in the hand off. 

Then Sirius points to the sky.

“There’s the Leo constellation, so Regulus is… right… there…”

You hum and he traces his hand across the sky.

“And there I am, in Canis Major.”

You giggle. “You’re right here.” You poke his shoulder. “In the Astronomy Tower.” He looks down at you and you poke his nose. “With me.”

He pokes your nose. “I think you had too much.”

You hum again. “Maybe so. But you’ll get me back to the dungeons alright.” You said it so confidently. 

You rest your head on Sirius’ shoulder as you stare up at the stars. You had taken Astronomy with Sirius for five years; had you been sober, you might’ve scolded him for thinking you didn’t know your constellations and the stars that were his and his brother’s namesakes. But you weren’t sober so the nice moment between you got to exist untainted. 

“Yes ma’am,” Sirius says in response to your assertion that he’ll escort you to your common room. 

Which he does. When you’re ready to go, you take his hand and interlock your fingers. Something blooms in your chest as you do so, but you don’t think anything of it. Sirius has to remind himself several times that you aren’t sober. If you were, he might’ve stopped to kiss you right then and there. Instead, he makes sure you get back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Having sobered up a bit in the evening air, you’re less reliant on him for balance but you hold his hand the entire way down. You mumble the password and the door to the Slytherin Common Room appears. You open the door, take a step and turn back to Sirius as you stand in its threshold. You have a dumb smile on your face. 

“You are pretty, Sirius. Handsome, dashing, attractive. And a good time.” You pause, laughing to yourself briefly. “Maybe I should write to you over break.”

You hum and disappear into the common room, leaving Sirius dumbstruck in the corridor as the door vanishes. He knows he should move quickly. He needs to get back to Gryffindor Tower unless he wants to get caught out of bed after hours while smelling like alcohol. But he can’t bring himself to move. He stares at the empty wall where the door had been. He makes a mental note to take you on another real date before everyone leaves for break in a little over a week. A real date where you were sober and could maybe admit that you were a Sirius person.

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife

Love me some late night chats on the Astronomy Tower

[chenlesfavorite]

You aren’t sure how you got dragged into playing truth or dare with these three but here you are! You are suspicious of how eager they seem to play truth or dare though... it’s a bit, weird but you decide to brush it off. Maybe they just really enjoy it.

"Alright, who wants to go first?" You ask, and for some reason, the three of them exchange glances with each other. You're not sure what they're planning, but it's making you curious.

“I think loverboy over here should go first... Renjun! I choose you!” Giselle mimics throwing a Pokeball and pointing at Renjun. “Truth or dare, loverboy?”

“I’m picking truth, your dares are just... on another level. Don’t wanna go through ‘em right now.” Renjun says, making his words clear as he leans into Ningning, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Hey! They’re not that bad, just creative! But fine,” She rolls her eyes, pretending to be offended. “Hmm... what’s the most embarrassing thing Ningning has ever caught you doing?” Giselle says, a playful-looking smirk on her face.

Renjun sighs, his face heating up as he remembers all the embarrassing moments Ningning caught him in. Ningning laughs while messing with Renjun's hair. "C'mon, which one do you think is the most embarrassing?" She asks, interested in the answer herself.

“Maybe when I was singing in my room, and I got into the song a bit too much I guess and I ended up serenading my pillow, pretending it was Ning. I was so into it that I didn’t even hear her knock on my door... so you can imagine how awkward it was when we just saw each other, staring at the other without saying a word.” Renjun replies, closing his eyes as he buries his face into the crook of Ningning’s neck, getting more embarrassed by the second.

“It was honestly kind of cute... and what makes it better is that he was singing a cheesy love song. Pretty sure it was I Love You 3000?” Ningning adds on, giggling.

“Ning... shush, don’t expose anything more.” Renjun raises his head, a pleading expression on his face as he looks at Ningning. “Fine, I won’t.” Ningning responds as she gives Renjun a little peck on the lips.

“If you two plan on kissing, erm, Renjun’s room is right there! Don’t do it in front of us.” Giselle says, attaching herself to your arm— cringed out by the two of them acting lovey-dovey. “Exactly what she said.” You reply.

“Giselle, truth or dare?” Ningning asks. “Oh— straight up asking me? Alright, Ning! Getting revenge for your boyfie, I see how it is. Anyway, obviously I’m picking dare, I’m not a wuss.” Giselle replies, flipping her hair dramatically. You back up a little as you don’t want her hair to hit your face.

“Okay, uhhh...” Ningning ponders for a few seconds before coming up with a dare. “Call Hendery and tell him that you’re into him, put it on speaker too.” Ningning says, staring at Giselle with a smile that looks devilish.

“H... Hendery out of all people?” Giselle straightens herself up, visibly surprised by the dare that Ningning gave her. “Do it, come on, I mean, you just said you weren’t a wuss, right?” Renjun says, teasing Giselle a bit.

“I’m doing it! I’m doing it!” Giselle takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her contact list. She finds Hendery’s phone number and starts a call, waiting for him to pick up. It doesn’t take long for Hendery to pick up. She presses the speaker button.

“What’s with the sudden call, Gigi?” Hendery’s voice sounds from the speaker, distant keyboard noises in the background.

“I’m sooo... into you and want you so bad… Haha...” She lets out an awkward chuckle as she says that sentence out loud. “Anyway um— bye, Dery! Talk to you later!” Giselle spends no time waiting for his reply, she just immediately hangs up the call and throws her phone away, shoving her face into a pillow.

"Okay, pause on truth or dare, Giselle, what was that about? It was so awkward!” You ask, looking at a very distressed Giselle. “I’m sorry! It’s hard to say that to somebody like Hendery and like… act like you mean it!”

A few more rounds of truth or dare go by and Renjun decides to check his phone, realizing that Chenle would go out to check his motorcycle 5 minutes from now.

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Renjun asks you as he puts away his phone, giving a signaling glance to Ningning and Giselle. You scratch the side of your neck, thinking of what option to choose. “I don’t wanna be boring so, I’ll pick dare. Hit me.” You respond, putting on a confident act.

"That’s my girl.” Giselle says, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. “Y/N, I dare you to try riding Chenle’s motorcycle. The keys to the motorcycle are under Chenle’s flowerpot in front of his apartment door.” And you feel your heart practically stop as you freeze up at his dare.

“You... you want me to do that?!” You exclaim, completely in disbelief of his dare. “Come on, do it Y/N! Besides, Chenle’s probably sleeping right now anyway, so he won’t hear his motorcycle getting taken away by you.” Giselle says, her voice practically booming in your ears.

You take a deep breath as you stand up, sliding your hands into your pockets. “Fine. I’ll do it.” These are the only words you say before you turn around and make your way to Renjun’s front door. “We’ll be watching, Y/N!” Ningning yells out as you exit Renjun’s apartment.

“I’m seriously going to murder all three of them.” You mutter to yourself as you make your way downstairs. The closer you get to Chenle’s apartment, the more nervous you feel... but then again, it is late after all so maybe he won’t be up...?

You reach his apartment and you stand in front of the door. Feeling a sharp pain in your heart. You feel your hand reaching out, forming into a fist, to knock on his door— but you quickly stop yourself. You don’t wish to disturb him nor do you want to see him right now, really. Not after him ignoring your existence.

You spot the flowerpot that Renjun was talking about. You crouch down and gently raise it and the key to the motorcycle is there. You pick it up and slide it into your pocket as you place the flowerpot carefully back down.

You get up and start going all the way down to the parking lot.

Once you’re at the parking lot, you look around, trying to spot Chenle’s motorcycle. You walk a bit further down the parking lot and that’s when you find his motorcycle. You inhale and exhale, placing your hand on your heart for a moment before you walk over to it.

You reach his motorcycle and you take out the key for it... but uh, you did not know where to place it. After all, you weren’t a biker nor did you have any knowledge on motorcycles. “How the hell am I gonna get this to work?” You rub the back of your head, pondering what to do.

You take out your phone and turn on the flashlight, sitting down on the seat of the bike. Using the light coming from the back of your phone to try and find where to place this key in so you can get the motorcycle to work. “Fuck you Renjun for giving me this stupid ass dare...” You mumble to yourself as you try shoving the key in all the holes that you can find.

“Y/N?” You hear a male voice.

You whip your head to where it’s coming from and there Chenle is, standing.

He’s wearing a black hoodie with writing on it, and the sleeves of the hoodie are rolled up, paired with a pair of black sweatpants— his hair flowing in the light breeze. Holy shit, he looked so handsome.

You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and your heartbeat pounding harder, and harder with every second. “I...” Your words get stuck in your throat as the two of you create direct eye contact.

Chenle spends no time running towards you, embracing you in his arms. Tightly hugging you as if you were going to be taken away from him. You feel completely defeated by him as you accept his hug.

God, you missed him so fucking much. His embrace was so warm, so comforting and you feel so safe in it. “I missed you so bad, angel.”

“Lele... I missed you too.” You say as you look up at him, a weak smile on your lips. Seeing him again got you in an emotional mood, you feel tears start to cloud your vision, so you lower your head, looking down at the concrete floor.

Chenle crouches down, getting to eye contact level with you. He cups your cheek with his hand, wiping away the tears that have started to roll down your cheeks. “Don’t cry, angel. I can’t bear to see it.” He whispers. “It hurts me to see you like this.” Chenle’s voice breaking ever so slightly.

You slide off the motorcycle, standing up— leaving your phone and the keys to the motorcycle on the seat of it. Chenle gets up as well, keeping silent as he knows you have a lot to say to him right now and he is ready to hear all of it.

“Lele why... why did you ignore me and pretend like I didn’t exist? Why?” You ask as you sniffle, your chest heavy and your heart beating as if it’s gonna jump out any second. “Jisung completely fucked my brain up. Like really badly, I’ve wanted to kiss you so bad for so long but then Jisung said what he did and… I started to... distance myself away from you, in hopes that my feelings for you would die down.” Chenle says with full honesty.

“I couldn’t make myself talk to you again or even face you, ‘cause I just—” You shut Chenle up by pressing your lips onto his, his eyes widening as he didn’t expect that right now but he does not deny your kiss, he’s very accepting of it.

The kiss is short but also filled with so many unspoken feelings. You pull away first. “You’re so stupid, Lele. You really are.“

“You know, at the race, that’s when I realized my feelings for you but I didn't want to accept them fully, Lele. I... fuck,“ You look down at the concrete, taking a deep breath.

“The moment you started to ignore me, I felt terrible. I was just so down, all the time.” You say, your lips trembling as you let everything out. Everything that you’ve wanted to say to him this past week.

“Lele. I love you. You give me a feeling I can’t even put into words... and, I didn’t want to fall in love with you, not at all, but, you gave me the right attention, a comfort I never knew I needed until I truly experienced it. I fell for you before I even realized I did.”

All your emotions came pouring out, you couldn’t hold them back anymore nor did you want to. You wanted him to know all the feelings you feel for him, how much you want him and love him.

“Y/N, I feel the same way about you. Falling in love with you was a complete mistake, but fuck, I do not regret falling for you even one bit. You are my entire world, Y/N. I wish you could’ve seen all the stupid smiles I had on my face whenever we texted each other, those stupid conversations meant more to me than you think. You stole my heart completely, Y/N. And I’m sorry, for everything. I really am. It was so stupid of me to ignore you.”

Hearing his words makes the love you feel for him even stronger. “Just shut up and kiss the hell out of me, please Lele.” You say, without any hesitation and no stuttering. Chenle doesn’t even say anything, he pulls you in by your waist till there’s no space left between the two of you and presses his lips onto yours.

This kiss is the one that the two of you have desired the longest, one filled with no other emotions than just pure love that the two of you feel for one another. Chenle’s fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head more so he can deepen the kiss— it fogs your mind, with such an intoxicating and dizzy feeling.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, sending a shockwave through Chenle. You can feel his rapid heartbeat, mirroring your own. His lips move against yours with a passion that just took your breath away, a deep yearning that makes you drown in him.

When the two of you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you breathless from the kiss, but you savor the taste of it. “Wanna head to mine?” Chenle asks as he starts tracing your jawline by leaving kisses on it. “Mh, would love to.” You reply, biting down on your bottom lip.

“No leaving in the morning this time though, angel.”

...

“You guys think it’s a mission accomplished?” Ningning asks, looking at Renjun and then at Giselle who are just as stunned by the sight of you and Chenle kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

“More than a mission accomplished... I don’t think she’s returning to Renjun’s place tonight.”

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NIGHT RIDER : chapter 43 — mission accomplished

back — masterlist — next

! author’s note : sooo… 😊 they’re happy again…!

✮⋆˙ taglist: @nanaxwi @neocrashed @404tytrack @connormurphynation @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @chenlesfeetpic @neozon3nha @morkiee @doughyk @i03jae @haechology @foxy-kitsune @fullsunbabe @polarisjisung @beommii @soobiverse @onlyhyunjin @lostinneocity @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @miyawwn @marvelahsobx @starfilledgaze @nosungluv @gukuwii @bitchzitschimi @whoooootf @nneteyamss @theandypark @urslytherin @xcosmi @taroddori @winwintea @iamsimplyasimp @ckline35 @yutarot @sunghoonsgfreal @roseangelxfuma @thegracerammy @nctjunie @do-you-remember-summer-127 @cosmic-marauder @tanjanro @myouthles @nctrawberries @octubreuno @galacticpurpl3 @voikiraz @defzcl @silvsie @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @luluvhs

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[shadowtriovibes]

pt. iii: sweat it out

pt. i: break a sweat || pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, fluff and smut, quidditch jersey porn, sexy massages, dirty talk, romanticizing doggy style

Summary: born of two requests: "what about sebastian fucking the reader while she's wearing his quidditch jersey. i can see him going feral when he sees his last name on her back" and "Maybe for Part 3, MC is giving Bash a much needed massage after all of his HARD quidditch practices and games… in nothing but his jersey."

Sebastian reluctantly turns over onto his stomach so that you can sit astride his hips. As soon as you rest your weight on top of him, he exhales tiredly as if he’s just set down a towering stack of books at the librarian’s desk – like he’s let go of a weight he hadn’t realized had slowly become so burdensome in his arms. "Relax," you murmur. "I've got you." Then he tilts his head to rest on his folded hands. You know he can’t quite see you at an angle this, but you still catch just a glimpse of his warm brown eyes before they flutter shut.

Climbing all the way up to the Room of Requirement after one of his weekend Quidditch practices must be excruciating for Sebastian, you think.

After practice, he’s usually sore just about everywhere – from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet he positively aches. Having seen him in action you know that he’ll often race upwards of a hundred kilometers on his broom simply doing laps around the pitch and tracking down the school’s enchanted practice Snitches.

To make matters worse, he’s forced to skip breakfast to be at the pitch by sun-up on strict orders from his captain, who goes on to keep the team well past eleven. Now he must be starving, but if you know your love, he’ll steadfastly ignore the temptation to go straight to the Great Hall for lunch and instead make the trek up to the seventh-floor corridor.

That’s precisely why you’re waiting for him there.

In the mornings when he has practice, you like to treat yourself to a bit of a lie-in and lazily wait around for his return so you can have lunch together. You would be happy to meet him downstairs when he returns to the castle, but lately, Anne and Ominis have protested whenever Sebastian joins the lunch table straight from practice still flushed, sweating, and covered in mud from the waist down.

(Those two have become exponentially more autocratic since they started courting.)

Thus, Sebastian usually decides to be a gentleman and change first.

In the months since the start of Quidditch season and Sebastian’s first overnight stay in the Room of Requirement, he’s slowly started bringing in his belongings until he’d effectively moved out of the dormitories and into a shared nest with you. Most of his clothes were there by now, along with his endless piles of library books and his cherished personal collection of secondhand novels from Tomes and Scrolls.

You assume he’ll probably want to quickly strip off his mucked-up robes and find something clean to change into so he can escort you downstairs for lunch. But despite the exhausting morning he must have already had, you don’t feel quite enough pity for your Sebastian to take it easy on him when he finally arrives.

When he enters the room, he finds you lounging on the bed reading one of his beloved Muggle novels – wearing nothing but one of his Quidditch jerseys.

“Sebastian!” you call out happily when you look up.

“Morning, love,” he answers as he shoves the heavy door closed.

“You’re finally free,” you joke, closing your book. “I thought I’d have to come down to the pitch soon and challenge Imelda to a duel to get her to set you loose.”

“I won’t mind seeing that,” he laughs. “That would have been quite chivalrous of you.”

He shrugs out of his Quidditch robes and pulls his own soaking-wet shirt up over his head. You watch longingly as his core flexes – all those hours on a broom have made him exceptionally well-defined, and you wish you could simply get on your knees right then and there to spend your morning tracing your tongue over every delineated band of muscle.

“You know,” he teases, pulling you from your reverie. “I had planned to just put on a clean shirt to go down to lunch, but it seems you’ve nicked my spare.”

“Did I?” you say, feigning innocence. “I just grabbed the first thing I could find, I swear.”

Sebastian glances at you skeptically before sitting down at what has become “his” desk to take off his boots. You frown when you catch him wincing while he bends at the waist.

“Are you hurt?” you ask him softly.

“No,” he insists. “Just sore all over.”

“Bash,” you croon. “Poor babe.”

“Come off it, I’m fine,” he laughs. “I just need some food and a nice long bath and I’ll be grand.”

You climb off the bed and saunter over to him in his chair, appreciating the way his eyes skim across the hem of his pilfered jersey. With every step, your hips sway and tease him with quick glimpses of the tops of your bare legs.

“Are you sure?” you ask sweetly. “Because if you’re feeling poorly, I can take care of you.”

Not even the promise of dry clothes and a warm meal could pull Sebastian’s attention from such a tempting offer, especially not while you’re wearing his clothes.

He sits back in his chair while you kneel in front of him to carefully unlace his Quidditch boots. After you take off his pads as well, it’s just too easy to climb onto his lap and wind your arms around his shoulders.

Sebastian’s gaze dips down to the space between your legs. He lays one palm flat against your thigh and uses his thumb to ruck up the hem of the jersey just a bit.

“You haven’t got anything on under this, do you?” he asks knowingly.

“Not a stitch,” you breathe.

Sebastian groans quietly and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.”

“Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.”

“A ‘massage?’” he asks hopefully.

When you merely raise an eyebrow at him, he looks simply crushed.

“You’re joking,” he says flatly. “You… you actually mean to ‘take care’ of me? In an actual ‘nurse-me-back-to-health’ sort of way?”

“I mean both the regular way and the devious way,” you laugh. “But if you’re aching right now, it’s not going to be much fun for you.”

“You are sincerely wrong about that,” he argues, but you’re undeterred.

“Let me do this first,” you bargain. “I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”

There’s a bit more whining and attempts to seduce you as you wriggle free of Sebastian’s lap and tug on his arm so he’ll walk over to the bed. He strips down to the garment layer he wears beneath his uniform pants and kindly allows you to shove him onto the bed.

He’s peering up at you expectantly, obviously hoping you’ll cave and climb onto his lap once again.

“Turn over, Sebastian,” you say with a fond eye roll. “On your stomach.”

“You’re malicious,” he gripes. “An evil, wicked sorceress.”

Sebastian reluctantly turns over onto his stomach so that you can sit astride his hips. As soon as you rest your weight on top of him, he exhales tiredly as if he’s just set down a towering stack of books at the librarian’s desk – like he’s let go of a weight he hadn’t realized had slowly become so burdensome in his arms.

“Relax,” you murmur. “I’ve got you.”

Then he tilts his head to rest on his folded hands. You know he can’t quite see you at an angle this, but you still catch just a glimpse of his warm brown eyes before they flutter shut.

Go on, he says without words. Touch me. I trust you.

You think you could just stay here all day with your hands on his slightly-chilly skin. Warming him up to your touch, you skim your hands across his firm shoulder blades, along the tops of his sun-kissed shoulders, and then down the solid expanse of aching muscle in his back. He’s so broad beneath you, you think, even on his stomach. Without his height to add to the imposing figure he usually cuts, he nevertheless looks perfectly capable of rolling you off of him should he desire.

Knowing that there’s very little he could desire less sends an excited shiver through you. It’s a privilege, getting to be gentle with a man like Sebastian.

After all, except for when his hands are on your body, Sebastian is anything but gentle. He’s headstrong, impulsive, and obstinately ungovernable when he knows he’s in the right. Physically, he’s grown into a body that matches.

You shouldn’t be surprised that despite playing as a Seeker, Sebastian is not the kind of athlete who relies on being lithe and quick on his broom. Whenever he finds himself in a dead heat for the Snitch, he routinely throws his whole body into a maneuver and hurdles himself into his opposing Seeker to knock them off their path.

He’s brutish on the pitch and offers no apologies for it, though he will extend a gentlemanly hand whenever he bests the other Seeker to their prize.

Worst of all is that he has no fear of mutually assured destruction. He wants to win, sure; but more importantly, he wants the other team to lose. If that means both he and his opponent must crash into the ground in a pile of torn sports robes and grass stains before being hauled up to the Hospital Wing by an exasperated Nurse Blainey, so be it.

(Needless to say, you aren’t the only one who calls him “Bash” anymore.)

You consider all this while you quietly work through some of the larger knots that have built up in the muscles of his back. His body has kept hold of a momentous amount of trauma over the years, and if you can help dissolve even a fraction of it with your hands, you’ll be overjoyed.

Carefully you splay the palms of your hands against his bare skin and concentrate hard on spreading warmth and relaxation through the striations of Sebastian’s muscles. You visualize your magic wrapping through the infinitely small tears and bruises he’s endured to diffuse a relief that emanates a warm, pinkish glow you can genuinely see.

“What’s happening?” Sebastian asks, his voice slurred.

“How do you feel?” you whisper.

“Incredible,” he breathes. “Are you…? Is this magic that you’re doing? Ancient magic?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” you admit softly. “Regular magic, ancient magic… It’s probably a bit of both.”

“How did you–?” Sebastian asks before trailing off in a lazy, satisfied moan. “Merlin, it feels good.”

“Anne’s been showing me some of the healing magic she’s been studying with Nurse Blainey,” you say softly. “It’s actually quite interesting, Anne is quite talented with–”

“No more talking about Anne for a little while, love,” Sebastian grits out. “Just – just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. Please.”

You giggle softly while you slide your hands down further to the base of his spine, where you know for a fact he carries an unjust amount of tension. It’s precisely there that he stores his worries about upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, his all-important role on the Quidditch team, and the pressure he puts on himself to succeed so he can take care of Anne once you all graduate – you too, now, even though you insist you’ll be equals in every way possible.

“Feeling a bit better?” you ask him hopefully.

“Can’t remember the last time I felt this good,” he mumbles. “You should be a Healer.”

“I don’t know about that,” you demur. “I rather like the idea of only doing this for you.”

Sebastian’s soft groan sounds like one of assent.

You channel magic through him for a few more moments until you notice that he finally feels less inflamed beneath your fingertips. Then you let the glow fade away until it’s just you and Sebastian, no more magic thrumming between where your bodies touch.

He’s quiet for several long moments and you wonder whether you might have simply magicked him to sleep.

“Bash?” you whisper. “Are you alright?”

All of a sudden, he’s remarkably alive beneath you. He cants one hip to tip you off of his back and onto the bed beside him, earning an annoyed huff out of you when you land on your rear. But before you can put the words together to protest, he’s parting your legs with his hands so he can settle between them and rucking up the jersey until he can see your bare core.

“You’re incredible,” he tells you earnestly. “I feel better than I have in months, love.”

“Th-that’s good,” you stutter, a bit bewildered.

He continues, “And I’m going to return the favor right this minute.”

You barely have time to blink before he’s kissing you breathless and rocking his hips against yours. You gasp sharply into his mouth and he swallows the sound, pressing his tongue against yours in that filthy way that he knows gets you soaking for him every single time he does it.

“Bash,” you whine. “Slow down a little.”

“Not a chance,” he says against your neck. “I want you, you made me need you.”

…Merlin, did you?

You try to focus while Sebastian stretches out the collar of his own jersey to suck claiming bruises along your collarbone. Did you overdo it on the healing spell? Possibly imbue him with a little too much “love?”

But then he confesses, “You’re irresistible in my clothes like this, d’you know that?”

You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that that’s what’s got him so worked up. It’s you in his colors, his rumpled clothing with his damn name emblazoned on your back.

That quickly gives you an idea.

“Let me turn over,” you grunt as you try to squirm out from underneath him. “Sebastian, please.”

He looks thoroughly displeased when you sit up, so you placate him with one more filthy kiss before he won’t have access to your mouth for a while. Then you settle on your elbows and knees, jersey shoved up to the middle of your waist.

Sebastian says some foul words under his breath when he sees you arch and present yourself for him. You wish he’d just bury himself in you, patience and preparation be damned. Together the two of you have discovered that there’s a time and a place for slow, intimate lovemaking just as much as there is for desperate, urgent, feral fucking.

You know which one Sebastian is craving.

“Take me like this, Bash,” you say breathlessly. “So you can see whose name I carry.”

He leans over you and drags his hand across the “SALLOW” stitched in thick, white letters across the broadest part of the jersey’s shoulders. Then he lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl as he grinds his hips against yours.

“I need to be inside you,” he grunts. Behind you, you can hear him shoving his base layer down his thighs before he drags two fingertips along your slit and uses your wetness to stroke his cock. “I can’t be patient.”

“Don’t be,” you insist. You sway your hips invitingly and arch your back. “I’m ready.”

“You need my fingers,” he tells you. “I’ll give you enough, I won’t hurt you.”

You stun him by reaching a hand back and showing him how you can press two fingers against your entrance that easily sink inside. You moan softly at how different the angle is from how you usually touch yourself, but it works to get the point across to Sebastian.

“I’m ready,” you repeat. “I was waiting for you.”

Sebastian traces a thumb along your slit beside your fingers, pulling you open a bit to let himself look his fill as you spread your wetness around wantonly.

“Is this what you were doing while I was at practice?” he asks. “Laying in this bed in my clothes, playing with your pussy, and thinking of what I’d do to you when I got back?”

Now that’s a word he most certainly picked up from those Muggle books he likes to read, but it makes you squirm desperately nonetheless.

“Yes,” you whimper. “B-but I waited for you to finish.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “I suppose I’ll have to make sure you’re properly seen to, since you’ve been waiting so long.”

He presses his thumb against your entrance with your two fingers and when you can easily take it inside as well, he decides you’re indeed plenty ready for his cock instead. His gentle hand on your wrist coaxes you into pulling out, and then he lines himself up and starts to press inside.

You whimper his name as you collapse onto your elbows. He feels impossibly big like this, and despite your insistence that you were ready for him, it’s a toe-curling kind of stretch that has you panting and trembling beneath him while your body alternates between its animal instincts to rear back or submit.

“Good, you take me so well, love,” he groans. “How do you feel?”

In answer, you loudly groan into the pillow you’ve bunched up beneath you.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” he says smugly. “Hold on tight for me, alright?”

After a few easy thrusts to ensure you’re properly braced for the full weight of him, Sebastian starts to relentlessly pound you down into the mattress. He supports you with his forearm wrapped beneath your hips and one broad hand pressing into your back – right below where his name is inscribed.

You’re fiercely loud in bed with him, but even when you’re whining and nearly sobbing for him, you can’t drown out the sound of his foul mouth.

“Take this cock,” he grunts. “Take it all, it’s what you wanted, right? For me to fill you up?”

“Yes!” you wail, knowing he expects an answer.

“That’s right,” he growls. “You want it all, I’ll give it all to you, always.”

He leans over your back and grinds in deep and you feel a twinge that isn’t entirely pleasure, but you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop – it’s too good, especially when it’s straddling the line of being too much.

“I’m gonna give you everything,” he confesses into your ear. “My seed, my name on your back, I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Give it to me,” you slur. “Go on, Bash.”

“I will love, I will,” he grunts. “But I’m finishing you first.”

He keeps murmuring filth into your ear while he works a hand underneath you to rub quick, firm circles against your clit the way he knows you like. He talks about how sweet you are for him, how you’re the best thing he has, how he wants to keep you right here for as long as you’ll let him, but whether he means in this bed or in his arms you can’t possibly know.

He deftly works you to a breathtaking climax – quite literally you lose your breath, and he just keeps drawing it out with his eager fingers and his cock buried deep in you for so long that you wonder when it will ever stop. When it finally relents, you rest your cheek against the pillow and lie boneless, content to let Sebastian hold your hips up so he can work himself toward his finish.

“Want you to keep it all inside,” he says mindlessly. “Keep it in, keep my jersey on too, fuck–”

When he spills in you, he grinds his sensitive cock against your hips for as long as he can take it to make sure you stay full of his spend. Then when he pulls out, he tucks that damn jersey back down over your ass as if to make the claim, Our work here is done.

You lay exhausted on your stomach while Sebastian cozies up behind you. Within minutes of catching your breaths his stomach growls, so you know you won’t be there for much longer, but neither of you seems to be in any hurry to untangle yourself from the other.

Eventually, you have to ask him, “...So, ‘my name on your back,’ hmm?”

You expect him to blush and stammer, or start talking about how maybe, someday, when he feels like he’s satisfied some sort of redemptive goal that will make him feel like he deserves it, that could be a reality.

Instead, he kisses behind the hinge of your jaw and murmurs, “I meant it. Whenever you want it, it’s yours. Just say the word.”

“Fine, but if I get the name, I get to keep the jersey,” you sigh.

He buries his nose in your hair and happily mumbles, “I think we’ll have to negotiate that one.”

[kyojurismo]

Emergency r.

Hello! Could I request how would Giyuu, Muzan and Douma react to getting caught about to have sex or in the middle of it by your parents? I thought about something funny and kind nsfw to cheer me up a bit, like poor parents. I think a modern setting could work better (?) idk😓

Thanks for what you do for us and take care💓

▸ ANSWERING. hello anon! i’m sorry it took me longer than expected, i wasn’t really in the mood to write for it & i’ve had a kinda bad day on my own so. i wanted to thank you for your kind words and once again i apologise for the delay <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. giyu tomioka, muzan kibutsuji & douma (upper rank two) x fem!reader

▸ RATING. nsfw

▸ WARNINGS. modern au! smut, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid guys), um tiny bit of degradation, getting caught, not proofread

GIYU TOMIOKA

you were back from college for a while and your boyfriend decided to pass by, taking the opportunity.

you knew it was risky. you didn’t knew when your parents would be precisely back but you wanted to do it anyway.

giyu trusted you, of course. that’s how you two found each others on your bed. your hands tightly holding to his shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist, the sounds filling your old bedroom were your moans, his grunts and the smacking of skin on skin.

“fuck— missed y-you so much,” his low voice filled your ears for a moment, followed by a whine. the way he was thrusting into you felt amazing, the stretch was too good; you missed feeling this close to him.

“i’m so close, baby. oh shit— giyu!” you arched your back, your walls tightening around giyu’s cock, who started twitching while filling you with his cum. you two came together… right in front of you parents.

when you tiredly glanced at your open door, you almost screamed and tried to desperately cover you both. “mom!” your cheeks were so red and you noticed giyu tensing up and he struggled to move and cover himself as best as he could.

your parents closed the door, shouting apologies and a series of sorry for interrupting. you covered your face with your hands and sighed.

“i think i-i won’t show up for a while,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling in shock. you turned to him, “what— you’re so dramatic, i’m sure they got caught at least once in their life… they’ll get over it.”

“plus, they can’t really hate you for making me cum,” you winked, making him blush even more if possible. you bursted out laughing and giyu’s chuckles quickly followed, fortunately.

somehow, you were more concerned about your boyfriend than your parents.

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

your parents had a spare key of your apartment, just in case. you invited them over for dinner, so you could let ‘em meet your boyfriend.

what you weren’t expecting was how they would actually meet him for the first time.

your hands were gripping the back of the couch, holding you steady as muzan fucked you from behind. his hips were thrusting into you slow but hard.

“i want more! please,” you cried, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. “what a needy slut, you can’t get enough of this dick huh?” his voice went straight to your core, your arousal kept gushing around him. “look at how wet you are, shit— keep taking it like a whore.”

you arched your back while he finally started moving faster, his dick hitting all the right spots inside your warm channel. your whines became louder when he randomly spanked your butt, sending shots of pain through your body followed by those of pleasure.

“hey honey, we’re her— oh my god!” your dad’s voice snapped you out of your dazed state. “d-dad!” you pushed muzan back and looked for something to cover yourself. they were quick to turn around, giving you some privacy. “oh god,” you whispered, embarrassed.

“well, good evening,” muzan glanced at them, his hips covered by one of your blankets, a shit eating grin on his flushed face. of course he wasn’t embarrassed.

“quit it,” you muttered and slapped his chest, a bit sticky with sweat. “i was just welcoming your parents.”

DOUMA

you asked your friend to leave the dorm room so you could have some private time with your boyfriend, coming from another college. you were grateful they accepted without hesitation.

but you forgot your birthday was the following day and your parents wanted to surprise you by coming and take a cake to celebrate together, even if it was a small thing.

“i missed you so much, petal,” douma’s hands were caressing your hips, staring up at you. your breasts swayed with every movement, and he found it hypnotising. you were so beautiful sitting on top of him, riding his cock.

“m-me too baby,” you whimpered and kept jumping on his lap, his head hitting your cervix repeatedly making you gush hard around him. you moved your hands to rest on his chest and started moving with a bit more desperation, seeking the approaching orgasm. douma simply watched you, amazed and in love.

“that’s my girl. you’re close, aren’t you?” he moved one of his hands between your legs and he used his fingers to circle your throbbing clit, adding extra stimulation. “oh fuck! i’m close, don’t stop!” your voice trembled as your body was filled with jolts of pleasure, you arched your back.

“fuckfuckfuck! i’m—” you stopped talking when you came hard around his dick, your walls convulsing around him. douma grunted and thrusted up into you to guide you through it, his hands gripping your hips so tightly.

the door opened soon after and your mom almost dropped the bag with the homemade cake, your dad mentally passed out multiple times. “h-honey…” she tried to speak, trying to avoid the scene in front of them.

“mom!” you squealed and pulled a blanket closer to hide yourself and douma’s hips. he giggled under you, his hands still on your waist. “have you ever heard of knocking?!” your face was burning with embarrassment while douma sat up and made you moan lowly due to him moving, still seated inside of you. “w-we wait outside, let us know when we can come in,” your dad exited with your mother and closed the door, their voices were full of embarrassment.

“fuck,” you placed your forehead on douma’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “oh baby, they ruined it for you?” he muttered, smirking. “you’re– how can you not be embarrassed?” you glanced at him, noticing he was as lively as usual. “you’re the only thing on my mind, i don’t care about the rest,” he simply shrugged before kissing you passionately.

you momentarily got lost in the kiss, caressing his warm cheeks. but then you remembered your parents were right outside the door and you pulled back, starting gathering yourself. “try to seem ashamed for at least five minutes,” you muttered to your boyfriend, who nodded while holding back a laugh.

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. thank you for reading guys, have a nice weekend <3

[hungryforjay]

“For the last time Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t send a hundred bands to my cashapp for a new pair, will it?”

Your nostrils were plagued with forest and sandalwood. The store itself was beautiful—grey tiled floor and white walls graced with graffiti and signatures of artists who paid a lengthy visit. The bell above the door chimed as you walked in, disturbing the few customers who were helped by, seemingly, the only worker.

The door behind you shut with a heavy thud, a breeze compressed from the cracks brushing past your elbows- sifting through your bangs. The bag residing in your forearm felt heavier, and a nagging voice in your ear got impossibly louder.

“—Didn’t think I was gonna throw up on ‘em but I mean—but—are ya listening? Y/n?”

The worker in sight nudged his shoulders towards you and flickered his attention between his group and a new worker that emerged from the staff door. Tall. He was tall. And he looked straight at you.

“Y/n? Hello, Y/n? Y-“

”I’m at the store now okay bye!” You pushed out in one breath, clicking the end button on your phone’s keyboard.

You flipped it shut as the worker approached, shoving it inside a random compartment on the back of your bag. Oh he was tall. You barely make it past the 5’7 mark when wearing platforms, and the straining against your neck to look up towards him did nothing to help.

You took a few steps back and he chuckled, head craning to the side as he did so and the twinkle of silver earrings adorning his ear caught your eye; you were intrigued. His hands, manicured in black and embellished with silver rings, ran through sparkling platinum strands and dark tips.

“How can I help you today?” The worker sneered, his hand brushing his hair past an eyebrow piercing and a slit in his hairs accompanied.

“Hi, yes, I need a new pair of the ankle in black.”

“Mm, platform I’m assuming?” The worker took a look at your platforms and back to your eyes, eyebrow quirking.

You almost wanted to scoff. Crossing your arms, you began to make your way to the women’s section and brushed past the latter’s hoodie. It’s always the cute ones that are snarky.

“You’ve assumed correctly. Care to guess my size while you’re at it?”

He feigned thinking, eyebrows furrowing and a finger tapping at his chin. You came to a stop once he stood fully next to you, foot knocking into his as he compared the sizes of your shoes. Boy was he tall.

“Small.”

You pulled a wry face, eyes dimming, confused at his vague answer. Looking up to question him, you came face to face with his hand face down above your head. It was then you realized he was talking about height.

Rolling your eyes, a grin threatened to pull on your lips as you met his line of eye contact.

“Haha, very funny. Now give me a real answer.”

He chuckled, arms coming to cross at his chest.

“Not now. After my shift though?”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, suddenly interested in the buckles of your boot. Is he asking me out? The thought had you biting your lips to prevent them from breaking out into a large grin, you didn’t want to seem too excited.

“I get out at four thirty, not too long from now.” He fiddled with the watch on his wrist, a light crimson creeping up his neck and onto his face.

You couldn’t be more thankful for your cousin throwing up on your shoes. With newfound confidence, you looked up and caught his name-tag, a shiny silver thing with dark blue words engraved Riki.

“Sure, Riki, guess I’ll just linger around ‘til then.”

[lilveeblog]

mad

JJ is upset because everyone is mad at her about Emily coming back Cg Elle ! Mentioned Emily 1.6 k

JJ slammed the door, grabbing Elle’s attention immediately. The blonde charged into the kitchen threw her bag onto the chair and huffed off upstairs in a fury. Elle grew confused and followed her girlfriend up the stairs. 

Elle caught a glimpse of JJ in the bathroom before she slammed the door shut. 

Elle knocked gently, “Jennifer, what's going on?” She didn’t get an answer straight away so asked again before trying the handle. JJ hadn’t locked the door so Elle slid into the dark bathroom. JJ had pulled the blind down and was sat in the empty bath, knees to her chest, head down and hair covering her face. “Jay,” Elle said, growing concerned. JJ brought herself here when severely overwhelmed. The cold porcelain of the bath, paired with the deep sides which came up around her calmed her down - and helped her feel safer. “What’s happened, baby?” Elle asked. She sat beside the bath and reached her hand in. She was cautious to touch her but JJ sensed the hand above her head and lifted it slightly so Elle could stroke her hair. Glad JJ initiated the touch, Elle began running her hand over the girl's head, comforting her. JJ still didn’t answer but Elle was okay with that, now knowing she was safe. She didn’t know if JJ was going to regress but with the suddenness of the shutdown, she knew deep down it was inevitable. 

Around ten minutes later, after sitting in silence, JJ lifted her head. Tears were streaming steadily down her pink cheeks and Elle pouted, looking at her sweet girl. “What happened, Peanut?” “They mad,” JJ said simply, in quite a younger voice. “Who is baby?” “Team,” JJ mumbled. She reached over for Elle and then clambered out of the bath. She sat herself in between Elle’s legs on the bathroom floor and wrapped her arms and legs around her caregiver - giving her a big koala hug. Elle smiled and held her tight. 

It had been a while since JJ’s regression was triggered like this - it hardly ever happened anymore. As sad as that made Elle sometimes, she could see how much better JJ was. How much healthier and stronger she’d become with her new therapist and new coping mechanisms. Elle knew she’d always come back to her little self eventually but it made her mad that the team being angry with her had triggered this. “Why are they mad? Are they angry with you?” Elle asked, running her hands up and down JJ’s back. “Em come back,” JJ whispered, “Mad and they say my fault.” “They’re mad she came back?” “I lie,” JJ sobbed as tears broke through her. Elle sighed and held JJ tighter as more tears took over her. 

Elle managed to get JJ to her bedroom after some more tears. She wasn’t expecting the night to go like this. She held JJ’s shaking hands as she trimmed and filed her nails, making sure her regressed self wouldn’t cause any unwanted harm to the body. JJ had explained what happened, going over the case briefly where she could and then Derek and Reid’s reactions - how they got mad and Spencer’s threat. “Sweetheart, look at me,” Elle said. She let go of JJ’s trembling hands and held her face gently. Her thumbs wiped the stray tears. “I lied,” JJ whimpered. “You protected Emily. You did your job. You did what you had to do and I am so insanely proud of you for that, baby girl.” “But Spe-” “Spencer is hurting. He’s confused, he’s angry and he’s going to take it out on the one person he trusts most because he knows you won’t leave. It isn’t fair on you, not at all but he’ll be okay. He won’t be angry forever, he’ll grow to understand that what you did was a necessity.” 

JJ nodded gently and Elle kissed her head before going over to the wardrobe. “Let’s get you changed.” 

“Arms up, Peanut,” Elle whispered softly as JJ began to stare off into space, eyes teary again. Elle knew it was going to be a long, painful night with all these tears and feelings. She just hoped she could keep JJ as safe and small as possible then the anger, confusion and negativity wouldn’t take control of her. JJ didn’t respond so Elle did the work. She slid JJ’s arms out of her t-shirt and pulled it off her head. She took off her bra too and then slid her pyjama top on. Guiding JJ’s arms through the holes, Elle made sure to be gentle. She then made sure the wrists were tight around them so she couldn’t pull up the sleeves - a difficult but necessary precaution. Next, she managed to lie JJ on the bed to sort out her bottom half. 

Once in her pyjamas, Elle wondered what to do. She wanted to finish making dinner but knew JJ wouldn’t eat - not without a fight. She also knew she couldn’t leave JJ on her own, not even for five minutes in this state. Sighing, she managed to get JJ on her back before heading to the kitchen. 

Sitting JJ securely on the counter was easy but as soon as she tried to get to the other side of the room, the small girl whined loudly. “I’m right here,” Elle said, reaching a hand over to JJ but JJ shook her head. She jumped off the counter and walked over to Elle, wrapping her arms around her. Elle chuckled slightly and lifted JJ back up. “You sit here, I’m just making you something to eat,” she tried to argue but JJ cried out again. “Okay, okay baby.” Elle sighed. She grabbed a bottle, some milk and sugar quickly before coming and standing beside JJ. JJ moved closer to her, as close as she could get. It had been a long time since it had been this bad and Elle knew it was all the team’s fault. Spencer’s especially. Yet, as angry as Elle felt, she knew she couldn’t show that around JJ. 

The pair ended up on the couch with dancing strawberries on the screen. Elle tried Bluey at first, knowing that was JJ’s all-time favourite, but the business of it stressed her small one out. JJ rubbed at her eyes harshly watching it, trying to get her little brain to keep up with the yapping dogs but she couldn’t and it quickly turned into a meltdown. The strawberries and sprouts settled the small girl back down again. 

Holding JJ in her arms, Elle rocked them both softly. It was a gentle motion, not to overwhelm her but to keep her regulated. She wanted to get JJ in her rocker on her own at first but knew that getting it out of its storage space whilst JJ was so small and clingy was going to be hard so settled just holding her on her own instead. JJ’s soft blue eyes flickered over the screen as she rhythmically sucked on her paci, Elle stroked her hair. 

A knock on the door broke the pattern and JJ’s half-asleep body jerked awake in Elle’s arms. Immediately she cried out, not impressed at being disturbed. Elle cursed and held her tighter, hoping to ignore the person at the door but there was another knock, causing JJ to cry louder. “It’s okay baby, mama’s here,” Elle mumbled. She set JJ on the sofa and ran to the door and swung it open - hoping to be back to JJ after telling the distributor to fuck off. However, she saw a very glum-looking Emily. Just as both women went to say something, JJ crashed into Elle, wrapping her arms around her waist and clinging to her mama’s top. 

“Oh baby, mama’s here you’re okay,” Elle mumbled, forgetting about Emily at the door.

“Oh I’ve missed her,” Emily mumbled from outside after a few more moments of silence. “I’m so sorry, Emily, come in. Can you lock the door behind you?” Elle picked up JJ and carried her back to the sofa. She sat her girl down on the seat and grabbed her paci which she dropped in her crying. Emily came in and sat on the opposite sofa. “I’m sorry again, Em,” Elle said, fumbling over the fussy girl. “She’s been like this since she got home.” “I heard how the team reacted to her. They’re all angry at her and Hotch but obviously can’t express it to their boss so it’s all coming out on her. She was distraught at work.” Emily explained, watching on. Emily knew all about JJ’s regression and often babysat back when it was more common but JJ getting better and Emily being away, she’d not seen it in over a year. 

“She’s not been this young in years,” Elle sighed and cradled JJ. Instantly the younger girl settled back in her caregiver’s arms. She clung to her t-shirt, burying her head in Elle’s neck with her paci in her mouth again. Elle sighed and began rocking to try and get her back to sleep. 

“I should have called before I came over - I didn’t even think-” Emily said apologetically. “Don’t worry, she's settled now. Anything and everything is setting her off at the moment, even Bluey.” Elle sighed. 

JJ fell asleep and Emily and Elle got into the rhythm of a good old catch-up, it had been so long since they’d spoken properly. Emily caught Elle up on her time in Paris and Elle told Emily about how she and JJ were getting on. 

Eventually, Emily left and Elle woke up a half-asleep JJ to get her upstairs and into bed. Elle knew she couldn’t leave JJ alone, so settled her in her bed with her. 

It was an easy night after that, JJ slept like a baby.

[asocialangel]

What Could Be

↬fake dating Shidou

After you made up inexistant rumors that the whole world thinks Shidou is gay, he might want to ask for your help to prove 'em he isn't.

chapter 1 – chapter 2 – chapter 3 – [...]

Shidou x fem!manager!reader. Fake dating. 700w. Okay this is so baddd ahh but more action with Shidou !! yaaa

Chapter 3, Going Public

[no warnings]

[“So, princess, what are the rules for our fake relationship ?”]

This was so casual yet it already gave you butterflies. But you wanted to pretend so bad it didn't. “Well first rule, no nicknames !” “No nicknames ? While dating ? Seriously ? This won’t even be believable, at least one of us has to use nicknames." You sighted. He was right, but princess… It just felt a lil too special to you, the kind of nickname you’d want to be used genuinely, not in some fake ass act. “What pet names do you think we'd use if we were actually dating ?” He asked again without even letting you time to answer. “I don't know, ‘baby’ ? He snickered: “That’s too corny. And it sounds weird in your mouth… Doesn’t anything come more naturally ?”. The way he was so chill, like it was just yet another relationship he was gonna get into irritated you more than it hurt you. “Princess sounds right for you, ‘cause look, you're already commanding me like we’re an old couple. You furrowed your eyebrows: “look, honey, we both know you need this more than I do, so lay low and stop GETTING ON MY NERVES” You whined that end part, getting really frustrated at just trying to imagine how this could possibly come out great. You closed your eyes really tightly. “That sounds about right.” “Honey? That's what we're going with?” You opened your eyes back up only to see Shidou making fun of you. You laughed, it wasn't that serious. 

You guys finished talking and quickly parted ways, he had a curfew and you still had quite a few things to get done before the end of the day. You had set something straight: tomorrow, you would ‘go public’ by holding hands and ‘accidentally’ getting caught kissing. You secretly wanted to ask him how it worked, but that meant revealing that you had not kissed anyone before and you couldn't handle more humiliation. That night you really struggled to fall asleep, heart pounding, anxious about the upcoming day and all the milestones you were about to break. So the next morning you tried to pretend everything was normal and that you were so detached. 

“I’m not buying it”. That’s literally the first thing Shidou answered to your “hi babe~” you tried to say confidently, so people would hear and also so Shidou would think you’re not shaking at his sight. “It’s okay to be flustered, I tend to have that effect on women”. “More like men. But anyway. Where should we be seen ?” It was so funny to meticulously plan something supposedly candid. “I was thinking the field, you could drop me off and give me a towel, kissing me goodbye.” “That’s way too obvious. We’re supposed to get caught in our secret relationship.” “Ah yeah, you’re right, well I don't know then.” “Then find some ideas ! I don't wanna be the one doing everything !” “Yeah I know you got beauty, not brains.” “Excuse me ?! –the sound level and tension kept growing– Was it deserved ? No ! Was it true ? N–” “–Vivi someone's coming ! Hold my hand, this is our chance !” “No ! I hate you ! You’re so annoy–” You couldn't even finish that Shidou grabbed your hand, pulling closer and kissed your mouth, leaving you breathless. 

Your first kiss, just like that. You couldn't even see who it was that caught you. You were so stunned. An overwhelming amount of sensations triggered an overwhelming amount of emotions. But, they were… so positive. Calm but at the same time excitement, lust maybe, curiosity and lots of bashfulness. When he pulled out of the kiss, you already missed his warm tongue. You finally registered his hand lightly stroking your lower back as you looked away hoping he wouldn't see your vermillion cheeks. Now you knew: it was Isagi, Bachira and Barou who caught you two. Isagi looked extremely uneasy, making you wonder why is HE the one embarrassed here ?! On the other hand, Barou stayed impassive, his face was so neutral you couldn't decipher what he was thinking. He looked low-key disappointed though. But Bachira ? Ooh your ears hurt with how much he screamed and giggled. He made the serious promise to tell all Blue Lock. And you knew he was dead serious. This drama king… 

The second they left you shouted, pink in embarrassment at Shidou: “I HAD SAID NO ! AND WE WE SAID KISS, I MEANT KISS ON THE CHEEK !!” “That was your first right ? I could tell”. He laughed softly looking at you dead in the eye, so attractive you started blushing all over again. It wasn’t mockery or disgust in his eyes, but you couldn't say what. Maybe endearment, wanting to help. “I hate you”. “But I was good, right ?” “I don't know, I'm not sure what it’s supposed to be like”, you rolled your eyes to pretend you didn't love every second of it. 

“We’ll practice”.

A/N loolll this is so clumsily written i hate it, but i now have a clear idea of which events will happen in which chapters so i think i won't be abandonning this project for sure !!!

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Above Or Below? (Another Level Extra)

Okay, so, it's not a lot of the beatdown, but it's what I got for you guys lol

It's below the cut!

You can read Another Level on AO3 💕

2018

He felt his smirk grow to a sneer as he practically slammed the door open, meeting Naobito’s wary gaze.

“Heard you were waiting for me to pay you a little visit,” he said simply, raising his eyebrows when the man stayed silent. “Something you might wanna talk to me about? No?”

Naobito’s eyes narrowed at him as he shrugged his shoulders.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck you did to her? Or am I gonna need to start-”

“I saved her fucking life,” Naobito snapped. “She was the one stupid enough to come barging in, screaming at anyone she could find. And I tried to get her to a goddamn doctor, but she left before-”

“Doctor wouldn’t have fucking helped her and you know it,” Gojo cut him off. “She would have died if she’d stayed for your doctor, and that was why you were fucking panicking.”

Stepping closer, he felt his sneer grow.

“Who started the fight?”

Naobito clenched his jaw before he shrugged.

“I wasn’t here, so I don’t-”

He pulled his shades off as he glared at the old man, watching fear flash in his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t bullshit me, old shit,” Gojo ordered, watching Naobito tense further. “You talk to each other. And ya had to for this shit, yeah? To get your goddamn stories straight for when I showed up. But you’re gonna tell me the fucking truth and then you’re gonna tell me where the fuck Jinichi is.”

When Naobito didn’t answer, he narrowed his eyes.

“Who started the goddamn fight?”

“Jinichi started the fight,” Naobito admitted. “Hit her on her way out.”

Gojo grinned as he placed his shades back onto his face.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, his grin widening until he was baring his teeth. “Now, where is he?”

“I won’t have you killing a member of the Zenin clan over that-”

“Call her a mistake, old man,” Gojo said quietly, letting his shades slip back down. “Or a half-breed. Go on, you piece of shit.”

Part of him wanted the old man to do it. To give Gojo the excuse to kill him for being part of why she fucking saw herself that way. Called herself a goddamn half-breed when that shit never even fucking mattered.

When Naobito clenched his jaw again, Gojo sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he gave him a bored look.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he reasoned, stuffing his left hand into his pocket. “Unfortunately for me, I can’t beat him as bad as he beat her. Ya know why, old man?”

Naobito stayed silent and Gojo pushed his shades up as he gave him a cold grin.

“Because Jinichi would die before we got even halfway to how bad he beat Kurisaki. On top of that, I promised her I’d beat him within an inch of his life if she gave me the okay.”

Naobito’s eyes narrowed at the last statement, and Gojo smirked, shrugging carelessly.

“Which means I gotta avoid that margin, too,” he continued. “But I’m sure you know all about these little specifics, huh? So here’s our deal: You tell me where Jinichi is, and I’ll let you decide if we go above or below that. Two inches from death or half an inch. Your choice.”

“He’s with the rest of the Hei,” Naobito relented, his eyes narrowing when Gojo’s grin widened into a sadistic one. “They won’t stand by while you-”

“They will,” Gojo cut him off, clapping his hands together once. “You’ll tell them to. Because if they don’t, our little deal is void. And I won’t give anyone else the same courtesy he gets this time.”

Leaning closer, he let his shades slip again as he stared into Noabito’s eyes.

“Now, you didn’t say which: above or below?”

-

Gojo pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and held it up after he unfolded it.

“Had Shoko make a chart just in case you need visuals,” he said gleefully, watching Jinichi roll his eyes. “List of all Kurisaki’s injuries. Had ‘em listed in order of how severe they were. Y’see this line here? That is the line where shit starts becoming fatal. Now, you see all of this?”

He pointed to the graphic slowly and grinned when he saw the fear flicker through Jinichi’s eyes.

It had made Gojo feel sick when Shoko first handed it over.

Cracked skull, ripped lungs, broken sternum, four broken ribs, three cracked vertebrae, broken cheek bone, bruised larynx, broken left hand, misc. internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, broken nose…

Oh, this piece of shit had done a number on Rinko, alright.

Gojo was even more surprised she was still alive after seeing the full list.

He’d make her cum for each injury after the fatal line once he was done here.

If she didn’t pass out first, he thought as he looked at the list. Might be too many for one sitting. She usually started crying around four-

“According to science, she should have died here.” Gojo pointed to the little mark. “So, here’s what we’re gonna do- hang on, lemme just-”

He retrieved the measuring strip from his pocket, causing Jinichi to roll his eyes again. Holding it up to the chart, Gojo located the injury listed exactly two inches from the fatal mark.

“That is where I’ll stop.”

Stuffing the paper and measuring strip back into his pockets, he pressed his hands together happily.

“Two inches from death. Just as agreed.”

Warping behind Jinichi, Gojo rammed his fist into the back of his head, throwing him out of the room and into the courtyard.

“Heard that was the first hit, hm?” he called, holding his hand up beside to mouth to make sure he was heard. “Back of her head? Weren’t even brave enough to face her in a fair fight?”

Warping again, he raised his leg and kicked Jinichi in the back. Squinting slightly, he made sure he aimed correctly. Shoko had said the fifth vertebrae.

“Don’t worry,” he stated calmly, grabbing Jinichi by the throat and slamming him back into the ground. “I didn’t put enough behind that kick to snap your spine quite as bad as you did hers. Shouldn’t paralyze you, yeah?”

Sadly.

“Now, while I don’t have seven fists,” Gojo mused, grinning as he went over the list in his head. “I think I can move fast enough to simulate that damage.”

[noodyl-blasstal]

For the prompts - 14 with the twins mayhaps? (I love your writing so much)

Thank you so much for this, you're so kind and I'm really glad you enjoy!

Prompt 14 is: You drive me insane. Obviously I would go to hell for you. (perfect for the twins)

--

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” Taako twists another chunk of Lup’s curls up on top of her head.

“I hate you harder.”

“Good. It gives cha’boy strength.”

Lup snaps her teeth at him in the mirror.

Taako doesn’t flinch, just grins back as big and as smug as he can.

“Just stop taking my makeup?” She makes her eyes go wide enough that Taako almost relents.

He doesn’t though, he’s stronger than that, he’s a lifetime veteran of The Lup Look. She shouldn’t use it so often if she wants it to keep its potency. “How else was cha’boy supposed to get this shiny?” Taako wiggles his shimmery shimmery arm.

“By buying your own glitter, Goofus.”

“Uh huh, yeah, sure, no problem, cha’boy’ll start doing that as soon as you start buying your own skirts. Also washing up liquid.”

“I got some!”

“You got the off brand shit.” Taako doesn’t even try to hide his distain.

“It works just as wel…”

“No it fucking doesn’t! We’ve had this conversation, I refuse to believe that you think for a second that it does, you’re smarter than that.” Taako pins another chunk of hair firmly (but gently) in place.

“Aw! You think I’m smart?” Lup bats her eyelashes and gives him the sickliest smile she can manage in the mirror.

“I didn’t say that!” 

“You absolutely did, but fine, we’ll test the Garfield dish stuff sometime.” Lup shrugs nonchalantly, too nonchalantly.

Taako looks her straight in her mirror eyes. “You swapped it!” 

“I didn’t.” Mirror Lup avoids looking back at him.

“Prove it.”

“Prove I did!”

“Taako doesn’t need to prove it, he knows it.”

“Oh, so you decided I did something and that’s it forever? What if I assume you’re going to let me have full control of the TV for the rest of the month?”

“Breaking news, Dingus, you’re not Taako and therefore it doesn’t matter.”

“Cha’girl’s just decided that it works when she decides something’s true too.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Then how does it work?”

Taako pins the last of her hair into place and adds the pins that make it look like there’s flames springing up from her crown.

“It works.”

“That’s not an answer, Ko.” Lup turns her head a few times, then adds, “...thanks, that looks great.”

“Yeah you do!”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“It’s important to boost your confidence, Taako knows it’s tough being the less hot twin.” 

Lup kicks him. Taako isn’t entirely sure how because she’s sat down and he’s behind her and there’s a fucking chair in the way, but she manages it because she’s nothing if not resourceful.

“We have the same face!”

“Sure we do.” 

“You’re the worst.”

“I know you are, you said you are, but what am I?” Taako sticks his tongue out.

“Have I ever told you that I hate you?”

Taako taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… have you, Lup Taaco, my most beloved sister, ever told me, your darling brother, that you hate me? Surely not! Surely you would never hurt cha’boy that way.”

Lup’s eyes narrow and Taako surreptitiously double checks where the nearest exit is. He can hurdle the costuming tables no problem. Sure, it’d take a while for Lucretia to forgive him if he fucked up her system, but life or death…

“Twintentional Destruction! It’s go time in 60 seconds!” Ren shouts through the door.

“We’re gonna crush ‘em.” Lup jumps out of the chair, there’s no ounce of doubt in her voice, it’s just fact.

“Natch.” Taako shrugs. “We’re unstoppable.”

“Do you wanna do the piggyback, or should I?”

“You can get on my back this time. You had that cool pose we practised.”

“Hell yeah! They’re not gonna know what hit ‘em.”

“What hit ‘em’ll be you. Clotheslining them from my back.”

“Fine, they might know…”

“But if we’re really quick…” Taako adds

“Then they might at least be slightly confused.”

“Do you know anything about these guys?” 

Taako had meant to, you know, do some kind of google or ask literally anyone for any information, but time happened and then the fight was today. He’d figure it out once he got out there.

Lup skrunkles up her nose in thought as they walk towards the staging area. “Nah. I think one of them was called Bluejean or something?”

“I saw some incredible feather cloak on the costume table, but ‘Creesh threatened to put a curse on me if I tried to steal it.”

“Did you try anyway?”

“Look, magic doesn’t exist right? But if it did…”

“If it did then Lucretia would definitely use it to damn your soul forever if you messed up the system.”

“Exactamundo. So you see how it’s not worth finding out if she can or not?”

“Yeah, fair. I’d miss you if she banished you to the depths of super hell.” Lup pats him fondly on the shoulder as they reach their marked entrance spot. Ren nods, holds up both hands to let them know there’s 10 seconds to go.

“I’d miss you too. Now let’s go murder some fresh meat.”

“Denim Man and Feather Boy are going down!”

Lup jumps onto his back and raises a triumphant fist. There’s no way they’re not taking victory tonight.

[paleparearchive]

SummerTime Melancholy ~ The Night Flowers I Look Up At With You

Giotto's Scenario

Chapter 1 ( 1 - 2 - 3 )

(1/5)

Giotto: Oh no, I only got a few days 'til the event…

(It's an event sponsored by a salon I often deal with. I wanna do what I'm asked to, but I wanna do it well.)

I think it’s ‘cause of the quantity, since new pieces are brought in every day.

(The sales pitch for this painting contest is that a critique by a working artist must be attached to each entry.)

It's nice to see so many aspiring young painters out there. I wanna go straight to that enthusiasm.

(However, no matter how many days go by, the number of entries that have yet to be judged is still a problem…)

I wonder if I'm spendin' too much time judgin' one work…

(But a critique that only points out the obvious might nip young sprouts in the bud. I wanna praise and develop their good points.)

–In this work, the rough sketch is somethin’ to work on, but the colors are nice and the theme’s original… Also, oh–

Salon owner: Hey, Giotto. I came to check on you. How’s it going? How’s the works’ review proceeding?

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(2/5)

Giotto: Ah, greetings…

Salon owner: Wait, you're not done at all! What's this all about? This is…

Just a quick glance at the work and a quick comment! You're a successful artist, you can do it, right?

Giotto: Right, but a coarse critique could nip young sprouts in the bud… I wanna develop the good points of the artist through their painting. They can draw this much now. If they continue like this, they'll get better. And yet, I can't let my critique cause ‘em to break their brush–

Salon owner: Hey hey, what are you talking about! More entries will be coming in the future, you know? I don't want you to spend so much time on one that you won’t be able to look at the others! Everyone is waiting for your critiques.

Giotto: H-Huuh…

(... W-Will there be more of ‘em?)

Salon owner: Now that you understand, I’ll ask you to do it more quickly next time! I'll be back to check up on you!

Giotto: … I'll try my best.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(3/5)

Giotto: (Nothin' decreases as the days go by, only work tasks pile up.)

–I wanna paint a picture… How long haven't I been paintin’?

(As an artist, I'm happy to be in the public eye and to be relied upon. However, I feel like I’m forgettin’ myself as a painter. I need some time to face myself.)

I serve as a judge for competitions and show up at various painting events. I wonder if I will be able to go easy on my job soon…

Salon owner: –Giotto, is this a good time?

Giotto: Ah, yes?

(Ugh. I'm afraid I'm gonna get another scolding 'bout the progress of the critique.)

If it’s 'bout the reviews, I'm still workin’ on 'em–

Salon owner: No, that's not what I’m talking about today. I need you to perform at the noon part of the event.

Giotto: Ya mean the live painting?

Salon owner: Exactly. There will be a fireworks display at night, but I'd like a successful painter like you to make the noon session a great success. I've also asked you to be a judge for the painting competition, so it’s just right, yeah?

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(4/5)

Giotto: I’m sorry, but I have other work to do as well, so I–

Salon owner: Huh!? Don't tell me you're going to turn it down!? I thought you would've accepted the offer without a second thought… I've also asked Raffaello to be your live painting partner.

Giotto: Raffaello?

(That guy also shows up in a lot of places, it must be tough for him…)

Salon owner: Well, don't be in such a hurry to give me an answer. You have a day to think about it.

Giotto: H-Huh…

Salon owner: I expect to hear a positive answer the next time I come back. Well then…

Giotto: (Even if he told me to think ‘bout it, what can I do?)

Hmm… I’m plannin’ on turnin’ it down, maybe I should consult with Raffaello directly?

(It sounds like he's been gettin' calls from everywhere, maybe he can give me advice with a similar situation.)

For now, I’ll just get today’s work done. I’m gonna make it in time for the event!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

(5/5)

Raffaello: … Sigh.

Giotto: Raffaellooo, ya there?

Raffaello: ! Giotto-san, welcome. Do you need something from me?

Giotto: Yeah. I’ve got somethin' I need to talk to ya ‘bout, can ya spare me some time?

Raffaello: You want to talk to me? … Actually– no.

Giotto: Oh? What’s wrong?

(Somethin' seems off here. Could it be something's botherin' Raffaello too?)

What’s troublin' ya? If you've got somethin' stuck in your chest, I'm here to listen!

Raffaello: Ah, well… That is right. I do not feel comfortable talking about it here, so can we go somewhere else?

Giotto: Oh? Yeah, fine for me. I'd also appreciate it if we could sit back and relax, instead of standin' around. Since we’re here, why don't we go out for a drink?

Raffaello: Yes, that would be nice. Then, how about the bar?

Giotto: Okay. Then I'll look for a place and make a reservation for a table. Why don't we meet up directly at the bar?

Raffaello: Of course. Then, the time–

[voidsdamned]

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Seventeen

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: blood, skinning, and critter death. Mentions of chems.

Enjoy <3

Chapter Seventeen: Dusty Trail

Based on where the moon hangs, Rue would say it’s just shy of midnight, and she should have fed Eggshells several hours ago. But they’re getting fed now, and they purr so loudly as they violently chomp up the crushed eggs, brahmin jerky, and whatever else Rue had left to spare. She pets at the scruff of their neck idly, whispering how sweet they are. She hopes they forgive her for leaving and not being around for snacks.

The jingle-jangle of spurs has her looking up, watching with a smile as the Ghoul steps out onto the porch. He’s fully dressed, all his gear in place. That specter of death in tattered leather.

Time’s run out. She knew it would –knew this couldn’t last forever– but it was nice to pretend. To have a break from reality. But it always comes knocking, and Rue draws herself upright to embrace it, dusting her hands off on her skirt and giving a teasing, “You leavin’ me?”

His head dips slightly, and she can just see enough of his face to know his lips tick up a touch. “I’ll come back around.”

Rue sweeps up to him, hands running along his chest before her fingers grab hold of leather to pull him closer to her level. She coos a sing-songy, “You gonna miss me?”

The Ghoul’s eyes roll, and his only answer is the brush of his gently smiling lips against hers. “Try not to get shot again.”

Rue returns the feathery, sweet, quick kiss and pulls back to grin wide up at him. She fingerguns. “No promises.”

Chuckling and head shaking, the Ghoul turns from her, spurs jingling with each step off the porch. “Goofy as all shit….”

“Be safe and give ‘em hell,” she calls softly after him, earning only a raised hand as recognition that he heard.

The night swallows him up fast, that jingle-jangle of spurs becoming long, dark silence. Something in her chest burns at his departure, at the uncertainty of if she’ll ever get to see him again. Maybe… maybe she should have asked once more if she could be a bounty hunter with him? She’s always heard “third time’s the charm,” but… she doesn’t want to involve him in the shitstorm she’s setting into motion. Not anymore than she already has.

Rue reaches into her skirt pocket, taking her small knife into hand. She turns to the front door, and with a heavy hand, she carves out:

Hey you

I’ll look for you when it’s all over

♡

The knife drops into her pocket, and Rue drops off the porch, needing one last thing before she hits the old, dusty trail herself.

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Roddie Berk is a Mulholland’s regular –a late-nighter, too– and so, Rue isn’t the least bit worried about running into him when she breaks into his weapons shop. She doesn’t want to do it, but he won’t sell to her. In fact, when she tried in the past to buy a rifle and a skinning knife off him, he meanly laughed in her face and said, “Crazy, you ain’t got no business with either. Get on.”

It’s an easy task despite Rue not knowing how to pick a lock. She has a different set of skills that involves a hard, thin scrap of plastic, finagling, and determination. She forces the door open and lets herself inside, going straight away to the ammo cabinet and knowing where Roddie keeps the key. Or where he used to. She’d see him take or stow it when she visited the establishment with her Pa all those years ago, and she’s just hopeful that it’s still on top of the cabinet itself, pressed into a corner.

And it is! Which makes everything so easy for her. She opens the cabinet without a worry, plucks up three boxes of ammo, and starts to leave a handful of caps in the empty spot because she’s not a complete jackass. But then she thinks better of it, thinks about him laughing in her face, and she decides Roddie Berk doesn’t deserve her caps.

Rue tucks the caps and ammo away, locks up the display case, stows the key, and exits the same way she entered.

The walk home passes in an eyeblink, and she wastes no time in donning her gear –which is just her rifle, bag, Baby Destiny, and her slightly-scorched hat. But that’s all she needs.

She doesn’t halt or hesitate when she steps out her door for what she guarantees is the last time, and she doesn’t look over her shoulder as she marches into the dark. She knows what way West is, and that’s the way the Hub is. She’ll get better directions from someone or another along the way.

Rue walks for hours, through what’s left of the night and into the greying dawn. She doesn’t stop until the coolness of night melts away, and by then, she’s made it to a snaking trail that threads between a mesa and craggy rock formations. She finds herself a shallow cave in the narrow pass, climbs carefully over it, and with a few rocks tossed into the darkness of it, draws out the three geckos lounging within.

They’re easy-pickings, not knowing she’s got the high ground on them before it’s too late. And goddamn does it feel good to fire her rifle, to line up a shot just perfect and take it. The rifle kicks, the smell of gunpowder blooming with it. Heads burst into red clouds like they do in her memories. Bodies fall, twitching and dribbling crimson. Rue slides from her perch and tries to remember how to do the next part. It’s been forever since she’s sliced the meat off something that had just been living, but it comes to her.

The harvested bodies are tossed far away when she’s through with them, and the meat gets strung up with sewing thread from a spiny tree to dry while she snoozes. Then she goes into the cave, has herself a small meal of jerky and careful, conservative sips of water, and tucks herself away in a small corner –rifle in hand– to doze.

She stirs only once, and that is when a slight pressure touches on her chest and something warm fans against her face. Rue opens her eyes to find Eggshells sniffing away and pressing at her with big paws.

“Ooh.” Her lips curve with a drowsy smile, hands uncurling from the rifle to give the pretty kitty a good scritch-scratching under the chin. “You stickin’ with me?”

Eggshells only answer is to sit back all neat and tidy and blink slow. Rue takes that as a yes.

“Well, you keep watch,” she says, stifling a yawn as her eyes tick to the mouth of the cave. The way the sunlight falls tells her it’s at least past noon. “And I’ll carry ya later.”

She sleeps again, a little more deeply this time, and when her eyes part next, the slow setting of the sun has painted everything deep orange. Rue’s body is a mess of aches when she uncurls, but she puts that discomfort out of her head and eats the bread she brought along. Sips her water. Eggshells doesn’t want the heel of the bread, but they do take a chunk of the partially-dried gecko jerky when Rue unties it from the tree it was sunning on. She ties the rest about Baby Destiny so it can continue to dry.

They set off, making it out of the narrow passage by the time it is dim and dusky. Eggshells pads behind her by several feet most of the time, but at some point in the night, they start getting right on top of her feet. Rue reckons that means it’s time for her to carry, so she scoops the cat up and they go on their merry way.

She’s still carrying Eggshells when crooked, leaning shadows paint the night sky darker ahead. She has an idea of what they might be, and the idea is confirmed when they step into a charred, dead-quiet town of skeletal frame and heaps of ash. Ancho.

Rue aims to pass through quickly, knowing critters or scavengers could be haunting the ruins, but when she passes by a blackened storefront that looks like it might have been a weapons shop, she pops inside.

It’s half collapsed and smells heavy of gunpowder and soot; and most weapons she spies are melty and useless to her, but as she toes at the wreckage of what used to be a display case, she uncovers a pretty-pristine knife perfect for skinning. She plucks it up, decides that’s enough pressing her luck, and gets back on the road. Rue only stops once more, and that’s when she spies a leaky, water hand-pump towards the outskirts of town. She becomes a greedy, little, water glutton and drinks her fill before topping off her canteens. Then she pumps water for Eggshells to drink from the semi-steady stream until they are satisfied.

They walk on. On and on through the night until watery daylight breaks, but all there is, is sand. Sand, sand, and more sand without a lick of shade or scrub brush. So, Rue presses further, thankful for her hat as the sun climbs higher and that Eggshells isn’t too weighty. They finally come to an outcropping of rocks where bark scorpions shelter. They’re dealt with; Rue steals their shade, hunkering down to sleep. Sort of. She ends up napping on and off as she chases the shade around the formation.

When daylight slips, she walks and snacks on fruit carefully stripped from barrel cacti. Eggshells puts a dent in the jerky and menaces/devours whatever critters skitter across their path that Rue doesn’t know how to harvest (like scorpions and snakes). A canteen of water goes empty.

Another cycle of this. Another day spent dozing in shadows. Another night with only the moon, stars, and Eggshells to keep her company –and then some coyotes that scatter when Rue downs two and Eggshells rips the shit out of another. Which solves the matter of the bobcat’s dinner.

Rue should harvest what she can, but she’s not so desperate –yet– to eat something that reminds her so much of a dog.

Another day; another night, but this one is interrupted by a stinging sandstorm that has Rue scrambling for meager cover in an old gas station with busted-out windows that doesn’t do much in the way of protecting her. But there are four walls and a corner for her to huddle in with an age-old, oil-stained, plastic tarp thrown over her head. Eggshells sits in her lap, claws pricking her thighs.

The sand doesn’t settle for hours, taking away the rest of the night and most of the next day, and visibility is piss-poor when Rue sets out that afternoon. She almost doesn’t see the cazadors that come buzzing down from cliffs and crevices, but she hears them –sees darker masses of black shifting and fluttering. She takes the shot; Eggshells throws itself at another. They both hit, Rue striking dead center and Eggshells shredding wings. She hurries to help her kitty finish theirs off with a knife shoved into the insect’s middle as it flails around on the ground.

Rue then takes care to remove the stingers off the cazadors, having heard once in passing that the poison glands are worth something. She wraps them in her spare blouse and ties the bundle off around her bag.  

They move on, marching and marching until coming to a road sign that reads, “Poppy,” in broad, black strokes of paint and an arrow pointing Southwest where specks of yellow light shine dully in the dark alongside sloping and rising, rickety shadows.

Rue lingers at the sign, doing just a bit of thinking.

Down to one, half-full canteen, a pit stop is necessary. Vital. So are some actual directions. She can’t keep heading blindly West, or she’ll just end up at the ocean –which isn’t a bad thing. Seeing the ocean she’s only ever heard about is on her list of things she’s absolutely going to do even if it kills her, but Lara is in the Hub; and with the nature of things, Rue can’t afford to backtrack or get lost in the desert.

But what if people are already looking for her? Surely, someone’s noticed her missing by this point. Lucky could be scrambling to find her before Deck gets back to Dust, or maybe Deck’s already back to Dust and he’s scrambling to find her. Maybe he’s sent out word and hunters to find her –maybe he’s tracking her down himself. Deck could be in Poppy –it is one of his.

And while Rue wants to run into him, she doesn’t want it to be on his turf. Their showdown will be on neutral ground, lawless, because she’s going to do things to him that Satan would balk at.

Rue pulls in a deep breath, and then lets it out slow –lets all the thoughts flow out of her brain with it. Survival is what matters. Survival requires water and directions. Whatever’s in Poppy doesn’t matter as long as she gets her hands on those two things.

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

Poppy is the biggest place Rue ever remembers being, likely double the size of Dust and a lot more patchworked together. The buildings in Dust are mostly original structures: stone, wood, and iron with some newer lean-to structures. Poppy has a bit of that buried underneath layers and layers of rusty-sharp scrap, old billboards, and even… bone in some places. It makes for something raggedy, cluttered, and not very aesthetically pleasing, but it works. It’s lived in, and it groans and creaks in the quiet of what’s left of the night.

Almost an hour of wandering the dirty, narrow streets leads Rue to an inn –the Buzzard’s Roost– and she lets herself in without hesitation. Well, there’s some hesitation when she realizes Eggshells is no longer on her heels. She has no idea when her pretty kitty might have abandoned her, but such is the nature of cats -especially wild ones. Rue can only hope they come back. 

She breezes through the bottom floor of the three-story building: a saloon-type area that reminds her greatly of Mulholland’s. There’s a sweeping bar lined with liquor, a bony, greying woman leaning heavy into it. The floor is scattered with tables, some empty and some hosting slumping figures. Rue even steps over a conked-out guy as she makes her way to the bar where she procures a room for the night from the apathetic keeper for the terrible price of one hundred caps.

Which leaves Rue with a whopping fifty-nine to her name.

But she has access to a bed and a stained bathtub where she scrubs off the layer of grime she acquired in her march across the desert. She washes her clothes and hangs them to dry on the wooden chair she jams under the doorknob to keep her room more secure (or she tells herself it does). With little care, and more exhausted than she thought she was, Rue tosses herself onto the creaky, slightly musty mattress and has herself a deep, undreaming sleep.

She wakes in the afternoon and sticks to a very quick pace. She dresses in her spares, scrubs at her teeth with a washrag, refills her canteens, and heads out into the busy streets of Poppy where she blends right in with the thick crowds of drifters, caravaners, and townies out doing their business.

While winding her way through, Rue learns how Poppy got the name Poppy. The golden blooms pop up here and there and everywhere all over town -making an interesting juxtaposition of colour and life against shades of derelict grey, brown, and rust- and most businesses are named around the flower. Like there's what is clearly a bar/chem-den boasting a sign inscribed with "Golden Hour" and painted with bunches of poppies. As well as a more upscale inn that proudly declares itself "The Poppy House" in intricate, golden lettering. 

The economy seems focused around poppies as well. Several hawkers try to sell her chems made from them, proclaiming them sleep-aids, hallucinogens, and euphoria in a bottle. One man places himself so boldly before Rue, telling her to pick her poison before he opens his ground-sweeping trenchcoat to her. Rue, braced to see a penis, finds herself laughing when all that is revealed are rows and rows of sewn-in pockets full of bottles, vials, inhalers, and syringes.

In turn, she whips out her cazador stingers, and the dealer delights at the sight of them, offering her one hundred caps and a bottle of his “euphorics” on the spot. Rue takes him up on it, glad to be rid of the extra weight and a few caps richer.

She promptly spends thirty of them at a small restaurant consisting of a patched-together roof that overhangs a weathered bar and kitchen where she watches the owner and operator throw her together a very late breakfast of a massive omelet (that looks to contain cheese, ham, peppers, and tomato), a cup of black coffee, and three of the sour, green apples the lady just had sitting around on the counter.

Rue inhales the meal (saving the apples for later), leaves a few extra caps on the bar because the omelet tasted so, damn good, and makes her way to the town square where she talks some directions out of a caravaner. She’s to take the West road out of town and travel two days to a rest stop set up in the overhangs of old overpasses where she’ll find hanging signs that’ll point her whichever way she needs to go. From there, most of the old road signs along the highways have been marked to let travelers know the way.

Her thanks are expressed with a bright smile and a few caps before she’s turning on her heel to get the hell out of Poppy.

But one thing stops Rue as she navigates her way out of the town square: a wide, wooden board scored with bullet holes and tacked-up wanted posters. All manners of mean mugs, smirks, and dead-eyed stares look back at her. Small-time thieves worth only a handful. Murderers with bounties in the hundreds. Raiders. Seducers. Fiends. Desperados. And… and one Lara Jiminez with a bounty of three-hundred-and-fifty caps. Whoever sketched her did her dirty, penciling in harsher edges, flat eyes, and not a lick of sweetness to her mouth. There’s not any information listed on what she did to deserve her bounty, only that it doesn’t matter if she’s brought back dead or alive.

Rue rips the wanted poster off the board, shoving it down deep into her skirt pocket as her chest bubbles with rage. She’s going to force feed it to Deck, along with cactus spines, bullets, hot coals, and cat shit.

She grumbles all sorts of obscenities and horrors under her breath as she stalks away, pulling short one last time when her eyes catch on a poster that is new, edges unbent and paper unsullied. That bears her name and quite the flattering rendition of her smile.

MISSING: RUE VASILIEV

ALIVE AND UNHARMED – 1,500 CAPS

ANY INFORMATION – 75 CAPS

Rue rips that one down, too, a deranged laugh tumbling from her mouth. "Ooh, boy, you've just made a mess."

Because Deck Craven really has.

A reward like that is enough to capture the interest of all the bounty hunters haunting the area -enough to have them warring amongst themselves to get their hands on her. It will be blood and chaos and danger. Which she can use to her advantage, but it still isn't the least bit ideal. It means high-tailing, sleepless nights, and paranoia. 

A reward like that is enough to have bystanders keeping eyes out for a stranger with a sweet smile and dark, curling hair just so they can make a quick cap off of selling her out. Rue will have a constant trail, a tail. It won't take long for anyone -bounty hunter, cap-hungry prick, or Deck- to find her.

Anyone can profit off her, and they don't even have to dirty their hands with the act of freeing her head from her body.

The poster joins Lara’s, and Rue keeps a tight, shaking fist on her composure as she walks determinedly out of the town square –out of Poppy. Her eyes steadily pick around. Her ears strain. Her fingers itch for her rifle.

The relative peace of Rue’s journey is over, and she’s likely to turn that missing poster into a wanted one with everything she’s willing to do to have her way. To finish what Deck Craven started.

[blackblood-n-redink]

itch

Hank has his usual place on the medical table, his body laid on the cold steel wearing only his boxers. fresh bandages were wrapped up along his scarred thighs and arms with Doc currently working on the gaping hole in his side. Hank glanced down to watch as Doc’s fingers worked, he was working with some tweezers as he was picking out shrapnel that was embedded in his flesh. Hank did feel pain, he’s just gotten so used to it so he really could care less.

He rolled his head back listening to the hum of the low hum of the light that was hanging above them. Something was itching at them for a while, crawling up his spine and worming it’s way around in his brain like some fucked parasite. It pissed them off, but it pissed them off more trying to figure it out.

"Why do you say it like that."

"What"

"My name."

Doc paused, turning his head slightly to look at him for a moment before continuing with picking at their flayed open side.

"Elaborate."

"Your tone. It’s different."

"What about my tone is different?"

"You don't sound like you're spitting it out when you say it.”

That had Doc quiet and a little more still than Hank liked, they usually notice him gently fidgeting by tapping his fingers on something or idly bouncing his leg but he was completely still, and stiff. Like he said something he shouldn’t have.

“What are you asking me?”

Hank grunted, even more confused than before. Why is this such a hard question for him to answer?

“I’m asking why.”

Doc set his tools down and rolled his chair over to look at Hank, setting his arm along the edge of the table.

“Maybe it’s because I’m the only one who can tolerate your stubborn ass.”

Hank huffed in response.

“Deimos and Sanford, they say it fine.”

Hank sat up slightly with a grunt with his elbows tucked under him, being sure not to piss Doc off by flexing his abdomen too much.

“But you say it nicer, why?”

Doc stood still for a moment and then rolled himself back over to the wound, smacking his hand against Hank’s arm.

“Lay back down I’m not done.”

Hank let out a grunt and dropped himself back down with a dull thump. Asking this got them nowhere and it pissed them off more.

Why the hell does Doc care so much, sure they’ve known each other for a while and whatever the hell but it’s just how it is. They die or get mangled to hell, Doc brings em back and Hank continues to do his work for him and in return Doc gets information about the other place and whatever shit he needs taken care of. Hank is the rifle and Doc is the scope.

And Doc has branches all over the place, all sorts of grunts he deals with.

But why does Doc act different around them, treat Hank differently.

Hank is used to special treatment in the way of a whole agency hunting him down and everyone wanting to get their hands on them just to snuff out every drop of life in their body.

But this is different, Hank could care less but it’s been confusing him and itching at him more and more. Is Doc up to something? He knows Doc is smart, smart enough to really pull strings where he needs it.

And It’s not like Doc needs to keep Hank on a leash, they’re both very able to kill each other if they wanted to and they both know this.

“You care too much about me.”

Hank finally spoke up after letting the gears churn in his skull.

Doc let out an irritated and almost tired huff, at this point he was treading a hooked needle to get to work stitching the mangled meat together.

“Do you really need to be asking me these questions right now?”

“Yes.”

Doc just grunted, mindlessly continuing as Hank studied whatever facial expression he had even when they couldn’t see his face.

“Why does it matter to you.”

“Why won’t you give me a straight answer”

Doc pushed the needle through one fold of the skin and through the other, starting in the first stitch.

“We’ve worked together for years, I feel like you should know that I’m going to treat you differently than anyone else who just works with you because they have to or because they hate you.”

Hank grunted in response, deciding he's bored of trying to ask and that's probably the best answer he’s gonna get.

“-And because you’re close to me.”

close?

“The hell does that mean?”

Doc tugged a little harder in the stitching to jostle Hank around.

“you’re a dumbass, you know that?”

Yeah they’ve been told that several times already, and each time doesn’t hold more weight than any other time. But the way Doc says it never feels bitter, but often just more blunt and amused instead of an insult. But they’re getting somewhere though with this.

Hank let out a chuff in amusement, staring up at the ceiling.

“So you like me?”

“Yeah maybe I do.”

that was more of a joke but somehow that kinda rolled around in their head more than they expected. Noone ever likes him besides liking him dead. They regret starting this.

“What is that what you wanted to hear?”

It was Doc’s turn to poke at them now, he was halfway done with sewing up the gash but he paused to lean over and stare at Hank who stared right back at him.

“I say your name the way I say it because I like you.”

Hank lets out an amused huff, almost a scoff.

“People don’t like me.”

Doc chuckled slightly

“I know, it’s why I keep having to piece you together.”

“Why.”

“That’s a loaded question, I don’t have time for it.”

fair, probably wouldn’t want to open that. Hank didn’t feel like having to think of all this deeper than he already is. They just needed to get that parasite in their head to shut up.

It was enough to shut them up, and Doc was right back to stitching up his side. Moments like this were always good though, they loved the rush of running, beating into and ripping into whatever was in their way, the burning in their lungs and skin and hurting so much and hurting so good. But they gotta admit, they like being able to lay here for a while. It’s not boring when they’ve got the stimulus of pain keeping them busy and the only person they feel even remotely comfortable with being the one to piece him together instead of him having to fumble and work to restore himself. They like the noise of their work but they also like the quietness of being back at Doc’s place.

guess he sorta liked Doc too.

[avatar0ftheeye]

Tw for described violence, abuse

Wow

y’all really liked my silly little campaign

My players and I geeked out over y’all last night we were so exited that people LIKED our story!

so without further ado, here’s part 2 of Dungeons and Teenagers!

the players begin their walk toward the town of Phandalin. 4 human teenagers, a Half-goblin, and a goose. As they walk, the kids try and press Jim for questions. He is VERY secretive, only giving vague answers.

once they reach the town it isn’t as deserted as they thought. Mostly humanoid looking animal people, all walking around doing their daily tasks.

Jim, getting straight to the point, says they should get some weapons. The players are suspicious of Jim, what is this lanky teenager doing acting like he’s the boss of them? However, they fail their insight checks so they won’t know for another like 4 sessions.

They find a closed down weapons shop, several weapons and armor line the walls of it. the party suggests they rob it, and Jim doesn’t refute

They lock pick the door and have 5 minutes to gather anything they need.

Maisie, with an unnatural 20, find 16 god damned daggers underneath the table. 10 are rusted, only one good use, 3 are new, and 3 are slightly used. Good enough, it’s 16 GOD DAMNED DAGGERS

Damien, being the rouge he is, just grabs anything and everything he can find. Beautiful bows, cases of arrows, swords, daggers, etc. life is great when the DM uses minecraft inventory mechanics

Goose goes straight for a giant ax. That’s it. The biggest ass ax he could find that is about 5x his size. Jim is fearful for his life.

Thomas just wanders around the shop, gawking at everything. He’s was a sheltered kid, doesn’t even have a phone. The most he was allowed out was going to school, so the sight of all this weaponry was a shock to him.

Alex began eyeing the armor. Large pieces of leather, iron, chain mail, and a material he can’t quite place. Though he knows nothing of magic in this world, the armor is glowing a bright neon blue and, when he got closer, emitted ice cold air.

he reached out to touch the armor, enamored by it. Yet once his hand reached the glowing chest plate, it disappeared. A sharp, ice cold pain shot through his arm and through his entire body. His blood felt like it was freezing, yet all at once, it stopped

“oi, Morekai!” The players hear from outside, “Theres some people in yer shop! Call the guards or ey dunno, get em!”

They’ve been spotted through the window! They really need new dice! They keep failing their stealth checks! Seriously guys! Please get new dice! (/directed)

They begin to scramble out the door, Goose and Damien dropping everything they had on the way out

Thomas, in his panicked state, trips over his own two feet and face plants into the floor. The glass shards from the window dug deeper into his skin and he let out a small whimper of pain, just as the door opens

in the doorway stands a tall, humanoid blue jay. He had thin stick like legs, blue feathers, and the face of a man who works in retail

he begins to comfort Thomas, offering to take him downstairs and remove the shards from his skin. Thomas, failing yet another insight check, agrees and follows him down

outside the shop, the players catch their breath. After a quick headcount, they realize they’ve lost Thomas. They must go back inside to get him, much to the dismay of damien.

You can’t blame Damien though. born to a neglectful father and a mother who would die a week into his life, he doesn’t understand why these people care about others. Damien has long scars across his face, old and faded with time. These scars were caused by his father, an abusive man who cared about nothing other than himself and who he was sleeping with that day. Damien was raised as a solider, who knows how long it would take to undo that damage.

back inside the shop, Thomas and morekai descend the stairs to the basement

“so,” started morekai, “what’s your diet like?”

“????? Excuse me????” Asked Thomas, “who???? Asks that??,, kind of question??,, what’s your diet like then man?”

“Fish and gum! It’s not an unusual question, It’s just small talk, jesus!” Replied Morekai, annoyed and seemingly offended

“fine, I guess normal???”

“would you consider your self poisonous?”

The party breaks back into the building and rushes into the stairwell to the basement. It is long and winding, seemingly going on forever. They descend slowly, trying to not be spotted by Morekai (they finally succeeded their rolls!).

as they reach the bottom, a low, hungry growl is heard. A kind of hungry growl that you only hear from a stomach that hasn’t eaten in days. A growl of pure feral hunger.

Morekai grips the back of Thomas’ shirt “you seriously thought I would be HELPING you?? After you broke into my shop and stole who knows what?” Morekai mocked, “seriously man, get less gullible”

morekai shoved Thomas into the room, and that’s when Goose took his strike

Goose leapt off the top of the staircase and began freefalling downwards. Unbeknownst to him, Maisie had tripped and fallen at the same time, taking Jim and Damien with it. now, 70% of the party was freefalling down yo the bottom of a cavern. Alex, being the only sensible one, just kept running down the stairs.

Jim reached into his bag and grabbed a pair of boots. He slipped them on and began to fall slower, leaving Damien and Maisie to continue freefalling. Realizing this, he turned upside down and began falling FASTER

Damien reached out to him and latched onto his arm, but due to the way physics work idk they begin to spin in the air, faster and faster until they’re just a circular blur

goose flies over to Maisie. Maisie reaches up and grabs his legs as they begin to slowly descend to the ground. Maisie and Goose Are fine

Damien and Jim, on the other hand, are violently still freefalling toward the floor. With a final roll of dexterity, Jim grabs onto Damien and flips him on top of him. When they crash to the ground, Jim took most of the damage instead of Damien, leaving a cartoonish hole in the floor

A surprised morekai screamed at them. Goose saw this as a challenge and, after a quick argument and a Google search, started biting his legs with his teeth that he apparently has. He gnaws and gnaws on his leg until the thin ass stick snaps in half

morekai falls to the ground, bleeding profusely. Maisie takes the opportunity as well, and begins stabbing at morekai with the stolen daggers

Thomas, witnessing his friends murdering his captor, beings to cry. He just kinda does that

the sound of his cries alerts something

something big

something hungry

out from the shadows emerges an enormous raccoon named Rigabus

he glared down at the party and begins his slow, predatorial walk towards them

the party must think fast

Jim, being the idiot he is, grabs Damien from on top of him, sits up

and throws him over Rigabus

With a strength check from Jim and a nat 20 performance check from Damien

Damien backflips over rigabus, Doing a triple twirl in the air, and spiderman poses onto the ground, causing Rigabus to be so enamored better just stares at damien

the rest of the party takes their chance and begins to sprint up the stairs. They make it about a 1/3 of the way before they realize

oh yeah

Damien’s down there

Damien screams at them as he begins to run, breaking the trance with rigabus

Now, picture this dear readers

a goose, a 6’0 goblin, 4 teenagers, and a giant raccoon I plagiarized from Regular Show, all running up a giant staircase to freedom

I couldn’t believe it either, and I was there

the players run as fast as they can. Jim manages to grab Damien like a cat and begins to run faster

With a final jump, the players make it through the door, trapping Rigabus in the doorway. They sprint out of the shop into the street, running and running as fast as they can

finally, once they stop, they realize they had run to the edge of town, and are standing in front of a giant coliseum

inside, as seen through the glass ceiling, a woman stands trapped inside a cage. She is tall, beautiful,

and Calluna Grace, Maisies Mother

[gamergirl-06]

Bruno x Preg! Reader

Summary: You find out you’re pregnant while Bruno is out helping Sam. Emma comforts you when you have doubt’s.

Notes: this is separate to my actual fanfic that I am posting here from my Wattpad, you can also request anything if you like.

I also had this idea in my head for a little while just had to write it.

Start

You sat on the edge of Emma’s bed as you cried. You had been feeling sick the last few days and you prayed it was just a stomach bug.

However you had a feeling it wasn’t a stomach bug after you thought back to when you and Bruno did it after he had gotten back from monarch studios.

Now here you were, crying on Emma’s bed with a positive pregnancy test in one hand and the other hand covering half of your face as you try to control your sobbing.

A knock then sounded at the door.

“Hey (Y/N/N), can I come in” it was Emma, she must have been startled with the others when you ran past her and the others and up to her room.

Her room was your safe haven, a place you could keep calm without anything negative affecting you.

Wiping the last of the tears off your cheeks you managed a little “you may”.

Emma opens the door and smiles “hey, are you ok, me and the others are wondering if your alright”

Sometimes Emma could be a bit of a…person who cares about fame and not people’s feelings, but ever since the world went to shit, she was a lot kinder to people and as Andrea put it “the old Emma (before fame)” plus she had become your closest confidant.

You smiled as she walked over and sat next to you giving you a side hug which you accept.

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest” you said truthfully “ I don’t know what to do”

Emma noticed you fidgeting with something in your hand “what is it”

You opened your hand as she looked at it “ I’m Pregnant Em”

Her eyes widened and she hugged you “congratulations I’m so happy for you”

You smile “thanks…but”

Emma gives you a frown “but what?”

“We’re in the apocalypse, how can I bring a child into this world” you said and then tears brimmed your eyes “what if..what if Bruno doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby or leaves me” tears fall down your face.

Emma grabs both sides of your head “hey look at me, you don’t need to worry about being alone, you have us and you have known Bruno since before all this but if Bruno decides to leave you, then Sam will kick his ass”.

You giggle, yeah that’s something Sam would do.

“Thanks Em, I appreciate you”

“It’s all good” Emma said as she have you a proper hug this time

Just then you heard the front door open and voices, Sam and Bruno must be back.

Your heartbeat quickens and Emma gives you final piece of advice “breath, relax and you got this girl”

The bedroom door opens and Bruno enters “Hey mi amor (my love)”

Emma gives a smile before exiting.

Bruno sits down next to you and pecks your lips “Eres hermosa (You’re beautiful)”

You smile before quickly looking at the ground

Bruno’s smile fades as he watches your emotions change

“Babe what’s wrong” he asks as he cups your cheek

When you don’t answer he gets worried “bebe dime que pasa (baby tell me what’s wrong)”

You place the test in his hands as you whisper a “I’m pregnant Bruno”

He freezes as he looks at the test unable to communicate.

You stand up and rush out the door but a hand grabs your wrist.

You turn around and see it’s Bruno who was staring straight into your eyes.

“Don’t go” his voice was low and shakey, you could see he was on the verge of tears.

“Ok then I won’t” came your reply as he pulled you into him.

He presses his lips to yours in a passionate kiss . Breaking away from the kiss he rests his head against yours

“Please don’t go, I love you so much, I can’t wait to have a child with you”.

“Really” your eyes lit up happy hearing the news.

“Of course your the love of my life” Bruno said “and I’d be damned if I let this family go”

He gave you another kiss

“I love you” you said

“No I love you more” replied Bruno

“We’ll see about that”

End

[theshippirate22]

“I don’t know if I want it colored yet,” Hunter added, swiping through the pictures of the tattoo he was showing Caleb.

Caleb tipped his head as he thought, before just shrugging.

“Hunter,” Kelly rolled her eyes. “You can’t just get a tattoo every time you feel a human emotion.”

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna ask for your opinion, actually.” He turned his phone around, holding it so he was just flipping her off. “What do you think?”

She returned it.

“Where are you gonna get it?” Lyn asked, leaning back against the drive through counter.

He showed her the inside of his arm, above the elbow. “Here, or…” Then the side of his neck. “Here.”

“Oh, don’t encourage him,” Lee chuckled, scanning in the boats Kelly pushed down. “Kelly’s right.”

“Kelly dyes her hair when she doesn’t get enough Vitamin D! Why are we listening to her?! Your ears look like fucking swiss cheese!”

Kelly laughed so hard she had to rest her head on the counter. Caleb snort-laughed as he pulled prescriptions from the labeled bins and dumped them in the deletes bin.

“Get it on your arm,” Lyn concluded, laughing to herself as she worked on the insurance card that had been handed through the window to her. “Complete the sleeves.”

Hunter nearly snatched the card from her, the way he did, but she was ready for it and simply moved it out of his reach. “I’ve got it.”

Lee called over her shoulder. “Do you have a tattoo, Lynnie?”

“No, not yet. I’m planning on it though.”

“Really?!” Hunter stared at her.

“Yeah. Stop gaping and do something helpful.”

“Um, I’m sorry. You know tattoos mean needles right?”

Lyn looked over in horror. “Are you serious? Do they really?”

“Did you really not know that?”

“No! I thought they just had ‘em like stickers and stuck them on where you wanted and got the back of the paper wet!”

Hunter squinted disgustedly at her. “Are you bullshitting me?”

“No! I really thought-“ She tried to say it with a straight face but the laugh erupted out of her. “God, you should see your face! Yes, I know tattoos mean needles, you asshole!”

Kelly cackled. Hunter scrubbed his face under his glasses exasperatedly.

“I’m just saying,” Hunter continued after a minute. “One time you bit my shoulder while getting a flu shot. My arm hurt more than yours after that ordeal, and that was Caleb who was super careful and apologized the whole time and it lasted like. seven seconds? How do you think you can handle to get a tattoo?”

“I’ll just bring you with me and bite you more,” she answered without a single pause.

He rolled his eyes. “What would you even get? A Taylor Swift lyric?”

“No. But so what if I did, Mr. Avatar the Last Airbender? Preach to me from your tower of children’s anime.”

“My ATLA tattoo is cool.”

“Oh sure. Really gives you that ex-con, Rottweiler vibe. I’m shaking in my Docs.”

“Oh, yeah, and you’ll get… some basic-ass Pinterest-core tattoo on your ankle that says something motivational, won’t you?”

“Ew, no. Take it back.”

“Prove you have a better idea and I will.”

“I don’t know what exactly. But I want it to be simple and unique.”

“Do you don’t regret getting it?” He nodded in mock understanding. “Cause it’s gonna be on you forever?”

“No,” she said, turning her attention back to the computer. “So if I get kidnapped, the police can find me.”

“That’s smart!” Lee interjected. “My niece did that in college!”

Hunter turned this over in his head. “Well now I feel like an asshole.”

Lyn winked. “You can make up for it by letting me bite you while I’m getting it.”