#context: i planned to post something today and finish it today but fucked it up and i'm desesperatly trying to fix it but i'm failing

[starving-mimi]

you ever fuck up art so bad you can't decide if you want to give up on it or try to fix it? yeah.

#dst #wilson #dst wilson #context: i planned to post something today and finish it today but fucked it up and i'm desesperatly trying to fix it but i'm failing #might post it tomorrow if i manage to fix it #if i don't manage to fix it i'll maybe just post it untagged #idk yet

[c-themoon]

Orders.

WARNING BEFORE READING!!

I plan to do a series of one shots of Kyle, Stan and even Kenny too. These all will be part of a bigger fanfic I have yet to post here, hopefully it will make sense in the future but for now I think they are okay to read whitout context. Yura is one of my OC's. I will write Style too eventually, maybe even open some requests for other shipps but for now I will only write the one shots that will be a part of my main fanfic. English is not mt first language and It's mt first time writing smut, I'm open to your criticism, just be respectful please.

Warnings: NSFW, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex Cock Warming.

It was a rainy sunday afternoon. Kyle, Stan and Yura were roomates. They shared an apartament in NY thanks to college and today was an unusual day. Stan was called in his part time job to cover for a co-worker who couldn't attend that specif sunday, Kyle and Yura had to study for their respective tests that were coming and most important, they needed to clean the apartament since sunday was the only day of the week they had to keep the place in order.

So the three of them woke up early in the morning, Stan quickly left for work and Kyle and Yura sat down in the kitchen table and organized a list of chores each one of them would do to get rid of the cleaning as soon as possible so they could study after.

"Okay, so you do the dishes, laundry and take out the trash. I will sweep the house and clean the bathroons, then we both clean our rooms, and when everything else is done we can fold the clothes that were already clean in the dryer, okay?" Kyle said in a calm tone, tapping the table with the tip of his finger while looking at her and waiting for her confirmation.

"Sure, that works for me." She replied with a sweet tone and small smile that always managed to melt his heart a little.

He smirked at her answer and then proceeded to get up. "Okay, let's start then" Kyle offered her his hand and she gladly accepeted it. They quickly started to do their designed tasks and about 2 hours after they were finished.

Yura had a few strings of hair falling of her bun, Kyle was sweating a little and they were certainly tired but the apartament was now nice and clean. She dropped herself in the couch and let out a sigh.

"I can't believe we still have to study after that. God please send help, one of your strongest soldiers is falling apart." She said dramatically, making kyle chuckle as he sat next to her. "C'mon, don't be so dramatic Yura" He rolled his eyes and playfullly patted her head. "Let's eat something first, that will lift you up." he got up and started to walk towards the kitchen. "Come" he said one last time and she slowly got up and obeyed him, walking towards the kitchen.

Some time passed, they ate some leftovers from the day before, cleaned their mess and went to study. Yura was a good student, even if she didn't always got 10's, but Kyle was an overachiever mf. He wanted the best grades and he liked to be the best. So, when they sat down their asses in the table, Kyle's face shifted to a focused and serious expression, he put his earphones in, opened his notebook and started to take notes. Yura did the same but she knew she would't last as many hours as him. After 2 hours of endless pages, articles read and words written, she just thought "I'm fucking done with this, I will have more time during the week". So she turned off her Ipad, closed her notebook filled with notes and got up carefully to not disturb Kyle. "manace to society" she thought to herself seeing his focused frawn. Unfortunatly, she couldn't deny that he was hot. It should be a crime to be this handsome while doing something so silly as studying taxes or whatever he had to study in law major. He was almost too hot like that for his own good, but, knowing him very well, she would't disturb him during his study time since he would be bothered if interrupted. So, when Yura walked by him she just kissed his cheek to say a sort of "goodbye" and went to grab water in the kitchen. As Kyle felt her loving kiss in his cheek he looked at her and removed his earphones "where are you going?"

"I'm done for today, good luck with the rest of your studies!" she waved at him as she filled her previously empty bottle with water.

Kyle was not gonna lie to himself, he enjoyed having her company while studying, just her presence alone made this boring assignment more endurable so he was a little bummed at her soon departure.

"Okay, don't be loud then."

"I won't "sir", don't worry" she jokingly said and went to sit on the couch in the living room. Yura didn't even turned on the tv, she was just scrolling down her twitter.

He smirked at her and let out a slight chuckle. Calling him sir... interesting, he thought.

One hour and a half later, he was feeling confident about his notes so he thinks it's a good time to stop, he didn't want to overdo it anyway. The red haired boy starts to strech his arms and neck and then he lays his eyes on Yura. She was using an oversized t shirt, he could tell it was not hers, it was probably his due to the large size. Kyle was very tall and had nice muscles, he was once part of the basktball team during high school afterall. So, she was wearing that green shirt of his, a tiny shorts that didn't cover shit of her beautiful tighs and the woman was just... there, being casually too beautiful doing absolutely nothing. Earlier she had called him "sir"... and she spent all day obeying everything he said. The chores, lunch, study... and Kyle wasn't blind, he could feel her gaze sometimes during their time together at that table, he knew she was checking him out, and he enjoyed that. All the signs were there... he decided to test something.

“Hey Yura, come over here for a second.” Kyle said in a commanding tone, in hopes of teasing her. The girl, as soon as she heard his voice, turned her head to him with a curious expression. "What?" She asked while getting up and walking towards him.

When she got near she just stood there, waiting for his reply.

“Sit.” Kyle commands once more, grinning.

She was slightly confused about his sudden...requests... but she obeyed him and sat next to him in the other chair at the table next to him.

"Okay, now will you explain why you're being so weird?" She asked him with a slightly frawn forming in her face.

Kyle tried to keep the serious facade but he failed. He starts laughing a bit, covering his mouth with one of his hands.

“Yura, I wanted to try giving you an order to see if you would obey again, since, strangely, you have been a very... obedient girl today..." he said finally being able to stop giggling but he still had a smirk on his face. "And... well.. you did what I told you to do. Again..." He said with that stupid cocky smile of his getting bigger.

As she heard him, her face was gradually getting more flustered. "You're such an idiot, I can't belive you!" She said embarressed at herself for having actually followed his stupid order. Yura gave his shoulder a tiny punch. "I-It's just that you're a very pragmatic person and since we had a lot of things to do I thought you would know how to do things quicker!!" She says trying to justify herself, which of course, wasn't a lie completely. Her cheeks were burning red at this point.

"You seem to have a thing for following orders...", he said with a provocative tone, getting up and standing in front of her. "Don't you?" He proceeds to lean towards her, getting at her level at the chair and bringing her face close to him with his hand that very calmly grabbed her chin.

"And why do you care?" She said looking into his eyes with a defying tone, yet, a needy one. Almost as if she wanted to give in.

"Oh, princess, because I love the ideia that you would obey any order I give you."

Their faces are close, they can almost feel each other's breath. Tension and lust filled the air. Yura was still blushing, but now, she could not deny that she was turned on by his words, by him.

"Then... command me to do something more..." she said with desire coming from her voice a and flirty and slightly nervous tone as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I want you to kiss me, yura.” he says calmly while giving her a very slight pull towards him for her to get up while having a sly smirk.

She lets out a quick smile and kisses him. His lips feel so soft. They savor this kiss, feeling each other's tongue's and taste. Kyle hands soon go to her waist, squeezing her with just the amount of force he knew she loved, that made her go weak. Kyle bites her lower lip before they finally pull away from one another, making Yura moan in a lower whisper.

"Shall I order you to do something else?" He asks with a provocative tone yet again. His fingers were now brushing her hair while his eyes were focused on her beautiful flushed face. "I would't mind that..." she says, drunk with the pleasure his touch can give her. He smirked, then leaned over to kiss her once again, a slow, passionate kiss that made her whole body melt and burst into flames. Then, without breaking eye contact he said

“I want you to get on your knees for me”.

A slight smirk formed un yura's lip's. She kissed his neck and gave him a small bite in the area, just to tease him, and then she whispered seductively in his ear "Of course, Kyle..." and then she got on her knees and looked at him with that provocative expression and that smirk filled with lust. Her gaze was a perfect mixture of innocence and lust, revealing just how much she wanted him in the moment, in need of his touch.

He chuckled at the feeling of her lips on his neck. He was already hard. It was difficult for him to control himself and not just fuck her right away. “If you don’t stop giving me that look, I might get a little too carried away.” He then starts caressing her face with his hands. "I will ruin that pretty mouth of yours." She looked at him so eagerly, so needy, so wet. She proceeds to lean her head further into his touch, feeling pleasure and confort in it. His thumb is playing with her lips, getting inside her mouth. She starts using her tongue and feels his thumb. The sight of yura on her knees, sucking his finger while giving him that sinful look... it was driving kyle crazy.

With his free hand he started to lower his sweatpants, reaveling his big bulge in his boxers. "Take it off" he said in a low voice, poiting at his black boxers. Yura obeyed immediatly and slowly started to take off his underwear. When his throbbing dick was entirely out, she gently grabbed with her hands and looked at him, rubbing a little, going up and down.

"Suck it." It was an order, and that made Yura even more aroused. She then proceeded to lick the tip, tasting the pre cum that was already dripping. Slowly, she started to move her mouth, feeling his large hardness deep in her throat, doing movements with her head, going up and down.

Kyle tilted his head back, feeling lost in the pleasure of her lips and mouth. He puts his hand in the back of her head, guiding her movements.

"You're such a good girl aren't you? Taking me so well...ngh..."

She continued using her mouth and hands, sucking as much as she could trying not to choke, her hands were on his thighs, sometimes she would move them to the base of his cock to masturbate it before swallowing it again. Soon Kyle felt his orgasm coming, he shoved his dick down her throat while the most sinful and delicious moans came out of his mouth.

Yura swallowed everything, or at least she tried. Some cum dripped on the area of her boobs. When he was done he softned his grip on her and let her go. She let out a heavy breath and had to clean the corner of her mouth, her eyes were watering a little.

God, that vision was so hot for Kyle.

She looked at him, with those submissive eyes.

"Did I do well?"

He stayed silent, feeling hard yet again, watching her messy hair and flushed face while asking so desesperately for his approval.

"Very well, princess" he helped her get up and cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

She smiled and again let her face sunk in his warm hand.

"Should I be rewarded then?" She playfully asked.

He just smiled and kissed her. A slow and sensual kiss.

"Of course, you were such a good girl afterall, weren't you? He picked her up in a quick move and carried her im bridal style to his room to place her in his bed.

"Lift your arms for me, yura" she gladly did and felt her shirt being removed. Her big breasts were now completely exposed. She let out a devious smile and placed her hands inside his shirt, feeling his abs and toned torso. "I want to see you too" Yura said while scratching him slightly with her nails to tease him. The feeling of her nails was so exciting for Kyle, he felt shivers.

"Oh I know" he said and finally removed his shirt, reaveling the muscles beneath it.

She brushed his body with the tip of her nails, smiling provocatively while admiring her boyfriend's physique. He grabbed her hand.

"I didn't say you could touch me yet..." he grinned mischiviously and pinned her in the couch, pressing his torso and hardness against her.

"Oh, so I need permission to do so?" She chuckled a little, bringing his face closer to hers with her hands. "So impatiant now, aren't we?" He moved his hand right in between her thighs, her tiny shorts were long gone at this point, then he shoved one finger inside her, making her bold attitude and expression disappear, being now replaced by a needy response.

"S-stop teasing me like that" she moaned, barely being able to contain her body from the immediate response to his touch. She was soaking wet. "Oh but you seem to be enjoying this a lot princess" he moved his finger deeper in her wet cunt, she was moaning loudly.

"Aaahn... Kyle... please... I want... I need you now..."

"You need what? Be clear with your words" he asked inserting one more finger inside her.

"I need you to fuck me, please..." she begged, her eyes even watering a bit.

Hearing her beg sent his self control to space.

He kissed her once more and started to remove his sweatpants and boxers once again. He shoved his dick inside her wet cunt, making her moan loudly with the sudden penetration.

"Ngh... Kyle..."

"Fuck, you're so good for me..."

He began the moving in an intense pace, making sure she could feel every inche of his hard cock. Due to his size, it was not uncommon for her to feel some kind of pain without some preparation, but gods, that pain was so quickly turned into pleasure with him.

She digged her nails into the skin of his muscular back, how she loved to mark him there. The pain he felt with her scratching was also a turn on for him. Her face and beautiful voice, moaning his name like she belonged to him, that was his heaven. They kissed once more, sharing their taste with each other. He bit her lips with force before breaking the kiss.

Her moanings became more eratic, she was almost there and he could feel her walls tightening around him, her legs were quivering at this point.

They reached the climax almost at the same, feeling numb after and collapsing together in the bed.

"You take me so well every single time, Yura..." he said still inside of her, looking at her eyes and flushed expression. One of his fingers brushed her messy hair off her face gently.

"It's because it's you, Kyle." she said smiling at him and chuckling a bit.

He smiled and kissed her again, her taste was addicting, like a drug.

"Now, will you stay like that forever or?" She said in a playful tone poiting at his dick, still inside her.

"Oh, you seemed to be liking so much" he said in the same sarcastic tone and removed his member off her. That made her moan in response, feeling empty all of sudden.

"Aahn..."

"If you don’t stop moaning like that I don't know if I'll have the strenght to get up this bed princess" he layed down next to her and hugged her waist, bringing her closer to him.

"Shut up!" She said laughing and slapping his chest playfully. "Let's just cuddle a bit"

"I think you're getting too spoiled" he said carressing her hair while she buried her face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Mine I suppose." He said laughing with her.

"Were you able to finish your studies earlier?" She asked, lifting her head a little bit to face him. "Yeah, I think I'm good for today, why?"

"Then let's just stay like this, I'm tired, you fucked the shit out of me" she said and snuggled against him.

He laughed out loud this time. "Hahaha, well, next time don't be so eager to follow my orders".

And they stayed cuddling and teasing each other for the rest of the day. Well, until Stan arrived tired of the shift he had to cover, then they decided maybe someone else should he spoiled for the rest of the day.

#kyle broflovski #south park #smut #headcanon #kyle broflovski smut

[descaladumidera]

“Nobody Asked About My Writing” Meme

I got tagged by the wonderful @amethyst-noir, so you all get unnecessary infos about my current WIPs thrown in your face. And as I am, currently, able to write and share my fics, I shall even do this meme.

Answers below the cut, 'cause this got long.

 1. what are you currently working on?

I have three WIPs right now that I'm actively working on. Which. Is insane. 'Cause usually I have one and then I might throw a one-shot in-between writing chapters. But. Yeah. So, today I've finished the next chapter of like lead in my heart and I'm about to edit it. I've also started the sequel to give it 'til i beg (give me some more), so … I'll hopefully finish that at one point, so my Fratt peers get more juicy dom/sub action. And then I have started to actually write a little something that I've only thrown into a Discord before in the form of a quick idea. It's titled Five Times Frank Fucks Matt From Behind and One Time He Wants to See Matt's Face. Yes. That short. So. Yeah. I'm currently writing the first chapter, but have outlines for all the chapters.

2. summarize your current project

like lead in my heart: NWH rewrite with a twist. Local horned vigilante takes on a more prominent role in Peter's life during the events of NWH and after. give it 'til i beg (give me some more) sequel: Matt tries to avoid Frank after what happened in the first part. He is not very good at that. Five Times: Exactly what it says on the tin. Frank fucks Matt five times from behind and the last time he wants to see his face.

3. summarize your current project poorly

like lead in my heart: Local horned vigilante gets too involved in teenager's life. And then he fucks the teenager's doppelganger. give it 'til i beg (give me some more) sequel: Too embarrassed to function and also too horny to function. Five Times: Too much fucking, not enough talking.

4. describe your favorite character or characters

Matt Murdock: Gets fucked over by life and personal bad choices again and again and again. Needs some hugs and lots of therapy. He also has very interesting alternate versions from other dimensions. Frank Castle: Got fucked over by life royally, meaning his wife and kids died in front of his eyes. Decided the best coping mechanism is killing the scum of the earth. Also needs therapy. I don't recommend hugging him, though.

5. post a line from your current project without any context

like lead in my heart, chapter 8: Peter needed Tony Stark, not Matt Murdock. give it 'til i beg (give me some more) sequel: And then he had jumped out of the window, like the mature adult he was. Five Times: Things like this were never planned.

6. how do you get through writers block?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

7. would you want to live in the world of your current work?

Abso-fucking-lutely not! The Marvel universe gets attacked approximately every 0.2 seconds by something or someone that can kill me and my loved ones with one thought and I would rather eat chalk.

8. briefly discuss your outlining process, if you outline

I do not outline. Outlining means that my brain goes, "Oh! So we're done with this one, onto the next idea!" and I'll never write it. The only "outlines" I do are when I ramble on about an idea in a Discord or to friends and then decide to flesh it out and write it.

9. what is the aesthetic of your current project?

I. I don't know what that means? I mean, like lead in my heart is kinda action and found family and romance and everything all in one, I guess? The other two are basically PWP, more or less. Maybe there is a bit of plot.

10. what song sums up your current work the best?

like lead in my heart

give it 'til i beg (give me some more) sequel

Five Times Frank Fucks Matt From Behind and One Time He Wants to See Matt's Face

Tagging: @atypical-snowman, @jeromesankaraao3, and @kimmycup. And whoever else wants to do this!

#fanfic #Desca writes

[vvitchering]

Tbobf finale thoughts real quick:

I have like 5 mins to write this before I have to get up for work so let’s go

I can’t figure out if I hated this or not

Like yeah they did end up with the same “oh they’re going to have to wrap this up REAL quick and dirty” pacing issue I’ve been worried about

But they didn’t even give us much good character stuff to smooth over the plot/pacing

Liked Din being loyal to Boba to the point where he’s willing to die but it would have been nice to have acknowledged WHY that is.

There were a lot of emotional gut punches in this episode that ended up being more emotional love taps due to lost or forgotten context and that’s….bizarre for a show as obsessed with flashbacks as this one is.

Like the only reason I even knew Cad Bane and Boba had previously established beef is because I glanced at a tumblr post about their unfinished duel from the clone wars show. That’s not the kind of fan knowledge you should be working off of…

Genuine question: how many of y’all even knew who Cad Bane was? If my brother hadn’t forced me to watch a few seasons of the clone wars I’d have had absolutely no goddamn clue who this joker was. (And I think a good percentage of Mando / TBOBF viewers may also be like me and aren’t big Star Wars buffs outside of these shows, so they’d have zero context for this interaction)

Lost opportunity to have the Tusken lady in black and the kid come back to help Boba. Yes I’m still upset about that, I was planning on dying mad about it.

Just…so very little of any of this finale made reasonable sense……..I’m gonna have to watch it again and do a play by play because it’s so jumbled in my head after one viewing

Luke really did put that infant in a ship and send him off to god knows where care of who the hell knows because he was angry he picked the beskar huh

Who’s the true baby here mr skywalker

This has been and will remain a “Luke Skywalker can fight me in the Denny’s parking lot and I’d win” house

Pacing aside since there’s not a lot to be done about that, this ep could have still been good if they’d given us even an ounce more context for some of these interactions.

It really feels like the writers were just stalling for time with this while finishing up Mando S3 which is a huge shame because this could have been GREAT as like an hour Boba Fett special or something. Trim the fat, do better with the Tusken story line, get rid of those GOD AWFUL mods, focus on what these events mean to BOBA (and Fennec), we could have had a real tight and punchy story.

Seriously fuck the mods everyone here hates the mods who’s idea we’re they

Blah blah other stuff happening I don’t even care about this nonsense at this point beyond watching my favorite little imaginary people run around on screen

Grogu should have taken the lightsaber too. Just for extra “piss off Luke” points.

I know Din didn’t take his helmet off this entire time because Pedro couldn’t actually be there to film, but I would have liked a nice helmet-less reunion scene with Grogu. Or a face reveal with Boba. I just miss Pedro’s handsome face ):

Boba did look really good this ep though 👌 and we’re almost back to his Mandalorian s2 levels of badassery in combat which was nice to see.

Bobadin shippers we won today

IM SO FUCKING GLAD COBB ISNT DEAD HOLY SHIT this was really the only thing I ever cared a little bit about djskdjsjjd

How’d he get there though

Did the townspeople bring him in? And for what? Did they know Boba had a bacta tank????

Or did Boba and co swing by and pick him up after the fight and bring him back? How’d he survive that long if it was an injury bad enough to take him out/keep him out/require the use of a bacta tank????

Oh god please don’t give him a whole ass robot arm like the fuckin mods I’ll scream. Give him a nice discreet job like Fennec’s. Please don’t make my boy cringe.

Anyway see y’all at Christmas time for Mando s3 💀

#the book of boba fett #the book of boba fett spoilers #tbobf spoilers #tbobf #Star Wars #ug h

[hetahonda]

mini guide to common singaporean/singlish terms when writing dialogue for hws singapore!

hope this might help for fic writers/comic creators! x-posted from twt and inspired by twt user spiltrosetea

lah/leh/lor  three of the most common suffixes used in singlish, often used in different contexts. ‘lah’ is more neutral, ‘leh’ has a more questioning tone, ‘lor’ has a resigned/annoyed tone to it eg. “I’m busy lah, so I can’t come. I didn’t know it was compulsory leh.”

jio/bojio jio = to invite someone out, bojio = often used as an annoyed expression for when friends forget to invite you to plans eg. “I’m going to jio Malaysia for dinner - wait you guys had dinner already? Bojio!”

sian/shiok sian = when you’re sick and tired of something. shiok = the opposite of sian, for when something is extremely pleasing (especially for food) eg. “The meeting overran for like an hour, damn sian.”/“The food is expensive, but it’s really shiok.”

shag shag = no, it doesn’t mean anything of a sexual nature like it does in english (though you could use this as a potential humorous misunderstanding if you’d like) - it means to be tired/exhausted eg. “I’m feeling damn shag from that run earlier.”

pon pon = to skip/play truant for something eg. “I’m really not feeling up to it, you wanna pon the meeting with me?”

alamak/suay alamak = exclamation of shock/surprise when something unpleasant happens out of the blue. suay = unlucky/unfortunate eg. “Alamak! I forgot my files at home, and I have to present later! Ugh, today damn suay.”

bo pian/tahan bo pian = usually said as an expression of resignation when you have no choice but to do something, or when something can’t be helped. tahan = to bear with something unpleasant eg. “Boss said I have to finish this by today, so I have to tahan lor. Bo pian lah.”

wah lau eh/cheebai/siam lah! wah lau eh = used interchangeably with ‘what the fuck’. cheebai = cunt (often paired with other terms to curse at people, like “chao cheebai” which is more vulgar.) siam = get out of the way eg. “Wah lau eh! Cheebai, learn to drive! Siam lah!”

kaypoh/kiasu kaypoh = busybody. kiasu = literally means ‘scared to lose’ - often in terms of a fear of missing out, or wanting to be better than everybody else eg. “Don’t be such a kaypoh lah. Everyone got the same amount, why are you being so kiasu?”

limpeh this one is a fun one. limpeh = smug way of referring to oneself in third person, insinuating that one is of a higher position than the other. eg. “Who are you calling short? Limpeh has a higher GDP than you!”

#feel free to add on!! #hws singapore #aph singapore

[damienthepious]

i would sell u to satan for One Comment. pfft dklfsldkjf hello please enjoy my little fic lalala

Missive

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Polyamory, (which like DUH but also), (it's. specifically the context. idk how to. ah whatever just read it.), Kissing, very mild angst, Implied Sexual Content, rilla hooligan hours!!!

Summary: Lord Arum cannot join Damien and Rilla in much of their lives. Luckily, they are all of them too clever to let that stop them from sharing as much as they possibly can.

Notes: this Possessed me. it did not exist this morning, and now it does. oops! uh, enjoy?? ghjgkdjfk love u happy lkt <3<3<3

~

It leaves an ache deep in Damien's chest, the reality which must, for the sake of all of their safety, keep Lord Arum tucked away from his and Rilla's lives in the Citadel. That reality dictates that Damien's home must be kept distant from his lily, that he may not even speak Arum's name or acknowledge his existence for fear of bringing danger to all that Damien loves. It aches, and perhaps it would only ache if Sir Damien were left with his own instincts and sorrow and guilt to guide him, but-

Early on, Rilla comes to meet him on a break (he has convinced the Queen to allow him guard duty again, despite the cast on his arm), on the pretense of checking his injuries and bringing him medication for the pain. She takes his hand, and with a grin that Damien could not argue against even if he wanted to, she tugs him into a side room, small and private.

"What-"

She leans dangerously close, tilts his chin up with a knuckle while her grin slips to a smirk, and then she leans down, pressing their lips together in a tender, fierce sort of kiss, ending with a sharp little bite on his bottom lip. He gasps softly as she pulls away, her other hand tangled playfully in his curls, and when he blinks his eyes back open she laughs at the look on his face.

"Arum wanted me to pass that along," she says slyly, nuzzling against his cheek. "And here's one from me, too."

She tugs his hair gently to angle his head back, and then she kisses him once more, warm and undeniable and stunning his mind completely blank.

She laughs again as he slowly blinks back to himself, holding her close in his arms and murmuring something that might either be a prayer or a line of verse (not even Damien himself is certain, just at the moment), and then she cups his cheek with a softer, fonder smile.

"Rilla," he breathes, and he can imagine, just for a heartbeat, Arum's heat at his back, Arum's arms curling gentle and certain around the both of them. "Oh, oh love, I-"

"I know," she says, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I know I can't keep you for long, I just wanted to make sure I got that very important message to you." She winks, and Damien laughs helplessly. She leans a little closer, then, her lips teasing at the line of his jaw. "Any return message you'd like to send back with me, Sir Poet?"

Damien laughs again, both at her words and at the nearly tickling touch of her lips against his skin.

He considers, for a moment, humming lightly as he holds Rilla snugly against his chest, and then he nods.

"An equally crucial one, certainly," he says, his voice sonorous with mock-severity. "I am quite confident I can entrust you with delivering a missive of such grave import."

Her eyes spark with delight, her lips pressing together to bury the full force of her enthusiasm. "On my honor, oh brave Sir Knight," she purrs, utterly indulgent.

"But first, my forever-flower," he murmurs, and then he leans up, peppering her cheeks with sweet, gentle kisses until she laughs, and then he captures her own lips properly, and the way she giggles even into the kiss is as dear and right as home. "First, only for you," he finishes, murmuring soft, and she smiles so warm that it makes his heart stumble.

"You are so sweet sometimes that it drives me crazy," she says, teasing over an edge of heat as she squeezes her arms around him.

"I hope I shall drive our lily to quite the same distraction," Damien admits, and then he schools his expression mock-serious again. "Now, for my message in kind..."

Damien curls his injured arm carefully tight around the small of her back, trails his other hand slowly up her spine until he can cradle the back of her head (he imagines Rilla mirroring him, tracing a line up the center of Arum's back, imagines the way the monster will shiver and hiss in response), and then he pulls her gently down into the kiss.

He tries to pour out the whole of his affection, tender and lingering against Rilla's lips, teasing only gentle with his tongue, delicate in just the way he knows will make their monster go breathless and wild when Rilla echoes this kiss in his arms.

When their lips part, he presses his forehead against her own, leaving his eyes closed with a sigh.

"Saints," Rilla breathes, and Damien can hear the grin in her voice. "Y'know, I was planning on trying to get some work done today, but after that-"

Damien laughs. "It was not my intention at all to thwart your plans, my love, but- well, I do not foresee you escaping from our lily's arms for quite some time after you deliver that particular note."

"Oh no," she says, utterly sarcastic. "How awful for me, not at all a complete fucking win that I'll have to find a way to pay you back for sometime."

"Certainly," Damien hums warmly. "Of course not, my flower."

They cling for a little while longer, mutually reluctant for as long as they can justify, until eventually they manage to pry themselves apart, kissing once more before they each retreat to their respective responsibilities. This time, however, the parting does not leave Damien awash with that sense of inevitable heartsick loneliness. He cannot see his lily here, in his Citadel. He cannot even speak of that beloved half of his heart, but-

Arum's mind lingers on Damien, even distant. Enough so to whisper affection into Rilla's ear to bring with her, to bring along to Damien. And Rilla will bear his own affection back, to reassure their monster of their love in the moments they cannot share in truth.

Arum cannot join them in the Citadel, not as the world exists currently, but-

Damien and Rilla both carry Lord Arum with them, regardless. In their hearts, in their hands, on their lips, in the love they share with each other. Even distant, their love persists. Even hidden.

Sir Damien stands stalwart at his post, dutiful for the rest of the day, and his lips tingle and his mind drifts with buzzing affection as he devises some rather pleasant ideas regarding future messages to pass between his loves, and he does not need to brace beneath his yearning while his mind is so much more gently occupied.

Lord Arum nuzzles affection into the back of his neck to carry along the next time he leaves the Keep, arms wound snug around his chest, and Damien enthusiastically carries that warmth with him until he can surprise Rilla between appointments the next morning, making her squeak and giggle when Damien nips gently at the back of her neck.

Rilla shocks him into a yelp with her hand on his backside just outside the barracks, cackling laughter and deflecting all blame to the monster for the slap until Damien laughs as well, already strategizing a volley in return.

Arum pins him against the wall the moment he enters the Keep, echoing Amaryllis' teasing words to soften the news that she will be too busy to join them that evening.

Rilla graces him with Arum's kiss in the market square, surrounded by laughter and light, and he returns a kiss to be delivered in the dim-lit safety of the Keep, and for only a moment, he can feel Lord Arum's scaled palm, settled soft over their own clasped hands.

They weave affection between them, passing hands and tongues and whispers, and whenever any two of them are removed from their third, they breathe their distant love to each other regardless, memory and intent and shared devotion, love murmured from lip to lip to lip to lip, notes folded and refolded, softened by affectionate caressing and made ever more beautiful. And always, every time, the love they carry between them is sealed with a kiss.

#gay gay gay gay gay #i mean. uh. [normal tags] #elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #commente please tho actually for real

[willowser]

hey hey u could make a bonus fic abt dadyuuji that way the ppl who wanna avoid it can n the rest can have more fluff id support it ;P also nice art ya got there 👀 i love the teeth on him

great idea !!! i think after i post the finished fic, i will release all the little scenes i had planned for her ! there aren't many, but at least the context for the story will be there and we can appreciate what could have been ! thank you for the suggestion, yay compromise !!

also here's more just bc LOL

As soon as the truck stops, Brain flings the door open and runs around the front, yanking open Yuuji’s door so she can hop up close enough to whisper something in his ear. You catch splinters of their conversation: the little girl says something about her mother’s house and Yuuji scoffs and says, “thought you were excited?” and she makes a tempestuous little noise that sounds as if she’s unhappy with whatever he’s telling her.

And then he grumbles, disapprovingly, “Kaori.”

Kaori.

(“Don’t ever let her name come out of your fucking mouth again. Don’t even think about her or I’ll—”)

For the first time, you look at her directly. At the disheveled braid sticking out from underneath the cap that's too large for her head, at her hair—which is long and dark, black, and not at all that soft mauve you expected. There are nerves tingling the tips of her fingers, and you can tell by the way she's pinching and pulling at the skin of her hands, like she doesn't know what else to do with them. Scared, probably, of this stranger that's taking up all her space.

Just as you expected, there are bits of him there in her face, but there’s a softness, too. Just a brat with green, glittery nails and a band-aid on her cheek, little gold earrings and honey in her eyes. Kaori—you wonder if that’s what their mother looked like, if Yuuji thinks about her when he says her name, or when he doesn’t. Why your husband doesn’t care about his own blood, his own niece.

Looking at her awakens something inside you, as if knowing who she's named for is enough to thaw, to slow the anxious beat of your heart.

Yuuji sighs and slips out of the truck, placing a hand on her head when she presses her cheek into his thigh. “I, uh, totally forgot Brain goes to her mom’s today, so I'll let you get settled while I run her down the street, if that’s cool.”

Down the street. Another stereotype to add to the list: everyone knows everyone in a place of this size. Everyone knows where everyone goes. It makes you shiver.

You tell him that's fine and the minute you slip out the other side of the truck, Brain jumps into the driver's seat, scooting down on her butt to pump the brake even though the engine is off.

"Don't try to start this thing, missy, we can walk." Yuuji tells her. Now that the surface has been breached, you can look at her face again, the frown she gives him—you—before hitting the horn, quick. The harsh sound rips through the quiet, through the sea in the background, and you jump and she giggles until Yuuji hisses out her odd nickname.

Sukuna has sent silent warnings before, though they've always been almost imperceptible to those unattuned to the way emotions manifest on his face. A slight narrow of his eyes that comes and goes in the time it takes you to blink—watch yourself; you can only imagine Yuuji gives Brain that look now, from her crossed arms and petulant huff.

#AND DABERT AND HIS POINTY TEETH ARE HANGING UP BY MY BED HE HE #[ ☆ exile: yuuji ] #[ ☆ willow wippet ] #✿ ask willow

[asimper]

A year and a day

Inspired: Lord Huron - "The Night We Met"

Pair: Bruce Wayne x reader

Warnings: none

POV: you will understand from the context, some romantic drama here

***I am sorry, this is my first writing here. I was just thinking for a long time about this scene and decided to put it somewhere... Sorry 💔 ***

I had been waiting for him for hours. He booked this place a long time ago, where was the first date, saying a lot of lovely words about how wonderful it would be... He forgot it... He forgot and didn't come. I am so stupid to think that he will take it seriously. Of course, he had other things to do, more important than to spend this night with me. Huh, just a day, nothing significant. But I bought him the most expensive watches, ordered with "It will stop when my heart will end loving you", with the unlimited power of working. 300.000$ for a thing. Y/N, you are a serious woman, run a business, but hoped that this man will change from an adventurous bachelor to a lovely man ready for relationships... Stupid woman... I am so stupid...

*

-Master Wayne, what date is it today? asked Alfred walking into the cave and looking at a dark blue box.

-The 15th, he was working on a new system of security around the city, that will manage to determine the robber in some seconds.

-Actually, it is the 21st, he gave him the box and looked with disappointment at him. She came early in the morning, refused to enter the house, just gave me this box, and said that she understood you and your intentions to her. Oh, and she named you an asshole, but I would name you worse, he took off his glasses, smooth over the nose where had been the glasses. How could you forget?

-I... I didn't forget it, okay? We both know that these days I was working and sleeping. And... Was she crying? Bruce was worried, looking at the box with an uncomfortable feeling.

-No, but we both know that she did it yesterday. You are going to lose her. She makes you happy, but you make her cry.

Bruce took the box from the table and opened it. One of the most expensive watches... Petek Philippe Grand Complications. On them were written, "Look on their back".

-It will stop when my heart will end loving you, said loudly and he fell on the table in pain. How could I lose the time?

-I can buy you something to give her. I saw a very beautiful necklace that... Alfred didn't finish, looking surprised how he took from nowhere a light blue box.

-I was going to purpose her. I know, a year is too early, but...

-Her flight to London will be in 4 hours, you can take a shower before going and stop your air-jet.

He hugged him and run away.

They met a year and a day ago, at a gala. Bruce and Y/N are the people that rule with Gotham but didn't know each other until that night. They lovely talked, discovered that Y/N has 40% of the Gotham's airport, Bruce 45%. She owns a company of cybernetic prostheses, she could literally make from a dead man in a healthy and strong, thanks to engineering degree and mom's lessons of neurology. After that gala they met again, he asked her on a date in that restaurant. He gave her red roses, of course, he found everything she likes and dislikes. They talked, and walked, and laughed... He was never so free to someone as with her, even if everyone said that Y/N is a severe woman. At the end of the night, they kissed. Bruce didn't want to spend a night with her and forget, he wanted more, even if she was ready to go with him that night. She was often traveling from Gotham to London, where her company had the main building, but she always tried to spend her time with him, even when he was full in work. Y/N knew that he is Batman, she always knew it, and she took care of his injuries whenever she was in Gotham.

She gave her luggage and went to her flight. Disappointment. Heartbreak. She should expect it... She laid on the chair, reading her book, something about the human body.

-Why we are not taking off? she asked neutral and when she looked up, she saw Bruce. What are you doing here?

-Y/N, he sat in front of her and tried to take her hands in his, but she pushed him away, looking with hate. I didn't forget. I know that we were supposed to go to that restaurant on the 20th. I was working and I... I lost the track of time. I thought until Alfred came that is the 15th.

-Don't lie to me, Mister Wayne. Be honest, you didn't even pay attention to our "meetings", she was full of anger, almost ready to cry from a breakdown. You don't love me, but I couldn't see it before.

-Don't say it, you know it is not true.

-I want you to leave, said but Bruce was sitting next to her, continuously looking at her. Bruce, leave my fucking plane.

-It is mine also, 5% more than yours, he said with a little smile. Don't be a dummy, you are a wise woman.

She saw her gift on his hand, but instead of happiness, she felt disgusting.

-In this case, I will leave, she took her book and stuff, arranging everything in her bag. We are going to meeting separately, not even talking together. We have never met in a public place. We say that we are single. I am not even a girlfriend to you, Bruce. I need to shut up when young reporters flirt with you, but if someone is touching me, you are ready to burn the entire planet, her nerves were done, tears laying on her cheeks, trying to handle her sobs. For sure you cheated on me already. God, I am so stupid that I thought that you, a bachelor that slept with more women than I can imagine, will stop on me, a girl with not a manipulative personality, not a model or ballerina, and with a gap of 20 years. SAY SOMETHING! she shouted at him and stopped in fear of the light blue box.

It was open and... Tiffany & Co. Schlumberger, Two Bees, Engagement Ring... She froze, still sobbing in silence.

-Y/N L/N, I planned to say it yesterday, but... Will you marry me? he stood up and went closer, gently taking her left hand. I hope it is the right size. Of course, it is, I took the size of the rings you are wearing when you went to the shower at your house, he smiled looking at her hand.

-You were last time in my house half a year ago, she murmured staring at him.

-And? he started to clean her face from mascara and salty tears. I was sure that you are my perfect woman from the first met, from the night we met, darling, he sat down. I wanted it to be perfect, but I messed up, as usual.

-Bruce...

She kissed him, feelings of happiness messing with anger, butterflies in the stomach, and a lot of things, like where are they going now. He took her thin body in his big hands, hugging her like it is the only reason to live.

-Y/N Wayne, she whispered in his lips and giggled. The best gift you could give me. I love you so much.

-I love you too, my lovely wife. You know, he kissed each finger from her hand with the ring, meanwhile, she is looking at it, it was pretty hard to take that size, I sized with my finger.

-Dummy, she laughed and kissed him again. Where are we going now?

-To our ceremony, Mrs. Wayne. We are going to Bali, where it will be the dress that you wore in London for fun and liked a lot, and we will get married at the seaside. We will take a lot of photos and post them everywhere, to know who you belong to.

-More precisely, who YOU, playboy and millionaire, belong to, they laughed and kissed again...

#batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #wayne x reader #dc #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #asimper

[fangqueen]

#3 What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Fun Meta Asks for Writers

Adding the link to the ask game at the start this time, 'cause this is gonna be a long one, y'all. 😂

Where do I even begin? First of all, @angie-leena​, thank you so SO much for sending me this ask! It was the kick in the ass I needed to get me to actually write this scene, and for that I’m extremely grateful. I still don’t know if I’m entirely happy with the finished product, but it exists now, and that’s something.

So some of you may remember (if anyone actually follows my ramblings, haha!) that I’ve been simultaneously complaining about and obsessing over this gigantic WIP I’ve had since fucking March 2019. Nearly two and a half years have passed since I put the first word to paper, and oh how I’ve loved to cry out in frustration about how I have about 12k written on the stupid thing and yet not a single scene finished.

AT LEAST

NOT UNTIL TODAY

YES, I’VE DONE IT. I’ve finished a scene on this amazing, wonderful, and incredibly stupid WIP, and I could just cry.

FYI for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck I’m talking about (which I’m sure is everyone, ‘cause I don’t expect anybody to remember this insane thing I’ve been shouting about all this time, LOL): this is the Slytherin My Gryffindor WIP. Yes, that is a working title. 😅 I will find a better one.....some day.......Ron/Draco is the main pair, but there will also be plenty of others sprinkled in the background.

Anyway, about this ask and that context I haven’t been arsed to write yet...

Context required in order to understand this scene 😂:

Fred Lives AU

The Muggle world and the Wixen world has kind of mixed in recent years, and it’s very common for magical people to be using Muggle technology

The Weasley twins have opened a second shop in Diagon Alley...selling sex toys (yes, really)

Their first original product line issssssss..........dildoes shaped like the Weasley brothers’ own dicks (and a fleshlight kind of thing for Ginny)

Yes this is crack!fic (but, like, also not???)

Ron has been made general manager of the shop and is there all the time, as they’re incredibly busy

Draco wants 👏 that 👏 D 👏, but is worried about Ron finding out, so keeps coming into the shop randomly hoping he won’t be there (and of course he always is)

Eventually there’s a day where Ron’s in the backroom, Charlie’s visiting and helping out at the register, and when Ron emerges, Charlie informs him that Draco Malfoy has just run in and bought Ron’s dildo

Cue Ron being incredibly turned on by this notion

So that pretty much brings us up-to-speed for this scene - it’s been a few days now, and Ron’s been trying to figure out a way to contact Draco to talk to him about the whole thing, since they never became friends or anything after the war and don’t regularly talk unless they’re just seeing each other around

The fic is meant to touch on, like...fame in the aftermath of the war (i.e. why anyone would be interested in sex toys modelled after the Weasley siblings in the first place)

Ron has evolved from his teenage self and grown to hate the fame - it prevents him from being able to date, because the press can never let him keep anything private

After this scene, the fic will focus on Ron and Draco developing a sexual - and eventually romantic - relationship (originally under the guise of “testing out” other products from the shop together)

They will try their best to keep their relationship a secret, but, like...everyone knows 😘😘😘

Also Draco is a model in this one (not important for this scene, but just thought you might want to know 😂)

In addition, some warnings/content to make note of before reading:

NC-17 (smut incoming!)

Technology circa 2005

Phone sex

Semi-public sex

Sex toys

Both Ron and Draco are a little drunk (but very consenting!)

Crack taken way too seriously

Of course, this hasn't been betaed or Britpicked, so I apologize for how very rough it is right now, lol. It will likely be a little (or a lot!) different if I ever actually finish this whole fucking fic and post it later on. I am treating this scene like a “sneak peek” of the fic, because I definitely do still want to try to finish it someday...

HOLY SHIT, I had a LOT more to say about it than I thought. 😅 So anyway. Scene under the cut.

Friday night at the Dragon's Head was packed. It took a bit of initiative, but Ron, Seamus, and Dean finally managed to snag them all a table in the back corner, hoarding the extra seats till Harry and Neville finally arrived, trailed closely by Ginny and Parkinson ― who were curiously short one blond wizard.

Ron tried not to think about it. He bought the first round with Harry, listening to him chat about the recent Puddlemere match against the Magpies. They ordered nibbles for the table. Ron munched on chips, his heart skipping every time the door opened across the room and another few patrons trickled in.

He was on his third pint of the evening when he started getting antsy. He sipped his Simison, using the light smoke curling around the rim of the glass to discreetly glance around the pub, hoping to spot a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Is he coming, then?"

Ron's head snapped to attention. Ginny checked the door as well before turning back to Parkinson.

"Who?" Neville asked, snagging a vinegar-soaked chip from the bowl in the center of the table.

"Malfoy," Ginny said, craning her neck to see her girlfriend's screen.

Parkinson tapped away on her mobile, shaking her head. "No. Says he's already curled up with a bottle of wine and a good book, and doesn't fancy getting all done up."

Fucking hell. Ron drained the dregs at the bottom of his glass. It wasn't often Malfoy joined them on a mostly-Gryffindor outing ― not unless Parkinson could convince him. Somehow, Ron felt he should've known it wouldn't be in the cards tonight. Conversation pivoted again, and Ron ran his fingers up the sides of his empty pint, thinking.

At some point, Seamus and Harry set off to get another round, and Ginny hurried away with them after a quick peck to Parkinson's cheek. Neville and Dean had gotten into a chat about proper Mimbulus mimbletonia care, and Ron saw his chance. He could feel his heart start to thud in his chest as he cleared his throat, raising his voice to catch her attention.

"Parkinson?"

She turned back from watching Ginny leave, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes?"

"Think you could give me Malfoy's number?"

The smirk she gave him in response made his hands shake a little as they drummed against the tabletop.

"Whatever for?"

Ron stared her down, knowing full well any excuse he told her would never be enough. Parkinson's expression was predatory ― as if she already knew the answer anyway. He waited for her to comment, bracing himself.

To his surprise, she instead dug her mobile back out of her handbag.

She turned the screen towards him, and he typed the number directly into the dialer on his phone. He waited a few minutes until everyone ― Parkinson included ― had moved on to other things and forgotten about him, and then slipped from the table.

Ron shouldered his way through the crowd to the loo, pushing inside and locking the door behind him. It was a small room, hardly bigger than a broom closet. There was a toilet and a sink, a grimy mirror hanging above it, and a dim ceiling lamp that barely lit the space.

Ron backed up to one side of the room and slumped against the wall. He gripped the phone in clammy hands. Those pints had picked a perfect moment to hit him all at once. Ron blinked away the creeping dizziness, staring down at the numbers glowing dauntingly on the tiny screen. He'd been unable to get it out of his mind for days ― the image of Malfoy riding his dildo ― and now that he had a way to contact him, he was frozen. The leaky faucet dripped, the sound maddening as it mingled with the rush of blood in his ears. This was stupid. This was so bloody stupid.

He hit call.

Ron held his breath, cupping the phone to his ear. The line rang and rang, until he started to realize he didn't have a plan B. What if Malfoy didn't answer? What if he had to leave a voicemail? What would he even say? He should've just texted him, damn it.

Then, suddenly, the ringing stopped. There was rustling and a mumbled, "Bloody useless thing." Then, louder, "Yes?"

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, this is ― Weasley?"

Malfoy sounded surprised. Ron breathed out gradually, his heartbeat slowing with it. Malfoy's voice was clear and present on the other end. No looking back. He tried to think of something to say, and only came up with one thing.

"Haven't seen you round the shop yet this week."

"Don't tell me that's really why you called." Malfoy sighed, trying to sound put-upon, but Ron could hear the hint of nerves underneath. "If you must know, that would be because I found what I'd been looking for."

"I know."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. For a moment, Ron thought Malfoy might hang up. But then he cursed quietly. "Damn that brother of yours. Incorrigible."

So it really was true. Charlie hadn't just been taking the piss. Ron felt a warmth flare up in his belly, spreading down to the tops of his thighs.

"Try growing up with him. And the twins? Now that's a real nightmare."

"I was trying for discreet, but you were always there."

Ron leaned further back against the wall, staring up at the dark ceiling above. He thought of all those times Malfoy had dropped in at the shop, only to hurry out again if Ron ever came too close. Malfoy had jumped at the chance when Ron had been called away to the back that day.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well. You know. So what, then? Looking to mock me for it?"

"You always assume the worst with me. Why is that?" Although Ron couldn't exactly blame him. He hadn't given Malfoy much else to go on in years past. Neither of them had. "No. No, I was calling because…" Why had he been calling? It had seemed such a natural thing when he'd asked Parkinson for Malfoy's number not five minutes ago. "I was curious. If there was, er." He waved his free hand, searching for the words. Nothing sounded right. "Any particular reason for it."

Malfoy laughed ― a short bark of a sound. "I mean, obviously yes. It's a sex toy, Weasley."

Ron snorted, taken aback. "That's not ―"

"Actually, I thought it'd make a nice statement in the middle of my dining table. It would be an excellent conversation piece for dinner parties."

"For fuck's sake, Malfoy, I didn't ―"

A chuckle rumbled through from the other end of the line. There was that snark again. Merlin, it made Ron hot, his skin blooming from his collar up to his ears. He chewed his lip, pulling back the grin that threatened to spread across his face.

"I only meant ― was there a reason? That you'd picked mine?"

The line suddenly went quiet. Ron had to check his phone just to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

When Malfoy finally replied, his voice was soft, uncertain. "What would possess you to call and ask me that?"

Ron breathed in slowly, his hand tapping an incoherent rhythm on his thigh. "Well, I'm a bit pissed, to be honest," he admitted, still feeling the slight burn the Simison had left in his throat.

Malfoy didn't say anything more at first. The lamp above buzzed as the faucet continued to drip. Ron could hear the noise from the pub pressing up against the other side of the door.

Then, Malfoy said, "Maybe there was."

Ron felt his heart jump into his throat. "Was what?"

"A reason why I bought it," Malfoy said slowly, deliberately. "Figure it out, Weasel."

Oh, bloody hell. Ron took a shaky breath. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

"And...how was it?" Ron heard himself ask as if from very far away.

Even over the din of the music beyond the bathroom door, he could hear Malfoy swallow. "It was good."

"Oh, ta." Ron chuckled despite himself.

"No, I mean...Bugger." It was nice hearing Malfoy so flustered. A rare occurrence, and one that the little fluttering pixie in Ron's stomach very much wanted to repeat. "It was brilliant, alright? Happy?"

Brilliant. The word tingled down Ron's spine. For some reason, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Bloody hell, was this really happening? He thought of fleeting insults thrown in the school corridors all those years ago ― then he thought of a night just a few months ago, the look in Malfoy's eyes as Ron told him about the shop.

"You wrote a song about me once, if I remember correctly," Ron said, feeling deliriously happy.

"I suppose I did." Malfoy sighed.

Ron's eyes flicked to the door, to the noise of the crowd beyond. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"Oh, please, Weasley," Malfoy said bitterly. "Pick a reason."

"I know, but ―" Ron tried to argue, but Malfoy cut him off.

"You don't owe me anything. It would be incredibly unfair for me to expect you to be interested in return."

Ron supposed that was fair enough. He'd had similar feelings towards Malfoy until very recently.

"I would be, though. I mean ― I am."

Saying the words out loud gave them a weight Ron hadn't felt before. He let them roll off his tongue, flattened the tip of it along his lips as he thought about flashes of icy blond hair, high cheekbones, and long fingers swirling around the rim of a glass. He thought of the moment he'd finally realized Malfoy had been looking back.

"Oh." Malfoy paused, seeming surprised by that revelation. "Good to know."

Malfoy fidgeted. Ron listened intently, hearing the breath he released and the scrape of his fingers against his mobile.

"You wouldn't ― ah." Malfoy caught himself, and Ron waited for him to continue, his ears ringing. "Would you want to…?" Malfoy trailed off, finishing his thought with a scoff.

"Would I want to what ― oh."

Oh.

Ron swallowed hard. He wanted to believe Malfoy was asking him what he thought he was asking him, but even after everything, it was almost too good to be true. The long stretch of awkward silence on the other end told him he was right, though, and that made him jittery, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I could be reading too much into this," Malfoy muttered.

"No, no, definitely not. I mean." Ron licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. "I just don't want you to think I expect this."

Malfoy made a sound, and Ron could practically feel him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

"Oh, so you don't ring up every person who buys a model of your cock and ask them how they enjoyed it?"

"What? No, of course not!" Ron stopped, realizing, and laughed at himself. "You're joking. That was a joke."

"Terribly clever, this one."

A sudden jiggling of the door handle made Ron jump, almost dropping his mobile in the process.

"Occupied!"

He fumbled with the phone, his heart thudding wildly. When he put it back to his ear, Malfoy was laughing. The sound made Ron feel weak in the knees.

"Where are you?" Malfoy asked, still snickering.

"In the loo at the Dragon's Head."

"Oh, of course." Malfoy sucked his teeth contemplatively. "Hang on. Is there anyone in there with you?"

Another frustrated turn of the door handle.

"It's a single."

"Good." Malfoy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Do you want me to use it?"

Ron pressed his hand flat against the door, waiting until he heard the bloke give a huff and storm off. "Use what?"

"Your dildo, Weasley."

The silken drawl of Malfoy's voice spread like gooseflesh across Ron's skin. "Right now?" he asked incredulously, although he was already half hard at the thought.

"I could give you an exclusive product review. Unless you don't want to."

"No, I do!" Ron replied quickly, and Malfoy laughed again, making him blush.

"Eager, are we?"

"Yes." Ron passed a hand over his face, trying to laugh as well, but it came out shaky. Merlin, it had been all he could think about for the past few days. Still, he'd never imagined Malfoy would offer it outright. "Just didn't take you for the phone sex type."

Malfoy hummed. "You caught me in a randy mood. Now how do I ― ah, right."

Ron assumed he'd been put on speakerphone, as there was now an echo. He dug out his wand for a moment and cast a quick Silencio on the bathroom. It was a wonder how he had the brain power to spare, when all the blood in his body was suddenly rushing to his cock. He could hear Malfoy fumbling for something on the other end.

"Where are you?" Ron asked in return, trying to distract himself from the heady thrum of anticipation.

"In bed. Naked," Malfoy added with a hint of a smirk in his voice. Ron groaned, shutting his eyes against the image of Malfoy stretched out on soft sheets, hard and waiting for him. Merlin, had he been naked the whole time they were talking? Ron pressed the heel of his palm to the crotch of his jeans.

Malfoy went silent for a moment, until there was a faint intake of breath. His bed creaked distantly in the background.

Ron licked his lips, cupping his hand around the solid, hot line of his cock under his trousers. "Are you prepping yourself?"

"Of course." Malfoy breathed out steadily, the bed creaking again. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. Although I'd always wondered."

Fucking hell. Ron arched against his hand. Was he really going to get his cock out in a pub toilet? The last shred of his resolve melted away when he heard Malfoy moan, low and guttural, a sound that shot straight through Ron, all the way to his toes. He imagined Malfoy laying back, his knees bent up, and slick fingers down between his legs, pressing in and out of his puckered hole. Ron was switching the phone to his left hand before he could give it a second thought. He flicked open the button on his jeans and pushed his pants down to hook under his balls, taking himself in hand.

Ron rolled his hand down over his length. Malfoy's breath hitched, and he cursed, the bed shifting with him. Ron caught his lip between his teeth, wondering how many fingers he had in him. He imagined himself leaning over Malfoy on the bed, licking a hot stripe along his neck as his hand worked him open, his thighs falling open as he settled between them.

"Fuck, I needed this," Malfoy breathed. Ron moaned, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing over the weeping head of his cock.

Malfoy muttered a Cleansing charm, and then a drawer was pulled roughly open nearby. Ron heard Malfoy pick up the phone, moving and setting it down again as he bounced on the bed, adjusting himself.

"Are you ―?" Ron wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish the thought, left hand gripping the phone hard as he tried to steady himself.

"Yes, gods."

Ron paused, listening as Malfoy shifted and panted on the other end. He didn't have to ask when it was fully in. He knew the moment Malfoy's breath faltered, the gasp he gave sending shivers down Ron's spine.

Malfoy huffed, the sound so loud to Ron's ears as the whole world funneled down to a point, to this moment as he listened to Malfoy move the toy inside of himself. He moaned, and Ron thought he could hear the squelch of lube on the other end of the line as it entered him.

"Talk to me, Weasley."

Malfoy sounded wrecked. It was enough to make Ron's toes curl just to hear it. It was almost too much to handle ― the idea of Draco Malfoy being thoroughly fucked out by a dildo modelled after Ron's own cock. Ron's head thunked back against the wall. His hand trembled a little as he began stroking himself again.

"Get on your knees for me," he said softly.

Malfoy swore. Ron heard him flip over, his panting breaths suddenly closer to the receiver. In his mind, he could see Malfoy bent over the bed, arse in the air and cheek pressed against the mattress, lips rosy and parted. He imagined himself knelt behind Malfoy, hands gripping his slender hips.

"There's, uh." Ron swallowed. "There's a self-shagging feature. If you want. The spell's ―"

"Oh, we're well acquainted."

"Fuck," Ron moaned. No way he was going to last like this. He rocked his hips, thrusting into the tight circle of his fist. Malfoy sounded like he was trying to collect himself, even as his voice broke on the last word. Ron couldn't begin to explain why that aroused him so much, but he didn't care, already speeding up his hand as it flew over his cock.

Malfoy cast the spell, and Ron felt his cry as the toy began to move on its own. The bed gave a jolt under Malfoy's weight. He gasped again, and Ron heard his fingers scrambling across the sheets.

Ron could almost see it. He imagined Malfoy's bowed back, his knees slipping and spreading apart, his toes curling. The bed creaked with each movement. A dildo of Ron's own making, Malfoy arching back onto it as it fucked him down onto the mattress. Merlin, he should've known Malfoy would take it so well, his eyes rolling back as he listened to the sounds Malfoy made as it thrust into him.

Ron closed his eyes and felt like he was sitting in the room, watching the whole show, watching a copy of his cock pound into Malfoy again and again. The pub outside the bathroom door fell away from him, and all he could focus on was Malfoy's voice and his hand on his own cock.

"Tell me how it feels," Ron choked out, wanting to hear it, see it, touch it, to watch Malfoy unravel under Ron's hands and cock, to capture each cry with his tongue.

Malfoy groaned. "So ― good ―"

"Tell me," Ron rasped again, thrusting his hips forward into his hand. "Tell me ― ah ― how good it is."

"It's so ―" Malfoy cried out, his hands skittering over the sheets. "So good ― so big ― I ―"

"Fucking hell, Malfoy."

At that point, Ron didn't know if he wanted to be watching the toy fuck Malfoy or if he wanted to take over for it. Was he really getting jealous of a dildo? He wished he was there. He wanted to tell Malfoy as much, but he couldn't manage it, instead moaning loudly as he felt his balls begin to draw up against him.

"Fuck, Weasley, you're gonna make me come," Malfoy whined, his posh accent slipping. 

Holy shit, and that was what did it. Ron made a gut-punched sound, his wrist flicking over the head of his cock. He was coming almost before he'd even realized. He barely had the presence of mind to do anything about it before the first spurt had dribbled onto the floor. He pushed off the wall and lent forward, pumping the remainder into the sink. He heard Malfoy swear, and Ron slumped back against the wall again, listening as he came apart with a shuddering cry.

The line went quiet once more. Ron rested his head on the tiles behind him, closing his eyes, holding his softening cock. For a long time, all he could hear was Malfoy breathing on the other end, his own heartbeat equally loud in his ears.

"I liked that. A lot."

Eloquent as always. Ron half expected for Malfoy to say just that, but instead he heard a very soft chuckle ― and then, quietly, "So did I."

Now that his heart rate was gradually slowing, the noise of the club outside wormed its way back in, reminding Ron of where he was, and what he'd just done. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, glancing at the door when he heard a chatty couple pass by. How long had he been in there? Were the others looking for him?

Another person suddenly banged on the door, and Ron started, pushing off from the wall and quickly withdrawing his wand, disabling his Silencio and spelling himself clean.

"Right." He wanted to say more. Merlin, he did. But instead all he said just then was, "Well, I should probably, er, get back to it. You know?"

"Of course." There was rustling on the line, and then Ron was off speakerphone, Malfoy's voice close and intimate again in a way that made him shiver. "Have a good night, Weasley."

"You too, Malfoy."

Ron exited the bathroom, ignoring the irritated look the other patron gave him as he slipped past.

The entire way back to their table, he felt like he was floating on a cloud. Harry gave him an odd look when he slid into his seat, pulling the fresh pint they'd bought him an indeterminable amount of time ago towards him. Ron couldn't even begin to catch up with what they were all talking about, his mind drifting to thoughts of Malfoy, his mobile a leaden weight in his pocket as the night wound on.

#writer asks #dron #ron x draco #ron weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #fangqueen writes fanfiction #fangqueen speaks

[veliseraptor]

got tagged for two fic writer memes yesterday! the one from @ameliarating first:

How many works do you have on AO3?

509.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

3,432,24. dang! that’s a lot of words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I have written for...counting the MCU as one fandom, on AO3 I have written for 32 fandoms, including at least one work in:

MCU, The Sillmarillion, Caliban Leandros, both DC and Marvel Comics, the book Barebacked by Kit Whitfield, Doctrine of Labyrinths, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Wars, Black Jewels, Dragon Age, Lucifer, Dexter, Temeraire, Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Supernatural, A Song of Ice and Fire, Greek Mythology, Lymond Chronicles, Merlin BBC, Code Geass, Good Omens,  Death Note, and White Collar.

this is not a comprehensive list of every fandom I’ve ever written for, because it is not including ones that live only on FFN or Livejournal.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Life In Reverse tops the list (11066), aka my 200k Loki-centric post-Thor AU fic that I wrote between 2012 and 2018 and with which I have a decidedly complex relationship at this point. I love it but also I no longer think it’s my best work but also I credit it with teaching me a fuck of a lot about writing and writing longer projects in general.

With Absolute Splendor is rapidly catching up, to my astonishment (6559), despite having been posted for less than half as long. Aka the wedding planning fic that’s really just me mucking about in my Jiang Cheng and my Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian feelings, at length.

some good mistakes (4618) was my first foray into the Untamed version of “characters who hate each other going on resentful roadtrips together, feat. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng.” I have gone on to write others and will continue to write more.

Unraveling (3069) is a little bit of a surprise but also not - it was originally just sort of WWP stuff for my ‘what if people remembered that blunt force trauma is a really bad thing actually’ problem that pops up sometimes, re: Loki at the end of The Avengers, and then it kind of turned into a whole thing. I personally think it’s the weakest of the installments of the series it belongs to, but it is the first one and also the one that gets least into the broader family dysfunction and depression stuff that probably is less everyone’s thing (but is what came out this fic that mattered more to me, personally).

I am a little surprised to see Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains (3068) here too! I was expecting one of the more...idk, mainstream concepts from the MCU to win out? But I also wasn’t expecting two Untamed fics to make it here, either. But I am stupid proud of this fic even if it is very extraordinarily unfinished. This is one of those unfinished fics that will nag at me unless and until I finish it, at least a little, because the concept - if I do say so myself - is so goddamn good and I think I was executing it pretty well, too.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Pretty much never. I was never very good at it and now I’d feel like I had to go back and reply to all of them and I just. I can’t do that. and when I do try to just start at the beginning I get overwhelmed very fast and start avoiding it.

Basically I decided that if it’s a decision between wrestling with myself to reply to comments versus actually doing more writing I’m going to end up landing on the latter as feeling both more doable and more productive.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

probably it’s The Worlds Forgotten, the Words Forbidden for sheer level of “so then what was the point” of it all. but like. I’ve definitely written a few extraordinarily miserable fics, and by “a few” I kind of mean “a lot.” Other nominees I’d put down might be nor autumn falter (for currently personally making me suffer most), once there was a way to get back home (for I think having the ouchiest summary), and Waiting for the Summer Rain (which remains one of my personal favorite Supernatural fics I wrote).

but like. there are 43 fics I have marked with Major Character Death warnings and every single one of those, pretty much, has a downer ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written several though not in a long time! My craziest probably remains the Morgoth/Cthulhu short I wrote that actually got sporked because someone took it seriously (???) enough to do that. But the craziest that actually has any merit, (I’d argue) is probably the Maeglin/Viserys one.

not linking to either, if you want to go find them I don’t think it’ll be that hard.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah, a few times on a few different things. More if you count “people who seem to like the fic but love telling you how much they hate the female characters you’re writing about in it” as ‘hate’ which I would but isn’t, you know, quite as straightforward. If I had a nickel for every time someone bitched about Jane in Life in Reverse, though...lots of nickels.

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Sure do! But what does ‘what kind’ mean, I don’t know how to answer that question. I feel tempted to just put in my “Mike’s Hard Kinks” image edit in this space.

I guess usually I tend to write smut that at least involves a little bit of a kink? I don’t think I’d feel comfortable writing entirely kinkless smut. I think I’d feel weird about it, the same way I do when I write really nice fic, generally.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think I did back when but I don’t remember anything about it. I feel like it was one of those mass data scraping things where my fic happened to be among those caught up in it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! several actually, mostly into Russian and Chinese. every time it happens I’m immensely flattered that someone wants to put in that kind of work on something I wrote.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I think I’d be very, very bad at it.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Depends on when you ask me! I could probably give you a top five but then I’d remember six that I forgot to mention five minutes later. I guess if I were to think about ships that feel like they hold very special particular places in my heart... Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Steve Rogers/Loki, and Min/Rand come to mind.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

oh god do you want the whole list cause honestly I could just like. screencap the entirety of my “in progress” folder with a crying emoji watermarked over it. and that’s not getting into the fics that are like...half formed babies in my consciousness but not anywhere on paper.

and also I just hate to admit that I might not finish something.

you know what? the Lucifer/Good Omens crossover I started would’ve been a lot of fun. I’m probably never going to finish it, but it would’ve been great if I had. I know other people did it too but my contribution could’ve been amazing.

I can say this very boldly with the near certainty that I’m not going to finish the fic so no one will be able to disagree.

(...also the Last Herald-Mage fix it. that was going to be a good fic too, and also will probably languish unfinished forever.)

What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty sure dialogue is my strongest point. Dialogue and emotions, which is why I always end up just wanting to write about characters talking and having feelings at each other.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing action sequences throws me into conniptions every time I have to do it and I will take drastic actions sometimes to avoid doing it at all, which probably weakens the work as a whole.

Also, I don’t plan ahead and this means I write myself into corners kind of a lot. If I wasn’t writing long, dense fic it wouldn’t be a problem but here we are.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I tend to avoid it unless it’s in the context of, as in CQL/MDZS fic, leaving certain terminology untranslated. I’m pretty sure I almost never write full exchanges of dialogue in a different language than I’m using for the narration within a fic, and generally speaking my reaction to other people doing it is at least mildly negative.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was technically the first fandom I wrote for, but it was a crack fic I wrote to make my friends laugh more than anything; I tend to count Wheel of Time as my first actual fandom for which I wrote my first actual fic.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

some days the answer is “all of them” and some day the answer is “I don’t like anything I’ve written in my entire life” and I never like giving this a definitive answer. yesterday I reread efforts in a common cause (the bound copy!! thanks @spockandawe) and you know what, that was a good fic and I’m proud of it, so I’m going with that one, for this meme, today.

tagging: @mostfacinorous, @jaggedcliffs, @silvysartfulness, @mikkeneko, @kasasagi-eye, @curiosity-killed, how many people am I supposed to tag for this one anyway

#lise memes #confessions of a frustrated writer

[oh-boy-me]

Obey Me Devilgram Posts and Comments: In Style/You’ve Got to Be Kidding!

Wow this is like.  An ongoing event.  This event is still happening.  Damn.

This is the first time in a while that we’ve seen characters comment on their own posts, which is interesting!  Also it’s the first time in a while that Levi’s been an inconvenience :’) but we manage here at oh boy me dot tumblr dot com.

I should probably read this event soon, shouldn’t I.

日本語は私の第三言語ので、時々間違えます。日本語話者、間違いを見たら教えてください。 (Japanese is my third language, so I make mistakes sometimes.  Japanese speakers, if you see a mistake, please tell me!)

The full transcript is below the cut!

Leviathan’s Persistent(1) Challenges

LordDiavolo: I wonder what you’ll do this time

Belphie: Are you planning on doing magic tricks or something?

Mammoney: I don’t get what’s fun about it

L3V1: It’s now or never to make a view count killing(2)

#ChallengeVideo #Fad

Where the Spirit of Inquiry Leads

Lucifer: It’s nice that the room’s quiet today

monSOLO: Collecting nature’s ingredients seems interesting too

Angeluke: Satan, you’re surprisingly active!

stn: Next time I’ll look for something that works on humans too

#Expedition #UsualBehavior

Caring Big and Little Brother

Mammoney: Y’all fucking(3) ran away

DDSimeon: There are all sorts of toys too

stn: Taking a detour is fun, isn’t it?

ButlerBarb: I’ve started to want to bake a cake

#Toys #Cake

Brotherly Love Connected by Rail

AsmoBaby: Kids are out of my depth!

L3V1: Gross, awful, I’m speechless(4)

Belphie: I don’t lose when it comes to sleeping

LordDiavolo: Good work

#FirstTimeChildcare #ParentsAreGreat

Mammon’s Office Work

L3V1: Mammon seems decent or something lolololol(5)

ButlerBarb: It’s difficult to handle phone calls

Angeluke: Working is tough

Lucifer: Only his taste isn’t bad

#ClothesMakeTheMan #Suit

Belphegor Strengthening Program

DDSimeon: I’d like to try enlisting too

AsmoBaby: Maybe it’ll polish up his beauty too!

Belphie: This was intense

Beelzeburger: Let’s do it again

#HowToSleepWell #BuildingUpMuscleStrength

The Great(6) Makeover!?

L3V1: What’s setting up this persona you mentioned gonna do?(7)

Mammoney: It’s like the clothes are wearin’ him(8) or somethin’!

stn: A fatal miscalculation

monSOLO: It’s not good to try too hard

#Chihuahua #DevildomDebut

1. あくなき (akunaki) could mean “persistent” (飽くなき) or “evil-less” (悪なき), and while I’m gonna assume it’s the first, the potential for double meaning is pretty cool! 2. 再生回数 (saiseikaisuu) is the view count on a video, but Levi cuts out the third kanji and just says 再生数.  Apparently they do that in Love Live too, so the meaning shouldn’t change from the full 4-kanji term. 3. If you remember from the Mammon’s way of speech post, やがる (yagaru, yagatte here) is an auxiliary verb that means you’re pissed off that someone had the audacity to do something.  I debated between making him say “had the nerve to” and “fucking” but I like to let Mammon curse as a treat. 4. Levi if you finished your words it’d be easier to get what you mean 5. 草 (kusa) means grass, but it also means lol.  Laugh in Japanese is 笑う (warau), and since the first letter is w, lol started being written as w to save time.  And in the same way that we can say lololol in English, you can add more w’s for wwwww in Japanese, and that looks like grass!  So that’s why grass means lol. 6. If the title makes it sound like some sort of epic movie or novel, it’s because that’s exactly what 華麗なる (karei naru) is often used for! 7. ーてどうする (-te dousuru) literally means “what will you do”, but in a lot of contexts it means that whatever comes before it won’t accomplish anything. 8. Basically meaning that the clothes are better than Luke is, but in other cases it can also mean they’re too big.

Masterpost

レヴィアタンのあくなき挑戦

LordDiavolo: 今度は何をやってくれるのかな Belphie: 手品でもするつもり？ Mammoney: 面白さがわかんねー L3V1: 再生数荒稼ぎ待ったなしですわ ＃チャレンジ動画　＃流行

探求心が導く先に

Lucifer: 今日は部屋が静かでいい monSOLO: 自然の食材集めも面白そうだ Angeluke: サタン、意外にアクティブだな！ stn: 今度は人間にも効くものを探す ＃探検　＃いつものパターン

面倒見のいい兄と弟

Mammoney: おまえら逃げ出しやがって DDSimeon: オモチャも色々あるよね stn: 寄り道って楽しいよな ButlerBarb: ケーキが焼きたくなってきました ＃オモチャ　＃ケーキ

レールでつながる兄弟愛

AsmoBaby: おこちゃまは専門外！ L3V1: キモ、やば、ドン引き Belphie: 寝ることなら負けない LordDiavolo: おつかれさま ＃初めての育児　＃親は偉大

マモンのオフィスワーク

L3V1: マモンがまともに見えるとか草 ButlerBarb: 電話応対は難しいものです Angeluke: 働くって大変だな Lucifer: センスだけは悪くないな ＃馬子にも衣装　＃スーツ

ベルフェゴール強化計画

DDSimeon: 俺も入隊してみたい AsmoBaby: 美にも磨きがかかるかもね！ Belphie: この時はキツかった Beelzeburger: またやろう ＃よく眠れる方法　＃筋力アップ

華麗なる大変身！？

L3V1: これ以上キャラ立ててどうすんの？ Mammoney: 服に着られてるとかダゼー！ stn: 致命的な判断ミスだな monSOLO: 無理はよくない ＃チワワ　＃魔界デビュー

このタグは長すぎるじゃないの？？

#obey me #obey me! #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me luke #obey me translation #devilgram

[chaserofstarsandtheabyss]

I was kinda wondering if my experience today sounds like a sensory overload, anxiety attack, or something else?? You don't need to look at this if you don’t want to, I’m just so confused and I need to vent.

So, for context, a series of events happened that kinda threw me off. Unexpected guests in the house, driving the freeway when I didn't think I needed too, and having some extra time to spend after shopping that I didn't account for. 

I hadn’t eaten lunch, but I was planning to if I had the time. I decided to go to a coffeeshop I enjoyed (mainly for its calm atmosphere). A studio nearby was having rehearsals and playing very loud music and the coffeeshop was more crowded than usual, it seemed fine at first, I ordered and everything was going well. 

But as the time went on and on as I waited, I started to think that they forgot about my order, and how I would need to ask if they forgot. But I wanted to be absolutely sure first because I didn't want to be annoying. 

Everything started to seem a lot louder. I couldn't distract myself with my phone. The music was playing too loud and kept only starting the first part of the song and not finishing it. There were around three conversations going on around me and I was starting to tear up because I didn't know what to do, my fear kept rising and I would manage to abruptly calm myself. 

I tied up my hair preemptively because whenever stuff like this happens my hair bothers me a lot. I felt like my mind was going a mile a minute and I couldn't focus on anything other than what I would need to say or what I needed to do next. 

I tried to go to the bathroom but then there was a loud noise that I think was air conditioning? And I got anxious that I would be using up the bathroom so I went back to where I was sitting.

I started crying because it seemed like too much and the workers there clearly forgot my order because they were just cleaning counters and stuff like that but I thought I could have been wrong and I didn’t want to nag them.

 I tried digging my nails into my wrist and wringing my hands and twisting my fingers but it didn’t help. The snot on my nose felt disgusting and I hated it. 

Eventually some other people came in to order and got their drinks, so I tried to go to the bathroom to calm myself down, and it was locked. I went back to the counter and told the person working there that I thought they forgot to make my drink, I was worried they wouldn’t believe me.

 They made the drink and I just said ‘thank you’ and left because I was going to be later than I expected. I went outside, the music was louder out there. Then I went to my car.

The car inside was hot but it was dead silent in there and it felt very calming. I immediately broke down crying and hyperventilating to the point where I felt dizzy and I was tingly all over. I was still thinking over and over about having to go up and ask about the order and staying there while everything was too loud and chaotic. 

I can’t remember how long I sat there, but I’m pretty sure it was a short time. I needed to actually leave, so I remembered the ice cube Tumblr post and picked up my drink and just drank it. It didn’t taste like anything, it just tasted cold. 

But I calmed down and then drove to where I wanted to the house I was supposed to go to. I think during the drive I was either spacing out or annoyed? Idk I don’t really remember exactly but that’s not unusual for me. 

When I got there, I sat down and watched some tv and I immediately felt tired and similar to the dizzy feeling but without actually feeling dizzy if you know what I mean? I later felt perfectly fine and was able to go to a restaurant no problem but like??? The Fuck was that experience?

#tw vent #vent post #long post #tw self harm #kinda #sensory issues #I think? #this was what the cold drink post was about #but in more detail #because I am Confused #like I think this was a sensory overload in retrospect #but like??? #maybe not??? #idk #this doesn't happen often #but it's been happening to me more often and I don't know why #never this bad in public though #I think everyone was just politely ignoring me losing my shit in the middle of a coffeeshop

[yellowocaballero]

Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?

I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?

CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.

Martin…

They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.

Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.

Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with. 

Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?

Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars. 

They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks. 

“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”

“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”

“We all knew, honey.”

Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”

“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”

“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat. 

“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”

Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”

“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”

“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”

“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin. 

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet. 

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet. 

Martin…

In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan. 

Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical. 

“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”

Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two. 

There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline. 

No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won. 

When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar. 

Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”

“Uh,” Martin said intelligently. 

“Any day now,” Jon said frostily. 

Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group -  not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake. 

“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”

“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…” 

“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”

“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”

“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?” 

They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room. 

Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”

“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”

“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”

“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”

“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered. 

“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.” 

“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly. 

Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”

“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”

“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”

Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested. 

Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”

But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”

“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”

Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”

“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”

Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”

“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”

“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.

Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest. 

He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”

Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them. 

He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.

Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that. 

It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public. 

Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap. 

Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm. 

“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”

“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”

Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”

Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home. 

On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder. 

When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -

Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye. 

The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”

Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”

“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”

“Oh, boy,” Martin said. 

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”

Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable. 

Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”

“Shut it off, Jon!”

Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it. 

“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”

Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.

Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”

“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”

“Jon!”

“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”

“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”

“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”

But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”

“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”

“Jon.”

“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”

Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck. 

“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”

The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”

“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”

Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?

Well, Martin probably had more practice…

“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”

After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”

Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”

Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”

He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this. 

“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”

“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”

Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers. 

But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.

It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all. 

So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time. 

He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually. 

Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…

When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -

It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.

This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.

In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real. 

*

Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34

Tim: good time last night tho

Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always

*

Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!! 

Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?

Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean

Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!! 

Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi. 

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tim stoker #sasha james #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfiction #jon in sb: i will pretend to be the man who was your friend if it'll make you like me #jon here: HAHA KNOW WHAT'D BE HOT?

[hydroponicjj]

pinky promise

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 3.1k (i’ve never written anything this long before lmao)

warnings: swearing

summary: your birthday takes place over quarantine and because you can’t have an actual birthday party, the pogues host a netflix party for you but an unexpected guest joins which ruins the mood. jj decides to cheer you up from a distance.

a/n: hello!! i know i’ve been a little m.i.a. but, i promise that i’m back. send me some outer banks requests and i’ll be happy to do them (no smut pls) also, if you’ve sent a request recently, i’m working on em :) gif credit goes to hvitstark!!!

y/n/n “your nickname”

                      「 ₊˚.༄ 」

When summer first began, you as well as the rest of the pogues were overwhelmed with excitement. You didn't have to do homework, get stressed with school, take exams. Nothing.

The plans weren't set in stone but all of you had a general idea of what you’d do from day to day. From surfing to eating at The Wreck, there was nothing that could stop you and your friends from having the best summer ever.

All of you had seen news articles, talking about a deadly virus entering the United States. It first appeared in Washington, then slowly started to spread around the vicinity. But no one in the Outer Banks of North Carolina was concerned.

So, the beginning of summer break started with absolutely no delay.

After the first couple of weeks of the virus spreading across the country, slowly but surely, you watched as people started to get worried. It got to the point were you mother was cautioning you before going to hang out with the rest of the pogues.

“I pinky promise that I’ll be safe!” You’d tease before going outside and hopping into John B’s Volkswagen.

When you hopped into the back of the van, you noticed the disappointed looks on everyone’s faces while Pope was rambling (like he usually does).

“I really think that we should start to prepare because I think that this virus is very similar to the Black Death.” He finished, taking a deep breath.

“What’s up?” You greeted, raised eyebrows in confusion.

Pope smiled enthusiastically and gave you a warm welcome while the others groaned like a walker from The Walking Dead.

“What are you babbling on about today, Mr.Heyward?” You questioned.

“He literally won’t shut up about this stupid virus!” Kiara answered for him, resting her head on the window as she sat in the front seat.

“Neither will my mom. She’s all worked about this and telling me to ‘be safe’ before leaving the house.” You explained.

“It’s not like we know anyone that’s sick.” John B shrugged, starting the van.

Seconds later, JJ started to have a coughing attack. He literally couldn’t stop, even after he had multiple sips of water.

Both you and Pope moved to the corner farthest away from him, you were laughing because you knew JJ and his personality while Pope was terrified.

“Holy shit, he has it.” He whispered in your ear, eyes as big as a Watermelon.

“He’s about to cough up a lung.” Kie commented, turning around to see the blonde flopping around like a fish.

After a few more seconds, JJ recovered from his coughing attack and sat up, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Not funny!” Pope screamed, kicking the bottom of his foot.

“You should have seen your face, it was priceless.” He chuckled.

You crawled over to JJ and rested your head in his lap, arms crossed over your stomach as you cackled, “Oh my gosh, that was hilarious.” You raised your hand and gave him a high five, intertwining for fingers and bringing it back down to your chest.

“I only did it because Pope needs a reality check. In a couple weeks everything will be fine.” He sighed, using his other hand to take the lighter out of his pocket and light the blunt between his teeth.

Before he could, you held out your left hand which was your way of asking him to place the items in your palm because no one was interested in getting a contact high at 2 pm.

Usually the rest of the pogues would snatch it from him but you were different. You didn’t feel comfortable being rough with him because you knew about his life at home and you didn’t want to set him off.

That was one of the many things that JJ appreciated about you. You were gentle with him and always took your time, not wanting to him to feel rushed. So, he always complied when you asked.

“Fuck it, I’m taking all the toilet paper.” Pope commented out of context, causing everyone to laugh.

                      「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Fast forward one week later and your entire life has flipped upside down.

Covid-19 shut down absolutely everything. Kie and her family were forced to close down The Wreck because they couldn't take the risk of hurting any customers or members of the staff.

All of your friends were separated, except for JJ and John B because they quarantined together, not wanting to be alone during this time.

To be honest, you missed everyone, especially JJ because the two of you always gravitated towards each other so it was pretty hard to be separate from him.

To stay connected with each other, you all texted in the shared group chat and had group facetime’s and netflix parties almost every single night.

John B insisted on inviting Sarah and you didn’t know how to feel about it. Sarah and Kie did squash their beef but, she told you all of the things that happened and it really rubbed you the wrong way. But, you wanted John B to be happy, no matter who it was with.

“Holy shit, y/n/n your birthday is in 2 days!” JJ noticed while the two of you were on facetime. John B was busy talking to Sarah so, he called you to pass the time.

“Yeah.” You replied, unenthusiasticlly.

“I know it sucks that we’re in quarantine but, I promise we’ll have a group facetime and you can pick the movie.” He smiled, you didn’t even have to elaborate on why you were sad because he knew you that well.

“Wait for real?” You laughed.

Listen, everyone has different taste when it comes to movies so, every time that you’re doing a netflix party, it’s really hard to decide on a movie that all of the pogues can enjoy.

“Okay, now I’m excited. This is going to be so fun!” You screeched, clapping your hands together.

“Shit, John B’s calling me. I’ve gotta go but, keep that same enthusiasm, okay?” He replied, smiling into the camera.

“Pinky promise.” You gave him the biggest grin known to man before hanging up.

                      「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Exactly two days later, you woke up to your mom towering over you with a cake in her hands, “Happy 17th birthday, y/n/n!” She took JJ’s lighter that was sitting on your nightstand and lit the ‘17’ on the cake.

“Woah!” You said, rubbing your eyes. It was still pretty early in the morning and you couldn’t fully comprehend what was going on.

“Thank you so much.” You sat up in your bed, making room for your mother to sit.

“Make a wish.” She encouraged, taking out her phone to capture the moment.

“I wish that I have the best day ever, despite not being about to see my friends.” and with that, you blew out the candles, smiling up at your mom.

“Awe were you recording that?” You smiled, covering your face.

“I was gonna send it to your friends,” She paused, “Speaking of them, are you gonna uh... party on neflix tonight?” She squinted.

You chuckled, your mom really wasn’t as aquatinted with technology as other parents, “Yeah, the 5 of us are gonna watch a movie on facetime. I promise to keep it down.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go start on breakfast. I’ll call you when it’s finished.” She left your room, leaving the door cracked slightly.

After a few seconds of staring off into space, you checked your phone like you always do when you wake up and your phone was filled with notifications.

Your smiled from ear to ear. Unlike the average kook, you weren’t very popular but that didn’t matter because you had 4 of the best people on planet earth as your best friends.

The first thing that you checked was Instagram. You tapped through the stories that you were tagged in and were met with some of the best memories that were caught on camera.

From the time you accidentally set off the sprinklers at The Wreck, getting all of the customers wet as they were leaving to the time that you got stuck at the top of the monkey bars at your old elementary school and JJ had to come and save you.

You almost started crying because you hadn’t been apart from any of your friends for more that 12 hours and even though it’s only been a week, it felt like forvever.

Before you responded to the countless amount of texts from your aunts and uncles, you texted the group chat and gushed to them about how thankful you were that they all posted something in honor of your birthday.

They all politely told you to and I quote, “shut the fuck up.” because it was a given that they’d praise you for your special day.

You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face and threw your phone on the charger, heading to the kitchen to eat breakfast with your mother.

                      「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The sound of your phone ringing tore you away from the piece of cake that you were chewing.

“And the guest of honor has arrived!” John B gushed, JJ was sitting next to him and it looked like they were on the couch.

“Get any presents?” Kie asked, positioning her phone upwards so that she could be seen.

“Nah, unless you count cake.” You chuckled, showing them the piece that you were currently devouring.

“That looks so good.” Pope commented, he was staring into the camera, hypnotized by the sweet treat that you had just showcased.

“Snap out of it!” JJ started clapping his hands in the camera causing Pope to fidget slightly taking his face out of the camera.

You spent the first 30 minutes of the facetime call catching up about the stupid quarantine habits that you all picked up. 

Kiara had given herself a few dolphin stick & pokes, Pope had started online shopping, like a lot. He had at least 30 new t-shirts in his closet. John B calls Sarah while JJ spends most of his time talking to you.

“Wait, wait, wait guys,” You paused, trying to get their attention because they were all screaming at each other, “Are y’all ready to watch the movie?” You questioned, opening a new tab on your computer.

“Yeah, yeah. Wait a second.” John B put himself on paused, you could hear JJ sigh because he does that at least once every time that you all are on a group call.

After a few seconds, you heard everyone's phone ding as well as your own. You all had gotten a group e-mail to join a netflix party. At first you were confused because JJ said that he talked to everyone and they agreed to letting you chose the movie.

A few more seconds passed and you saw another square begin to connect to the facetime call. It was a number that no one recognized so, everyone was pretty stunned (except for john b).

The mystery person finally connected and it was revealed to be Sarah Cameron. 

You looked at everyone's little square and saw how wide their eyes were. JJ seemed furious but, he didn’t want to make a scene because after all, it was still your birthday.

Kie and Pope looked shocked that John B would add her without asking if you were okay with it first.

“Hey guys! Happy birthday, y/n.” Sarah greeted, smiling.

“Thank you.” You croaked back a response, going on your computer and opening the e-mail that was sent, clicking the netflix party link.

After taking a second to load, you saw that you were watching the 4th season of Riverdale. (yikes)

You rolled your eyes, praying that it went unnoticed.

“Is this what you wanted to watch, y/n? I thought you hated Riverdale?” Pope asked, still a little confused on the whole situation.

“Nope.” You stated dryly, shrugging you shoulders and falling back onto your bed.

“Oh, it was my idea.” Sarah chimed in, her bubble got bigger because she had said something, “You don’t mind, right y/n/n?”

“I kind of wanted to watch Back to the Future.” You revealed.

At this point, everyone was shocked, even you. You didn’t hate Sarah, she was currently being really nice but you wanted to spend your birthday talking to your best friends and she didn’t fit into that category yet.

“I don’t really like that movie.” John B commented, earning a slap on the back of the head from JJ.

“Actually,” You paused, contemplating if you even wanted to continue the sentence. You had two options, make a scene or leave peacefully.

“I’m not feeling to well. I think I’m going to go but, have fun watching Riverdale.” Before anyone could protest, you hung up.

Option two it is.

“Fuck birthday’s.” You concluded, turning off your light. You didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone so, you decided to go to bed and deal with it in the morning.

JJ muted the phone so that no one else could hear the conversation that was about to ensue, “Dude, what the fuck?!” He yelled at John B, who was very confused.

“You invited the girl you’ve been mackin’ on for a month to y/n’s birthday party. Did you even ask her?” He stood up, towering over his friend.

“Woah, woah, calm down. I didn’t think that she’d care.” He defended himself.

Pope and Kie were texting you while Sarah was too busy watching the cringe unfold on Riverdale that they didn’t notice that John B and JJ were arguing.

“All she wanted was a good birthday and you fucking ruined it.” He accused, poking at his chest.

“I didn’t ruin it. She was tired and had to go!”

“It’s literally 9:30 pm. You think she’d go to bed this early? We’re in quarantine! Everyone stays up till like, 5!”

The look on JJ’s face conveyed that he was seconds away from punching John B in the face but he had to remember that you wouldn’t want them fighting because of you.

The blonde took a deep breath that lasted at least 5 minutes, “I need to go check on her.” He stated, going into the guest room that he was currently residing in and grabbed a big basket but with how fast he was walking, it’d be impossible to make out the contents inside.

“You can’t go see her, we’re in quarantine.” John B protested but JJ didn’t seem to care.

                      「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The sun started peaking through your window at around 6 am. The heat of the sun beamed on your face, causing you to wake up earlier that you anticipated.

Groaning, you trudged to the one and only bathroom in your house, thankful that your mom was off to work. She works for Mr.Heyward and they’re currently trying to deliver supplies to as many people as possible.

After getting ready for the day in the restroom, you headed towards the kitchen. In your peripheral vision, you saw a big basket sitting on your front porch.

Peaking your interest, you opened your front door and grabbed the basket with two hands. It wasn’t that heavy but it appeared to be filled to the brim.

Perched on the very top of the basket was a ripped sheet of blank paper covered with medium sized writing. The penmanship was sloppy and certain words had been written over and over again, most likely because the marker was running out of ink.

Based on the lack of punctuation, you already knew who hand delivered this package.

On the inside was 3 of JJ’s shirts (without the sleeves ofc), a half empty bottle of cologne that he’d only wear on special occasions, a torn 2 dollar bill, and a hydroponic blunt.

If any other pogue was receiving this as a gift, they’d probably be really disappointed but, not you. You knew that JJ wasn’t well acquainted with showing and or receiving love so, this was a huge gesture.

Running back into your house, you grabbed your phone, ignoring all of the apology texts from John B, you facetimed JJ.

After a few seconds of it ringing, he answered, “What time is it?” He groaned.

“When did you deliver this?” You asked, ignoring his question.

“What are you talking about?” He didn’t falter, standing his ground.

“Don’t play dumb with me, JJ. What time did you put this on my doorstep?” You persisted, showing the poorly wrapped package that rested on your dining table.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

You squinted your eyes into the camera and waited a few seconds and sure enough, he creaked, “Fine, fine! I may or may not have decided to play mail man last night.”

“What the heck-?” You paused, attempting to take in what he had just said, “Wait, why?”

“Well, after Sarah crashed your birthday party, I thought you might want to wake up to something, uh, nice.” He grinned, awkwardly.

“You should’ve called me! I would’ve come outside to see you.” You replied, disappointed. He was mere feet away from you last night and you weren’t aware.

“Social distancing, y/n.” He teased. We all know that JJ is the pogue that’s most likely to accidentally break one of the rules during quarantine.

“JJ,” You took a deep breath, “Why did you all of this. I mean, it’s such an amazing birthday gift. A blunt and a 2 dollar bill, what more could a girl ask for?”

“IT’S BECAUSE HE LOOOOVES YOU!!” You heard John B scream from farther into the house.

JJ dropped the phone on the bed and put himself on mute, you shook your head, knowing he was most likely scolding John B.

“I’m sorry, he’s been spending to much time with Sarah.” He returned, “Also, I stole that bill from Kie, don’t tell her though.”

“I really really really miss you, JJ.” You sighed, frowning.

“I really really really miss you, y/n.” He mocked, of course he could not be 100% serious, even when he wanted too.

“Can you promise me something?”

He raised his eyebrows, face plastered with curiousness, “Uhhh, maybe.” He chuckled.

“Promise me that you’ll ask me out once quarantine is over?” You deadpanned. It was clear that it caught him by surprise because his face wasn’t covered with confusion anymore but shear terror instead.

“W-What was that John B???!!! You fell in the toilet! Awe shit, y/n, I’ve gotta go.” He replied, hanging up the phone.

Usually, you’d be a little offended but, you knew he was just messing around with you, especially because he was so used to making the first move when it came to getting girls.

Your phone was on silent so, you didn’t notice it a first but you had a new text message from JJ.

“pinky promise.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #netflix #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jey's oneshots #rudy pankow #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #imagine #outer banks imagine

[ri-ahhh]

playing games

Hot summer days are meant for playing games  6k, basically all smut lol whoops

Disclaimer: I’ve created a whole OC character for Grayson in the past year or so, just as a creative outlet, and never really intended on posting it anywhere. Like, at all lol, so on the off chance anyone actually reads this, go easy on me please. If something seems like it doesn’t make sense or needs more background, it’s because it’s already written in the deep recesses of my Pages documents lol.

If you do read, thank you so much! Creative writing, especially fanfics, have always been my creative stress relief, so this is all in good fun. I’m definitely not attached to only this character, though, so if you don’t think this is complete dog shit and want to see other concepts, I’d love to do that! :)

***

There are a lot of negatives to be said about LA, as MJ had learned quickly when she moved here a few years ago from her home state of Oklahoma: the stuck-up snobs; the traffic; the dirty streets everywhere you go. One thing not on that list, however, is the weather — nine times out of ten it’s perfectly sunny and warm.

Today is one of those days where it’s borderline hot, but still comfortable to sit outside and bake in the sun for a couple of hours. That’s what she and Grayson are doing as they lounge peacefully by the pool in his backyard, soaking in all the Vitamin D that mother nature can give them.

MJ welcomes the blast of heat from the outside air that contrasts harshly with the AC she leaves behind in the kitchen. She had gone in to grab the two of them glasses of water and, while she was in there, noticed the house was oddly silent.

She plants a peck on her boyfriend’s full lips as he accepts his glass with a thanks. “Where are the E’s?” she asks, referring to Grayson’s brother Ethan and his girlfriend Evie. They were both still home when she and Gray first went outside, but a quick glance at her phone tells her they’ve been out here for over an hour, so that really means nothing now.

“I think they were gonna take a Soul class and then have a beach day,” Grayson answers. He sits up a bit to take a sip of his water, and MJ can’t help but admire the way his abs, slick with tanning oil, contract deliciously at the movement. They’ve been together for nearly a year now, and she still can’t get enough of his physique. Amongst other traits of his too, of course, but in the context of lying in the warm sun surrounded by the sheen of coconut-scented body oil, it’s what comes to mind first.

Not to mention, he’s wearing her favorite swim trunks of his — the ones she had bought him — that not only make his olive skin tone pop because of their bright turquoise color, but the fit hugs his ass (and dick) in all the right ways.

Clearly, she’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding her ogling, though to be fair she isn’t trying all that hard to begin with.

He smirks at her. “Can I help you?” he teases, knowing damn well what’s going through her head.

MJ flushes when she realizes she’s been caught, but quickly decides two can play this game. She bends over him and only lets him steal a quick glance at her ample cleavage in her bikini before taking hold of his face in both hands and kissing him.

“You’re sexy,” she admits simply when they part, smiling and wiping a dab of saliva from his lower lip with her thumb.

He swats the exposed skin of her ass lightly when she turns to walk the couple of feet away to her own lounger. She yelps in surprise, which melts into giggles. “Not as sexy as you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and blushes at this, though he can’t see her doing so behind her oversized black sunglasses and the shade of her baseball cap. “I mean, come on, MJ, they’re just muscles,” he says with smug grin.

He’s so full of shit today. MJ scoffs and settles into the chair, not quite believing her ears but also realizing he’s still teasing her. “Okay, Gray.”

She glances over at him and sees him rubbing his thighs, something he knows always gets her going, under the guise of applying more sunscreen. The audacity. She knows it’s intentional by the way he’s biting back a grin and stealing glimpses at her out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, so he still wants to play this game? Apparently ten months together hasn’t clued him in that she is just as competitive as he is, even in stupid things like ‘who can make the other person hornier.’

She forms a quick plan. MJ pretends like she’s oblivious to his nonverbal taunts and reaches out her hand for the bottle of Sun Bum. “So the E’s will be out for a while?”

Grayson stops his ministrations to hand her the slick brown bottle. “As far as I know. Why?” he asks, lying back in his lounger and pillowing his head on his hands. The way his arms curl send his biceps and shoulders bulging, another one of her physical weaknesses for him.

Douche.

“Just wondering,” she answers casually. MJ reaches behind her to raise the back of the lounger that is almost completely flat, higher up so that it can keep her in a relaxed sitting position.

Using his physical teasing as fuel to gather her nerve, she next twists her arm behind her back and tugs at the tie on the thick straps of her cherry red bikini, then does the same to the one around her neck. Even though they’re on private property, in an enclosed yard where no one can see, it still feels a little odd and uncomfortable to be even partially nude outdoors. But if it gets her points in this game against Gray, she decides it’s totally worth it.

When she tosses the scrap of fabric to the ground, the rustling causes him to look over and do a double take. “What—?”

MJ looks at him innocently, but grins devilishly inside; boys really are too easy, sometimes. “What, what?” she questions, spraying some of the tanning oil into her hands.

Grayson shakes his head at her and she can feel his gaze, hotter than the rays of the sun on her newly exposed skin, bore into her through his Ray Bans. “I see. So it’s like that, huh?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about. They’re just boobs,” she counters, throwing a variation of his own words back in his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. Grayson scoffs at her incredulously, and MJ doesn’t even attempt to hold back a victorious smirk. She’s definitely won this battle, and she hasn't even brought out all the ammo. Yet. “For real, though, we basically live together; you see these every day.”

Grayson tosses a hand up and shakes his head like she had just said something ridiculous. “You see me shirtless every day and still look like you want to jump me all the time, so how is that any different?”

He has a point and he knows it, but he’s an idiot if he thinks she’ll admit so. MJ shrugs. “Anyways,” she continues, ignoring his comment, “I’m just trying to get rid of tan lines. And it’s only us here, so who cares?”

“What if they come back?” Grayson argues weakly, still trying to appear nonchalant about his half-naked girlfriend gleaming in the summer sun just three feet away from him.

MJ shrugs again. “We can hear them coming up the driveway from here, so I’ll just cover up when we do. Also, it’s not like Ethan’s never encountered boobs before, and I’m pretty sure Evie and I have seen each other naked more times at this point than you and E have each other.”

He looks a little affronted. “I’m not sure if thats weird or kinda hot, actually.”

She rolls her eyes again but fights back a smile at his somewhat predictable response. “Don’t be weird. Girls generally just don’t give a fuck with each other,” she explains.

“Well, I still don't want my brother peeping your goods; they’re mine.”

MJ should be irritated at his possessiveness, but admittedly she finds it a little endearing — not to mention, she loves when she drives him to be dominant, especially when she knows she’s really the one in control here. She thinks back to the couple of times Ethan had barged in on them in the bedroom on accident and how Grayson always made sure his body was completely shielding hers while he screamed at his brother to get the fuck out. Ethan clearly wasn’t a threat, but Grayson always made her feel safe and secure either way.

It also isn’t like she wants E to see her tits either, but it won't be the end of the world if he does, especially if the risk of it gets Grayson so riled up for her that he’ll think twice before teasing her like this again.

MJ’s got him hooked now and she knows it, so really she doesn’t need to take the final step in her plan. But thinking about his deliberate words and touches gets the competitive fire lit inside her again.

Taking the oil in her hands, she massages it into the supple flesh of her breasts that were, indeed, several shades lighter than the surrounding skin. Her tits jiggle enticingly and her nipples harden a bit at the pleasurable stimulation caused by her own touch; his sunglasses are still on, but she knows he can see the effect she’s having on herself.

“Fuck, MJ,” Grayson finally groans in defeat. He sits up in his lounger and plants his left foot to the ground, utilizing his long legs to pivot over to her chair and straddle the end of the cushioned seat in one movement. His large hands stroke the smooth skin of her calves that are bent in front of him, his eyes glued to the way she’s touching herself. “You win, okay? I’m sorry for teasing you.”

MJ smiles at him, her ego at soaring. She can tell his hands are itching to reach for hers and replace them. He hadn’t lied that first time they met — he really is a boob man, to the tee. Even in non-sexual situations, like whenever they spoon while sleeping or watching a movie, his hand automatically goes under her shirt to cup one.

“I really do want to get rid of these tan lines, though,” MJ tells him, feigning innocence while simultaneously trying to ignore the way her body is reacting to him being right in front of her, touching her. Unfortunately, there is no denying the rush of wetness to her bikini bottoms. She finishes rubbing the oil into her skin and cups her breasts as if he’s blind and can’t see what she’s talking about. “This is really not cute, what I’ve got going on here.”

Grayson scoots farther up the lounger and cups his hands under her bent knees to drag her into his lap. MJ gasps in surprise and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck to balance herself after his forcible movement of her body. He ducks his head down and kisses her, tongue meshing with hers perfectly and exploring her mouth just the way she likes.

“How about we do something more fun than just lay here while you work on that, then?” he pants when they separate. She nips distractedly at the juicy center of his full lower lip in reply, eliciting a low, rumbling growl from him. He plants kisses across her jaw, down her neck, and back up to the spot behind her ear that makes her putty in his hands.

MJ bites her lip to hold back any sounds, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet of letting him know he can do whatever he wants with her at this point. “You were just giving me shit because your brother might walk out here and see my boobs, but now you wanna actually fuck outside?”

She actually didn't hate that idea at all, to be fair.

“Yeah,” he says simply, like there’s nothing to it. “I’ve never done it outside, now that I think about it. Besides our first time, anyways, but that was still in a tent so technically it wasn't ‘outside.’”

This surprises her. Despite his young age, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for ‘firsts’ with Grayson, given his past ways. She isn’t about to let this chance slip because of a relatively minor, albeit highly embarrassing, what-if.

MJ grins. She takes her baseball cap off and puts it on his own head, backwards so she can have full access to his pretty face. Not to mention, she definitely has a kink for it that way. She rolls her hips down against his, pleased to feel him semi-hard already.

“Okay,” she agrees easily, using her grip on his neck to bring his lips down to hers once again.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of kissing Grayson; the man has the act down to a fine art. And as irritated as she had been with him only a few minutes ago, she now feels an overwhelming need to please him as much as he so often does her.

“Sit down,” she whispers directly in his ear, motioning behind her to indicate he should be the one reclining back.

She feels him shudder before obeying. He keeps her securely in his lap by wrapping her legs fully around his waist and stands with her still clinging to him. MJ bites her lip and marvels at the complete lack of effort the shift in position takes for him, and he sits them down where he can rest his back against the lounger.

MJ removes their sunglasses and places them on the ground. “That’s why I love your muscles,” she says, rubbing her covered center along his length and devouring the expression on his face as she does so. Her hands massage delicately across his shoulders and down his biceps as she rocks fluidly on top him. “Forget aesthetics. They’re just evidence that you’re so fucking strong. That you work so hard. That you try to be the best version of you every day.”

She suctions her mouth to the pulse point thumping wildly under his jaw and drags her nails down his pecs, threading her fingers through the patch of hair in the center that he’s allowing to grow. Grayson grabs her ass with one hand to encourage the rocking of her pelvis against his, and squeezes one of her breasts with the other.

“How am I supposed to follow that?” he asks breathlessly and with a huff of laughter, tugging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

MJ moans softly at the sensation. “Do your best,” she replies with a grin, scraping her teeth along the spot on his jaw before trailing kisses down his throat now.

She feels his hard swallow as he thinks for a second. “Uh, every part of you is so beautiful, and your body is just a reflection of how amazing you are on the inside.”

Wow. MJ laughs incredulously and pulls back to look him in the eye, golden hazel meeting bright green. “I can’t believe you just came up with that romantic ass statement while I’m dry humping you. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I mean, it’s true. And I do aim to please,” he smirks, thrusting up into her.

MJ gasps. Her eyes darken and her tongue subconsciously trails across her lower lip as she stares at her boyfriend heatedly. She cups a tit with her left hand, circling her nipple with her thumb, and grips her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck with her other hand. “I would have been happy with ‘I love your tits because they're the best tits I’ve ever seen, held, or had in my mouth in my entire life.’ But I’ll take your version, too.”

Grayson smiles. “How about, I love you, MJ, every part of you — especially your tits.”

MJ bites back a sappy grin and swears she can feel her heart swelling for him in her chest. “I love you, too,” she sighs, and uses her grasp on his hair to drag him in for a deep kiss.

When she’s had her fill of his mouth, she scoots down his body, trailing her tongue down the indentation dividing his abs and nipping playfully at the taut skin right above the waistband of his trunks. Her mouth waters at the sight of the bulge beneath them, straining against the slick material. “Lift up,” she instructs as she tugs the drawstring and hooks her fingers in the fabric clinging to his hips.

Grayson moans and does as he’s told while MJ pulls his swimsuit down his inked legs until she has to stand up where he can kick them off his foot. She takes a moment to admire the masterpiece that is her boyfriend’s body and uses the advantage of already being stood up to shimmy her bikini bottoms off her hips. She lets them drop to the concrete at her feet before crawling back onto the lounger in-between his thighs.

She can’t resist drawing a ticklish trail down his Adonis belt with her long nails and watching his dick twitch at the playful touch. Grinning, she takes him in her hand and observes with amusement how her simple grasp is already affecting him, spreading the resulting dot of precum around the swollen head. Her palm is still slightly lubricated with the remnants of tanning oil, which creates the perfect amount of friction when she starts to stroke his length up and down slowly, adding a twist of her fist when she reaches the tip.

Grayson throws his head back and moans. MJ utilizes his position as an element of surprise to duck her head and lick a trail on the underside of his cock, base to tip, then wraps her lips around his head.

His chin drops to his chest and his hazy gaze is met with her mischievous one while she stares up at him through her lashes. “Holy fuck, MJ,” he moans, taking hold of her dark locks and fashioning a makeshift ponytail in his fist so he can see her better.

MJ smiles around his length, pulling up and holding the tip against her mouth, kissing it lasciviously. “You want me to suck it?” she asks sweetly.

Predictably, Grayson nods enthusiastically, tugging gently on her hair to guide her down his cock. MJ smirks and gathers saliva between her lips. She purses them slightly and drags the slick moisture all along his shaft, coating him until she decides he’s wet enough for her to take him in her throat. He’s the biggest she’s ever had and hasn’t mastered letting him fuck her face yet, but her lips encircle him and she slides him down into her throat as far as she can with relative ease. She hollows her cheeks as she pulled back up, over and over again.

“Oh my God,” he growls, his blunt nails digging into her scalp; MJ adores the sensation. “Just like that, baby.”

She grins and lets him slip out of her mouth with a light pop, stroking him with her small hand while laving his balls with her tongue. MJ always loves sucking Grayson’s dick, but she can’t believe how much doing it outside is making her even wetter than usual. There’s something incredibly hot about being under the cloudless sky, in the fresh air, and, yes, the danger of potentially getting caught.

With that thought fueling her, MJ’s fingers dip down to her pussy and she lets out a tiny whimper when her slim fingers light upon her swollen clit, more for his benefit than an actual reaction to her touch; she wants him to know how much she’s enjoying having him in her mouth. Something about the situation they’ve gotten themselves into out here is amplifying her desire in every way.

“Should I make you come now with my mouth?” she asks, dribbling more saliva on his dick and sucking him as far as she can a few times in quick succession, eyes trained on his, and she’s earned with wanton moans from Grayson’s plump lips. MJ lifts her head, her chest heaving, and gives him a devious smile as she raises the fingers that had been playing with herself to his mouth, continuing to stroke him steadily with her fist. “Or should I put you inside me, baby? Hmm? Should I put your big dick in my tight little pussy?”

Grayson lets out a guttural growl and sucks her proffered fingers into his warm mouth readily. Before she realizes what’s happening, Gray is reaching behind him to lay the chair flat again, and she practically topples over at the sudden movement.

“C’mere,” he instructs as he lies back, motioning for her to climb up his body. He takes the hat off and throws it across the yard when the bill impedes him from lying flat.

MJ pouts. Despite her teasing questions, she isn’t done sucking him off yet. And she really liked how that cap looked on him. “But—”

“MJ, sit on my fucking face now,” he demands, his voice deep and commanding; it makes her shiver and her head swim. His hazel eyes, which usually turn almost as green as hers in the sun, are now a deep chocolate brown behind the darkness of his pupils, dilated with pure desire.

Well, shit. She doesn’t need to be told twice; when Gray is in this mood, there’s no room for arguing, and she loves it. MJ bites her lip and crawls up his abdomen until her knees are resting above his shoulders and her shins lay alongside his chest in what little room is left on the lounger. He wastes no time in wrapping one arm around her thigh, the other reaching up for her breasts, and attaching his mouth to her throbbing center.

She cries out when his tongue drags through her slit and flicks against her clit a few times before thrusting inside her. One of her hands supports her weight on the top edge of the chair and the other cards roughly through his thick hair, tugging none-too-gently on his dark wavy mop.

Grayson moans and nuzzles his nose against her swollen flesh, grinning up at her and tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Did you get this wet just from sucking my dick, sweetheart?” MJ nods, the game of pretending he has no affect on her flying out the proverbial window. He lets out a little noise of affirmation. “I thought so. That’s why I love eating you out after you blow me; you’re always dripping for me.”

Without warning he sucks harshly on her clit and she shrieks, throwing her head back and moaning uncontrollably despite her best efforts. “Grayson!”

Grayson leaves the little bundle of nerves and dips his tongue down to her entrance once again as if to taste the fruits of his labor, groaning quietly. “So fucking sweet, baby. I love how you taste,” he says before repeating the actions over and over, driving her insane with the unrelenting pleasure of his simple motions.

She doesn’t know how she has the capacity to speak, but she manages to get her vocal cords and brain to coordinate. “I…fuck — I, I wanted to t-taste your cum, too,” she squeaks out, trying not to grind down on his face too hard. Not that he seems to mind.

His big hands restrain her hips anyways, long enough for him to speak. “I know you did,” he says with a smirk, and his voice vibrates sensually against her center. “You can do that next time, but right now you’re gonna come for me, and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk. How’s that sound?”

God, the man knows how to use that mouth — in more ways than one. MJ can only moan and use her vice grip on his hair to tug him back to her pussy as confirmation that yes, that sounds fucking amazing.

All teasing pretenses are dropped as he goes straight for her clit and suckles her with purpose, that purpose being to get her to cum hard and fast. Sure enough, she feels the beginnings of her orgasm in her lower belly, driven by the sight of his eyes gazing adoringly up at her from between her legs.

It doesn’t take much longer once he adds both hands to her breasts, her moans reaching higher and higher pitches the closer she gets. “Ohmygod, yes!” she squeals, her knees squeezing instinctively around his head as he keeps up his ministrations, only gentler so she can ride out the high of her orgasm.

MJ’s moans turn to whimpers, and when she’s relatively back to earth she murmurs an apology as she slinks back down his body. Gray shakes his head in dismissal of her words and sits up, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her deeply. She can taste herself on his mouth, and it gives her little aftershocks.

She settles over his lap and straddles his hips, grinding her dripping wet pussy against his rock hard dick because despite the amazing orgasm he had just given her, she was always ready to go for him; he makes her insatiable, sometimes.

“Fuck me,” she demands against his lips, lifting up so he can take hold of his dick and position himself where she only has to sit back and let him fill her up.

There isn’t much room on the lounger, but the way she’s forced to keep her legs close together just makes the fit extra tight and extra good. He lies on his back again, and MJ moans as she bounces on his cock with her hands planted on his broad chest for support while he grips her ass tightly.

Grayson for his part takes a moment to close his eyes so he can fully experience the warmth of the sun, the sweet wetness of her pussy, and the taste of her still on his lips all at once. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of an angel leaning over him. The sun is right behind her head and creates a halo effect, making his heart skip a beat despite the fact that she’s doing all the work while he lies flat, spoiling him with her body like always.

MJ smiles down at him breathlessly and drags her manicured jet-black nails down his pec. He loves the pain of it, she found out early on in their relationship, and she’s more than happy to inflict it. It turns her on like crazy to watch his eyes roll back and his jaw to drop as he sucks in a harsh breath.

He can sense her tiring when she slows down and starts grinding on him, rubbing her clit into the groomed patch of hair at the base of his dick as she catches her breath and gives her quads a break. She moans and twitches when Grayson digs his thumbs in the sensitive creases of her hips as he sits up. He moves her legs to hook around his waist before wrapping his arms around her sweaty back.

“Hold on to me.”

MJ pants and clutches her arms around his neck, tightening her grip with her legs around his trim hips and digging her heels into his round ass. She buries her face in his shoulder as he stands both of them up. She doesn’t know what his plans are, but she hopes they aren’t going far; she needs him back inside her as soon as possible.

Her back hits the wall in the next moment and she revels in the firm, cool feel of the smooth siding against her skin that’s become heated from the sun and physical exertion. Grayson uses the leverage of the wall to keep her against the solid surface while he switches his hold on her so that her knees are now hooked over his elbows. Even in her somewhat delirious state, MJ can tell this will allow him to use the combined potential of his considerable physical strength and the support from the wall to fuck her senseless.

Their eyes connect as they both take a moment to gather themselves. Gray smiles at her sweetly and plants his palms against the wall as he dips his hips enough to thrust up into her.

MJ whimpers as he stretches her again, reveling in that sense of fullness and completion that she only experiences when he’s inside her. When he bottoms out, she cups his jaw and uses the strength in her core to raise herself up enough to connect their lips together. Her tongue instantly slips into his mouth and slides along his, tasting all of her that’s left in him, until she tucks her head in his neck to suck kisses up and down the thick column of his neck.

“Go, Gray, please.”

Grayson moans and lifts her up as he pulls back with his hips, only to let her sink back down on his dick while simultaneously thrusting up into her swollen pussy. As he continues and picks up the pace, the depth he reaches and the force behind their movements sends her reeling. Her nails dig harshly into the smooth ripples of his back as her eyes look almost unseeingly down over his shoulder at the wide expanse of flexing muscles. The newness of this angle makes her realize that this position is another first for the two of them. They’ve had sex standing up before, but never like this, where he’s almost completely supporting her and letting gravity do half the work for them.

The noises of their mixed moans and the sounds of their hips clashing fills the otherwise silent backyard. MJ leans back against the wall and grips his biceps, using her position to fully take in the power of his body. Every muscle bulges out with exertion, his jaw clenches in pleasure and concentration, his eyes flitting between her bouncing tits and her flushed face as he pants harshly.

Everything about her — mind, body and soul — is overwhelmed. She can’t help it; she’s so turned on by him, so in love with him, the words just pour out, even though she knows they won’t improve his stamina any.

“You’re so fucking strong, baby. I love how you can hold me up and fuck me like this with your big dick. You’re making me feel so good…” On one particularly sharp thrust, he hits the spot, and her eyes instantly roll back in her head while she lets out a purely reactionary shriek of pleasure. “Right there, Gray! Baby, holy shit…”

“Jesus, MJ, you’re so fucking hot,” Gray rasps out behind clenched teeth. From the animalistic noises he’s making and the unhinged expression on his beautiful face, she can tell he’s barely holding on anymore, but he’s getting her there so fast that she hopes he can last just that much longer.

With a surge of strength she didn’t know she had left in her, MJ leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, then hooks her legs over his ass for leverage so that his arms can hold her by the backs of her thighs. She starts thrusting herself and grinding down on his pubic bone, perfectly stimulating both her clit and that deep spot within her. Her body shatters a second later, her limbs quaking with the force of the waves coursing through her.

She knows that normally Grayson would let her ride it out at her own pace, even rub her clit slowly to get her through it, but he’s so riled up at this point that he simply slams her against the wall and pounds into her relentlessly. MJ’s mouth gapes open soundlessly as, to her complete amazement, she feels yet another orgasm right on the heels of the one that has just started abating.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants repeatedly, making direct eye contact with him. She knows what will trigger them both to fall over the edge. “You’re fucking me so good. I want you to come inside me, baby, please!”

A guttural groan rips from his throat, his thrusts falter, and his forehead drops to hers as she feels the first spurts of his cum shoot into her. This is all she needs for her own orgasm to tear through her, radiating warmth and electricity through her whole body with an indescribable intensity.

Masculine, relieved whines escape his open mouth, the sounds alone making her clench inadvertently around his throbbing length inside her. His lower lip is too enticing for her to resist, and she nips it teasingly before drawing him in for a slow, perfectly sloppy kiss. They’re both still distracted by the pleasure coursing through their connected bodies as he finishes inside her.

“Fuck, that was good,” he whispers after a minute of recovery, trailing his mouth down her jaw and nuzzling her neck sweetly. MJ smiles and hugs his sweaty head to her, kissing his temple in return. She’s about to suggest they go cuddle on the daybed under the shade of the awning, but she never gets the chance because…

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“Oh my God, you actual assholes! Gross!”

A scream catches in MJ’s throat as their heads whip to the sliding back door only a few feet away, and there they are; the E’s had apparently gotten home from the beach much earlier than she thought they would. Or maybe she and Gray have just been fucking for that long.

Once the scare of their sudden reappearance has worn off, she can’t stop a smirk from gracing her lips, though she does try to hide it in Gray’s neck in mock mortification. That’s not to say she’s not embarrassed, but what can she do?

“Well, don’t look!” Grayson cries, but she can hear the concealed laughter in his voice, just as her smile grows even wider against his sweaty skin.

“How about you don’t have sex outside against our house where we can look, you bitch ass!” Ethan screams at his brother. MJ peeks a glance at him and sees him standing there with the heels of both hands digging into his eyes, as if he is not only blocking out the image before him but trying to rub it from his memory, too. Evie is just running around the patio, laughing and yelling “No!” at the top of her lungs, which makes MJ giggle too despite her best efforts.

As humorous as this situation is and even though Grayson’s body is pressed against hers completely, it’s still pretty embarrassing considering she’s butt-ass naked with her boyfriend’s softening dick still inside her, in a backyard with two of her best friends right there to see. “I mean, we literally just finished if you want to walk away and let us clean up, then the whole yard is all yours.”

“MJ, can you not just clean up now?” Ethan insists irritatedly. “We’ve already got our shit ready to come lay out.”

She pulls her face out of his neck and looks at Grayson, biting her lip to fight the shit-eating grin threatening to break across her face; she can already picture his brother’s reaction to what she’s about to say. But what the fuck are he and Evie even still doing out here? Why are they not inside? They’re the ones making this weird.

“Well, we need to go grab my swimsuit bottoms, or otherwise there’ll be a, ah, mess, if you know what I mean. Also, I don't think I can walk.”

Just as she predicted, Ethan makes a dramatic retching sound and reaches his hand out for his girlfriend blindly. “Evelina, help me. Let’s go bleach our eyes out before I throw up from these mental images.”

#idk #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins fic #grayson mj #grayson dolan oc

[tw-anchor]

39. Trust Your Abilities

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x15: Galvanize

Word Count: 6,559

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, dramatic Stiles, Peter’s severed finger

Author’s Note: Y’all I have had the worst luck these past couple of months. I must have broken a mirror or something without knowing. Please enjoy! Make sure you reblog, like, and tell me what you think!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

Peter was lucky to have Olivia and Derek. Most people wouldn't help someone who had murdered and injured more than one of their family members. In fact, if Peter wasn't her father, Olivia wouldn't even be in the same vicinity as him, let alone help Derek sew his finger back on.

But, that's where she found herself. She hovered behind Derek as he and Peter sat at the table in Derek's loft; Derek had taken upon himself to sew Peter's finger back on after the Calaveras' head honcho cut it off. Thankfully, Peter put the finger on ice once Braeden got the two of them out of the hunters' grasp.

Olivia wasn't afraid of blood, but even the sight of her cousin sewing on her father's finger caused some nausea. Thankfully, it was over soon; Derek worked quickly, ignoring Peter's complaints in a way that Olivia couldn't. If she hadn't known the year Peter was born, she would have thought he was six years old. Peter Hale could dish out the pain without a problem, but he certainly couldn't take it.

"Ow," Peter hissed as Derek finished up his almost-perfect sutures. "Don't you have any anesthetic?"

Derek gave him a blank look, setting the small pair of medical scissors on the table next to him. "Yep."

Olivia snickered. "You know, I really thought you'd have a higher pain tolerance,"

Peter rolled his eyes at her. "Shut up," he turned back to Derek and with a whine to his voice, asked, "Are you at least going to tell me what I risked life and digit for?"

"Yeah, actually, I'd like to know that, too," Olivia added, crossing her arms over her chest. "And, you know, why I had to hire a mercenary to get you guys out of there..."

"I'm going to show you," Derek got up from his seat and took only a minute or so while he went up to his room and came back down. He carried a cylinder box made out of some sort of wood, with a triskele carved into the lid; he opened it and carefully slid out its contents. "After the fire, that's all that was left of her."

Talia Hale's claws clattered onto the table and Olivia almost flinched. Even though Talia was long dead, she could still feel power radiating off the claws. And that power? It felt like her Aunt Talia. It wasn't necessarily a tether like her pack members, but there was a slight glow to them on her mental map that caused her pause.

That's why Derek went, she realized privately.

Peter's eyes narrowed in recognition as he looked at his sister's claws. "Talia. I can't decide if that's touching or morbid," he raised an eyebrow at Derek. "I guess the real question is, what are you planning on doing with them?"

Derek hesitated before answering. "I have to ask her something," he finally revealed. "and from what I've heard, this is the only way possible."

Realization dawned on Peter's face. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Why do you think I sewed your finger back on?" Derek's lips turned up slightly into a smirk.

Olivia wrinkled her nose. She hadn't known what Derek was going to do with Talia's claws, but from context clues, she figured it out. Peter would connect to Talia's claws and then do the alpha ritual on Derek, where he peaked into Derek's subconsciousness through his spinal cord. It was a painful procedure and each time Olivia witnessed it, some part of her heart ached.

Even though she did want to know what Derek spoke to Talia about, she couldn't watch him go through with the ritual. It honestly didn't matter much, either way, because she had to get going in order to fetch Stiles from his house so they could get to school on time.

"That's my cue," she patted Derek on the shoulder before heading to the door. "I'll call you later, Der."

"Have fun at school," he mumbled in reply.

Much to her surprise, when she got to her car, Isaac was waiting for her in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing here?" she wasn't upset about his presence, but merely curious.

She slid into her seat and buckled her seatbelt, starting her car. She pulled away from Derek's building and took a left, heading into town so she could pick them up some breakfast. It would butter Stiles up to Isaac's attendance.

Isaac shrugged. "Scott took his bike, so I thought I'd get a ride with you."

"You walked all the way to Derek's loft from Scott's house to get a ride to school?" Olivia laughed.

"Well, any opportunity to annoy Stiles, and I'm there," Isaac chuckled with her.

Olivia shook her head in amusement. Only Isaac...

After a quick stop at the McDonald's drive-through, Olivia was pulling to a stop at the curb in front of Stiles' house. Isaac clambered into the backseat, almost hitting her in the face two separate times with his long legs, as Stiles bounced out of the front door and made his way down the sidewalk.

"Good morning, beautiful!" he was very cheerful today and Olivia knew it wasn't because it was from his lack of nightmares—because he certainly had one. No, he was happy because today was Mischief Day, the day before Halloween. "Mwah!"

The placement of his lips against her cheek with a noisy kiss made Olivia grin. "Morning, sweetcheeks."

"Good morning!"

As soon as Stiles heard Isaac's voice, he deflated. He whipped around and faced the backseat, a scowl on his face. "Ugh, what are you doing here?" he complained; as he reached for the handle of his door, Olivia locked the doors and pulled away from the curb. "Livvy, let me out. I'll drive myself."

"No, you won't," she said firmly. "Wednesdays are my days to drive."

"Well, why'd you bring Isaac?"

"I brought myself," Isaac told him smugly. He reached into the McDonald's bag and pulled out Stiles' breakfast sandwich amongst the wrappers from his biscuit and Olivia's bagel, tossing it at him. "Breakfast."

"Thank you," Stiles grumbled at Olivia as he turned to face the front once again. He unwrapped his sandwich with a grouchy look on his face. "Now Mischief Day is ruined."

"No, it isn't, Mr. Mischief," Olivia rolled her eyes. "If anything, Isaac riding with us is mischief..."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Oh, get over yourself," Isaac rolled his eyes; Olivia caught the action through her rear-view mirror and tried to hide her grin.

"You get over yourself."

"No, you get over your—"

"Okay, both of you, shut it," Olivia interrupted their ridiculous argument. "I don't want to hear another word from either of you until we get to school."

"But—"

"Shush."

"Yes, Mom."

"Isaac Lahey."

Olivia wasn't as annoyed as she portrayed herself. It was actually kind of amusing to see Isaac and Stiles fully chastised for their little spat. Nevertheless, the only noise throughout the rest of the drive to the school was some alternative song that Stiles had turned on

"Look," Isaac spoke as Olivia was parking. "the twins are here."

Olivia and Stiles followed his gaze and saw that he was right. Ethan and Aiden's bikes were parked neatly in the two spaces next to Scott's. Scott had already abandoned his bike and was talking to them, looking affronted.

Stiles' face hardened and in that moment, he and Isaac had something to agree on; they both could not stand Ethan and Aiden.

Stiles and Isaac rushed out of the car and Olivia briskly followed them, making sure that her car was locked securely.

"You're back in school?" they heard Scott ask the twins.

"No, just to talk," Ethan answered him.

"Oh, that's kind of a change of pace for you guys," Stiles snarked as he came to a stop on Scott's right; Isaac joined the alpha's other side. "Usually you're just hurting, maiming, and killing."

Aiden chose to ignore Stiles, keeping his eyes on Scott. "You need a pack, we need an alpha."

"Yeah, absolutely not," Stiles answered for Scott. "That's hilarious, though."

Aiden narrowed his eyes at Stiles while reminding Scott, "You came to use for help. We helped."

"You beat him up, two to one," Olivia spoke up, her voice hardening. "And then when he was down, you had to be stopped by your brother."

"Yeah, in my opinion, that was actually counter-productive," Stiles added as he took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Why would I say yes?" Scott asked, though he looked to be humoring the twins, more than actually considering them as pack members.

"We add strength, we'd make you more powerful," Aiden pitched. "There's no reason to say no."

Stiles rolled his eyes, Olivia scoffed, and Isaac sneered at them, "I can think of one. Like the two of your holding Derek's claws while Kali impaled Boyd." Olivia nodded in agreement with Isaac, her heart aching at the thought of her dead pack mate. "In fact, I don't know why we're not impaling them right now."

Aiden growled at them, his eyes glowing ice-blue. "You wanna try?"

Olivia couldn't believe his audacity. She held out a firm hand, sending her own purple-tinted glare at him. "You need to back up," she ordered firmly, allowing her voice to shift and take control of him.

Aiden's eyes dimed back to their normal brown, but his glare stayed.

"Sorry, but they don't trust you," Scott glanced between Ethan and Aiden, his gaze lingering on the latter and his wicked temper. "And neither do I."

The four of them walked past the twins without another word—though, Isaac did send them a triumphant smirk as he passed.

As soon as they walked into the school, Stiles was decked in the face with a roll of toilet paper.

"All right, that's my fucking face!" he growled as he whipped the roll back at Greenberg. He patted Scott on the chest as they continued on to his locker. "Hey, dude, good decision, buddy. Good alpha decision."

Scott winced sheepishly. "I hope so."

"No, you know so," Olivia loved Scott, but he wished that he would see people the way they were, not the way he hoped them to be. Ethan and Aiden had a large part in Boyd's death, like Isaac had just mentioned, and they were also part of the pack who killed Erica. Sometimes, people couldn't be redeemed.

"Exactly," Isaac pointed at her in agreement.

Stiles, who had successfully closed the door to his mind after Malia's transformation back to a human girl, easily dialed his combination and unlocked his locker. He started unpacking his very full backpack, unloading his various Mischief Day pranks.

Scott nudged Olivia while Stiles was focused on his bag. "Hey, what did you say her name was again?" he nodded down the hall and Olivia saw that he was looking at Kira, who was at her own locker.

"Kira Yukimura," she informed him. "She's really sweet. Why?"

Scott shrugged. "Just wondering."

Isaac and Olivia exchanged an amused look. "Right, okay."

Stiles glanced at them. "What are you guys looking at?" he followed their gaze, saw Kira, and then looked back at Scott, "You looking at her?"

Scott immediately looked away from Kira, flustered. "Her? Who her?"

"Her-her," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Kira. You like her?"

"I thought you were into Lydia now," Isaac mentioned idly; Olivia smirked when Scott's eyes widened in shock.

"What? No!" he shook his head quickly. "I mean, may—no! She's okay, they're both okay...Kira's new."

Stiles shook his head and carefully placed a carton of eggs into his locker. "Yeah, that made a lot of sense, buddy. Just ask her out."

"Who, Lydia?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "He meant Kira, Scott."

"Now?"

"Yes, now," Isaac encouraged him.

"Right now?"

"Right now," Stiles slammed his locker shut after grabbing his econ textbook and turned to face Scott head on. "Scott, I don't think you get it yet. You're an alpha. You're the apex predator—"

"Please don't call him a predator while trying to convince him to ask Kira out," Olivia interjected with a gentle shudder.

"Makes sense," Stiles nodded at her before going back to Scott. "My point is, everyone wants you. You're like the hot girl that every guy wants."

Scott raised his eyebrows, confused. "The hot girl?"

"You are the hottest girl," Stiles poked him in the chest with a wink.

His words must have finally gotten through to Scott, because the alpha nodded with a small, but cute smile on his face. He looked up at Isaac and announced, "I'm the hot girl."

Isaac nodded seriously. "Yes, you are."

Scott giggled cutely before walking away.

Olivia watched him go, shaking her head. "You three are the oddest people I've ever met."

Isaac laughed at her and followed Scott while Stiles scoffed, "Says you," he grabbed her hand as they walked down the hallway to her locker. "Aren't you the teenager whose favorite ice cream is vanilla?"

"You know I don't like ice cream that much," they reached her locker and she swiftly unlocked it. "Now, should I be jealous that you called Scott the hottest girl while I was standing right next to you, or...?"

"No," Stiles leaned against her neighbor's locker, smiling down at her. "Want to know why?"

"Why, Stiles?"

"Because hot doesn't even begin to describe you, Livvy," he cooed sweetly, making her giggle.

"You're lucky I love you," she poked his cheek. "otherwise, you'd be too cheesy for me."

"You like cheese."

"On my pizza," Olivia shut her locker with a laugh, cradling her econ textbook in the crook of her right arm. "Now, did you want to catch the show are you gonna sit around all day and miss it?"

Stiles' eyes lit up at the reminder. Last night, or early this morning, Stiles and Scott had come to the school to prank Coach. It was his birthday and apparently the best friend duo had been pranking him on Mischief Day since they entered high school. It was a sort of tradition for them and Stiles said it was always good fun, but Olivia had never witnessed one of these pranks herself.

She would never tell Stiles, but she was kind of excited about it.

"Yes!" he grabbed her free hand and started pulling her down the hall.

When they entered Coach's classroom, Stiles had insisted on sitting in the front row, so he had a good seat for all the chaos that he and Scott had reined upon Coach. Olivia sat behind him and when Lydia and Scott came into the classroom together, a moment or so later, they sat next to them. The bell rang and there was still no sign of Coach—but then, they heard what was going on next door.

What sounded like furniture collapsing to the floor came from Coach's office. Not a second later, they heard him shout, "Son of a bitch!"

Stiles broke out into a round of snickers, his whole body shaking, and Scott grinned in amusement. Olivia let a smile appear on her lips as she glanced at Lydia, who shook her head, an expression that somehow held both annoyance and amusement painted on her face.

The door that connected Coach's office and the classroom was forced open and then slammed quickly as Coach entered the room. "Mischief Night, Devil's Night," he grumbled, glaring at the students as most of them laughed. "I don't care what you call it. You little punks are evil. You think it's funny that every Halloween my house gets egged?"

The general consensus was yes, everyone thought that Coach's house getting egged was funny.

"A man's house is supposed to be his castle! Mine's a freakin' omelet..." Coach turned to his desk and spotted the wrapped gift that Greenberg had deposited before he took his seat. "Oh, this? We're gonna do this again? I don't think so!"

Coach whipped the present onto the ground and stomped on it. A surprised look flashed onto his face when he heard glass breaking; Stiles' laughter increased into a small roar.

Coach picked up the present, a mug with his picture on it, which was now broken, and glanced at the card. "Happy birthday," he read. "Love, Greenberg."

The slightly chastised look on Coach's face made Olivia laugh. Her giggles died down when Lydia's tether pulsed. She turned to her cousin and saw her on her phone, swatting the air around her head.

"Lyds, what are you doing?" she leaned over to her desk and whispered.

"There's a fly," Lydia mumbled in response.

Olivia narrowed her eyes and looked around; she didn't see any flies.

-

-

When Stiles had gone to get his wallet out of his backpack so he could buy his lunch, he definitely didn't expect the police to walk into the school. Many of the deputies were led by his dad, while some of the suited agents walking around were brought by Agent McCall. Even more shocking than the force's appearance was the reason for their visit.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Stiles rushed after Noah after being given a distracted response about why they were at the school. "The William Barrow? The shrapnel bomber? He was spotted nearby?"

Noah turned and stopped, giving the students who were on their lunch break and surrounded the hallways a nervous look. "A little closer than nearby, actually," he corrected Stiles, lowering his voice.

Agent McCall walked by them, the vice-principal at his side. "How do we get down to the basement? I need to know where every entrance is. I don't want anybody coming in or out of the school."

This was more serious than Stiles thought.

"Dad," he looked at his dad with wide eyes. "what's really going on here?"

It didn't take long to discover what was happening. Noah quickly explained that William Barrow had come into the hospital for surgery but had instead escaped. They followed him to the school and they were trying to find him before he ended up killing more people. The scariest part about William Barrow was the fact that he went after kids with glowing eyes.

That meant that Olivia, Scott, and Isaac were in trouble.

He quickly found his friends at the table in the cafeteria where he left them and ushed them out of the overcrowded room. Scott wasn't with them, but he told Olivia, Lydia, Isaac, and Allison what was going on and what—or who—William Barrow was after.

"Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes?" Isaac repeated in disbelief as the five of them wandered along an empty hallway on the second floor of the school. "He said those exact words?"

"Yeah," Stiles squeezed Olivia's hand, assuring himself that she was safe next to him. "and no one knows how he woke up from anesthesia. Just that when they opened him up, they found a tumor full of live flies—which, in any other circumstance, would be all kinds of awesome."

"Maggots coming from the body is a thing, but I've never heard of flies in the stomach," Olivia muttered thoughtfully.

Lydia stopped walking abruptly. "Did you say flies?"

The rest of them stopped with her.

"Lydia?" Allison prompted an explanation from the redhead.

"All day I have been hearing this sound," Lydia explained, pressing her lips together in frustration. "It's like this...buzzing..."

Olivia frowned in realization while Allison asked, "Like the sound of flies?"

That's why Lydia's tether lit up in econ, Olivia realized in dismay, her banshee powers were picking up Barrow at the school.

Lydia nodded grimly. "Exactly like the sound of flies."

It was quickly decided that they needed to split up and find Scott, since he was missing in action. With three floors to search, Allison and Isaac took the top, Lydia and Olivia took the second, and Stiles took the floor level. While they were trying to find Scott, they also had to avoid the police, who were doing their own search for Barrow.

Five minutes before the lunch period was over, Stiles found Scott outside of Mr. Yukimura's classroom. "Hey, dude, where the fuck have you been?"

Scott opened his mouth, but didn't get to answer, as Olivia and Lydia came storming up to them.

"The police are leaving," Lydia told them. "Why are they leaving?"

Scott winced in surprise. "The police?"

"They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he's not here," Stiles told her.

Olivia shook her head in disagreement. "No, he has to be here," she insisted, her eyes traveling to her cousin. "Tell him, Lydia."

Stiles gave the redhead an expectant look.

"The sound, the buzzing I've been hearing? It's getting louder."

Stiles heart sank. "How loud?"

Olivia's eyes flashed purple. "Loud enough that I can hear it."

Yeah, okay, Stiles glanced between them, that's pretty loud.

Within minutes, Stiles found himself chasing his dad and Agent McCall—along with other deputies and FBI agents—to the parking lot. "Dad, Dad, you can't leave yet!"

"We got an eyewitness that puts Barrow by the train station," he dad explained.

"Let's go, Stilinski!"

Noah went to follow McCall, but Stiles stopped him.

"Dad, please...Lydia said that he's still here."

Noah's eyes widened slightly. "Did she see him?"

"Not exactly, no," Stiles grimaced; he hadn't exactly told him what Lydia was yet. "Well, not at all, actually. But she has a feeling. A supernatural feeling."

Noah turned his eyes away from Stiles in order to look at Olivia and Lydia, who had followed Stiles out of the school. While Lydia looked away, acting like she wasn't listening to their conversation, Olivia slapped on a sweet smile and waved at him.

He waved back at her and then looked back at Stiles. "Lydia wasn't on the chess board."

"She is now."

"Kanima?"

Why did his dad think everyone was a kanima? "Banshee."

"Oh, God."

"I know how it sounds, but basically, it means that she can sense when someone's close to death," Stiles explained rapidly. "And you know what Livvy is, okay, and she's got a bad feeling, too."

"Do these feelings tell them that I'm about to kill you?" Noah retorted, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know," Stiles looked back at Olivia and Lydia, and this time, it was Lydia who waved at Noah.

"All right, look," Noah leveled him with a calm, yet stern, stare. "I'm not saying I don't believe, but right now, I'm going with eyewitness over banshee and anchoram. We're leaving the deputies here. The school's on lockdown till three o'clock. Nobody come in, nobody comes out. Buddy, that's the best I've got right now. That's the best I can give you."

"You're leaving me here," Stiles objected as Noah turned and ran away from him, joining McCall and his agents. "That is not—that is the worst!"

Betrayal, in its purest form. That's what he was feeling at the moment. How dare his dad just leave him here, ignoring his warning about Barrow? Why didn't he just drop him off at the firehouse when he was an infant? It was the same type of abandonment!

Okay, he was being dramatic, but still...

Well, finding William Barrow was up to them, now.

-

-

Olivia, Stiles, and Lydia met with Allison in an empty classroom. While Scott and Isaac, along with Ethan and Aiden, would search the basement and floor level, and Olivia, Lydia, and Stiles would search the upper levels, Allison would be sneaking out of school in order to go home and search through the Argent's bestiary for some kind of explanation on Barrow's stomach flies and ability to wake up from full-blown anesthesia.

"The bestiary is literally a thousand pages long," Allison stated as she opened one of the windows leading to outside. "if I'm going to find anything about flies coming out of people's bodies, it could take me all night."

"If you go to the find button in the word document, you should be able to search for flies," Olivia pointed out.

Lydia nodded in agreement. "And remember, the word in archaic Latin for fly is musca."

"Got it," Allison climbed out the window.

Lydia turned to Olivia and Stiles. "Where do we start?"

"Upstairs," Stiles answered. "Let's go."

An hour later, after searching the second floor for any sign of Barrow, they moved onto the third floor. The drawing room was the second room they searched on the floor, right after the room that was reserved for painting.

Olivia soon received a text message from Isaac, informing her that he and Scott were moving onto the floor level while Aiden and Ethan finished up the basement.

"Are they still in the basement?" Lydia asked her.

"Scott and Isaac moved on, but Ethan and Aiden are," Olivia answered, slipping her phone back into her bag. "The twins had to search the boiler room and then they're meeting up with Scott and Isaac."

"Fuck!" Stiles' sudden curse caught Olivia and Lydia's attention. "All the wolves, the majority of the students with glowing eyes are either in the basement or the first floor. An engineer could use a boiler room to blow up the whole fucking school."

Olivia cocked her head and disappeared into her mental map. There were no whispers warning her about her or her pack mates, no names floating through her head. Every tether on her map was safe, other than the slight pulsing from Peter and Derek's—which she assumed was because they were either still doing the alpha ritual or they were recovering from it. So, they were safe from Barrow, right?

But Lydia was still hearing that buzzing. She could hear it, too, if she dived into her cousin's tether. Barrow was still in the school, somewhere, but her powers weren't warning her about anything...

Why aren't there any warnings? She thought, almost frantically. William Barrow is here.

While lost in her head, Olivia missed the significant look that Lydia and Stiles shared. "We have to get them out," Stiles proclaimed. "We have to get everyone out."

"How do we do that?"

Like any other problem in their very problematic lives, Stiles had an answer. Within the next few minutes, he had pulled the fire alarm and was caught by Coach, who claimed that if he was younger, he would have punched him. He had also earned himself a week full of detention.

School ended while students piled out of the building for the drill, which meant that the lockdown was over. Olivia, Stiles, and Lydia joined Scott, Isaac, Ethan, and Aiden near the parking lot to see if they found any sign of Barrow.

"We didn't find anything," Aiden reported.

Scott nodded in agreement. "Not even a scent."

"It's three o'clock, so school's over," Stiles sighed. "If there was a bomb, wouldn't he have set it off by now?"

"I've got nothing," Olivia clenched her jaw, wishing that her abilities were giving her something to work with. "I'm not getting any warnings..."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean everybody's safe?"

"That's what she means," Isaac snapped at him in Olivia's defense. He then glanced at Lydia, thoughtfully. "but if you are hearing the flies..."

Lydia shook her head, just as lost as everyone else. "I don't know," she said sadly. "I just don't know."

-

Sirius knew that something was wrong with his girls. Lydia was hiding in her room and Olivia's face was snuggled into his fur as the two of them laid on her bed. The way her dog squirmed underneath her ear gave Olivia the hint that her anxiety was rubbing off on him. It made her feel bad; she rolled away from Sirius and onto her stomach, resting her chin on her forearms as her eyes landed on her boyfriend's figure across the room.

Stiles had opted to come over to her house instead of his, even though he would have been more comfortable in his house, with his own walls made up like a crime board. Even though Olivia had objected at first, it hadn't taken much coaxing for Stiles to convince her to allow him to set up a brand-new crime board on the large corkboard of her wall, which usually held pictures of her friends and family. She just couldn't resist the weirdo, especially when he pulled out four different balls of colored string—blue, yellow, green, and red—out of his backpack.

"Do you always keep those in there?" she had asked him. He had blinked back at her, almost innocently, and answered, "Yeah, why?"

So, now she watched the love of her life in his element; solving cases was what he was best at. Like her own personal, sexy Sherlock Holmes—she much preferred him to Benedict Cumberbatch.

"Okay, so green is solved, yellow is to-be-determined, and red is unsolved," Olivia hummed as Stiles pinned yet another piece of red string to connect a picture of William Barrow and one of the Eichen House. "What does blue mean?"

There were about three pieces of blue string that hadn't made much sense to her. The rest, she could somewhat follow.

"Blue is pretty," Stiles turned and winked at her. Her heart warmed, remembering the last time he told her that—his favorite color was blue, like her eyes.

"Well, yeah," she smiled as he sauntered over to her, plopping down onto the bed beside her. Sirius scurried off the bed, unnerved by the bounciness of the mattress. "but what does it mean in term of the investigation?"

"Nothing really," Stiles admitted. He leaned closer to her and brushed his lips on her forehead, just above her right eyebrow; her heart started racing. "It's different for each crime board. Today, it's the same as red."

Olivia pressed her lips against his, pulling back quickly. "You only have red on the board."

"Yes," Stiles rolled his eyes and laid on his back with a sigh. "I'm aware of that, thanks, baby."

Olivia shuffled closer to him and shifted so half of her body leaned against his. "I don't get it," she admitted, resting her chin on his chest as she studied his face. "Lydia felt Barrow at the school. And I did, too, it's just...I feel like my powers weren't working."

Stiles frowned and brushed his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"The tethers, none of them were giving any hint of trouble. When I looked at them, I knew that everyone in the pack was safe. Yet, when I dived into Lydia's, I could hear the flies buzzing. Just like her," she sighed in frustration. "It's so contradicting, it's maddening. And we didn't even find any physical proof of Barrow being there."

"Livvy, you've been right about this kind of stuff before. So has Lydia," Stiles comforted her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer against him. "and maybe the fact that you weren't feeling anything and Lydia was is a hint."

"What do you mean?"

"You know if your pack members are in trouble...What if someone who's not in the pack is who Barrow was after?"

Olivia cocked her head thoughtfully. "That makes sense," she mused. "but still, if he was at the school, the wolves didn't scent him."

"What if he didn't smell like himself? What if he changed his scent somehow?" Stiles bounced another idea off of her. "I mean, you said yourself that Lydia was right. Barrow was there. What if he, fuck, what if he changed into someone's gym clothes. Or he used some girl's perfume...What if he—"

Olivia sat up, her eyes widening in realization. "The chemistry lab. He could use chemicals to completely hide his scent. If they were strong enough, it'd be like he never stepped foot into the school."

Stiles grinned widely at her. "We are geniuses," he pecked her on the lips and then patted her butt. "Get Lydia. We need to go to the school."

-

Since Mr. Harris' tragic death, there hadn't been a science department head. If he was still alive, getting into the large closet of the school's chemicals would be infinitely harder because Harris was known to stay late after school. Now, though, with Stiles' lock-picking skills, it was easy to break into the senior chemistry lab where the closet was located.

Now, Mr. Harris was a dick, but he was the only science teacher who knew what he was doing at Beacon Hills High School. With science being Olivia's favorite subject, he had been her favorite teacher, of sorts—she purely respected him for his knowledge, not his attitude. For the first time since his death, Olivia didn't mind that he was gone.

Yeah, she knew how horrible that sounded. Ultimately, though, Mr. Harris had helped Kate Argent set the Hale house on fire—who went around telling random women ways to get away with arson? —and the fire led to most of the things that had gone wrong in her life.

"So, what are we looking for?" Lydia asked as they entered the room. Though Stiles and Olivia had brought her up to speed on why they were going to the school, some of the details were still kind of lost on her. She watched as Olivia frowned at the chemical closet and opened it, the key already in the doorknob. "That's supposed to be locked."

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles muttered, walking into the closet. "Notice anything else?"

Lydia inhaled and studied the closet. "It smells like chemicals," she realized. "You guys were right, they wouldn't have been able to catch his scent."

Olivia hummed and pulled out her phone, turning on its flashlight and pointing it at the floor. The three of them flinched when they saw the small puddle of blood on the floor; Stiles even got a little green around the gills, which wasn't surprising due to his slight fear of blood.

"Gross," he groaned quietly. "He was here, preforming very minor surgery on himself."

"Lydia, you were right," Olivia reached for her cousin's hand, squeezing it lightly. "Your instincts were right."

"Then why don't I feel good about this?"

"Probably because he was here to kill somebody."

"Kids with glowing eyes," Olivia mused. "but they're not part of the pack. Which narrows it down it down to..."

Lydia shrugged. "I have no idea."

"We gotta figure it out," Stiles decided. "Spread out, start looking for anything."

The girls did as he said, leaving the chemical closet. While Stiles started on one side of the classroom, looking through some of the lab tables, Lydia walked toward the teacher's desk, and Olivia searched some of the cabinets that held the lab equipment.

"Lydia," Stiles noticed that Lydia drifted toward the chalk board absentmindedly and saw that she was staring at a set of three numbers. "what are those?"

19. 53. 88.

"Atomic numbers," Lydia answered as he and Olivia moved to her side.

"Is it a formula?"

"No," it was Olivia who spoke this time. "Nineteen's Potassium. Fifty-three is Iodine. Eighty-eight is Radium. The first two make Potassium Iodide."

Olivia picked up a piece of chalk and started writing the atomic symbols next to their corresponding numbers.

19—K

"Potassium is K?" Stiles interrupted her writing.

Olivia nodded. "From Kalium, the scientific neo-Latin name."

53—I

"What's Radium?"

88—RA

"RA."

KIRA.

"Kira," Olivia breathed, her heart starting to race. "That's why none of the tethers were giving me anything."

"Guys," Lydia spoke up, giving them a horrified look. "Scott went to Kira's house for dinner."

-

When they got to Kira's house, Scott was knocked out, laying on the street next to his bike. Kira was no where to be found and when Stiles was finally able to wake Scott, he confirmed their suspicions.

"Barrow, he took Kira!" he exclaimed breathlessly as Stiles and Lydia helped him to his feet.

"We know. He was after her the whole time," Stiles patted him on the back. He glanced at Olivia, who had been talking to Isaac on the phone to see if he and Allison found anything in the bestiary. "What'd he say?"

"They didn't find anything," she reported, ending the call. "Just some stuff about flies and the dead. Nothing else."

"Well, we have to think of something," Scott said nervously. "He's going to kill her."

"I knew he was there," Lydia's voice deepened when it shook from the anxiety she was feeling. "How did I know that?"

"You heard the flies," Stiles said. "What do you hear now?"

Lydia was silent for a moment, listening, before she shook her head. "Nothing," she scoffed, disappointed in herself. "I feel like I can do this. But I don't know what to do. It's like it's on the tip of my tongue, and I don't know how to trigger it. I just—I sweat to God, it literally makes me want to scream."

Screaming, the most known way of communication from a banshee. "Then scream, Lydia," Olivia urged her. "Scream."

The scream that burst from Lydia's lips was the loudest any of them had been yet. While Olivia covered her ears and flinched back, she mused that it might have been because it was the first time Lydia was actually cooperating with her abilities. Despite the pain that being a banshee could bring her cousin, she was proud of Lydia for using her powers for good.

Lydia's tether flared and shook, but it held strong. Lydia was strong.

A full minute later, Lydia's screamed died down. The redhead didn't move, still turned away from Olivia, Stiles, and Scott. A noise caught her attention, the buzzing noise. She followed it, looking up at the streetlight hanging above her. She quickly turned around, causing Stiles to flinch.

"It's not flies," she told them. "it's electricity."

As Scott looked up at the light, Stiles twisted his lips. "Wait a second," he thought aloud. "Barrow was an electrical engineer. He worked at a power substation."

"What substation?"

He squinted, trying to remember the information from some of the papers he pinned to the crime board in Olivia's room. "The one by the Iron Works."

-

Scott drove ahead of them on his bike, arriving at the power substation in the Iron works couple minutes before Olivia pulled up with Stiles and Lydia in her car. Scott had already run into the building and Stiles was jumping out of his seat the second Olivia shifted into park.

"Okay, wait here," he told Olivia and Lydia. "Just wait for the cops to come."

"Stiles, I'm coming with you—"

Stiles cut Olivia off before she could protest more. "I have only one bat, Livvy. Please, please just wait."

Olivia felt her heart starting to ache from the panic pumping through her. "Stiles, if you die, I'll kill you."

Stiles only winked at her before running off into the building. Lydia climbed into the passenger seat while they waited, tightly squeezing her hand. It wasn't long before Scott's red tether was pulsing painfully and seconds later, Stiles' and Isaac's started up, too.

Scott, Stiles, Isaac...Scott, Scott, Scott...Isaac, Isaac, Isaac...Stiles, Stiles, Stiles...

There was an explosion; bright lights came from the inside of the substation and then everything went black.

"SCOTT? ISAAC? STILES?"

(Gif is not mine)

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