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thestoryofusstan · 5 months

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Look Into His Angel Eyes

pairing: harry styles x zoologist!youtuber!reader

summary: harry takes his niece to the san diego zoo, and you just so happen to take care of the animal she’s obsessed with. koalas.

warnings: zero knowledge of zoology LMAO, not edited, a few curse words

—

harry had expected a lot more fuss when he went to a very famous, very popular zoo. he expected at least someone — one person! — to notice him or recognize him.

nobody had even given him a second glass.

those kids movies were right. change your har (put on a beanie) and wear sunglasses (because even if it was a little chilly, it was bright), and you were a whole different person!

well, until gemma’s little girl, rosie, who was usually a gem and the best kid ever, started crying. over what, you may ask?

she demanded they find the koalas.

granted, she was only five, but.. he was still worried people would see him and recognize him.

when he had graciously offered to drive rosie to san diego to go to the zoo because gemma simply didn’t have the time, he forgot it was a public, normal people zoo.

so, he asked someone where the koalas were (and then four more people after that on the way there, all of which informed him that he better hurry if he wanted to catch the koala talk, which was supposedly a big hit for some reason), and made his way to the other side of the zoo.

who the hell made this place so big?

—

you’d been living in san diego for five years, since you were eighteen. you’d been working with the koalas at the san diego zoo for that same amount of time.

18 and fresh out of high school, you moved far, far away from your horrible hometown and even more horrible people, and went to san diego to both go to college for zoology and work your dream job.

well, technically, it was an internship at first, but still!

like most little girls, you were obsessed with animals. however, instead of dogs or some other basic animal (though, koalas are still pretty basic, you suppose), you were obsessed with koalas. and then, it never went away.

your mother tried anything to talk you out of it, into a safer career path, she’d say. more secure.

well, fuck secure because you were about to go talk to little kids who were just like you when you were younger and feed a baby koala.

you had also started a successful side career as a youtuber. you made regular videos like vlogs and hauls and whatnot, and also educational videos about koalas. some of your vlogs were at work, such as today.

“so.. we have jess here to record as i do a koala talk. and.. it is officially 1:30, so let’s go!” you exclaim, handing your coworker, jess, the camera.

you pushed open the door (more like gate) and walked out. there was a fairly large crowd today, including the cutest little girl with a pink dress on right in the front row.

you set the crate (don’t yell, it’s a big crate. and it’s simply to take them from their exhibit to the talk area, which is a distance of maybe 50 feet) down on the wooden table.

the talk area was pretty much their enclosure, but instead of a glass wall, it was open and the kids could see better.

you opened the crate and slowly coaxed the bears out. you’d only brought two today. mila, and her baby charlotte (you always called her charlie, though).

once they were out and climbing on the branches, you turned to the crowd.

“hi, guys! my name is y/n, and i’m basically in charge of the koalas here! who here has been to one of my talks before?”

a few hands raise.

“good! well, today, we have a new guest… who remembers what was happening with mila last talk? was anyone there?”

one little boy raised his hand.

“yes, the.. little boy in a blue shirt?”

“jackson!” he told you.

“jackson, sorry. what was going on with mila? for everyone who doesn’t know, mila is that big one right there.”

“she was— she had a baby in her tummy.”

“she did!” you respond enthusiastically. “and a few months ago.. four months ago, actually, she had her baby! who wants to meet her?”

all the little kids screamed me! me! me!

you laughed, “alright, let me grab her.”

you walked over to mila, petting her head as you slowly took charlie away.

“hey, mila.. can i take her real quick?” you ask as if she can hear you, before speaking to the crowd. “mila and i have a special bond, if you ask me. she had her baby right around the time i had mine. so we are both new mothers,” you laugh. “but, anyway! i’ve been with mila since she got here, so she really trusts me. which is why i can easily just..”

you grabbed charlie off of mila, and put her on her shoulder like you did your baby.

“so, everyone, this is charlotte, but i call her charlie! now, i have a very special job for one of you.. but i need someone who will be very careful, because charlie is still a delicate baby.. can anyone hold her for me while i feed her?”

and finally, the adorable little girl interacted. she started jumping and raised her hand.

you walked over to the fence separating you from the crowd, crouching to be eye level with her. “and who might you be?”

“rosie!” she responded. and oh, she had a baby voice and she was british.

“rosie! well, do you think you can hold her for me?”

“yes! yes, please!”

“alright, we’ll get you and dad back here—“

“ehm.. uncle..” her uncle, not father, responded in a british accent.

“oh, sorry! you and your uncle back here. and what’s your name, rosie’s uncle?”

he hesitated, before— “harry.”

your brain slowly put two and two together as you glanced at his tattoos.

harry styles.

“oh, i see,” you respond, “well, let’s get you guys back here!”

you opened the gate they were thankfully standing right in front of, and they walked into the talking area before you shut the gate.

you led rosie to the center, crouching down to her again.

“alright, we’re gonna do this in a funny way. can you stick out your arm for me?”

she did.

“i’m gonna put charlie on your arm, alright? she’s gonna wrap herself around it, and her claws might scratch you, but it’s fine, yeah?”

“yes, ma’am!”

“aw, you’re so polite. alright.. charlie incoming!”

you slowly adjusted charlie to curl around rosie’s arm.

“it tickles!” she squeals with a laugh.

“yeah?” both you and harry — harry styles — respond at the same time.

“alright, i’m gonna grab her bottle! stay here!”

you ran over to grab it, and while you were shaking it so it was ready, you felt something wrap around your leg.

“hi, mila!” you exclaim to the koala wrapped around you.

you carefully walk back over.

“i’m gonna feed her for a minute, and then i’ll let you and your uncle try, yeah?”

“okay!”

you started feeding charlie as you spoke again.

“so, the reason we feed charlie instead of having her feed from her momma, who is clinging to my leg, is because charlie was born a little early and needs a little more nutrients!”

you talked a little more about koalas and their behavior before rosie wanted to feed her. and after a few minutes of that, you glanced to harry.

“you wanna give it a go?”

“sure, why not,” he shrugs.

“charlie seems pretty cozy.. so, i’ll give you mila. she’s a little heavy, though.”

you bent over and took mila off your leg, handing her over to harry.

“hold her like a baby on your hip.. it’s kinda like a.. odd hug! a koala hug, if you will. i’ll grab her bottle.”

you ran over, and when harry began feeding her after you returned, he asked a question.

“so.. why do y’feed mila? i know charlie’s a baby and all, but..”

“that’s a very good question! so, mila is getting a little old, and she was also brought to us injured. that, paired with giving birth four months ago, we just have to give her some more electrolytes… her bottle is actually just white gatorade. we tried green, but she hates it. she’s very picky.”

“well, that’s cause y’gave her green.”

“hey! who has the degree here? yeah, shush.”

“yes, ma’am,” he laughed.

—

once the talk was over, you told rosie and harry to stay back.

you let charlie and mila climb about the branches while you spoke to them.

“i just want to make sure you both are alright with being in a video.. also, you need to wash your hands.. jess should be back with the sanitizer soon.”

“can i ask what video?”

“oh! right, sorry. i’m a youtuber, and i sometimes film my talks to publish and whatnot. i’ll blur your faces, of course. i blur everyone in the crowd’s faces for privacy reasons, but i figured you’d be.. more.. concerned about that than most.”

“you know?”

“i mean.. voice is a giveaway.. i also follow gemma’s instagram, so i recognized rosie,” you shrug. “but anyways, you’re good with the video?”

“yeah, of course.”

you then turned to rosie to answer her bajillion questions about koalas until jess came back with the hand sanitizer.

“so, just use a lot of this, and you’ll be good,” you explain, putting a few pumps into each of their hands.

once they were all clean of koala germs, you told them they were free to go.

rosie ran forward, but harry lingered.

“thank you,”

“oh, yeah. of course. i figured you wouldn’t want koala germs—“

“no, i mean thanks for giving rosie that opportunity.”

“oh! of course. i love seeing little kids who love them as much as me.”

“she’s bloody obsessed with the things.”

“mm, yeah. they’re easy to love. word of advice, don’t shoot her love for them down. it doesn’t exactly work. i mean.. look at me,” you laugh.

“i will keep that in mind,” he smilez. “what was your name again?”

“y/n.. y/n l/n.”

—

a/n: enjoy

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry #styles #harry fic #harry styles one shot

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theorphicangel · 5 months

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

ao3

series | next chapter

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝…𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞?

You’re running late.

But then again…is there ever a day when you’re not running late?

It’s hard to differentiate whether it’s due to the fact that you left all your pre-reading till the last minute or if your alarm forgot to go off or if it was due to you oversleeping for an additional thirty minutes because your roommate had dragged you out last night for the fourth freshers party of the week.

Either way, you’re running late. Your bag is frantically packed with notebooks and random essentials, your laptop is less than half-charged and your socks are mismatched. It’s not the best start that you had imagined for your first week of lectures but as you glance at digits in the corner of your phone, you figure that you don’t even have the time to complain.

The campus is still relatively new to you, and also fucking huge. Groups of people swarm around like insects, trying to find their way around to their own lecture. Glancing down at the map app currently open on your phone, a frown reaches your brows.

It seems like you’re still so far away from the humanities block which is on the other side of campus.

You scroll down, pausing your steps to look for another route. If only there was….

‘Want a shortcut? Press here.’

“Yes fucking please.” you mutter to yourself, clicking the bold button absentmindedly.

—

The muffled sound of a robotic voice announcing your destination perks up your mood entirely as you reach the lecture doors of 202. You made it with just about five minutes to spare and you’ve never felt prouder, not even during all those times when you’ve forgotten to study for exams but had luckily gotten away with pretty decent grades.

Entering the hall, you find most seats are taken, nearly all the rows are unavailable. Scanning around desperately, you find a seat near the back next to a guy mindlessly scrolling on his phone. Hastily, you walk to your desired seat before the rest of the row fills up, and you find that as soon as you have taken your seat, there’s no spare seats left at all.

Taking a deep breath, your anxiety now sits comfortably in the pit of your stomach.

This is how college was supposed to go.

Prepared, calm and on time. You’re so relaxed right now that you’re not even slightly bothered about the percentage of your laptop when you slide it open in front of you, knowing that you have your notebooks in your bag if needed. You take a quick sip of water before the lecture begins and soon all conversations in the room seem to die away slowly.

Those unlucky enough to have found a seat, have to settle with sitting on the steps of the lecture hall. A silent sigh of relief that you are not a part of that majority runs through your body. God, you forget that literature was so oversubscribed.

A hushed silence takes over the room and a steady grin creeps at the corner of your lips as you wait for the professor to start.

“Good morning all, it is nice to see you all bright and early for the first genetics lecture of the year. I know some of you had to clear up clashes with microbiology this morning which may be the reason why we are so oversubscribed today, but we’ll make do, there’s plenty of room for everyone.”

Remember that eager, excited smile that you just had a few moments ago? Yeah, well it just died and here was the funeral. You blink in confusion as the words of the lecture settles into your brain.

Genetics? Microbiology? What the fuck was this professor talking about?

The lecturer drones on at the front of the hall, her voice echoing. “For those of you who don't know already, I'm professor Dr. Michaleson and I’ll be your genetics lecturer for the remainder of the year.”

Oh no. Oh fuck no. Oh hell no.

You look around, scanning the wide room to already see people begin to type away at their laptops. No one else in the room seems to be as confused as you are right now and it’s concerning. Reaching into your coat pocket, you open up your maps app checking your location.

Shit.

You’ve found yourself in the general medical sciences block, not arts and humanities. Zooming in further you find that the humanities block is direct from the building that you’re in right now.

If there was a moment for you to have a breakdown, it would be right now. All of your panicking and frantic packing that you had gone through this morning has now gone completely to waste because you’re not even in the right fucking lecture hall.

You turn towards the person on your left but notice that they’re rapidly typing away as the lecturer proceeds to run over the future modules for the course. Not wanting to bother her, you decide to glance towards your right, to the guy who was once mindlessly scrolling on his phone who has now replaced it with his very own laptop but…he’s not typing away yet.

So you take your chances.

“Hey.” you whisper, trying to keep your panic out of your voice. You lean over a little so that he can hear you.

The man frowns a little, looking towards you.

“What?” His tone is soft like yours, quiet so as not to disrupt other people but you can’t help but notice the annoyed intonation in his voice.

“What lecture are we in right now?” you subtly prompt, quickly noticing the crease between the eyebrows of the stranger sitting next to you. His nose curves up in distaste as if you’ve just asked him whether he thinks the earth is round or flat.

“Please, just answer my question.” you plead gently, reading his expression.

You know he probably takes you for an idiot right now but you just need confirmation so that,

One: You hadn’t just misheard and this was definitely a genetics lecture

And two: If it was a genetic lecture this officially gives your body the right to go into full panic mode right now.

The guy lets out a light sigh before answering, “We’re in genetics right now.”

“Fuck!”

A few heads in the row in front of your glance back at the sound and automatically your cheeks burn up out of embarrassment.

“Why are you asking?” the man sitting beside you questions.

You hesitate in giving your answer, embarrassed that you had messed up one of the most basic rules of things not to do at university. Now it’s your turn to let out a beaten down sigh.

“I–”

“You’re in the wrong lecture, aren’t you?” the stranger estimates. Clearly based on your mixed expression of disappointment and panic.

You nod silently, rubbing your hands across your face. Internally, you wished that you could go back in time. Back to before you had entered this stupid lecture room, double checking the location or at least had the chance run out before the lecture had started.

“What are you supposed to be in?”

“English Literature.”

The man sitting beside you stifles a laugh and again, a number of heads back to look at the two of you in frustration. He attempts to cover it up with a cough and you notice the way that his cheeks slowly turn to a dusty shade of pink.

“Por dios, what are you doing here?” he whispers. And again you don’t miss the tone of irritation in his voice.

“I–I think I got lost.” you stammer quietly, looking down at your phone. “I’m supposed to be here.” you point at a spot on your phone as you show him. “But I got it messed up.”

“It’s across from this building?”

You nod begrudgingly, before shutting off your phone and laying your head down on the table in surrender.

You stay down for a minute before perking back up. The lecturer is still droning on about god knows what and the man beside you begins to take notes.

Leaning over, you whisper another question.

“How long is this lecture?”

“Two hours.”

Yep, you were screwed.

And it wasn’t like you could get up and leave. Well, you could, but that would mean drawing all the attention from half of the people in the room, disrupting them and causing your entire row to stand up so that you could leave. You think that you’d rather die than be that person.

The man beside you says nothing more, choosing to ignore you and your situation as he types away along with the rest of the people in the hall.

Looks like you have no choice but to buckle yourself in for this ride.

—

Two hours later, you find yourself on level 12 of the world’s hardest game, still without any new literature knowledge but now have a deep insight into what the genetics modules will look like for the next three years as well as having a deep insightful knowledge about prokaryotic and eukaryotic organisms.

That’ll be some useful trivia some day at least.

You sit back watching everyone else pack away. The man beside you glances towards you briefly, he’s packed away too, now waiting for the people in your row to start filing out.

“Thinking about drastically changing your degree to biological sciences?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

You snort as you pack away your laptop, which surprisingly managed to survive the whole lecture.

“I fucking wish.”

“How about next time you check that you’re actually in the right block before stepping into a lecture hall?”

You barely know this man and yet you can feel his judgment, not just now but throughout the whole lecture you’ve felt his continuous side-eye as you died for the 400th time in your game.

“Will do.” you note, hoping to cut this conversation short. “Looks like I’ve got a literature lecture to catch up on.” you mumble to yourself as you begin to walk away, filing out of your row and heading to the doors.

“You what? Ended up at the wrong lecture hall?!”

Burying your head onto your arms, you groan aloud as a non-committal response. Your college roommate and new friend, Lyla, laughs out loud which unfortunately attracts eyes from around the cafe.

You groan, this being the second time that your face has burnt up this morning. “Please don’t make my misery any louder ly’ ”

She wipes at the corner of her eyes, adjusting her glasses. “I'm sorry, m’sorry.” She chokes, spluttering her hot chocolate. “But could you go through exactly what it was that you did again?”

You perk up your head on the table, keeping your eyelids shut. A mumble escapes from your lips.

Lyla cups her ears, teasing you unabashedly. “What was that?”

“Iendedupinageneticslecture.”

“What?”

“I ended up in a genetics lecture!”

And if you thought that her first laugh had been loud enough for the tables near you to hear, her second laugh practically caused the entire cafe to turn their eyes on you.

“This is all your fault by the way.” You pick up your cup of hot coffee and as if your day couldn’t get any worse, you’ve managed to burn your tongue and now you wonder whether there’s any point whatsoever in living on this sadistic earth.

Lyla points at herself, “Me? What did I do?!”

If you–” you lower your voice, cautious of multiple eyes staring at your table. “If you didn’t drag me out last night then maybe I wouldn’t have been so sleep deprived that I could have actually gotten to my proper lecture.”

Lyla snorts, waving her hands around. “Oh, please! Didn’t I get you that number off that guy you liked? Matt, was it?”

“Tom.”

“Right, whatever.” she says, picking up her cup and dipping her tongue into the generous amount of whipped cream and marshmallows that cover her hot chocolate. You stare at your own order in distaste, deeply wishing that you had gotten one too.

The next two weeks following your god awful mishap, you were fine.

From now on you and Lyla had a pact.

No more nights out.

Only up until the halloween season.

With your reading classes and her technology lectures, the two of you found each other up to your necks in assignments and essays along with being forced to help out with Lyla’s little coding club maintenance.

Thankfully you’ve managed to maintain some sort of routine, attending most – if not all – of your lectures both on time and double checking that you were in the right ones. You’ve made a few friends here or there at social events and finally found a job as a barista at the same cafe where Lyla gets her favorite hot chocolate from – and you must admit that they are pretty great.

All in all, college is going pretty great.

You think.

It’s going well in terms that you’ve managed to dodge every single phone call from your mom ever since you got here. Weekly, you’ve been coming up with good excuses and you don’t think that she’s caught on. Yet.

It was something that you had expected to happen once you made the decision to move away, I mean it was only fair, her only child leaving the bird’s nest, what else is she supposed to do?

You did feel guilty, of course you did. You hate lying to your mom but having her call every five minutes is not the reputation that you want to set up for yourself.

You’ll call her at the end of the week.

You swear on it.

- ‘Sorry, I’m in the library right now mom, I’ll call you back later okay? Love you <3’

Sent: 5:34pm

Setting your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’, you place it next to your laptop, your playlist resuming through your headphones.

Another thing that you were also proud of yourself, was getting in regular study periods in preparation for midterms. Your old self would have been procrastinating right up until the night before the exam but now? You’ve matured. You’ve changed your ways for the better and by getting in some pre-reading of essays and books, you know that you’ll be thanking your future self in the long run if you keep up this mindset.

And this mindset is a great mindset…as long as you don’t get distracted.

You lasted ten minutes.

You had barely gotten through the second page before your attention was taken somewhere else and by somewhere else you mean somebody else. And this particular somebody reminds you of a moment that you are trying so hard to forget. Which is impossible to do when he had just so coincidentally pulled up a chair next to you.

It was him. The guy who you sat next to in the one lecture that we don’t talk about for certain implicit reasons.

On recognising his face, you hope that he doesn’t recognise you. He pulls up a chair beside you, not truly noticing you are until he glances up. You can already sense what he’s about to say. Taking off your headphones you go to speak but he suddenly cuts you off.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mistake the janitor’s closet for the library then.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” you deadpan.

“I try to be.” he quips, the corners of his lips tilting upright.

Now that your body is not in fight or flight mode, you get a chance to take in this stranger. He’s…attractive. Conventionally. Tall. Awkwardly tall. Looks like one of those gym junkies or you guess that he actually is one based on those muscles on him. And those model cheekbones and naturally tanned skin and bushy eyebrows and soft lips–

“Do I have something on my face or are you just eyeballing me?”

“Neither.” you say, a little too quick for your judgment.

“There’s no shame in admitting the latter.” He prompts, a playful tone in his voice.

“You’re a little bit cocky don’t you think?”

This stranger leans back into his chair a little, raising a brow before dismissing your statement.

“I would disagree.”

“Of course you would, you’re a STEM student.”

The stranger huffs, glancing at you up and down. “At least I’m guaranteed a job as soon as I’m out of here.” He remarks, rummaging through his bag. “Good luck in getting out of your student debt with–” he squints over to one of the closed novels by your side. “Whatever book that you have over there.”

“You mean pride and prejudice?”

He simply shrugs, choosing to ignore you as he pulls out a huge textbook and his laptop.

Your eyes glimpse the front cover, reading ‘Biological Sciences.’ Your face turns to distaste at the thought of having to read that through your own free will.

“Have you read Pride and Prejudice?” you ask, trying to maintain a friendly unbiased tone.

“Never have and never will.”

“You’re missing out.”

“On what?” he scoffs, flicking a page of his massive textbook. It hurts your brain to even think about how much that would even cost. “A bunch of rich upper class Englishmen complain about their problems for a whole 300 pages?”

“Firstly,” you note, slightly offended. “That’s not what happens. Secondly, it’s 400 pages but it’s debatable depending on what version you buy. But when you suddenly get a gun cocked to your head with someone asking you to quote the first line from Pride and Prejudice one day, you’ll be regretting this conversation.”

“I highly doubt that’s even a probable situation.”

“There’s always a few anomalies lying around.” You shrug absentmindedly, flicking through your own novel which you had to complete reading for this week.

“Rarely.”

“But often enough to catch you off-guard.”

This…stranger lets out a sigh heavily through his nose, a sign of which you know means ‘please shut the fuck up.’ He ignores you for the nth time, eyes slightly squinting as he scrolls down, closely reading an article.

That’s it. You’ve lost your concentration. He’s ruined your mood and your mindset.

You begin to pack away, huffing as you place your novel in your bag. You’ll have to get started when you get home it seems.

“Don’t let me spoil your 19th century fun.” he murmurs, scrolling further down on the article.

“I’m going somewhere else, so that I won’t be bothered with your stupid microbiology shit.”

The man huffs, barely acknowledging you as you stand. “Good luck finding another free spot because this place is packed.”

“I’m heading home actually.” you quip, zipping up your bag after placing all your materials.

“Make sure that you don’t accidentally end up in someone else’s dorm–”

“Hilarious.”

You walk away before he can poke another joke at you. Once again, mocking you and you barely know his first name.

You kinda hope you never see him again. Partly because he’s an annoying STEM student but mostly because he reminds you of the excruciating pain that you went through by sitting in a genetics lecture for two hours without a single break.

Key word: kinda.

Reblogs are much appreciated!

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#under no circumstances.#miguel o hara x reader #angel writes #migeul o'hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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kanmom51 · 4 months

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Fave Jikook pics (?)

was going through my drafts again today to find these 2 beautiful Jikook pics that I probably meant to share way back last year.

Given the time that has passed and me not remembering what it was I had in mind while saving them to my drafts I decided to take it in a different direction.

So, I was doing a 'share your favorite Jikook pic' today with my good friends and it got me thinking what my favorite pics and/or moments were.

These two moments above are definitley top contenders (which I kind of forgot about when I was narrowing down my fave pics, seeing there are sooooo many beautiful moments out there for the picking).

But having a little think about it, I feel like the ones I connect with the most, the ones that pull at my heart strings the most, are:

Those super charged or emotional moments, when you can feel the feelings and/or tension without the words being said out loud.

Those moments when they find comfort in each other.

Those moments you can see the love they have for each other and the joy they bring one another.

Those moments when they are super flirty with each other (these ones just bring a much needed huge ass smile to my face).

That man has no shame.🤣🤣

And to think just a few years back he was calling JM shameless and malfunctioning when JM showed just how shameless he was, lol.

Seeing that you'd think he was so innocent and most definitley not shameless here either, right?

So innocent it drove JM totally mad, lol.

I think it's safe to say that JK was just as shameless if not more so at moments.

So, I think we can conclude that both of them are flirt kings, even more so with each other. And they don't even have to be in the same room and/or frame to drive each other or us crazy.

Wait a minute...

How did it go from Jikook favorite pics to this?

Meh, who cares, right?

As long as we get us a dose of Jikook all is well (even if the post makes absolutely no sense what so ever).

Those moments when the editors are clearly Jikookers (and this happens during clearly loud and obvious Jikook moments).

Ehm...

So basically, almost every pic out there of them interacting naturally.

Ok then...

I guess my point will be not having a point, just enjoying and sharing much loved Jikook moments.

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #jungkook #jk #jimin #jm #jikook pics #jikook moments

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daughterofthebitch · 5 months

Text

𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖣𝖮𝖭'𝖳 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖠𝖡𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖴𝖲 — Charlie Bushnell fanfic (parts of instagram and chat au)

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WELCOME TO EPISODE 01, ARE YOU READY FOR IT?

@ellarue

liked by gwendolineuniverse, masonalexanderpark, momonatamada, and others

ellarue Tempus Frangit ⏳️ Thank youuuuu ladyyyyy for the photos @gwendolineuniverse

↳ See comments

___

masonalexanderpark Beautiful as always <33 Do you know who will also think this? TOMM, let me go show him the true face of his little sister

↳ ellarue show... show and you will see where your makeup ends up.

↳ masonalexanderpark IT WAS A JOKE ELLA, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU HONEY <33

↳ ellarue UHUMMMMMMM ME TOO <33

gwendolineuniverse You're welcome dear, they look really pretty, but with a model like that it's hard not to.

↳ ellarue Don't talk like that or you will kill a delulu🤭🤭 (I'M THE DELULU)

↳ xochitl.gomez STOP HITTING ON MARRIED WOMAN ELLA

↳ momonatamada She can't take it, a beautiful married woman appears, and she is like this 🥺🥺

↳ ellarue SHUT UP KKKKKKKKKKKKKK I HATE YOU GUYS, please ignore them Gwen <33

↳ gwendolineuniverse It's fine dear 🤭

momonatamada I wanted to get out of the banality of saying that "you're beautiful", but you as Delirium are another level

↳ xochitl.gomez I remember when she tried on the wig for the first time, she freaked out thinking it would look ugly for the role, like... GIRL, HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED IN THE MIRROR?

↳ ellarue I promise, you are the bestiess I could ask for (It doesn't even look like I wanted to kill you two seconds ago)

↳ xochitl.gomez I love the aesthetic of us being like, FUCK YOU BITCH <33

↳ ellarue @Netflix I NEVER SAID THAT!!!!!!!!!!

user1 Qual a chance de eu e Delírio nos casarmos? (What are the chances of me and Delirio getting married?)

↳ user2 Talvez no dia que ela estiver sã? (Maybe the day she's mentally healthy?)

↳ user1 Merda! (Shit!)

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I throw my cell phone on the bed laughing, I loved it when the comments turned into complete chaos.

The weather today was very good for sleeping, the problem is that, at the moment, I'm having an insomnia crisis. My insomnia attacks always intensify when I'm working on something important, but I always try to ignore them. And that's exactly why at 00:37 I'm scrolling through Instagram, even though I wake up in 5 hours and a few minutes.

My cell phone vibrates at my side, easily gaining my attention. Who could be sending messages at this time? Did something go wrong? I turn on the screen looking for information and then...

"iamcharliebushnell liked your post"

Ah... it was nothing important... Starting to reassure myself again, I go to the profile of the person who liked my photo, something I do whenever I have time. And wait, does Mo follow him? He looks a little familiar to me.

My interest in the profile becomes sudden, or maybe it's just sleep starting to speak louder. Browsing the account I find photos from the end of 2023 that make me understand the reason for the familiarity. He is Luke, like Luke Castellan in the Percy Jackson series, aka one of my biggest crushes in the series (if we don't count Clarisse).

There was just one problem... When we are in the sleep stage, we don't think very well what to do. Or sometimes we don't even think about it. And that's my excuse for liking a photo of him from months ago.

To make my situation worse the next day, I felt my eyes finally get heavy, sleep would consume me and I could finally have a night of peace. Or that's what I thought. I fell asleep a few minutes after that.

___

I woke up quickly with the alarm, also who wouldn't wake up when they have Momona and Xochitl screaming in their ear. Yes, they made a personalized audio for me to use with an alarm, that's why I love my girls.

I pick up my phone, seeing that its battery is empty, great, I forgot to put it on charge last night. I walk to the bathroom and continue with my standard routine.

On the way to the film set I was finally able to turn on my cell phone to check the news and the thousands of notifications from my friends didn't seem like a good thing...

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Hey darlingsss, this is the first episode of this fanfic, I hope you like it <33 As it is the first chapter, it was a little shorter than the others and more stationary, as it is just to introduce the protagonist to you. I really hope you like it, really do!!!

*Spoiler: The next episode will be from Charlie's point of view.

*Obs: If you couldn't see it correctly, here's the screenshot from Instagram.

Tag list: @siriusblacksgf @idiewhenrhythmgamesdie @taygrls @jules-loves-lukecastellan @lostinhisworld @iludidaefodida @goopoems @lucycarlisleswife @blairfox04

#luke castellan x y/n #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan #pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #Charlie bushnell fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #instagram au

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sardonic-the-writer · 6 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

↳ warning: supernatural elements

↳ notes: requested by anonymous. was going to be headcanons but ended up turning into a one shot. enjoy

↳ song: ghostbusters—ray parker jr.

masterlist | commisions | carrd

This really wasn't supposed to happen.

It was supposed to be a simple job. One of the easier ones you all had gotten hired to do all month. That's what Ray had said to you as you zipped up the front of your uniform in the firehouse, and you believed him.

A customer had called in last week, sounding out of breath as they complained of a room in their house that always felt cold when they walked into it. You could practically smell the incense through the phone, and your suspicions were confirmed when you later stepped into their house.

After Peter had sarcastically made sure it wasn't just a problem with their AC unit, Janine penciled them in for an inspection a few days later, and that was that. You and the rest of the Ghostbusters went to the nearby Chinese restaurant that night and forgot all about it.

Now, you were hiding behind an overturned table as an apparition whizzed over your heads, shrieking in a language none of you could decipher.

"I thought you said this was a class one spook!" You shouted at Egon as he fumbled with a trap nearby. He shot you an irritated look through the rims of his glasses, as if to say 'what am I supposed to do', before going back to tinkering with the trap in his hand.

"Someone's gotta get out there and distract it!" Peter yelled over the noise of plates being smashes. You winced, imagining that the client wouldn't be too happy to hear that their kitchen was ransacked during the procedure. If you could even call it a procedure.

"Ray! You're up!" Winston called from his place next to you, shoving his coworker out of the hiding spot just a little.

"No way! It was my turn last time!" Ray griped. As he said that, a stray fork flew by his head, nearly missing the side of his face as he yelped and ducked further under the tables cover.

"I'll do it." You volunteered whilst reaching for the proton pack at your back. You were sure that if you looked over at that moment, you'd see Ray sending you the most grateful look you'd ever seen.

The others waited for Egon to finish preparing the trap, Peter mostly yelling at him to hurry up, as you rose from your place on the tiled kitchen floor.

The ghost turned to look at you as you let out a wolf whistle. It's hair floated wildly around its head like a crown of thorns, and you heard one of the guys from behind you gulp with difficulty.

"Hey Casper!" You grinned with what you hoped was a considerable amount of bravado. "Why don't you don't you pick on someone your own size?"

You wouldn't remember falling onto your back after the ghost charged straight at you. Nor would you remember how it slimed down into a fine mist, slipping into your mouth with a hissing noise. Bruises covering your spine would leave the evidence of a fall later on, but that was the only sign that anything had happened.

The boys watched as your eyes rolled back to reveal a milky white gaze. Peter nearly dropped the nozzle to his proton pack as you began to levitate; your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. For a minute, it reminded him of when Gozer had possessed Dana. Although, you were his friend, not fiancé, and wearing a jumpsuit instead of a dress.

"Uh guys?"

"I'm seeing it, Winston." Ray replied without taking his eyes off of you. Wind began to pick up in the house, blowing his hair to the side as he watched you with wide eyes.

"Egon!" Peter yelled over the noise. "The trap??"

"Done!" He finally announced. "Someone hold them down!" The scientist shouted, forehead beaded with sweat as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stood up with shaking hands, nearly dropping the trap as he stepped around the table and towards you.

Ray and Winston both grabbed your arms and legs, pulling you down from your spot in the air with a considerable amount of force. Peter attempted to push you by your chest, but was headbutted by the ghost and sent flying backwards. You, or rather the ghost occupying you, made a sound between a cackle and a scream.

"I've never wanted to punch a ghost more than I do now." Peter groaned from the floor as he hauled himself back up. He'd have to get Dana to check him for a concussion later.

"I need a stream, Venkman!" Egon stepped away from the Muon trap as if it was a live bomb. "Ray, Winston, on our count let go of them and duck!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Winston said as he avoided yet another kick from your boot.

The sound of an engine powering up filled the room as Peter and Egon switched on their packs, directing the end of their nozzles at you. The two men glanced at each other nervously and Egon's foot hovered over the traps pedal anxiously. You just continued to flail.

"You sure this won't hurt them?!" Ray yelled. He brought his head back a significant amount as the ghost inside of you attempted to bite at him.

"No idea!" Egon fumbled. His glasses were nearly flying off of his face with the wind, but he pushed on. "Now, Peter!"

Ray and Winston made a dive for it as two multicolored streams encased you in a bright light. The spirit inside howled with discomfort, kicking its legs in an attempt to escape.

Without warning, Egon stepped on the trap, releasing a beam that shot into the air and struck the ceiling. He knew from experience that there would be a faint singe mark left on it later, but that was the least of anyone's concerns. The client would just have to deal with it.

Taking careful measure not to bump your body into any stray debris, they guided the spirit closer and closer to the trap until its form began to separate from yours. The horrible sucking noise it made nearly coerced Egon to drop his gun to cover his ears.

One moment, you were floating in the air, speaking tongues and way too close to a piece of dangerous machinery. The next, you were laying in a pile of broken china plates as your eyes rolled back into place.

"Hey. Hey, bud, come back to us." Peter said, slapping your cheek slightly to bring you back down to earth. He had been the first to drop to the ground next to you, lifting your head up to make sure nothing had scraped it in the fall.

Ray came next from his hiding spot behind a now splintered chair, then Winston's wide eyed form, and finally Egon holding a smoking trap.

"Vitals appear to be steady." Ray said. He pulled his fingers away from the spot on your neck he had been checking, looking at the rest of them. He sighed like a ten pound weight had been lifted off his chest.

"You worry too much Stanz." Peter said, jesting. But his usual playful tone was dampened, and he didn't look up until you groaned.

"Did anyone catch the number of that bus that ran me over?" You hissed, shielding your eyes from a nonexistent bright light.

Silence.

Winston broke out into laughter first, with the rest following suit. Egon smiled as Peter giggled, and Ray was practically rolling on the floor.

"Trauma response." Egon said between baritone chuckles, only able to get one word out at a time. "Surprised this is the first time we're having one."

"Do I even have to ask what happened?" You said while pushing yourself up on your forearms. Winston just shook his head at you, and slapped you on the back.

"We'll tell you back at the firehouse, kid." He said with a shake of his head. You frowned at the nickname, but eventually let a smile crack.

The five of you sat in each other presence for a little bit, letting the laughter die down as the mood came to a stop.

"So—" Peter cleared his throat.

"—who wants to be the one that talks to the client?"

You were left sitting on the floor as they all scrambled to get out, surrounded by broken glass.

"Assholes."

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doomhands-jr · 5 days

Text

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 4

Noah Sebastian X Reader

Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: Blow job, drug use, swearing, angst, noah getting humbled

Masterlist

________

“Fuck,” Noah whispered. “Just like that.”

Noah couldn’t remember who was sucking his dick. He could barely remember how he got upstairs. He thought her name might begin with an S? Maybe? But her mouth was so warm and inviting. And wet. And when she hummed, it vibrated.

His head lolled to the side. Had the couch always been this soft?

She pulled off him with a “pop” and stroked his shaft a few times.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, letting out a soft giggle and allowing his lids to close.

He’d have to ask Jolly what that pill was. He wanted to feel like this all the time.

“You like that?” the girl asked. What the fuck was her name? Sarah? No… Savannah? Something like that. She looked up at him and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a face more vibrant or beautiful than hers.

Except for maybe yours. But he didn’t want to think about that, because it was bringing down his vibe, and he had someone right in front of him who was so, so beautiful, and whose mouth was the warmest mouth he’d ever felt in his life.

“Yeah,” he said, marveling at the tingling sensation in his fingertips as he rubbed them together, paying special attention to the calluses on his fingers. She squeezed his dick again and his focus was brought back to her. “Do it again please?”

She enveloped the head of his dick in her mouth once more. He didn’t think she could get a tighter seal around him. His eyes rolled back. Noah was certain if she kept up at this rate, she’d rid him of whatever negative energy dwelled in his body, and he’d walk away an enlightened man.

“You’re so fuckin’ warm,” he muttered, noticing for the first time that his own voice carried many layers to it. He hummed out a note, feeling his vocal folds vibrate with such a pleasant intensity that he forgot all about the woman whose mouth he was currently in and began practicing his vocal warmups. He could hear his voice getting better in real time.

“They’re right,” he giggled between warmups.. “I should do my vocal exercises more. These are great.”

The woman said something that Noah didn’t catch, but his awareness was once again brought to his dick, and this time, his focus was locked in. All the sudden, he was on a sensation train that was approaching its crescendo. When it did, Noah’s body blasted into a liminal space, where he was met with a wave of warm, glowing light.

Was he crying? He thought he might have been crying, but he didn’t know what about. Surely it was nothing sad, because no sadness could exist here. He was wrapped in pure love and light.

“It’s like heaven,” he slurred.

And then his body slipped away and he was nothing more than divine consciousness, floating in the ether.

_____________

“Noah!”

Someone was shooting off fireworks in the hallway.

No, that wouldn’t make sense.

Someone was knocking on the door. His eyelids were too heavy for him to lift.

“Noah, wake up, man.”

He vaguely registered the sound of the door opening. “Aw, gross! Get your pasty ass off Jolly’s couch.”

Noah groaned, feeling for the waistband of his boxers, realizing they were still pulled down around his ankles.

“What happened?” he rasped out. His throat was beyond dry. His head pounded with every pulse.

“You tell me. Last thing I remember is you disappearing with that Tiffany chick.”

Noah’s eyes flew open. “Tiffany?” He scrubbed a palm over his face. That girl had been after him for months. Showed up to every party and clung to him like a barnacle on the side of a boat. Always interjected herself into conversations and has cockblocked him on more than one occasion. Despite actively ignoring her when she’s around, she never took the hint to leave him alone.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Why did you let me go upstairs with her?” he asked, finally looking up to see Ruffilo standing above him with his hands on his hips, looking very much like a disappointed mother.

“It’s not my job to babysit you, dude. Plus, you insisted it was fine.”

Noah rolled over and clenched his throat to stop himself from hurling.

“How much did I drink?” he rasped out.

“I don’t know. But whatever you took clearly didn’t mix well with it.”

“No shit,” he said, rolling off the couch. His knees smacked against the hardwood floor, the impact ricocheting up to his head, forcing him into a wince.

“Can you please put some pants on?” his friend said, rolling his eyes as he turned his back toward Noah.

With great effort, Noah hoisted himself off the floor and into a semi-standing position so he could pull his boxers and jeans back up.

“My eyes are killing me,” he croaked.

“Yeah, no shit dude. You still have those weird-ass things in.”

Noah stumbled across the hall to the bathroom, the acrid feeling of bile crawled its way up his chest, intensifying the closer he got. He threw the toilet lid and seat back, knees hitting tile as he curled over the lip of the bowl to vomit the remainder of last night’s drinks.

His head pounded, every heave forcing blood up into his face, the vessels in his eyes straining under the pressure.

“Help me get these out,” he sputtered between heaving breaths, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He rolled over to lean his back against the vanity unit, hands falling into his lap as he worked to catch his breath.

“Let me see,” Ruffilo sighed cupping his chin with one hand to tilt it back into the light. He took care to wash his hands before he made any attempt to touch the massive black contacts that spanned the entirety of his friend’s eyes.

“Ow, fuck!” Noah shouted, causing his head to ache with his own volume. “Don’t use your nail, asshole!”

“Sorry dude,” his friend said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. “This shit’s hard to do. Hold still.”

With careful precision, Nick maneuvered the large disc around until he found purchase on it. Pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, he gently peeled it out to reveal Noah’s bloodshot eyes.. After doing the same with the second, he tossed both in the trash, then stood to wash his hands once more. “Damn,” said Noah. “I liked those. I wanted to use them for more shows.”

“We’ll get you new ones,” said Nick. He grabbed an empty Solo cup on the sink counter, rinsing it out before filling it with cool tap water. He handed it to Noah before lowering himself to the ground, sighing as he leaned against the opposite wall. “Sip slowly, or you’ll throw up again.” Gingerly, Noah raised the cup to his lips.

Ruffilo was not easily affected by the actions of others. In fact, he had a calming disposition that set many at ease. But at that moment, Noah could feel his friend’s gaze burning a hole into him. He stared at the rim of his cup, the acrid feeling returning as he did everything to avoid looking at Nick.

“You okay, man?” The pity in his friend’s tone sat like a brick in Noah’s gut.“I’ve never seen you get that fucked up before. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t be doing that shit,” Nick said, crossing his arms over his chest and clicking his tongue against his teeth.. “Do you even know what you took?”

Noah paused for a moment. Scenes from the previous night flashed through his memory: the red lump on your cheekbone, the slight gasp that left your lungs when he parted your legs, the absence of your warmth after you left.

“No,” Noah rasped out, leaning his head back against the counter and closing his eyes.

“That’s not like you, man.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on,” he sighed, grabbing Noah under the arm to lift him off the floor. “Let’s get you home and in bed.”

“Thanks,” said Noah. He brought his hand up to comb his fingers through his hair and found the demon horns still on his head. A bitter taste coated his tongue and he ripped them off, chucking them in the trash.

It took a monumental effort for Noah to stagger the six blocks to his house. The sun was far too bright and the traffic was much too loud. Even with Ruffilo helping him, he struggled to keep his balance and had to pause halfway through to vomit into a set of bushes lining the street.

He didn't know when he fell asleep. One moment, he was collapsing onto his bed, and the next, he woke to the sound of something hitting his nightstand. On a tray sat a mug of coffee, scrambled eggs and toast, with two painkillers on a napkin. Ruffilo was already on his way out the door when Noah spoke.

“Thanks man,” He managed to mutter. “I owe you one.”

“This is done on the condition that we talk about it when you’re ready.”

Noah sighed, jaw clenching. “I know. Just not today.”

________

Halfway through Noah’s day-long hangover nap, he was woken up by another knocking. This time, when he opened his eyes, he found none other than the drummer of his band looking like the cat that caught the canary.

Nick sidled past him, inviting himself into Noah’s room, tossing a wad of cash down onto Noah’s bed before turning to face him.

“Here you go, killer. You earned it.”

“What are you talking about?” Noah muttered, consciousness slowly growing clearer as he struggled to wake up. His head felt like it was in a vise.

“I saw you and the virgin Mary go into your studio last night. When she came back out, she looked absolutely wrecked,” he said, snickering to himself. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you did it, but damn. I never thought that chick would put out. Her friend was a pretty good consolation prize though, I have to say.”

Noah grabbed the wad of cash and threw it violently back at his friend.

“Whoa,” Nick said, head pulling back defensively. “What was that for?”

“Man, fuck off. I told you I wasn’t part of that.”

“You still won,” said Nick with a shrug. “I’m a man of my word. Should have tried a little harder with her last night, but her friend was practically beggin’ for it the whole time.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Noah was aware that he should exit this conversation. But in the moment, his stomach rolled with a heavy mixture of shame and anger that he couldn’t digest, so he spat it at Nick.

“You’re a fucking bottom feeder, man.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Nick bit back, unflinching as if he’d been waiting. “Don’t sit there on your high fuckin’ horse, acting like you’re better than everyone when you did the same thing to Tiffany, knowing how down bad she is for you. Grow a spine and reject the girl so she can move on.”

Noah squeezed his eyes together and rubbed his temples.

He knew he’d run out of defenses, and hated that Nick was right, but his brain had only just started thawing out from the onslaught of chemicals he’d fed it, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

“Man, just get out. I’m not in the mood, okay?”

“Clearly, since you’re fucking being a little bitch today.” His eyebrows and jaw were hard set, but when Noah finally locked on to his stare, Nick must have seen the defeat in his eyes, because he began to soften.

“Get some sleep, man. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Thanks.”

__________________

Normally, Noah didn’t mind his job at the factory too much. It was repetitive, which was boring, but also regulating. It allowed him to move on autopilot while he wrote music in his head.

Today though, as the remnants of his headache clung to his periphery - he was Sisyphus, and the lathe was his boulder.

Worse though, whatever he had taken at the party had dumped all the serotonin and dopamine from his system, and there was nothing left to get him through the day.

“This,” he muttered to himself, barely audible over the whirring of the machines surrounding him, “this is why I don’t do drugs.”

He’d known this would happen even before he took them, but at the time he didn’t care. He was focused on escaping from the reality of his situation. It worked for the night, until that reality came back with a vengeance.

His confidence was shaken. He’d been so sure that you wanted him in that moment. He’d have bet all the cash Nick had tried to throw at him that you wanted him. But when you were an inch away, just barely in his grasp, you shot him down and left. And here he was, tearing his hair out because he could not, for the life of him, figure out why.

Maybe you just couldn't accept his feelings about religion. Your beliefs were so important to you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was something you just couldn’t get past. Like you’d mentioned earlier that night, the whole evening was out of your comfort zone, you were overwhelmed by it all. Perhaps you just weren’t ready.

But maybe he was overthinking everything. Maybe inviting you into his world was a bad decision.

No God. No religion.

Just bad, bad decisions.

He scrawled the words into the margins of the notebook used to write down measurements for whatever the fuck parts he had to check for inaccuracies. For the rest of the day, the words ran through his head over and over again like a mantra, following the rhythmic clunk of the factory machines. He fished the silver ring out of his pocket and fidgeted with it for the hundredth time since you left the studio. It barely fit past the first knuckle on his pinky finger, but every time he touched it, it felt a little easier to breathe.

______________

“So, I feel like I owe you an apology,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee. “Several apologies, actually.”

“Okay,” Tiffany said, sitting across from him at the small bistro table in the corner of the local coffee shop Noah frequented.

His stomach clenched. He’d been nervous for the last few days leading up to this conversation, but it was time for him to stop being a coward and settle the matter.

Tiffany was not an unattractive woman. She had long blonde hair that she wore in loose waves. She was on the thicker side, which Noah liked. He could see himself being attracted to her if their personalities meshed.

Tiffany’s fatal flaw was that she tried too hard. Noah preferred to do the chasing. And he probably wouldn’t have ended up chasing after her regardless, and so he understood that she felt the need to chase after him if she liked him, but he had no inkling of feelings for her.

“First, I wanted to apologize for last Saturday. I wasn’t in the best state of mind, and I shouldn’t have invited you upstairs.”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. “That became clear when you started doing vocal warmups mid-blowjob.”

Noah snorted into his coffee. He forgot about that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to bite back his grin.

Her tough façade cracked into a smile. “No worries. In hindsight, it’s pretty funny.”

“Okay, so question then,” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table. “If you knew I wasn’t sober, why did you continue?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “As soon as I realized you weren’t right, I stopped.”

Noah looked at her, taken aback. “You left?”

She nodded.

“You mean I didn’t…I could have swore…,” he trailed off.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was excited about the idea of hooking up with you, but not like that.”

Noah looked at Tiffany with a newfound respect. Perhaps he had misjudged her.

“Secondly,” he continued, “I wanted to apologize for never making my intentions clear. I feel like I led you on and allowed you to have hope because I was afraid of confrontation. That wasn’t cool of me. I should have told you from the beginning that I wasn’t interested.”

“Ouch,” she said, wincing slightly, “but thanks.”

He shook his head. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table.. “You probably don’t deserve it, but honestly I’d rather you be straightforward with me so I can actually move on. It takes a lot of energy to walk away from something you want if you still think there might be a little hope. I probably would have wasted a lot of time.”

His stomach began to feel the weight of his actions. Tiffany’s only crime was not deciphering the vague signals he’d given her, and yet he’d treated her like a pariah, going so far as to badmouth her to his bandmates. And for what? Because she refused to give up hope until she received a solid answer?

He’d been an even bigger asshole than he’d realized.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

Tiffany looked at Noah with a face that hinted at pity. Perhaps she saw the inner battle he was having with himself.

“Why did you take me upstairs?” she asked.

Noah felt like he owed her the truth. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Tiffany, but he did like her. And there was something about her that made him want to trust her. Perhaps it was how she’d prioritized his consent, despite her feelings for him. Or maybe the way she’d responded to him when he told her he wasn’t interested took the edge off his nervous system. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed that feeling.

Noah launched into the story, telling Tiffany about how you’d met, your differences in beliefs, how you’d wound up at that party, what happened during the set, and how it had played out in the studio afterwards.

Once he finished his retelling, Tiffany narrowed her eyes at him.

“Do you always react so poorly when you get rejected?”

“What do you mean?” asked Noah.

“Like, after a girl rejects you, do you binge drink and take unknown drugs and hook up with other people? Is that how you handle it every time?”

Noah shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Wait. Is this your first time being rejected?” she asked in disbelief.

He took another sip of his coffee, ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth, and then gave the tiniest of nods.

Without hesitation, Tiffany burst out laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushed to clarify, holding her hands in front of her as if to pause the conversation. “This is so inappropriate and I shouldn’t be laughing. Forgive me.”

She didn’t stop laughing despite her apology.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait,” Noah said, snark creeping into his voice.

“This feels really great to hear, honestly. I know it sucks for you, but I’m absolutely loving it.”

“Can you not rub it in my face, please?” he asked.

Tiffany did her best to calm her laughter and then smiled genuinely across the table at him.

“Noah, being rejected is not the worst thing that can happen. Trust me. I’ve been rejected many times. It builds character and toughens you up. Plus, I think your ego could use it. You’re totally full of yourself.”

“How so?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. Didn’t you say you were going to fight god a few weekends ago during your set?”

Noah chewed on his lip. “That was performative.”

“It comes from somewhere.”

“Not necessarily true.”

“Noah, come on,” she said, fixing him with an imploring stare. “Be for real right now. You got rejected one time and you completely lost your shit. Total self-sabotage. Do you know how many girls you’ve rejected? A lot. And we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and keep fighting the good fight, because shit happens.”

Noah, mid-humbling, stayed quiet and let her continue. As uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge his shortcomings, it was also refreshing to hear. He’d never experienced a lecture from a loving mother, but he imagined this was what it felt like.

“Plus,” Tiffany continued, “it sounds like she didn’t even reject you. She just wasn’t ready to fuck you in that moment. And why would she? Considering how you’d treated her.”

“How did I treat her?” he asked. He thought he’d been kind. Certainly more attentive than he’d been to other women in his life.

“I mean, do you even like her?”

“Of course!”

“Really? Because it doesn’t sound like it. You sent her into a mosh pit totally unprepared and let her get hit in the face.”

Noah winced. He did do that. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to mention it to you.

“You didn’t warn her about the content of your music and allowed yourself to get peer-pressured into playing a song that deliberately shits on everything important to her,” she continued. “And what? You’re surprised she doesn’t want to give up her virginity after a month of knowing you?”

Noah had to sit back after what felt like a massive blow to the center of his chest.

“I put more effort in with her than I have with anyone else,” he said, feebly trying to defend himself, though he knew he had no defense to stand on.

“Are you honestly telling me that was the best you could do?”

Noah didn’t answer, reluctant to say the words out loud, and Tiffany sighed.

“Look. If you really like the girl, go earn her.”

Noah fidgeted with the sleeve on the paper to-go cup. The concept of earning someone’s affection was new to him. He’d always been on the receiving end.

“How do I do that?”

Tiffany blinked back at him. “I mean, it’s not really my job to figure that out for you. I’m already giving you more emotional labor than I owe. But if you’re asking me, I’d start by figuring out why her faith is so important to her, rather than focusing on how you can get her to abandon it so you can sleep with her.”

“Ouch. I mean you’re right, but do you have to be so mean about it?”

“Trust me Noah, I’m doing you a kindness.”

He exhaled heavily through his nostrils, realizing that the magic pill to fix his problems was indeed, the toughest to swallow.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “I appreciate you saying this to me.”

Tiffany nodded. “You’re welcome.”

“Can we be friends?” he asked. He meant it. Tiffany was clearly a positive influence in his life, and even if he didn’t want to be with her romantically, he still wanted her around in some way.

“No,” she said flatly. Noah’s face fell. “At least… not right now. This conversation helped, but I still need to lick my wounds. It isn’t fun being rejected, after all.”

“You can say that again,” he said.

“We can be friendly, though. I’ll still come to your shows because despite all your shortcomings, I unfortunately like your music.”

He chuckled, finding Tiffany’s candor refreshing. “You’re really enjoying the opportunity to insult me, aren’t you?”

“I really am,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. He saw a glimpse of the beauty he’d been so focused on in his drug-induced state. She truly was prettier than he’d given her credit for.

“I hope you find someone better than me,” he said. “I want you to be happy. You deserve a good guy.”

“Thank you,” she said, softer than before and he could tell she believed him.

Noah paid for both their coffees. It was the least he could do. They parted with a warm handshake that Noah had the urge to turn into a hug, but he could tell from her body language she wouldn’t want it.

For the first time since the party, he felt a little lighter in his chest. He fished around in his pocket for the silver ring, hooking it onto his pinky finger and rubbing his thumb along the “true love waits” inscription he’d memorized earlier. __________

Waking up on Sunday was an ordeal. You hadn’t even been drinking, but it still felt as if you’d had a stimulation hangover. Your ears rang from all the noise, and there was a deep pressure behind your eyes from all the crying you’d done.

You wiped away the crust from your eyelids and were immediately met with tenderness at your temple.

Oh, yeah. You’d been elbowed in the face last night.

Crawling down from your bed, you made your way over to the mirror above your desk to see just how bad it was. An ugly, angry red lump with purpled edges glared back at you.

The rest of your face hadn’t fared much better. Your makeup was smudged all around your eyes and your lipstick smeared down your chin.

You’d slept in your clothes, having been too exhausted to change into anything else when you got back around at around two in the morning.

The alarm on your phone rang, signaling it was time to get ready for church.

You sank down into your desk chair, having no motivation for anything.

You never skipped church unless you were sick. One of the things you prided yourself most on was your regular attendance. Plus, church was where you did all your socializing. All of your friends went. It wasn’t just church you liked, it was going out to lunch afterwards with everyone. It was treating yourself to a luxurious coffee drink beforehand. It was dressing up in your favorite outfits and performing on stage. And it was the satisfaction of knowing God was pleased with you.

Was God still pleased with you?

You stared at the lump on your head.

You’d resisted temptation. That didn’t count for nothing. You’d also allowed the situation to go much further than you should have, but you still listened to your gut when it told you to get out of there. That was enough of a success in your book.

Your thoughts drifted to Noah.

He’d been so forward last night, truly put himself out there, and had looked so dejected when you’d pulled away. But then again, hadn’t he said a few weeks ago that it was important to risk rejection? He seemed aware of what the stakes were.

You didn’t know exactly why you pulled away at that moment. Something told you it wasn’t the right time, but part of you worried that you wouldn’t get another opportunity like the one you’d had, and that perhaps you ruined your chances with him.

Maybe you did? Was that the worst thing?

Perhaps this was God’s way of telling you that Noah was not the right person for you. And if that was the case, you would need to get over the idea of him so you could continue to interact with him at community service without getting hurt.

You kicked your foot up on the desk in front of you and leaned your chair back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to find the central point of balance.

It was 10:30. If you were going to make it to church, you’d have to get up now and start getting ready. You’d have to leave no later than 10:45 to make it to the 11:00 service on time.

You continued to balance on the back legs of your chair, seeing if you could get it to balance on its own for five seconds.

10:45 came and went, and you did not leave your chair. You couldn’t make it to five seconds without it tipping, but you made it to four and a half before you gave up and went back to bed.

__________

You were awoken by a rapt knocking at your door. It definitely wasn’t your roommate, Stevie. She went home every weekend and didn’t come back until late in the evening.

You rolled out of bed and looked at the clock - 1:00 PM. Yawning off the remaining sleep, you opened the door. The first thing your eyes landed on was the white, deep v-neck that gave a peek to a tanned chest.

“Isaac? What are you doing here?” you asked. Isaac had walked you to your dorm before on nights when practice ended late and he insisted it was inappropriate to allow you to walk home alone, but he had never visited you before.

“I wanted to check on you. Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, hesitantly moving aside to let him through. Once inside, he leaned against your desk, crossing his arms as he observed you.

“So…,” you trailed off, sitting on your bed cross-legged.

“You weren’t in church today.” It was not an observation, but an accusation, and it immediately set your nerves on guard.

“Yeah,” you said, keeping your tone even. “I didn’t feel great.”

“Are you hungover?”

“No. I didn’t drink.”

He fixed you with a stare that let you know he didn’t believe you. You met his eyes, unwilling to back down.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, likely figuring he wouldn’t get more out of you.

“Do you know where Ava is?” he asked. “She didn’t come either.”

“She didn’t?” This was news to you. You’d looked for her briefly after you’d left but had been unsuccessful in finding her and assumed she’d gone home.

“What happened last night? You look like you’ve been through it.” He stepped closer, eyes scanning up and down your face.

Instinctively, your hand went up to touch the bruise and Isaac’s eyes narrowed.

“It was just a mosh pit,” you said.

“Yeah?” he asked, tone laced with suspicion. “Is that why your purity ring is gone?”

You checked your hand to see it was, indeed, gone. Left in Noah’s back pocket. You sighed and tipped over sideways onto the bed.

“I lost it. But not like that,” you said.

“Sure,” he said, absolutely not believing you. You’d never been seen without the ring, and it was unlikely that it slipped off.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“What is ‘anything’ to you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, look. I don’t owe you this information and it is in no way your job to make sure I’m pure, but I didn’t even kiss anyone last night. I seriously just lost the ring.”

Isaac’s eyebrow lifted up and he pursed his lips, staring you down to see if he could detect any signs of falsehood and when he found none, he deflated.

“Alright,” he said. “But in the future, could you not stay out so late? It was hard to carry the praise and worship service without you and Ava.”

“Sorry,” you said. “I’ll be there next week.”

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise.”

“So how was the party?” he asked.

“Honestly?” you asked. He nodded. “Not great. Definitely not my scene. I got full-on elbowed in the face. Plus, everyone there was drunk and I couldn’t relate to anyone.”

You could tell Isaac was enjoying hearing your confession, the look in his eye now sporting a condescending glint. But, to his credit, he refrained from giving you any sort of ‘I told you so’ kind of lecture. After a beat of silence though, he started to chuckle at your misfortune.

“Does this feel good to hear?” you asked. He smiled in return and it was genuine.

Isaac wasn’t terrible. He seemed to truly care about you, and though he could be intrusive and overbearing at times, his heart was in the right place.

“Alright. I think I’m gonna let you get some more sleep,” he said after several minutes of catching up, tapping a knuckle on your desk to punctuate his visit. “I’d like to meet sometime this week to go over this Christmas showcase. Thursday night good for you?”

You nodded. “Thanks Isaac.”

You puffed out a mouthful of air as soon as you heard the door close, feeling like you’d just been the subject of an interrogation. It was clear now that your actions were being watched. Anything out-of-character could easily be reported back to your father, and while Isaac let you off the hook easily this time, you couldn’t be so sure he would continue if your behavior turned into a pattern.

You’d have to tread much more carefully if you wanted to fly under the radar.

_______________

The week passed quickly. Ava hadn’t returned any of your texts and you grew worried, but figured she would talk to you whenever she was ready. You wondered if something had happened at the party. Was she upset with you? Was she avoiding you?

Thursday’s meeting went well enough. Isaac had a lot of good ideas about the songs he wanted to perform and how to get the word out about it. The two of you worked closely together and you were starting to wonder if perhaps you’d judged Isaac too harshly for his actions the other week.

It was possible that Noah was just a distraction after all. Someone that helped you shake some of your delusions about Isaac so you could see him as an actual person instead of putting him on such a pedestal—because now that you interacted with each other as equals, he wasn’t all that bad. He was actually easy to get along with.

He didn’t give you that warm pooling sensation in your lower abdomen that Noah gave you, but connecting with him was enjoyable. You could see yourself working well as partners together.

“So you’re going to have to take the solo for Mary Did You Know, as well as O Holy Night,” he said. “You’re our top soprano.”

“Got it,” you said with a curt nod. “Are you going to do O Come O Come Emmanuel?”

“You know it,” he said, grinning proudly. His voice had a great timbre for that one and he knew it.

“Is Ava going to be participating?” you asked.

Isaac sighed. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of her.”

“Me either. I’m starting to get concerned.”

“If she doesn’t show up at church again on Sunday, maybe we should visit her,” he suggested.

“I think that would make me feel better,” you agreed.

As it turned out, however, you didn’t have to wait for Sunday. Ava was waiting outside your dorm when you got back from your meeting with Isaac.

“Hey,” she said, sitting with her knees curled up in front of her. She wore baggy sweatpants and an oversize hoodie.

“Hey,” you said. “Stevie’s home. If you want to talk privately, we should probably go for a walk or something.”

Nodding, she stood up.

You had walked out your dorm hall and halfway down the block before she got the nerve to speak.

“Sorry for being MIA,” she said, hands pushed deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“I think,” she replied. “I just needed some time to sort my feelings out.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. She nodded.

“What happened on Saturday? I couldn’t find you anywhere.” You tried to keep any judgment out of your tone.

“I had more to drink than I meant to,” she began. “I didn’t know my tolerance.”

“That’s an easy mistake to make, especially for your first time drinking,” you said.

“Yeah, but that’s not all that happened.”

The two of you had reached the edge of campus. A left turn would lead you past the party house. A right turn would lead you to the church grounds.

You let Ava take the lead, patiently waiting while she weighed her options.

She turned left. You nodded and continued walking with her.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret any of my decisions,” she prefaced. “I just had some complicated feelings about it.”

“Of course,” you said.

“Nick and I hooked up on Saturday night.”

Your footsteps faltered, but you recovered quickly. “How far did you go?”

“We had sex.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you stopped walking. “What?!” Your voice came out as a shout.

Ava inhaled slowly through her nostrils, nervously looking around. “I need you to make less of a deal about it than you’re making right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, tone hushed as you leaned closer to her. “But that’s a whole consent issue. If you’d been drinking…,” you trailed off.

“I was drunk when we were making out,” she said, “but I had sobered up by the time we went back to his place.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.” She confirmed, with an earnest look in her eye.

“Okay,” you said, calming down a bit. You’d been about to find Nick and strangle him. “So you really don’t regret it?”

“I don’t,” she said. “But… I feel awful about not regretting it. I feel like I should, like it makes me a bad person for not. Like, we were always told that if we made a mistake like this, we’d feel terrible about it. And I don’t feel terrible. I liked it, even. And I want to do it again, if I can.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say. Growing up, you and Ava had always been on the same page about sex, frequently discussing what it might be like on your wedding night. Ava had always been a bit on the wild side, but you had no idea her opinions had changed quite this much.

“But I feel like I’m not allowed to feel this way and continue being involved in the church.”

You understood where she was coming from. Even after you and Noah barely touched each other, you felt weird about going to church the next morning. It was actually quite refreshing to hear that you weren’t alone in questioning the validity of your chastity pledge. You thought you were alone in that.

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” you confessed. “It feels like there’s an expectation there that if you attend, you have to feel the way they think you should feel. Like if you have sex or something like that, and don’t immediately regret it afterwards, you’re not good enough.”

“Right? Yes!” she said, more lively than you’d seen her all evening. “And I just feel so disconnected with that message.”

“You’re not wrong for feeling the way you feel,” you reassured. “Honestly, I’m also learning that faith is a lot more complicated than they’d have you believe. Noah might be a good person to talk to about it.”

“You mean Nick’s friend?”

“Yeah. He’s helped me see a lot of blind spots that I’d had before regarding religion and sexuality.”

“Did you guys…?”

You shook your head. “No. But we’ve been talking a lot about some of the problems in the church, especially around sexuality. How did you feel immediately afterwards?”

“Well, I went to the bathroom and cried about it, because I initially was hit with a lot of guilt. But after I processed that, I felt kind of happy? Like I was finally living the life I wanted to live for once.”

“I’m glad you got that experience,” you admitted. “I’m sorry that you felt so guilty.”

“To be honest, I thought you would handle this information way worse.”

You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty closed-minded.”

“I think we all started that way.”

“I’m glad you told me,” you said. “I was really worried about you.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she admitted. “I was afraid of what you’d think. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I didn’t want you to hate me. And I didn’t want to have to pretend to feel guilty about it to you, or lie about the fact that it even happened.”

You paused the walk to look at her. “I know I haven’t always been the most accepting person. I’m working on that. But I could never hate you. Ever.”

Ava looked back, eyes glassy. The two of you embraced in a lingering hug, of which the significance was not lost on either of you.

When you pulled back, you realized you weren’t too far away from the party house. It was Ava that continued walking towards it.

As the two of you approached, you heard music blasting from the house. You were one or two houses away when you heard Noah’s singing voice.

“I think they’re having band practice,” you said, and sure enough, when you got to the front of the house, you could see inside the basement windows. The light was on and the band members faced away from you. All of them played with intensity—though less intensity than they had done the previous Saturday, when they had the crowd’s energy to feed on.

Noah wore a cutoff black shirt and you could see that his tattoos extended across his back—what looked like flowers on each shoulder and vines connecting them. You couldn’t see anything else, but it piqued your curiosity.

At some point, someone in the band made a mistake and they stopped the song halfway through. Noah turned around to face the drummer and you only had just enough time to dash out of sight before you caught his eyes flick up to the window, squint, and then redirect to the guitarist.

“So how was it?” you asked Ava, resuming your walk.

“Honestly?” she began. “It was incredible. Like, definitely awkward, but also one of the coolest experiences of my life.”

“What happened?”

Ava launched into a (very detailed) retelling of how Nick made sure she was coherent and could give enthusiastic consent, and then how he didn’t judge her for how new she was. He walked her through it every step of the way, made sure she had a great time, and even allowed her to crash at his place afterwards, going as far as to cook her breakfast the next morning.

“He wasn’t the best cook, mind you,” she said. “But the gesture was very sweet.”

“Huh,” you said. “I might like Nick a little more now.”

“That’s their house, by the way,” she said, pointing across the street to a tan single-story home with an unkempt front porch and an overgrown lawn. Beer bottles littered the side of the porch. You could see the blinds were broken in some areas. And yet, you couldn’t help the warmth and affection from growing in the pit of your stomach imagining all the good times that had been shared between the men that lived here.

It was evident from the way they interacted with each other at the party that all of the band members were close with one another. For a moment, you had felt welcomed into that world. At least until you had a panic attack.

“Want to turn around?” you asked.

“Sure,” she agreed.

“So what do you think of their music?”

Ava laughed out loud. “I appreciate Nick’s passion, but I don’t think I ever want to be in a crowd like that again.”

“Same,” you agreed, linking your arm with Ava’s.

This time, when you passed the party house, the lights were off. For a brief second, you wondered what Noah was doing, but then brushed the thought away easily, because it didn’t really matter. You were more than happy simply spending quality time with Ava. Taglist: @reyadawn @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @just-randomm-stuff @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls

Comment "tag me" below if you want to join. As always, I would love to hear your feedback! I eat it up, so pls feed me.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #Noah Sebastian #bad omens

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corruptedcaps · 7 days

Text

Blast from the past

Some of my older stories have been banned permanently from Tumblr due to some NSFW images. So every once and awhile I will repost them with new SFW images (look for the #cc unbanned tag). This is one such story. Enjoy!

----

"Hey Shaun what is this stuff?" Chloe called out to her husband while sifting through the few remaining undamaged boxes from their flooded basement. She found one marked 'Shaun and Jordan'. Shaun hurried over but when he saw the box he seemed to go pale.

"Oh. That's stuff from my last relationship, way before I met you." He said slightly guilty as Chloe opened the box and started sifting through.

"Leather jackets? Switchblades? Cigarettes? Keys to a motorcycle? And what's this?" Chloe said pulling out a stack of pictures with the top one being one of a young rebellious couple making out next to a motorbike. Her leg was wrapped around him and his hands were all over her. Chloe realised that this was Shaun and Jordan. She was taken aback.

"Wow Shaun I never knew you had a biker phase." She said half teasing half curious.

"As I said it was a long time ago, I'm not proud of that period of my life. I stole, fought, commited such heinous criminal acts. But that’s not me anymore." He said. Chloe moved onto the next picture which was of Jordan posing suggestively on a bike.

"And what about her? What about Jordan?" Chloe asked.

"She... She died in a motorbike accident. After she died it was like I woke up to all the stupid shit I had been doing with my life. I packed up all our belongings into that box and forgot about it. It's not who I am anymore, don't worry. I should go into town and get some supplies to clean this all up, I'll be back in a bit." Shaun said kissing his wife goodbye.

Chloe, however, had flipped to another picture of just Shaun on a bike and she was fixated. He seemed so in charge, so manly, so tough in the past, it was kind of turning Chloe on. Sure she loved Shaun now but sometimes she wished there was a bit more fire to him.

Chloe flipped back to another picture of Jordan. She was stunning and had the tightest body Chloe had ever seen. Her eyes were so piercing that Chloe felt intimidated just looking at her. Chloe felt light headed as she heard a voice drift into her mind. "He could be that man again." It said.

"But how? How can he get his fire back?" She said in a dreamlike daze.

"He needs his bad bitch girlfriend by his side. You need to become the new me, the new Jordan. I'll help you bring the bad boy Shaun out." Jordan seemed to say from the picture. In her daze it made perfect sense to Chloe.

"Yessss of course, he needs to remember who he was." She said in a trance.

"You want to be me, you've always wanted to be a bad ass bitch and now here's your chance. I'll warp your body and mind into Shaun's perfect little slut then he'll be yours forever and together you will be the baddest couple around. Doesn't that sound good?" Jordan purred.

"Mmmmm fuck yes, Chloe is such a pathetic loser. I want to be Jordan." Chloe moaned in pleasure as she felt her pussy get slick.

"Goooood. Now if that is to happen then you'll need to look the part. Don't worry, this will feel amazing." Jordan whispered as Chloe felt her tits expand out of her sweater. She moaned in pleasure as she groped her new breasts in pleasure.

"YESSSSS fuck yes I want more! Make them bigger!" Chloe demanded.

"Now you're acting like me." Jordan said cackling to herself as Chloe fell more under her corruption. Her tits swelled even bigger and Chloe ripped off her top to better appreciate her new weapons.

"If these don't light a fire under Shaun nothing will. I'm such a hot bitch now." Chloe said vainly touching herself all over.

"You're nearly there. Now pick out a tight outfit from the box to really become me." Jordan enticed her but Chloe was already a willing victim. She pulled out a form fitting leather corset and loved how it barely contained her new tits. The more she admired herself the more of Jordan slipped into her.

"Mmmmm soon I'll have my alpha male back and then we'll show this town a thing or two about fear." She said cackling to herself. Chloe was almost completely taken over by Jordan but there was still an annoying little piece of goodness residing in her. Jordan knew just how to get rid of it and fully take over.

"That's it my little pet, now just one last step and we will be one. You'll be a true evil bitch like me, maybe even badder. Go to the garage, I have a gift waiting." Jordan said and Chloe felt a shiver of anticipation pass through her like it was Christmas. A smile curled up her lips as she entered the garage and saw waiting for her was a motorbike. Not just any bike though.

"Your bike." Chloe said running a hand across the sleek metal becoming more and more turned on as she did.

"You mean your bike? Don't you want to be Jordan? Don't you want to be me?" Jordan whispered.

"More than anything." Chloe said her voice dripping with lust.

"Then climb on and start her up." Jordan said and Chloe stalked over obediently. She threw her leg over the powerful machine and instantly felt at home. She turned the key and started it up. The vibration from the engine made her wet as she straddled tight to the machine.

"Doesn't that feel good? Only thing that beats it is a good hard fucking. Now Rev it up. The more you do the more of me you let in." Jordan said seductively. Chloe revved it again and again each time getting closer and closer to orgasming. She moaned as she felt Jordan's soul begin to merge with her own with each Rev.

"Oh fuck FUCK! Yessss I feel like such an evil bitch. I feel like a hot bad ass slut! I feel like Jordan! NO! I AM JORDAN!" She screamed as their two personalities crashed into one another. At once Chloe had new memories flood her mind. She was Jordan now and it felt perfect. She ran her sharp nails down her transformed body in ecstasy.

"Shaun has been missing a real woman's touch and a real woman's pussy but once he gets a look at me he'll forget all about weak little Chloe." She said tieing her hair up into a mohawk. She loved how it looked. It made her look like a woman not to be messed with. Just then she heard a car pull up outside.

"Hmmmm speak of my devil. Time to get him playing on the dark side again." She said with a wicked smile. She heard him go into the basement with the supplies he just bought and she followed patiently after him. Her high heels clacked loudly on the metal stairs she descended causing Shaun to turn around.

"Chloe? Is that you?" He said certain it was but began doubting himself the more he looked at her.

"Try again lover." She said in a breathy voice and tone he did not recognize her having before. It was like she acting like...

"Jordan? No this can't be real." He said backing away.

"What's the matter baby? You look like you've seen a ghost." She said smiling knowingly while approaching him

"What have you done with Chloe?" He said unable to take his eyes off her body while he continued to back away.

"Me and Chloe had a little talk and decided it was in everyone's best interest if you got a little of your fire back, a little of your passion. That's why I'm here baby, you need your evil muse." She said eyeing him sexily and hungrily.

"No I want Chloe back, I'm not that man anymore I'm a better man. I'm a good man!" He said as she backed him into a corner.

"A good man maybe? But a better man? Not even close." She said and then pounced on him locking her lips on his. He fought at first against her soft warm lips but the more they continued the more he lost himself to her. He was transported back to when he was young and carefree, when he only gave a fuck about one person. After about a minute he was pushing her against the wall and moved from kissing her lips to her neck.

"Oh you fucking nasty slut I've missed you. And I've especially missed this tight little thing." He said as he stroked her pussy.

"There's my man." Jordan said while helping him take off his pants. She undid his belt and his pants careened to the floor.

"Mmmmm nice to see somethings haven't changed." She said licking her lips as she gazed at his huge member.

Original note count before ban: 285

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted clothing #evil couple #corrupted couple #cc unbanned

94 notes · View notes

gutterfuuck · 19 days

Note

bro bro hear me out

you’re like the only mark writer out there so i NEED THIS TO HAPPEN PLS.

frat boy mark x sorority girl reader.

PLLLLLEAAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEE.

enough — !

this idea was so good, i had to start writing before i lost my mind and forgot!! you are such genius. this is probably a little off topic(?) as what you were thinking!! sorry if it is not what you expected, however, i will be using this idea in future so if you do not enjoy this, i will be writing another that is more enjoyable to you!! (with credit to you of course as the original anon!!) the frat name is an abbreviation because i couldn’t come up with one 😭😭

cw: reader is like 2 years older than mark? idk they’re both in their 20s, no superheroes/abilities au!!, william is in here for a bit i love william #williamforpresident2024, alcohol, typical college frat/sorority type parties, the start is quite long sorry i got carried away 😭, dubcon(?), reader is a bitch lowkey, mark gets mean, smut, headlock, piv, degradation, mark gets really mean ouh, creampie hehe, typical sparkie fic it’s evil and hiding under your bed like the babadook or something, aftercare at the end cuz i got soft

a/n: i was supposed to release this yesterday night though have had to edit and spellcheck this myself!! i am quite proud as this is probably the longest fic i have written without any editing from my friend!! if you notice small mistakes no you didn’t

he’s had it with you.

it’s only been a few months since he’s started college and he’s already way behind everyone else. you didn’t have a care in the world, you’d already completed college!! yet you still stay in your old dorm room, bunking with someone who had gotten lucky and left without a roommate, you payed whatever rent you felt like. you just enjoyed the college scenery, the lifestyle, you never wanted it to end… most of all, you loved your sorority. you were well aware that you might’ve looked a little bit like a loser, still hanging out with the sorority with ever changing members. you didn’t care, you were practically in charge, their leader - the queen bee. and that’s what got on his nerves.

you see, you’ve been handed life on a silver platter. a sweet 16th birthday party with a car bought just for you, spoiled absolutely rotten. mark couldn’t really talk, but at least his family came from humble beginnings, you’ve always had your money and status. you’ve always gotten what you want, even if you had to play the long game. the long, hard, boring game... which people could only stand for five minutes or less, what with your constant whining sounds and your foot stomping on the ground, pouting with your arms crossed over your chest. whatever you wanted, people just gave to you. handed themselves on a silver platter… not him. never him.

mark had a love-hate relationship with you. on one hand, you were hot, stunning… he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about you some nights, just like the other guys he hung around with.. on the other hand, you were nothing but a spoiled brat. he remembered the first time you’d come bolting at him as he stood at the doorstep of your sorority house, confusing it with the other one he’d supposed to have showed up at on his first day. you threw your arms around him as your head pounded from last night’s heavy drinking, your only sober thought being “i hope the other girls don’t get to him first.”

“fresh meat huhhh… i *hic* always like the newer ones… you like to party..?” you ask, swaying around with your arm around his like you’d known him for years let alone five seconds. mark tensed, expression shifting to slight annoyance as you almost crumpled over, dragging you back up by your shoulder gently. “no. do you know where house 242 is?” you pout at him, wavy finger pressing to his cheek and wobbling a line down his face before he smacked your hand away, tutting at you and looking around the front porch of your sorority house. bingo. mark shook you away, trudging towards the folded up lawn chair he had spotted, bringing it back and unfolding it for you. you’d annoyed him, sure, but his mother had taught him to be nice to girls.

actually, he pitied you. mark thought he could read between the lines, thought you being drunk at 11am on a wednesday morning must’ve been because you were hurting about something, someone, someplace… debbie’s words before she dropped him off in the car two days prior played in his head, ‘you never know what people could be going through, so be kind.’ as much as you’d bothered him so far, he was still inclined to make sure you were at least sat down to minimize risking an injury. you flopped down into the chair, groaning when you bumped your spine against the metal frame of it, tilting your head back to look up at him. he stared down at you with tired brown eyes, stoic expression not registering to you in your drunken state. at least you were pretty.

he clears his throat before he talks again, unfolding a piece of paper from his pocket, “house 242. do you know how to get there?” your eyes widen, mouth falling open with an excited gasp, “shut up! you are not in OOA!” you slur loudly, attempting to get up from your seat but dropping back into it as your socked feet slipped on the grassy ground below. mark gave a sideways smile and nodded slowly, he hadn’t been given the frat name yet, only the house number. mark didn’t want to have to walk around campus with a drunk sorority girl, you were only dressed in a night dress and a loose jacket, people would get the wrong idea! but, if he had no choice (and he didn’t really feel like walking around campus and looking for the house for the third time today) he’d have to have you as his temporary guide of sorts. this was so embarrassing, he really hoped nobody would think of him as a scumbag.

after watching you flap your arms and get all excited about his frat, you wobble towards the house, rushing to put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, slipping your feet into your fluffy pink slippers, a staple. because of you, no other girls apart from your sorority would wear pink shoes around campus. and you wondered why people had branded you, and your little minions who wanted to be like you, as a bully of sorts. actually, if you thought for more than twenty seconds about it, you’d know people’d rather stay on your good side: you were rich, pretty, stole people’s boyfriends on the regular, confronted those who you thought were competition and you were allowed to basically do as you wanted. because daddykins’ best friends with the dean and the dean makes wayyyy less than your dear old dad and your father bends over backwards for you so if you wanted to waste your degree you fucked and paid yourself to, then you absolutely could.

when you both start walking, you attempt to interlock your arm with his, twisting your face up in disbelief when he rejected your advances. nobody had ever, ever, in the history of ever, done that to you. you want to stamp your foot on the ground but you resist, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. maybe he was just shy, you’d met guys like this before. new, shy, never had a pretty girl at his side like this… you got it, you really did. you’d take this as a loss, you’d soften him down later, OOA liked to party and you hadn’t seen a new member who hadn’t drank on their first night yet. you’d know, you’d been doing this same routine for almost three years. fresh meat, lost little lamb, needs the drunk pretty girl’s help ‘cause OOA was pretty hidden away, slipping your arm into theirs to tease them, walking them to their new hangout… coming back before seven on the evening and flirting your way into the new guy’s pants, blocking them when they try to contact you before moving on to the next one… one step had already gone south in your plan. you’d take it on the chin this time. he was cute and you’d already claimed him as yours, the other girls would know as soon as they saw him.

the path you both walked on faded into the concrete, a grassy path appearing as you spotted some guys outside of the house, a keg of beer already being set up this early in the day. mark thought maybe he’d made a mistake jointing the same frat his father had during his own college days, the promise of the frat being quite calm and collected faded away from almost three decades ago, the newer generation of young adults poisoning the good name his father had gone on and on about. sure, nolan had drank during his college years but parties and alcohol were never kept at OOA.

you see, mark wasn’t the average frat guy type: not loud, not obnoxious, actually wanted to learn and grow from his college experience and make some new friends. good friends, not meatheads who didn’t know their asses from their elbows. he hoped at least one person in that house was capable, sighing quietly to himself as he unenthusiastically approached the house with you. a guy waved at you, you waved back with a giggle as another set his drink down, announcing to the other guys that “y/n was here”. oh, so you were just a slut then. you don’t know what people could be going through, so be nice. he rolled his eyes internally, feeling slightly guilty with his thoughts as a red plastic cup is thrust into his chest by someone he’d found familiar, looking up to meet william’s eyes, his stone face cracking into a smile. he hadn’t even noticed the way you’d slipped away from him, chatting with some guy who stood shirtless with a concoction of different liquors that made him blink too slowly, constantly shifting from foot to foot to maintain his balance.

“what happened to not wanting to join us?” his friend asks as mark takes the cup into his hand, smelling the contents of the drink before he decides not to put it to his lips. it was way too early to day drink, he hadn’t even put his backpack down yet, “changed my mind, dad was on my ass about it, i just didn’t want the headache when i go visit.” he shrugged, eyes wondering over to you, watching as you let that guy hug you from behind, a strange feeling bubbling up in his gut. he wasn’t sure if he felt shame or disappointment that you hadn’t stayed with him, no longer worried about how weird it would have looked to walk around with you intoxicated. he looks away before your eyes meet his again, attention shifting back to william and whatever he had been babbling on about before he’d started daydreaming. “…and that’s why- mark? are you listening?” william snapped his fingers at him, shaking him out of his absent looking gaze. william looks behind him, in the direction mark had been staring in, slowly nodding his head with an eyebrow lifted when he looks back at mark again, “oh, right. i get it.” he smirks, mark’s red tinted cheeks being confirmation. “shut up, she only bought me here ‘cause you weren’t answering your texts.” he retorts, shaking his head when william gives him a knowing look.

that was the first day he’d met you. mark didn’t go to the party that night, much to your disappointment. instead, you spent the night in the lap of one of the jocks you’d settled on as a compromise, swigging back shots of vodka and rejecting his advances. he had a tiny cock anyway, you’d seen it before when one of the girls in your sorority received a picture of his dick and squealed about how gross the foreskin looked. you weren’t gonna fuck this guy, partly because you didn’t feel like it and partly because you were disappointed that you hadn’t gotten to see more of mark. you’d see him around campus, catch him staring at you outside sometimes. every interaction was short lived, always being shut down by him. hard to get was by far your least favourite game and there was no way mark would be able to resist someone like you! this had to be the twilight zone or something.

you’d tried everything at this point, low cut shirts with short skirts that exposed the bottom of your butt, shorts that should class as panties with how they barely classed as shorts, bikinis, standing outside his frat house while he was in it and being sprayed by beer in a wet t shirt contest, the works!! you had never been so offended, he just acted as if he didn’t even see you! it’s been four months now, four months of being basically celibate due to your petty “if he cant take me, nobody will have me” mentality. god, you were acting desperate. it embarrassed you, you hated working hard for things that should come as easy as one, two and three. while you thought your attention seeking streak was getting you nowhere, mark’s brain was going into overdrive.

“i just don’t get why you’re so… worked up about it.” william says as he sips from his mug that held coffee - the irish kind since he had a migraine from yesterday’s party and felt the only way to recover was to drink more - sitting with his leg crossed over the other on the sofa with mark who typed away on his laptop, “worked up? worked up?” mark repeated, never looking up from his screen, “come on. i’m sure she didn’t mean it-“ william began, sentence cut short by mark slamming his laptop down, getting up from the couch to put it on the kitchen isle, eyebrows furrowed. he was talking about how you’d ‘accidentally’ taken his jacket instead of yours and when he’d asked for it the morning after, you’d sent one of your sorority minions outside to tell him that they had no clue where the jacket or you was- only to see you walking around campus in it like it belonged to you a minute later, returning to the sorority house with drinks in a little black plastic bag. he had to walk back in the rain, his shirt soaked and blood boiling. yes, the jacket wasn’t a big deal. what william didn’t know was that he was mad because for the last few weeks, you’d been at the parties he’d been at. not only that but you’d always have a different guy all over you, always looking over to him, almost like you were doing it on purpose.

“yeah sure, i’m sure she didn’t mean to spill her drink all over me last week and steal my jacket yesterday, y’know, the one i needed to get home in the rain… oh, i’m sure she didn’t mean to break the fucking tv- the only one we have, when she came over for beer-pong.” mark spits back, pinching the space between his eyes with his index and thumb. william rolls his eyes, sipping away at his coffee without a care in the world. “and i’m sure she didn’t mean to make me miss nearly all of my classes.” he finishes, which makes william turn his head towards him with a smile, “oh, i’m sure y/n physically kept you from going to class.” william tuts, standing up and walking out of the room, “last time i checked, she doesn’t even go here…!” he said as he walked off, refusing to argue with mark. william was right, you hadn’t stopped him from attending classes. he’d just become a little obsessed maybe, wanted to keep an eye on you just in case. mark could only think back to the first day he’d met you, how you’d been drunk from before noon and how you looked like you needed help, how his mother’s words buzzed around in his head… he still hung onto that, taking himself up as your personal guardian angel without your knowledge.

you open your phone when you leave the shower, whatever music that had been playing through it stopping as you pressed pause to focus on the words on your screen:

william🤞

prty @ 242 6pm. bring back his jacket 🙄

you tilt your head slightly before you remember what he’s talking about. you dry your hands, opening your phone to respond,

y/n

omw ❤️

is all you type, not bothering to look at the notification that made your phone buzz before you rush to your little vanity, ready to doll yourself up for the evening and throw on some clothes, pairing them with the jacket you’d now have to return. you get an influx of messages on your phone suddenly, the group chat of the girls in your sorority letting you know that they’d also be attending, emojis and gifs and reaction images galore as you scroll through your phone. the girls wanted to go colour coordinated, all in the same pink miniskirts and black tank tops. you, however, wore a black miniskirt with a pink tank top, just to differentiate yourself from the rest of your hive. you didn’t remember exactly when you’d gotten william’s number but he was useful at times. plus, you thought he was pretty fun to hang around with! that, and the fact that he was mark’s best friend.

when you get to the OOA house music is already blaring and some of the boys are already sat out on the porch, some members of your sorority had shown up a few minutes prior. probably the new girls, you think, knowing the other girls wouldn’t make a mistake as grave as showing up earlier than you. for once, you’re gonna let it go. you were in a good mood today, felt like you were finally going to get your hands all over that slippery prick. you didn’t know why you had your sights set on him, you could be with literally anyone else. you told yourself it was pride, he’d offended you by rejecting you. pretty girls never knew when to quit, especially the rich and spoiled ones like yourself. you made heads turn towards you, as per usual. compliments flooded into your ears, dry “thank you”’s and “aww you’re so cute”’s leaving your mouth, hiding the scowl you had plastered under your perfect demeanour.

you scanned the room, looking for one person in particular, pushing away drinks that had been offered to you before you decided to just give up, plopping yourself down on the same sofa mark had been typing his essay on hours prior, finally giving in when william approaches you, swaying a little as he walked, already wasted by the looks of it. you put on a fake smile, trying to stop yourself from having a full on temper tantrum over not being able to find the guy you’d gotten all dressed up for, wearing his jacket, having no fun at the party his frat house was throwing. william opens his mouth before closing it again like a fish, trying to find his words, “y-you came..!” he speaks loudly, placing his cup on the coffee table in front of you, already littered with other people’s drinks as he throws his arms around you in a hug, “duh, it’s not a party til i’m here.” you say, your friendly tone threatening to falter as you looked down at your nails, observing them as if they had better things going on. you return his drunken embrace, giggling when he accidentally spills his drink on himself.

“you bought it, good..! you wouldn’t believe his b-..b-bitching- earlier-“ he covers his mouth with his hand to stop himself from burping at the last part of his sentence, gesturing towards the jacket you had draped over your shoulders to which you nod and smile, patience wearing thin. if william was here then where the fuck was mark? you wanted to ask him where the rest of him was, though didn’t think he’d understand as fast in his drunken state. tipsy wasn’t even the word. “it just looked so similar to mine, ha!” you lied, finally taking one of the empty cups out of the plastic sleeve and helping yourself to the bottle of vodka that stood in the middle, pouring orange juice straight into it afterwards to try and mask the sharp taste. william laughs, you drink.

“actually- he’s upstairs. studying or whate-ever.” william points to the ceiling, brushing some of his hair out of his face, “i can go give it to him if you like-“ and just like his conversation with mark earlier, he’s cut off short again by you springing up with a no, forgetting about your drink as it spilled over the rim, the whole thing splashing over your shirt. you gasp and squeak, william tries to stifle a loud laugh that would’ve bought all of the attention to you. even while drunk he knew not to put his reputation on the line, and his reputation he did kind of value. nobody wanted to draw unnecessary attention to you, the last person who had done that had been trashed so badly they had to move out of the state after a few months of non stop rumours. you sigh, defeated as you pick up someone’s jumper - they shouldn’t have left it out in the first place if they didn’t want you to use it as a cloth - and trying to soak all of the alcohol out of the black fabric. “bathroom upstairs- mark’s in the room to the r-right— ugh, i’m gonna throw up,” william says as he retches, cheeks puffing out before he takes his leave, sprinting into the back garden to puke in a plant pot. a few more compliments, you’re flirted with by a guy for like five minutes, you take a few more swigs of someone else’s drink and you’re headed upstairs, looking for the bathroom and hoping nobody had started fucking in there so you could act out your ever developing plan.

your eyes lit up when you successfully pushed the door and it wasn’t locked, closing it behind you and twisting the latch so nobody would intrude on you. lifting your shirt over your head, you’re careful to not let the fabric ruin your makeup. the next thing that’s discarded is your bra, winking at yourself in the mirror and jiggling your boobs experimentally, making sure your girls looked their best. you then put mark’s jacket on, sleeves coming past your hands as the hem just barely missed your knees. you didn’t hang out or interact with him often, you never get the chance and it’s frustrating, but you’re reminded of the potential size difference between you and him when you put on his jacket. showtime. if this didn’t get you laid tonight, you’d have to get a new name and move out of the COUNTRY out of embarrassment of coming off as desperate. to the right, a door that had large posters on the surface, some stickers peeled away and faded from years of being piled up on the door. a sock on the handle. no fucking way.

this had never happened before. nobody had ever wanted to fuck someone else before sticking it in you. you wanted to scream, rip your hair out and stomp your feet until you fell through the fucking ceiling. this wasn’t fucking happening, the boy you’d had your eyes on was not fucking another girl in this room. you saw red, the reality of not getting your way this time hitting you hard, your hand flying to the handle to twist it open, ready to have a cat fight if necessary. you felt like a steaming bull, felt like steam was coming out of your nose and ears cartoonishly. you didn’t even know what you were gonna do when you saw him and whoever the fuck that stupid bitch was, all you knew was that you hadn’t gotten what you wanted and it was time to let everyone know that.

you’re ready to bite his head off, both of them, blind rage taking over before you lay your eyes on the sight in front of you. he sat with his legs open, pants at his ankles with his head thrown back momentarily, hand going up and down between his thighs with his other hand holding up his shirt before he’s shuffling to cover himself, wide eyed and cursing with his cute face all beet red. “o-out..! get out-!” he stutters, voice cracking as he rushes to close the door, traping you behind it again. you’re stunned, never seen anything so… erotic before. you wished he wore shorts, the way his toned thighs flinched and tensed made you want to slide yourself up and down them, the small snippet of his abs you wished you’d had a longer look at before being blocked from entering… why’d he hide his body away for so long you’d never know. oh how you wished you’d seen his dick, imagining it made your mouth water. you shake your head, clearing your mind to prevent it from clouding with thoughts of lust, you couldn’t have your pussy leaking just yet. were you really so desperate for dick that you’d get wet without even seeing it? just the mental image of him, lip tugged between his teeth, pleasured expression barely visible? get your act together, you thought, breathing heavily before steadying yourself, standing up straight and knocking on his door.

“maaaarrrrkk…” you whine loudly, fist slamming against the posters, “i didn’t see anything, i swear..! but… i also won’t tell anyone if you let me in.” you offer teasingly, smiling wide when you heard a loud groan from the other side, followed by loud footsteps, followed by the door swinging open, mark avoiding your gaze with gritted teeth. he also wasn’t stupid, also had a reputation to keep squeaky clean. he’d had enough of you. for real, this time. he had enough of how you were the bitch who could make or break him if he ever slighted you in any way, had enough of the way you taunted him from afar, had enough of your complete and utter rudeness - who the hell even barges in when there’s a sock on the door? - he’d just had enough. he stood there, arms crossed as you took in your surroundings, blue and yellow scheme familiar to the clothes he wore... then it hit you, this was mark’s room. it wasn’t weird to have people living at a frat house, some people owned them. you wondered how he felt having to listen to music and people yelling and drinking all night, though that thought was quickly brushed away by mark’s voice,

“that’s mine.” he says bluntly, cheeks still pink as he points to his jacket that you wore, still standing at the door like some sort of bouncer. you nod, closing the door behind you and ignoring his words, “nice room y’got… seance dog? how old are you?” you joke, helping yourself to the shelf where stacked comic books stood, picking one up and flicking through it. mark walked towards you, snatching it out of your hands and putting it back, “again, that’s mine. i want my jacket back, y/n. then you should leave.” he spoke matter-of-factly, glaring at you for a second as you rolled your eyes, sitting on his bed and making yourself at home. “ugh, you’re still mad about it? i’m sorry we have the same jacket. i was drunk! fuck, man.” you shoot a glare back, yours with a grin. he’s had enough. he was at his boiling point, red hot rage was about to start bubbling over and you were the person he didn’t really want to take it out on. “y/n, i’m not gonna tell you again.” he warns, scowling at you as he approaches, fists balled up into his hands. this was probably the part of him people could most see his father in, his expression when he got angry. it didn’t scare you, it made you want to tease him more. so he thought he could intimidate you? he had another thing coming.

“you can’t make me. i’ll scream, you want everyone to come rushing up here?” you wouldn’t, you were only teasing. like a bolt of lightning, he’s tugging the zip of his jacket down, attempting to take it off of you and kick you out himself. you grabbed onto the zipper, trying to block his hands away from zipping it down any further, “taking back my shit and you can get the fuck out of here-“ he muttered, ignoring your sounds of protest, “mark— stop it, i’ll go i just-“ he doesn’t care, he’s trying to force your hands away, slapping at them and trying to restrain them to your sides, “shut up, shut the fuck up, give me back my fucking jacket, now—! you’re a liar, your jacket is hot-fucking-pink!” he’s more violent, grabbing the front and damn near shaking you around, your legs trying to kick him away, “m-mark, please-! stop, stop it!” there’s almost tears in your ears as you try to fight him off, remembering how you’d taken off your shirt and left it in the bathroom, with your bra.

mark couldn’t care less about his jacket or if it would be ruined, it was about the principle. more pulling, more trying to hold your hands away, more grabbing the jacket and trying to pull it off before— schzzzzt. fuck. the zipper popped, your protests stopped and mark’s huffs calmed down, eyes settling on your bare chest. tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked up at him, not expecting to have his eyes meet yours. he looks pissed, he’s had enough of you. right now, mark didn’t give a shit about what you were going through, didn’t care about being nice. you’d tipped him over, now he’s really annoyed with you. “mark,” you shuffle away, jumping with a surprised gasp when you feel his hands wrap around your ankles and pull you back to your place, the action making your skirt and his duvet catch on each other, hiking your skirt up to expose your underwear. it was like he wasn’t even looking at your body, keeping his eyes on yours at all times. you open your mouth again and his hand flies to your face, covering your mouth to prevent you from talking at all. now you’re scared, now you’re intimidated. so scared, yet your stomach flipped and your cunt fluttered around nothing when he silenced you with his palm.

“shut up, you bitch.” he snarled, tightening his grip on your face by pushing your cheeks together. it almost hurt, almost. mark shook his head, “what’s wrong with you? you wanna make me mad? for fucks sake—“ his words make your clit throb, your thighs slowly shifting to meet each other so you could move your hips around and get yourself off a little. this was hot, mark was serious. “you’re gonna scream? what the fuck, y/n, what the fuck is your problem!?” you’re wet. fuck, you’re wet and you’re being yelled at. this was the shit you’d see in porn, but for real. no acting, just a coincidence. when he lets you go to get off of you, he finally lets himself catch a glimpse of the wet spot that’s forming in your panties. he should’ve never looked, now he’s caught a sneak of your tits. the noise he makes is halfway between a groan and a sarcastic chuckle, pushing his hair back with the same hand he used to cover your mouth, “now you’re gonna go and leak all over my bed? after trying to go through my stuff?” mark can’t ignore the way his cock strains in his pants, the way it twitches as he glances over you again. any normal person would’ve ran out of his room, trying to cover themselves with the broken jacket and probably never speak to him again. then again, you weren’t a normal person, you were rich. hadn’t ever been told no or been scolded like this before or at all for that matter. you were truly stunned, felt like a deer in headlights.

“m’sorry, sorry..” you finally peep, sniffing as tears dripped down your face. he groaned, clearly annoyed by your antics now, “now you’re gonna cry? now you’re crying, you did this. stop crying, they’re not real tears.” he spits and you obey, quickly wiping your face, black streaks of mascara on your hands as well as your face. fuck, you looked gorgeous like this. you clearly wanted it. you didn’t look like you did, if anyone had burst through like you had earlier they’d definitely get the wrong idea - the worst idea - the kind of idea that stops you from getting a job in your desired field in the future if interpreted the wrong way. mark swallowed thickly. “y’gonna scream?” he asks and you shake your head no without even processing the question, looking up at him with big wide eyes.

you’re on your stomach, clawing at the bedsheets and messing up the way he’d made his bed this morning, face being pressed into a pillow by a heavy hand, mark’s hand. he’s thrusting into you, hips crashing violently against yours over and over again, got your legs trapped between his as he’s using you like you’re a toy, his other hand gripping onto the fat of your ass to help the momentum of his thrusts. your moans are muffled, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto his pillow as you kept your head pressed into the soft cotton pillow, taking in his scent. god, he was jabbing right against your cervix and you let out a particularly loud whine which makes the brute above you lean in to you, his chest pressing against your back so he could talk into your ear meanly, “what’s that? i can’t. fucking. understand. you.” he punctuated each word with a sharp jab into your g-spot, your wrists aching from how hard you were grabbing around at the sheets. he knew you hadn’t said anything, just wanted to tease you like you’d teased him. he’d stripped you naked before you were taking his cock so deliciously right now, tearing your panties off and shaking you out of his jacket which laid beside you. now this was worth playing the hard to get game.

“hey, y/n? you wanna scream?” mark said, sweat beading at his temples as he moaned when he felt your gummy walls close in on him with his words. you shake your head, an almost inaudible ‘no’ coming from the pillow before his arm is hooked around your neck, lifting you up. this new position made you arch your back, leaving you in a dreamy daze as your eyes adjusted to the light of the room again after having your head forced down for so long, “i said, you wanna scream?” he repeats, you shake your head, “n-no-! no, m’m-sorry fuck, mark, i’m sorry—!” you squeal, voice hoarse as he tightens his arm, putting you in a headlock and moving his other hand to your stomach to hold you in place. he was moving so fast, his fat dick throbbed and stretched and rubbed against allll the right places. no other boy had fucked you til your head spun, made you feel so defenceless and inferior… you’d never been filled up this good, you’d been choked, sure - but a headlock? your cunt gripped him tightly, vision dotting as your body shook violently in his grasp, his fingers now swiping over your hard little clit, making you try to stifle the loud half scream of his name somehow, biting your lip with your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

“that’s fucking nasty.” he moaned, watching as you sprayed all over his sheets with your body convulsing, hissing when your pussy started to milk him vigorously as you came. he didn’t stop, only let go of you and watched as you thumped onto the bed weakly, trying to lift yourself up before he’s drilling you with his cock again. you’re hardly responsive, body still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, not even noticing how you’d laid in your own release until you blinked a few times, the feeling finally coming back into your body that mark had knocked numb for a second, “p-please-“ you gasped out, hand reaching down to tap at his thigh. he swiped it away, grabbing your wrist and jerking your body back to meet his, obsessed with the way your bodies made smacking sounds when he snapped his pelvis into your rear. “you gonna bother me again after this? look at you, you’re lying in your own mess- oh fuck, keep tightening like that—“ he growls into your ear, balls slapping against your sensitive clit from behind. you couldn’t think, your thoughts being fucked out of your brain with every rough jab to your cervix, words forming and failing to put them together into understandable sentences. he’s just as blissed out, his anger had faded forever ago, replaced by a carnal urge to just fuck, keep plunging himself in and out of your weeping cunt.

you whine when he pulls out with a pop, lines of your slick coating his cockhead and sticking to it before they snapped and dribbled down onto the soaked sheets below you, his hands grabbing your waist so he could flip you onto your back this time, taking you by surprise and finally waking you up out of whatever dreamy daze you’d been in. this is just how you felt earlier but better, you were scared of him sure but you’ve never been so turned on, you’d never had someone defy you before, you asked for a pony when you were younger and threatened a tantrum which got you your pony, your parents would rather give you whatever you wanted instead of saying a simple no. you stare up at him, he stares down at you. call you crazy, maybe you were finally being put in your place, but having someone hover over you like this, possessive and firm, made you feel as if you had no power at all. mark didn’t care about who you were or what you could do to ruin him anymore, especially since he’d already ruined you. mascara streaked down the sides and front of your face which made tracks in your foundation, your lipstick had been smudged from having your face pressed into the pillow for so long and you were pretty sure you were missing an eyelash (which you were; stuck to the bedsheets and twisted and ruined, you’d have to buy another pair).

mark grabs one of your legs with his hands, pulling you close to him as he leaned in, body pushing your knee up to your shoulder albeit a little painfully, eliciting an uncomfortable mewl from you in the process. you felt as if you couldn’t talk, if you opened your mouth you’d die or something. you’d taken mark for a virgin what with the way he awkwardly shuffled his feet when you spoke to him, the way he never picked up on or wanted to pursue your advances. “don’t look at me like that.” he grits, eyebrows furrowing at the way you pouted at him. you hadn’t even noticed but now you’ve made him mad so now he’s pushing into you again, spearing you open on his dick wet with your slick, your expression changing as you raised your brows, eyes squeezed shut with your mouth hanging open like you were trying to catch flies. he moves his hands, hooking them under your knees so he could pull you back and forth against himself, cock throbbing and begging for release when you start tightening again, lewd gasps and moans coming from your spit slicked and ruined lipstick lips. he can’t stand you, can’t stand the way you’re moaning and trying to say his name while having all knowledge knocked out of you over and over again with stabs repeatedly hitting that same sensitive spot with brutal thrusts, hoping your hips didn’t break every time his crashed into yours.

then, a moment of weakness, “am i pretty?” you ask between whines, small and timid like a rabbit. he’s broken out of his current demeanour, tilting his head. mark feared he’d falter, he’d already given you what you wanted by using you like you were nothing but a warm crevice to slide his cock into. you already knew you were pretty, you just needed to hear it from him. needed to hear it from the guy you’d been chasing for months since you’d stumbled upon him, needed to have confirmation that he was attracted to you. his thrusts almost slow down - almost - before he nods, biting his lip to stop the groan that wanted to respond, “y-yeah, pretty..” mark finally mumbles, hips stuttering as the warm coil that tightened in his stomach threatened to snap. you could feel it too, you could feel the way his cock throbbed, the way the head twitched when it pressed against your cervix every time mark canted his hips up into yours, stretching your pussy around him, churning up your insides so they could only think of him. “pretty, really pretty…” he babbles as he tries to keep his thrusts steady, “also p-pretty fucking mean, stupid…” he continues, trying to ignore the way a pleasured shock creeped up his spine and made his legs shake like yours had before.

you were going to cum again, you could feel it. familiar tingles and twinges picking at you before you felt it fully, the mind numbing sensation of an orgasm being fucked out of you again. mark isn’t any better, chasing his own pleasure with his head tilted back steady “hah, hah, hah”’s slipping out of his mouth. working for stuff really was fun sometimes, even if you had to wait a while to get it. you’re lost, back arching up off of the bed with your waist subtly moving in time with his, catching small hazy blinks of him before his face is closer to yours, not even waiting to kiss you. his tongue is bigger than yours, as with the rest of him, completely pushing your tongue away as he kisses into your mouth, muffling both of your sounds as his thrusts became more and more uneven. he’s cumming, hard and fast and with no consideration whether you were on birth control or not, painting your pink walls with his white cum and leaving his mark deep inside you, seeping into your womb with thick globs. you came as soon as he did, dry this time, arms flailing to grab onto his back to anchor yourself. your cunt squeezed around him, trying to milk all of his release into you. you weren’t on the pill but you didn’t care, you could always get that sorted later.

mark didn’t pull out, huffing slightly as he came back to, blinking at your shaking form below him. if it had been porn, he’d feel bad, close the tab and ignore his post nut clarity. this time, even with all of the thoughts in his head telling him that he’d just broken you down, used you like you were disposable, he couldn’t help but feel accomplished. you might’ve won by getting him to fuck you but he’s won the ice cold heart of the mean bitch that’s now laying in her own squirt on his bed, twitching every now and again to show how much you’d enjoyed it. he sighs, shaking his head and pulls out of you, watching for a second as his cum slowly starts to spill out of your aching pussy, ruining his bedsheets even further, “you still here..?” he asks, looking over at you before he’s headed back over to where he’d stripped off all of his clothes, quickly dressing himself back up as he puts his boxers back on, sliding his jeans back up his legs and looking over at your limp body on his bed. you don’t respond with words, only a faint nod, your body still swimming in the warmth that you’d been pushed into by mark. you could feel the way his cum dribbled out of you messily, leaking down your lower half and soaking up the sheets even further.

you’re pulled from your bliss with mark’s words, unexpected and apologetic, “want me to clean you up?” and you melt, nodded with a small ‘uh-huh’ as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him and knocking the sock off in the process. he’d return a moment later, towel in hand with one corner wet with warm water, patting you down gently, stark contrast to how he was just a minute ago. mark wasn’t mean but he’d tried to be nice and nice just wasn’t working for him - wasn’t working for you - so he had to show you how mean he could really be, had to counteract you somehow. you flinched when he started wiping your cunt, hissing when he bumped against your overly sensitive clit with the towel. he muttered a small sorry, drying you up and leaving once more, the sounds of the music from downstairs louder for a second before the door is closed, louder again and then muffled when he comes back with your shirt and bra, tossing it to your side. he avoided your gaze, absently fiddling around with something in the corner of his room, waiting for you to put your clothes back on. you get the memo, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching out for his jacket before you backed away from it, remembering that you’d come here to return the thing.

as you stood up to look around for your underwear and skirt, your thighs twitch as you feel his cum leaking between your legs, trickling down slowly. you could clean up properly later, sliding your panties and the skirt back to where they had left. “look,” he started, turning your attention towards him, “you can have it. just.. bring it back on saturday. there’s another party or something, ask william.” mark turns to you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. you perk up as you clasp the strap to your heels back on, legs feeling like jelly as you moved to face him. you nod with a smile, eyes bright and sparkling like he’d just told you you’d won a billion dollars, “saturday, same time?” you ask, walking towards the door and resting your hand on the doorknob. mark hums at you, a silent yes. you take your leave, his broken jacket draped over your shoulders again as you make your way to the front door, ready to leave so you could go back to the dorm room you weren’t supposed to live in and sleep the next few days away. you couldn’t wait to party at house 242 again.

mark watched you walk away from the porch, your hands in his jacket’s pockets, the material swallowing you up to keep you warm. he shook his head, once again pinching the skin between his eyes, grabbing himself a clean towel so he could shower and fall asleep to the music that blared underneath him. mark thought he’d had enough of you.

now, he couldn’t get enough.

#dark blog #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson smut #invincible x reader #invincible smut #fem reader #tw dubcon #sorry if this got slow and boring at the end i need to think of ways to finish my fics better 😭😭

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aaronontherun · 1 month

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Okay, there are two things about the ending of GO S2 that I cannot get out of my head after finishing the rewatch:

1. Gabriel's descent to earth

2. Aziraphale's reaction to the offer of Metatrash

(The rest under the cut)

The thing about Gabriel's descent to earth is that when he comes down to earth, he has not been fired yet. He decides to come down.

What's interesting about this is that in the last few minutes of the last episode Gabriel says his original plan was to leave heaven to go to hell, to join Beelzebub.

The quote goes:

Beelzebub: "Silly, silly angel. Why?"

Gabriel: "I was coming to you, but I... I forgot."

So... he had not been fired yet (because he left heaven before Michael and the lot could get a hold of him again). And he had originally planned to go to Beelzebub ("oh, you're sending me to hell, aren't you?" -> he was kind of counting on that). But after hearing he will lose his memory and go down to earth, he decides to ditch that plan and make himself forget all of it to go to earth (where he did not really intend to go in the first place) to give a box to Aziraphale that says "I am in the fly", that he knows will make him remember.

Why?

My working theory is that since he was the highest ranking angel, he knew about the plans of heaven. He knew about the second attempt at Armageddon of course and he did not want that to happen, because of his love for Beelzebub and the war that would break out. But I reckon he also already knew about the Second Coming.

And by wiping his own memories, he deleted that knowledge for all of heavens associates. But by storing it in the fly and transporting that to earth instead of hell, he brought it to the safest place he knew.

"The Second Coming will be a fearful, mournful time for the wicked, but it will be a day of peace for the righteous."

I don't know if I am reading something into it here, but to me it also sounds like a clue. The only other pair that kind of unites the powers of heaven and hell like Gabriel and Beelzebub is Aziraphale and Crowley. And we know that connection to be quite a strong one (as seen by the "teeny tiny miracle" that ended up sounding every god damn alarm bell in heaven). Crowley is a fallen angel and does not particularly care for heaven or hell and Aziraphale is still an angel and also does not conform with everything that heaven does. And Gabriel knows that.

BUT as far as we know, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley have had contact with the fly or the memories. For now we only know Gabriel kept his memories out of heaven by going to Aziraphale and that he probably knew more than he let on.

The question is, does the fly still exist or did it get destroyed when it went into Gabriels eye?

Also, given the CLUE that takes up almost half an episode - the part of the song that we don't really get to hear is this:

"Everyday seems a little longer,

Every way, love's a little stronger"

Everything we have seen points to an ending where you don't have to choose a side. Where there is no need to categorize into black and white, but to just accept shades of grey. Which is obstructed by heaven (the big corporate agenda, that needs people to think in black and white) and hell (which holds the outcasts that could not keep up with the agenda, but still cling onto it in their own competitive way).

Okay and this is the perfect transition to Aziraphales reaction to the Metatrons offer.

Because after years (or millennia in Aziraphale's case) of being oppressed and silenced and having to be careful around everything he says, I think Metatrons offer to put him in charge of heaven is in Aziraphale's eyes the only perspective of ever getting out of his misery while still doing good.

He *could* have given up heaven and fallen like Crowley, joining him that way, but instead he takes the route of trying to take Crowley with him to the very top of heaven.

Which, in my eyes, is a very very clear sign of the abusive relationship he has with heaven.

I don't think he realises that he is still just a pawn in a big chess game, also and especially as archangel of heaven.

As both Beelzebub and Gabriel said: "As if we make the rules..."

That is not how it works.

(I also find it very interesting, that the voice of god (basically the manager of heaven) asks if anyone ever "asks for death" (I mean, come on) whereas god, talking to Job, is genuinely fascinated by him and his goodness.)

I don't know if I can put this thought process into proper words, but I feel like the problem is that Aziraphale is still clinging to the whole concept of "doing good" and preserving his own status in the organisation. I don't think he is going up there to "change it from the inside" with a wicked plan in mind. When the Metatron made the offer, he told him that he would be "such a good leader, kind and honest", "be able to make a difference, be put in charge of everything". Which is exactly how they get you. He did not tell him he would be in charge of the second coming right off the bat. He lured him with being able to make everything better for everyone (which is all Aziraphale really wants) while keeping and continuing to receive approval from above (which Aziraphale is so afraid of losing).

Which is also what he tells Crowley about. The trust he is being given, the opportunity to make a change, the opportunity for Crowley to regain validation from heaven.

And only when he has accepted the offer, the Metatron specifies the details of the deal and that "doing good for everybody" means initialising the Second Coming, that has already been well planned (and that is everything Aziraphale never wanted to be a part of, but he won't disappoint them by saying no now).

"We could have been us" feels so powerful in that context, because I feel like what it really meant was "we could have been us without the approval of anyone". Without the need to justify their actions, think about right or wrong in the sense that heaven or hell would have categorized them. The freedom to work as a team, as the shades of grey they naturally are, containing both "good" and "evil" in a way that they balance each other, not desperately trying to put one of them out. (Also worth noting here, that throughout the seasons Aziraphale *has* done "evil", but only if he could somehow twist it to be "good" (see the episode with Wee Morag, right?), which showcases the pointlessness of categorizing again).

"I forgive you" from Aziraphale is such a heartbreaking line here, too. Because it is not him speaking, really. It is him already speaking in place of the organisation he is going to work for. "I forgive you for not regaining approval. I still love you."

"Don't bother", Crowley says and his whole posture drops. "For me it was never about that."

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens fan theories #metatrash #good omens gabriel #good omens 2 #good omens s2

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writeforfandoms · 3 months

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Waking Lions 23

Find the series masterlist

Man I feel like I need to take cover now, with how well y'all liked last chapter. We have two chapters to go after this! Just remember that.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, Kate is a BAMF, honest discussions, semi unstable mental state, Ace has a lot going on she's doing her best okay?

Word count: 1.9k

You went home with Kate, after everything. You had no idea what she'd told the firefighters that showed up, or the cops after that. You didn't know how the missions had gone, with the others.

You'd sat with Roach across the street for hours. Until Kate had cleaned everything up and collected you.

Neither of you spoke on the way home. You were too exhausted, the weight of the last few days crashing into you. You'd burned everything. Sure, you had funds. You had a few contacts still.

But you'd spent so much of your life avoiding Gray, had used up contacts and burned aliases to hide. There wasn't much left intact of your life now.

And maybe that was okay. Or maybe it would be okay. After you'd had a chance to sleep.

The sun was thinking about rising when Kate parked in front of the house. Still silent, you both grabbed your bags from the back and went inside.

You locked the door to your room, something you rarely did. Your clothes all dropped in a pile, to be handled later.

You hit the bed hard and fell asleep.

The smell of food finally roused you, and you threw on something decent enough before shuffling your way to the kitchen. Kate's wife clucked and cooed over you, pressing a hand to your forehead as if to check for a temperature.

You allowed it, quiet and adrift in your thoughts. But you did eat the bowl of soup she pushed into your hands, and drank the entire glass of water handed to you.

You didn't look at Kate when she joined the two of you for dinner. Kate did you the mercy of not trying to talk to you, letting you steep in quiet.

You escaped after you washed out your dishes, throwing yourself into the shower to scrub away the past days. You'd have thought you'd have a hard time getting back to sleep, after sleeping so long already.

You were wrong.

You woke again to gentle morning sun. Finally feeling more human, you shuffled out to see who was around.

Kate nodded to you over a cup of coffee, laptop open in front of her. “Better today?” She asked.

“Better,” you agreed, glancing at her. Normally you'd leave - she was clearly working. But… hell with it. What did your rules matter anymore? “He give you anything yet?”

If Kate was surprised, she didn't show it. “He will,” she said, confident as ever. “Especially once the other teams bring back their evidence.”

Your lips curled in a bitterly satisfied smile. This was everything that should have happened years ago. “And Captain?”

This time, Kate half-turned to look at you, eyes far too knowing. “Asking after you.”

You swallowed, chest and face both heating, but didn't look away. “He could text me.”

Kate held up your phone like she'd been waiting for that. You blinked. “You forgot.” The words were only a little teasing.

“I had other things on my mind,” you defended yourself, reaching out to take your phone. You froze when she pulled her hand back, just enough to make her point.

“John is a difficult man, in many ways,” Kate said, holding your gaze. “If this is a deal breaker for you, tell him now.”

You swallowed and nodded. “I'll figure it out,” you said, throat dry.

Kate nodded after a moment and held out your phone for you. You snatched it and bolted. You needed privacy to figure this out.

Your phone turned on, much to your surprise. Fully charged. Kate must have taken care of that.

Come to think of it, someone must have grabbed it. John, probably. How else would he have known to find you?

You'd have to ask him. If… Well. If.

You scrolled through your texts first. You'd save the calls and the voicemails until after.

Two from an unknown number. Glad to hear you're alive, the first one read. This is Gaz. I'm here, if you need a friendly ear.

You blinked back unexpected tears at the thoughtful gesture. Dammit. You'd tried not to get attached.

Clearly that hadn't worked.

You breathed in slowly, looking down at your phone. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you added his number to your saved contacts. There.

How mad is he? You sent the text off, chewing on your lip. Gaz would probably give it to you straight. Sure, he was loyal first and foremost to John, but he was aware enough to give you the truth.

Probably.

You were choosing to believe he would, anyway.

The answer came surprisingly quickly. Call him yourself.

You scowled down at your phone. You took back every nice thing you'd ever thought about Gaz.

Fine. That left the plethora of missed calls, two more texts, and two voicemails. All from John. You started with the missed calls.

The first few were from the day Gray had grabbed you. Then nothing for almost 48 hours. Two more calls, both from John. Another gap of several hours, overnight last night. Then one more call this morning, before you'd woken up.

Swallowing hard, you went to your voicemails.

“Ace,” John breathed in the recording, voice a little thick. “Call me when you get this message, yeah? We have some things to discuss.” A pause then, a deep breath drawn in slowly. Measured. Like he was trying to get his control back. The thought made your throat thick with emotion. “I know a lot happened. I'll understand if…” He paused again, then sighed through his nose. “Well. I'll understand. Gonna be here a few days more, cleaning up still. Call me. Please.”

You had to pause there, unable to listen to the second voicemail just yet. He'd sounded… You'd never heard him like that. Never.

This was outside of your experiences. This was… weird. But you couldn't decide if it was good or bad.

You breathed slowly. Okay. John wanted to talk. That was a good sign, probably. You could figure out your own feelings after you listened to the second message.

“Talked to Kate to make sure you're okay. Least you didn't get shot this time.” There was a short huff of almost laughter. “Tell me to back off if you need me to. Tell me if you need time. Otherwise, I need… I want to talk to you, before we head out again.” John paused for several seconds, long enough that you double checked to make sure the message was still going. “Promise I won't yell at you this time.”

You grimaced as the click signaled the end of the message. Well. He was still blaming himself, apparently. You… weren't terribly surprised. The timing had been awful.

But you had no doubt that Gray would have found another way to get to you, if you hadn't left the building when you had.

The thought of Gray brought a reflexive rush of cold fear, followed by hot anger. You shook out your hands, rolling your shoulders to try to dispel some of the lingering tension.

Fuck. Okay. You needed to deal with the elephant in your mind before you could call John.

Gray was still alive. In custody, under constant watch, Kate had assured you. You didn't feel any safer for her assurances.

John had stopped you from killing Gray, pushing you so your shot went wide.

The only damage you'd done had been to a window.

Because of John.

And you… You weren't entirely sure how you felt about that.

Oh, sure, you probably would have felt bad about killing Gray while he was disarmed and held down… at some point. But he'd haunted you for so many years it was difficult to drum up any kind of sympathy for him.

Then again, he was now at Kate's tender mercy. That was probably deserving of some tiny amount of sympathy.

But he was still alive. So long as he lived, there was a chance of him escaping, of him going after you or Kate or John again.

So. The biggest question, to you, was if you could live with that knowledge. If you could give John a chance of something more, something permanent. If you could give yourself a chance.

You hadn't stayed in one place in a long, long time. Not since you'd left Kate's, before she'd married, before you'd gotten into information. You still couldn't see yourself staying in one place. Your feet itched to go, even while your heart luxuriated in the safety and surety of being with Kate.

John wouldn't demand anything of you. Wouldn't make you do anything.

But you wanted to give him things. Things you'd never given anyone before. Promises. Assurances.

Exclusivity.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking just a little as you toyed with your phone.

John Price was a dangerous man. But not for the reason most people thought. (Well, okay, for those reasons, too.)

You sat there for long enough that Kate came to find you. She sat quietly near you after dropping a cold bottle of water onto your lap.

“We're ordering in,” Kate told you without preamble. “What do you want?”

You blinked, shaking yourself out a little as you came back to the present. “Uh. Is my favorite place still there?”

She nodded. “Your usual?”

“Sure. Thanks.” You huffed a little laugh at yourself. For all your running, you still had habits. At least one person still knew you well enough to know your damn takeout order.

Maybe you'd wasted all those years running, pushing people away.

“Hey.” Kate kicked the side of your chair. “Get out of your head.”

“Oi!” You turned an outraged look on her.

“Don't even try it, kid.” She pointed a threatening finger at you. “You're spiraling. Stop it.”

“How would you even know?” You snarked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kate raised one unimpressed eyebrow at you. “Do I need to run you down again?”

That gave you pause. She would. Physically. Usually somewhat painfully. She hadn't for years, but you had no doubt that she would, if she felt she needed to. “No,” you gave in, slumping into your chair with ill grace.

Satisfied, Kate returned her attention to her phone, tapping in the order. “Half an hour,” she told you. “You're going with me.”

“Yeah, alright.” You sighed, though you weren't truly annoyed. It was a front, a way to hide.

Briefly, it occurred to you that you didn't need to hide so much anymore. You pushed that away to be dealt with later. One life altering thing at a time.

Kate sat quietly with you, tapping away on her phone, while you looked ahead at the wall without really seeing it. You were distracted still with thoughts of John.

Kate did force you to go with her, gently pushing you out to her car and then keeping up a steady stream of chatter. Most of it was neighborhood gossip, obtained through her usual sources. Some of it was about goings on. There were only a couple prying questions thrown in, which you dodged with aplomb.

Dinner continued on the same way, though you felt more and more yourself as the two of you fell into your verbal jousting. It helped, even as you grumbled at Kate.

Finally, though, the two of you drifted off to do your own things again. Kate went up to her room, to read or work or possibly both.

You closed the door to your room and leaned back against the door, staring down at your phone. One deep breath in.

You hit call.

#waking lions #john price x you #john price x reader #f!reader

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honeygrahambitch · 6 months

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The first time Hannibal hears Will's laughter after their fall happens on a random day.

Up until then, laughing had not been on their daily schedule. There were the days of silence and then the days of talking. And maybe some days for tears or yelling and threatening. And maybe flirting. But not laughter. Just soft smiles or smirks if anything.

And it's really something dumb that makes Will's laughter echo in their little wooden cabin. And it's enough to make Hannibal's eyes gleam, even though he was the reason Will was laughing.

They were supposed to go hunting. Not for people, for wilde animals, to Hannibal's disappointment.

It was usually Will's job, to hunt or to fish and to bring the food home. Hannibal would cook it. However that day Hannibal offered to help because of a comment Will had made a few days ago, something sort of "you can't even hold a gun anyway".

Now was Will right? Hannibal didn't want to accept that. Will had nothing against it, if he wanted to help, then he could help but he was absolutely sure he would make a clown of himself. That was especially why he did not stop him.

"Here. Your shotgun and your ammo." Will said as he put them on the table then started to work on his own weapon.

Hannibal followed Will's hands quickly charge the shotgun and move some other "stuff" around. It must have really been 30 years since he had last touched something like that. He even wondered if he had ever used a shotgun back in the day.

"Do you need help with that?" Will said as he was done already.

"No." Hannibal said as he tried to do what Will had done.

Will said nothing and nust watched him take the whole shotgun apart for the next 20 minutes.

When Hannibal expected it the least, he heard Will's laughter. Loud and cheerful. Just like he remembered it to be a long time ago. He stared at him and forgot everything about the weapon.

"What?" Will asked as he was trying to hold back.

"Nothing. I haven't heard you laughing in a while."

"That's because I haven't had a chance to see you deal with this." He said and gestured to Hannibal to move away so he can fix what he had ruined. "Now obviously you have never used this in your life so hear me out..."

Will kept talking for the next thirty minutes while Hannibal spaced out completely only to watch him explain and gesticulate.

He smiled.

#hannibal #hannigram #crack #hannigram crack #or not crack?#hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc

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itsohh · 1 year

Text

The Other Man's Ring

A/N: Female reader, looking at doing a couple of like linked oneshots sorta situation cause I like writing specific scenes but not an enitre story to go with it

Summary: When Simon finds a hidden-away engagement ring he decides the pair of you need to talk.

Word count: 1420

Warnings: None

AO3 Masterlist Series Masterlist

He was normally relatively quiet. Prefering to watch and listen rather than to talk. At least that's how he was most of the time on base. In the field, he was one to take charge when needed and typically when he was alone with you, willing to speak up in comfort. Yet his current silence worried you. Sure sometimes he was just silent around your house but it was the fact that the pair of you had been in the middle of a conversation that concerned you.

"Simon?" You put the final dish from the dishwasher away and closed it. You wiped away any access water and poked your head around the corner. "Simon?" Again you called with no response. The short walk to your bedroom- now shared bedroom- seemed to take forever until you finally rounded the corner into the open door. "Simon, did you find my spare phone… charger?" Your voice trailed off as he stared at the small item in his hands. Your brows shot up at the sight of it, you didn't realize you still had that there.

"Are you married?" His voice was without emotion and at first, you thought to be offended, that you would ever cheat, but you bit back the knee-jerk reaction. An engagement ring was hidden away… you could see how his mind would run of all possibilities.

"Almost." You shuffled into the room and sat down on the large bed. It dipped under your weight and soon Simon followed your lead. It was a decent size rock. Diamond. Most likely cost a small fortune. "Long ago, maybe a year or two before I met you. I was in love." You glanced up to meet your lover's eyes for a second before your eyes fell back down to the ring that twirled in his fingers.

"I was young, well younger than I am now. He was great. Funny, charming, pretty and had one of those American accents that I loved to make fun of. Admittedly not terrible in bed either. Well, that's before my standard was raised." The pair of you lowly chuckled at that last part together.

"Even though we were both in the military, we kept our work completely out of our lives together. Hell, I still don't know what military he works for. It worked and we were in love. I worshipped the ground he stood on, crazy for him. He in turn took care of me, a doting boyfriend who eventually became my fiancé. The classic story."

"I presume things didn't work out?"

"Well after we got engaged we talked more and more about how we wanted our lives to be after we got married. We both soon discovered that we had rather different plans. I wanted to pretty much stay the same, maybe have a house together. But Phil? He wanted to protect me. Wanted me to leave the military. There wasn't any pressure for kids or anything." A sigh left your mouth. "Insistent on the matter. Sure, he wanted to keep me safe, but safe doesn't keep me happy. Eventually, after all the arguing I broke it off. Honestly, it wasn't really messy or anything. We just… moved on with our lives."

"He let you keep the ring?"

"I think both of us forgot about that one."

"That one?" He cocked a brow at you.

"Well, this is the ring he asked me to marry him with. I never wore it unless it was around the house. I don't know if you noticed but it's super unpractical." Simon tilted his head to the side in agreement, it was a bulky rock. "Eventually, he gave me another engagement ring. This time with the diamonds embedded into the band so I could wear it under my cloves at work." Your shoulders dropped for a moment. "Would have just preferred a blank ring, never cared for gems but Phil was Phil. He liked spending money on me." Simon passed the ring to you and you started to fiddle with it in your hands.

"I remember when I gave the ring back to him he didn't want to take it. I think there was a part of him that secretly wished we would get back together. Maybe he didn't forget about this ring. I don't know. Sometimes I felt like didn't know the man at all. Ultimately I saw what he wanted to see."

"Do you feel the same?" Simon's eyes cast over your face as you gave him a slight look of confusion. "About me." He clarified.

"Mmm." You dropped the ring on your bed and ran a finger over his hand. "At least I can see when you're wearing a mask." The home had the corner of his lip curl up while you traced the veins on his hand. "It's different, sure there are things that you keep from me. Both personal and work-related, you have your secrets and I probably won't know every part of you. But I don't feel like any part of you is a lie. Perhaps an act when you get all grumpy with the recruits…" Your eyes flashed up to meet his and your face spread into a teasing smirk before you continued. "But never a lie. When it comes to who you are as a person. I know you." Voice soft, you let go of his hand and placed it on his clothed chest. Right where his heart was.

Simon's eyebrows had narrowed but it didn't discourage you in any matter. "I could be wrong of course. You could be a secret mastermind behind everything. Plotting my demise." Simon leaned back on the bed and picked the ring up before he placed it on your side table. The same side table that he had found said ring in.

"And if I was? Would you regret it?"

"My demise by your hand? What a way to go. Have I told you I love your hands?" You winked and he rolled his eyes at you. A hand of his snaked around your waist and promptly pulled you close. Half in his lap you cuddled up to his chest your laughter shaking into his body.

"You have. Several times in fact." He made sure to press a little firmer into your skin to enthesis his touch. His touch ran up and down your forearm. The light touch of his lips made contact with the top of your head for a second before he sat back again.

"What would you like to happen if we ever got married?" Simon's voice was a hum, his focus seemed to be on your body but his mind was one hundred per cent on whatever your answer was to be.

"Us? Married? Hmm. I didn't think you were the type to want to get married." Your voice was a tease, not completely serious but he could hear the question wrapped up in your statement.

"Only to you."

"Charmer." You rolled your eyes, a grin on your face that you couldn't contain. "Honestly, if we were to get married. I think I would like things to just stay the same that they are."

"How so?"

"Well, we have no reason to move out of our houses. You live in England and I live here. We just carry on what we usually do and just take turns on where we live. I can't see how it would affect work any more than it currently does." Your head turned up to look at his warm eyes. "What about you?"

"I think we are on the same page with this one."

"Oooh wait there's one thing I would change."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I think Sergeant Riley sounds pretty charming." His brow raised which caused you to let out a small giggle. "Or perhaps Dr Riley or even Mrs Riley if we are really striping it back."

"You want to take my name?"

"Why not? Man, it's going to make it soooo annoying and confusing when we are deployed together."

"You just want to stir chaos." Simon's voice had a slightly deeper undertone to it, signalling his disapproval.

"Ah come on sweetie, it's not like anyone uses your name in the field anyway. I'll be Riley and you'll be Ghost."

"And if Johnny starts calling you Mrs Ghost?" Simon's question had you pause and physically cringe at the thought.

"Johns not gonna have a tongue for very long if he keeps that up."

"Even mute he'll never shut up."

"I can believe that."

#cod #cod x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley #call of duty

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harrywavycurly · 3 months

Note

Not Eddie related but what about some conversations with Narry as our friends? 🥰

Hiiii babes!! Oh this made me emo I miss writing for bestie Narry! I hope you enjoy these extremely random ass conversations with them!💖

“Why is he in charge of dinner when we all know I’m the better cook?” “Because Harry this is Niall’s house…now what’s on the menu for tonight? I only brought one bottle of wine.” “Nothing fancy just chicken and-” “did you season it properly?” “Oh fuck off with that Harry.” “We all saw the chicken Niall…it looked unseasoned and just…horrid.” “Do you two need to be separated?” “No…I’ll behave…sorry Niall.” “It’s fine just don’t go being a twat…we haven’t even had any wine yet.”

“Two drinks in and we already have to take your phone away? You’ve turned into a lightweight love.” “Oh come off it Harry we all saw you that one night at the pub in London after like three whiskey sours.” “We don’t speak of that night Niall…you know this.” “Ohhhh was that when he tried to get nake-” “I just said we don’t speak of that night.” “You heard him love we aren’t allowed to talk about when he nearly pe-” “why am I friends with you two?…always pickin on me.” “You love us…doesn’t he Niall?” “Oh yeah he totally loves us…don’t ya mate?” “Yeah yeah…I love you…even when you don’t listen.”

“This is the most uncomfortable couch I’ve ever sat on in my life…why do you have this thing?” “Because my super famous and rich pop star bestfriend hasn’t taken me to get a new one.” “You forgot to add he’s also a movie star love…move over…your lanky arse is just taking up the whole thing.” “I’m doing you a favor…this couch is horrible.” “So then let’s go get her a proper one then.” “I was just kidding Niall I don’t need you two to buy me a couch.” “Jesus…this thing really does fucking suck…how is your back not in shambles from this torture device?” “It’s just old and has a few lumps that’s all.” “Lumps? This thing feels like it’s made out of cement it’s so hard…Niall where did you get your monstrosity of a couch? It may be hideous but it’s comfortable.” “My couch isn’t hideous you dick…but I’m not sure the name of the store but I can just take you there.” “Sounds good…now go grab your sunglasses love…we’re going shopping.”

“What does this mask do again? My face feels…tingly.” “It’s a pore clearing one so tingly is good…burning is bad…Harry where is my black nail polish?” “I’m using it…oh can you bring me the silver glitter please?” “Okay now it’s burning…can I take it off now?” “Beauty is pain Niall don’t be a ninny.” “Fuck off Harry that’s easy for you to say all you’re doing is painting your bloody nails.” “Go wash your face in the sink Niall…don’t get water all over the place like you did last time please.” “He’s a proper mess that one…can’t even handle doing a face mask.” “Don’t be rude Harry…remember when I did that apple cider mask on you and you only had it one for two minutes before you were begging me to help get it off you?” “That was different…you didn’t tell me it was going to turn into solid clay and make my face feel like it was actually vibrating…it was scary.” “How do I look? My face feels as smooth as a baby’s bottom.” “You look great Niall…will you let Harry do your nails?” “Yeah but no fucking glitter like you did last time..that stuff stayed on for ages.”

#bff!Narry x reader #Narry and reader #Narry x bestfriend!reader #Narry concept #best friend!harry #best friend!niall #harry styles au #Niall horan au #niall horan fluff #harry styles fluff #Narry fluff #niall horan fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #my little irish marshmallow #my little lanky baby

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rockingrobin69 · 11 months

Text

Colour-full

It was the hottest Saturday in July and Teddy had been climbing the actual walls before Harry broke and said, “Okay, okay, to the park then.”

(The wall thing was new. Ron said it was quite ‘Spider-Lad’ of him; Hermione laughed so hard she kinked her neck. Teddy’s magic, still so new and boundaryless, often manifested in ways that were either literal, or just plain wild).

And so to the park they went. To ride the stupid ‘pirate ship’ (“just one more time!”) and chase after dogs (“Teddy, no, it’s their ball!”) and get ice cream (“Please please please Uncle Harry”). Harry was, at his core, a big softie, and for Teddy all the more; so, yes, he located the nearest stand, and marched to take his place in the queue with all the resolve of a godfather on a mission.

Waited a veritable ever with Teddy’s order on repeat in his mind (chocolate with strawberry syrup, chocolate with strawberry syrup) until he was face to face with the ice cream display and—oh no, he felt faint.

Draco Malfoy should not be allowed to wear magenta.

Not because he looked bad, per-se (he looked ridiculous, like, fuck-me, ridiculous. With the hat, magenta, and the uniform, magenta, with his hair and his nose ring and a thick black choker). Mostly because the effect was a bit much, and Harry lost his ability to form speech when grey eyes finally deigned to grace him with a look.

“What can I get you, Sir?”

Blinked and blinked and sweated and blinked. “Malfoy,” Harry tried. “It’s me.”

“Indeed. So, ice cream, or…?”

Like a kick to the shin. “What? It’s—what are you even—it’s me. Harry Potter. Your, er, I mean, what are you doing selling ice cream in my park?”

One pierced eyebrow hitched. “My apologies. I wasn’t aware they’d made it your park.” With an overly-dramatic huff: “am I still allowed to work here, Mr. Potter?”

“What?” was really all he could give.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you order your ice cream, I’ll get it for you, and even refrain from spitting in it, as a personal favour. Then off you go on your merry little way and maybe get a new shirt because, sorry to say, but this one is painful on the eyes.”

“This shirt is painful on the eyes?” Harry growled, pointing at the magenta uniform, the magenta hat, the magenta backdrop of the cart.

“You’re right. Probably not the shirt. The face attached to it seems to be the problem. Now, Potter, there are people behind you, and it’s hot as fuck, so. Ice cream or sod off?”

For the longest moment he considered sodding off, but Teddy was sitting on that bench and looking very hopeful, and—charming little bubbles in rainbow colours all around him? Shit. “Erm, chocolate with raspberry syrup. Please.”

“Always were a man of high tastes,” Malfoy smirked, but he gave Harry a couple of scoops and a generous dousing of syrup, then charged him something exorbitant, then winked. Harry—had no time to deal with this.

Running back to Teddy (“hey, buddy, so, those bubbles, are you making them on purpose or…?”) with an already-dripping ice cream cone and a strange, swooping feeling in his belly (not hunger). By the time he’d spelled Ted’s hands clean, he already forgot about Malfoy and the whole thing.

Only remembered that night after bedtime. The back of his eyes when he shut them shone oddly magenta.

Went to the park the following week without Teddy (spending some time with Remus’s cousin). On his own, in a fairly-nice shirt and smart shoes. Not because, erm, just, he had to make sure. Right? Had to make sure.

The cart wasn’t where Harry’d seen it last week. Possibly he imagined the whole thing? He was overheated and terribly sleep-deprived. But on his way back to the car park, a different ice cream stand, where the staff seemed to be dressed in neon-green, and one of them was flipping Harry off.

Oh. It felt just like that in his chest: an oh. There he was.

Marched over with wholesome indignation, fist ready for the shaking. But Malfoy stepped out of the cart, leaning in its shadow. “Back for another go? We’ve got a new apple-kiwi flavour.”

“What happened to the,” big hand gesture, “magenta place?”

“Hmm? It’s still there. I just think green’s more my colour,” head titled back, long throat bare. “What do you want, Potter? Don’t tell me you came here for ice cream.”

“What if I did?” asked Harry, who didn’t.

Malfoy sighed. His eyes opened, large and startling. “Then I’d recommend you get in the queue and leave me the fuck alone.”

“And—” hand reaching out to stop him, no, Malfoy can’t leave, that’s not how this worked, “and what if it wasn’t ice cream I came for?”

“Then you need to make a decision. If it’s a brawl you want, you’d have to wait till after my shift. If it’s—something else,” suddenly he was very close, huffing warm breath on Harry’s face, “then you should really get here earlier.”

“What? Why?” paralysed by the proximity, buzzing on Malfoy’s sharp smell, apple and citrus and—kiwi?

“Potter, this is the ice-cream world. First come, first serve.” And he was off, back to the cart with his choker and his arse, for which such tight trousers should be made fucking illegal. Put his arm around his coworker, winked again. Harry didn’t like it, didn’t know what to do with the whole thing, with any of it. Took himself back home and sulked at the walls until too late at night.

Decided. It was even fairly easy. Fell asleep and dreamed of a forest, of the sea.

Continue reading on Ao3 - or below the cut

“Brawl,” he announced when he finally found Malfoy, now wearing all yellow. “I want a brawl. You need to be punched, and I could take a few kicks, I reckon. Let’s brawl.”

“Hurray,” Malfoy smiled. “I finish at six. Meet me behind the pirate ship. And, Potter, you should probably wear something a little less nice if fisticuffs is what you’re going for.”

Not grinning (Malfoy thinks his shirt is nice?) Harry went back home, made lunch for Teddy, dreamed a little with his eyes open. Cleaned the debris of the cabinet Ted’s magic accidentally exploded, releasing candy flying everywhere, changed into joggers and a tee.

“Where are you going, again?” asked Ron, who came by to babysit. He settled down in the living room with a hand on the remote and the other around a huge bowl of popcorn.

“Nowhere special. Just a little walk in the park or something. Going to watch the new Spider-Lad?”

“Paw Patrol!” Teddy exclaimed, his whole face a toothless grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Paw Patrol? Again? Teddy, there’s a whole world of cinematic goodness for us to discover, and Auntie Hermione still thinks I’m full of it but there are whole films about animals who can talk!”

“Full of it,” Harry said.

“Shut up, mate, I’m serious! What do you say, Ted? A lion that can sing, or those pup detectives again?”

“Paw Patrol!”

“Okay. Paw Patrol it is.” A desolate, commiserating look to Harry: “Honestly, what is it tonight? You can’t stop smiling.”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise.” Nearly ran to the park, was there well before half-five, antsy and giddy and nervous. Walked around and around in circles, oblivious to the kids and families and shouts from the pirate ship. To anything that wasn’t—

Malfoy appeared, still in yellow, making him look slightly sallow and lanky. Coming closer. Harry’s heart was rioting in his chest, was going to deafen him.

“You came,” Malfoy said. He looked pleased. It was shaded behind the ride, a grassy area empty of trees. Malfoy dropped his backpack to the ground, pulled something out of it. Still crouched: “Do you want to count us down, or…?”

“Erm. Sure.” Harry’s never really done it like this before. Scheduled like a play-date or something. Malfoy was still on his knees near the bag. “Three… two… one?”

What attacked him was too soft and too cold to be hands—oh, Malfoy just dumped ice cream on his head, quickly melting into his hair, sticky down his throat, under his shirt. Tongue darting out to taste it: yuck, lemon.

“Bastard!” Harry cried, half-blinded with the soft substance, lunging at him with his eyes closed: “come here, you fucking, arsehole, let me,” found Malfoy’s hair and pulled. “You think this is funny?”

“Ow, ah, ha ha,” fucker, he really did, folded nearly in two in Harry’s arms, “it, gods, just too much—”

“Yeah? How would you like it if I,” scooping a dollop out of his hair and shoving it in the general area of Malfoy’s face, hopefully where the choking sounds were coming out of.

“Potter, stop, stop, I can’t,” laughing like a maniac, not even trying to kick Harry off. “Potter!”

Harry somehow managed to shove them both to the grass, where they’d started rolling, sticky and covered in horrible melting cream, both of them swimming in it, both of them laughing. “You’re such a git,” smearing as much as he could on Malfoy’s face, on his uniform, on his neck. Climbed atop him and pinned him down, laughing, laughing.

“You,” Malfoy sputtered, “P-otter, ha, I can’t, ow, ah—”

“Am I hurting you?” asked Harry, who only earlier today planned on punching him. Slid on top of Malfoy’s slimy clothes until he had one sticky cheek in his hand. “Malfoy, are you okay?”

He was still laughing. “Is this,” his chest heaving, “is this what you, ha, wanted?”

“No,” empathetically, laughing too. “You’re a lunatic. It’s—grand.”

“Honestly, when you came and, haha, brawl, I couldn’t—” wiping his eyes, it must sting, all this melted ice cream where it really shouldn’t be. “Ow, this was a terrible idea.”

Harry didn’t know if he agreed. Sticking his pinkie finger in the welling of liquid gathered under Malfoy’s collarbone, bringing it to his lips: “It’s actually not that bad.”

“Hmm?” looking up at Harry, those bright eyes. “Yes?”

“Here, have some.” It was half surprising, how gentle his finger was, tracing Malfoy’s bottom lip till it opened. How carefully he fed Malfoy his own ice cream. Half a surprise and half… not.

Malfoy licked his lips, made Harry’s whole body shiver. “Mm. Not the best. Come back tomorrow and I’d give you something really nice.”

“Can it maybe come in a cone?” this hopeful thing igniting in his belly. “You know, like normal ice cream?”

Malfoy was still laughing. Harry could feel it between his knees, where Malfoy’s ribs were shaking. “Sure. In a cone. You chicken.”

“I’m the—” incensed, Harry leaned down to swipe a big lick from Malfoy’s neckline all the way to his jaw. It tasted awful and slightly electrifying. Forgetting all about the rebuke, Harry did it again.

“Po—Potter,” a moan, when Harry sucked the salty-sweet skin. “Potter!”

“Sweet,” Harry said nonsensically. “You—it’s sweet.”

His smile, when it stretched in yucky, sticky lines on his face. Made Harry’s chest sort of spark. “I can be sweet, too. Just you wait.”

When he kissed him, he tasted like lemons.

The next day Teddy accidentally grew a tail and two ears while arguing another rewatch of Paw Patrol. The nice witch from Mungo’s said it was no issue, that they would probably spell off in a day or two. Gave them a very odd-looking hat and advised them to go out and enjoy this brilliant, sunny day.

What else could they do, then, but go to the park?

Walked around and around, rode the pirate ship three times, searched in every ice cream stand until, by total accident: “Potter,” with a tilt of his head. All in blue, a truly unfair sight. “And his little monkey, too.”

“I’m a pup!” Teddy shouted, running towards him. “Paw Patrol!”

“Indeed,” Malfoy agreed with a strange smile. “It’s good to meet you, Edward. I’m—”

“Draco Malfoy!” Teddy already knew? Somehow? “Uncle Harry talks about you all the—”

“Ha ha,” covering the whole little face with his hand, “he’s joking, of course. No, I, erm, probably told him a thing or two about the—ice cream, or something. Teddy, do you want some ice cream?”

“Mm-hmm!” from behind Harry’s hand. Pointing at a flavour that didn’t look much like anything, a blue blurb.

Malfoy nodded, considering. “Excellent choice, young pup sir. Blueberry bubble-gum, coming right up. And for the gentleman?”

Teddy pointed at something that looked even less like it should be edible. Malfoy’s devilish grin told him he was correct in that assessment. “Hmm. Naturally, naturally. In fact, and if I might add—sprinkles?”

Ted started jumping up and down. His hat shifted slightly, showing what now were—

“Oh my,” Malfoy covered his own mouth, and what turned out to be laughter, “blue ears, Edward? That’s not something you see every day.”

Teddy came forward to watch how Malfoy scooped up the ice cream with the big spoon, eyes round. “Can I do that?” he turned to Harry. “Please, please, can I—”

“Why not? Hop in. I’ll show you how to do it so even your Uncle Harry is impressed.” And he guided Teddy’s hand to scoop up Harry’s ice cream, in what had to be at least twenty different health-code violations. “Do you want to do the sprinkles too?”

Was how they all ended up covered in sprinkles, and Malfoy closed off the stand (“smoking break, something, whatever,”) and they took a walk around the park till they found a slightly shaded area.

It really was a brilliant day. Teddy was happy enough even with the weird, itchy hat, and Malfoy was—bright blue. This thing melting in Harry’s chest felt uncomfortably close to ice cream.

On his lunch break the next day, Malfoy was wearing orange. He wondered if it was his ice-cream business, and he’s the one who changed colour every day; or if there truly were so many rivalling stands, each with their own theme. It didn’t matter. None of it did, besides for Malfoy’s lips, which stretched into a smile, and his eyes, crinkling with it too, and his hands, reaching out for Harry.

“So?” he asked when Harry was close enough to take one. “Did I pass. The test. The—dogged deliberation.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry laughed, pulled him closer.

“Teddy, of course! You brought him as your expert judge, I expect. What did he say? Am I allowed to do this?” brought Harry’s hand to his mouth, kissed it. “And, this?” pinched his side painfully.

“Ow! Bastard! I didn’t—Teddy was just off because of the whole, ear thing. I didn’t bring him to judge you or whatever.”

“So why did you come here?” eyebrow rising, rising. With that piercing that made Harry want to lick it. “I mean, there are many other things you could do on a day off, but you keep coming—here.”

“This is my park,” Harry reminded him gently. Malfoy scoffed, turned his face away. “Hey—”

“No, no, you’re right. Your park. I suppose that makes me your employee? Kinky shit, Sir.”

“Malfoy.” Tugged his chin up, made him look. “I keep coming here because I like you. Because you’re deranged and I don’t get you half the time and I like you. Is that enough, or do you want the whole song and dance?”

This half-smile he kept chewing on springing loose. “Ooh, there’s a dance?”

Harry kissed him, helpless with it. “You’re such an arsehole,” into his neck, and today Malfoy smelled like orange blossom and like mango, something addictive and crushing, unbearable. “How do you even,” inhaling deep, deep, “do this?”

“Magic, of course,” Malfoy laughed, and kissed him back.

The problem was it was magic. The problem was Harry couldn’t get enough. The main problem was, he couldn’t remember why that was a problem.

The next day he couldn’t go to the park again (something about staying an hour past his lunch break? Something about barely showing up to work in a week. Something about being an adult and having responsibilities, something silly). Harry texted the number Malfoy gave him, which might have been a joke, or a hoax, didn’t hope for much.

Got a reply a little too quickly. A photo of an ice cream stand, all in pink. Then an emoji with the tongue sticking out. Harry thought: this man is mad, and I might be head over heels for him. Smiled into his coffee cup and thought about what to cook for Teddy tonight. Maybe he’d invite Malfoy over? Maybe it could be a thing. God, could he make it a thing, could he build something out of it, this colourful whirlwind of a spark?

Closed his eyes: everything was pink, like a mouth puckered for a kiss, like cartoon hearts. Decided, and it was even fairly easy.

“You have to try the lavender.”

“Yes, Uncle Harry, try it, try it!”

Harry rolled his eyes, prayed for mercy. “Awfully suspicious, the two of you are being.”

“What! Teddington, I think your uncle just insulted us. Show him how we feel about that.” Teddy tried to pout, but he was smiling too much. “Very good. Now, come on, Harry, we made it especially for you!”

It was purple. The whole cart, the whole world, behind his eyelids and the silly suit Malfoy was wearing. Harry opened his mouth and let them stick a spoon in. Swallowed: lavender. Oddly nice, just a little sweet, just the way he liked it.

“You both are,” Harry tried, couldn’t find the word. Mad and brilliant and purple. “Ach, come here.” Wrapping his arms around all the sticky limbs he could find, this rumbling in his chest still, to this day, close to toppling him over.

It was very colourful, being alive.

In the distance Ted’s bubbles were distinctly purple, too.

For the brilliant @purplehotmess who gave me such a sweet prompt!

#drarry fic #3k #SWEET FLUFF WARNING #Harry raises Teddy #Draco is an ice-cream maker #accidental magic #rockingrobin69

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