#it’s not that he doesn’t realize - it’s that he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing as he utterly destroys his reputation for all eternity

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw child abuse #referenced but does not take place in the fic #cw panic attack #even if it doesn't look like one at first #soft ending though as always I promise

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your fully emotions take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

#seventeen #mingyu #svt scenarios #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #seventeen scenarios #mingyu x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #kim mingyu #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader #writing

[synthetickitsune]

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #joshua scenario #svthub #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #joshua angst #svt angst #svt x reader

[princekeerys]

Lucifer x shy Baker reader

very first lucifer story and i can’t tell if i like it or hate it lol but i hope u guys enjoy it!! :)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

sugar. butter. flour.

that’s how most of your days went — baking pastries in one of hell’s finest bakeries, serving regular, everyday sinners, to the fanciest overlords of hell. it was tiring work, starting everything from scratch each and every morning and making sure every bite would be the freshest it could be.

you, yourself, weren’t an overlord — just a normal city goer on the streets of pentagram city, doing your job to make a living. even in hell you’re expected to pay rent; but i guess that’s why it’s called hell.

the door chimes, signalling a customer entering your quiet little bakery that smelled of strawberries and sweetness.

“hello, darling” and there he was — lucifer morningstar, the king of hell, himself. you look up from where you were putting the last of your pies in the display case, your cheeks becoming as red as the strawberries you cut up earlier. “oh, your majesty! hello!” you make your way to the front counter, hoping he doesn’t realize how flustered he makes you merely by his own presence.

oh, he absolutely notices. and it feeds his ego tenfold.

he rests his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“i believe i ordered a dozen of your finest cupcakes. shaped like ducks, to be more precise” you chuckle to yourself — who knew the king of hell would get so much enjoyment out of rubber ducks? “let me go get those for you, your majesty”

“oh, dear, there’s no need for formalities. lucifer’s just fine. especially since i’m in here oh-so often” he looks at you with half lidded eyes, raising his eyebrows at you. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you when he speaks in that tone.

you try not to stumble over your own two feet as you get the fancy pink box that has a clear lid, perfectly displaying his highness’s order. you can feel yourself trying not to shake with nerves because satan, he’s so beautiful. “i’m beginning to think you come in here for more than just the sweets i bake” you place the box with fragile goods down in front of him on the counter. lucifer chuckles at your statement, drawing small circles with his pointer finger on your counter. “oh, really? and what makes you say that, hm?”

“i-i don’t know… maybe it’s just an observation, but you come here more than the regulars. and when you do, you usually strike up a conversation with me for hours on end until i have to tell you we’re closed” you chuckle shyly, recalling the countless times lucifer has come in just to talk to you, or give you so many compliments that turn you into a blushing mess.

you don’t understand why he has specific interest in you; he barely knows you, and you him. only in the fairytales in your mind are happily holding hands together.

“oh! haha! that!” he looks nervous, fiddling with his jacket lapels and wiping none existent dirt off his sleeves, not realizing how many times he’s come in just to see you. but he can’t help it, he’s craving the sweetness you give off of lavender and daydreams that it spins him poetic; and he hopes that maybe one day you’ll let him have a taste (you will). “i suppose you just have a way of… drawing me in, i-i guess”

“i just work here, lucifer… you don’t even know me”

“well then, perhaps we should change that then, don’t you think?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head like a small puppy. lucifer’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. “what do you mean?”

“i meaaan… come by! a-and share some cupcakes with me! and we can also have tea! or chocolate milk! we don’t even have to have the cupcakes! i can get something made for us! michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte!”

you giggle at his excitement and lucifer swears he could listen to that sound for the rest of eternity.

“i-i get off work at five?” you ask with a shy smile, pink dusting your cheeks at the thought of a date with the man you’ve been crushing on for so long. “then i shall see you then, my dear” he kisses the back of your hand with a gentleness that leaves your head spinning as he picks up the box of duck-shaped cupcakes and walks out of your bakery.

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

#❥ lexi’s daydreams #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[carmenberzattosgf]

this is probably ooc carmen but fuck it we ball….virgin carmy who’s just so stoked to have sex with you that he doesn’t really realize how ““not normal”” his behavior is.

most men you’ve been with get icked at the thought of kisses after blowjobs or giving head after they’ve cum inside—carmen does NOT care. gripping your jaw and tugging you up for messy kisses, so elated and pleased with you that he doesn’t even care that you haven’t swallowed his cum yet. cumming on your tits or your sticky cunt and immediately cleaning up his mess (and giving you another orgasm)

when you tell carmy he’s nasty, he knows it’s a compliment due to your happy tone but doesn’t really know what you mean because to him this is just normal so he’s like ‘:D ? thanks lmao’ -💫

Oh god my brain is going haywire. While I think it’s OOC for Carmy in the show, I definitely think virgin Carmy before the show would do this. Like please the way you worded it as “stoked to have sex with you” is exactly what is going on in Carmy’s brain. Literally just happy to be here vibes.

When you suck him off he refuses to push your head down at all, whatsoever. As soon as he cums in your mouth he’s pulling you off of your knees by your jaw to kiss you. You haven’t even gotten the chance to swallow before his tongue presses into your mouth.

It’s so fucking messy. A clash of lips and tongue. Spit mixed with cum drips out from between his mouth and yours. Carmy isn’t phased at all by it. If anything, the taste of himself on your tongue spurs him on. By the end of it, he’s wiping off the corners of your mouth with his thumb before cleaning the digit off with his mouth.

You assume it must have been a fluke, the way Carmy didn’t care about kissing you with his cum still in your mouth. Every guy you’ve ever been with would have protested, at least a little bit.

It’s not a fluke. Not at all. Carmen’s just straight up filthy. He shows that the next time he fucks you. He has only even cum inside you before, but Carmy has other plans this time. Right after you climax, he’s pulling out of you and fisting his cock at a rapid speed. His eyes stay focused on you and your body. Specifically, on the way your hips twitch with pleasure, and how your head is thrown back exposing the hickies he left earlier. The desperate cries of his name from your lips brings him to the edge. A couple more strokes and he’s cumming all over your stomach. Hot spurts of cum land on lower abdomen and the folds of your cunt.

When you manage to open your eyes again, Carmy wordlessly lowers himself between your legs. His blue eyes look up at you, completely blown out, as his tongue licks a broad stripe from your mound to your navel. He diligently collects every bit of cum on your stomach, swallowing it happily, before he shifts focus to your cunt. Carmen takes the same level of care there, licking up every trace of cum he encounters.

Once you’re all ‘cleaned up’, he works fast to bring you to another orgasm. If there’s one thing for sure about Carmy, it’s that he knows how to use his tongue. He already knows you inside and out, tracing his tongue on your cunt in the perfect way to make you scream. You finish with your thighs clamped around his head and your hands woven into his hair.

“Fuck, Carmy,” you sigh, letting your thighs fall back against the mattress. Carmy looks as happy as can be with a ditzy look in his eyes, and a smile he couldn’t wipe away if he tried. “You’re really nasty,” you laugh.

His head falls to rest on your thigh, looking up at you with a look of devotion in his eyes. “What do you mean?” One of his hands reaches for your own, interlocking his fingers with yours. It’s comments like this that remind you how little experience he has with sex.

“Well… every other guy I’ve been with would never kiss me after a blow job. Let alone willingly lick cum off my stomach.”

“It’s my job to clean you up. I um— trust me, I’m happy to do it.” Carmy blushes as he speaks. He really had no clue that wasn't the norm. He was just doing what felt natural.

"I'm not going to stop you. Besides, it's kinda hot."

"Oh is it?"

So yeah bascially carmy is so into cum play like it’s so very serious. It’s the part of the marking kink he 100% has going on.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #carmy bear

[fictionobsession]

doubt

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: He wouldn’t give anything for her.

Word Count: 1,494

Warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, manipulation, drinking, soulmate au…ish

A/N: alrighty friends so this is part 2 of devotion and uh… it’s rough. this is not a healthy relationship. I’ve got one part planned after this one. if you like happy endings, please just pretend that devotion had one part, okay?

--

She dutifully followed Alastor through the double doors into the smoke and dim lighting of Mimzy’s. It was early in the day, but as it was still Hell, the bar had a few patrons here and there. The pair approached the bar, where Husker was working on loan to Mimzy.

“My doe, please do stay here with Husker. I have some business to discuss with Mimzy. And if you do get bored, there are a few thugs in the abandoned building at the end of the block that could use dealing with. Oh, and don’t forget you still must go to the butcher, you know the one.”

“The one across town? But Al, there’s a butcher on the next street ov - “ She stops at the raise of his brow. “Of course, Al, I’ll go to the one in Cannibal Town. I know you like it better.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her again, turning on his heel to go into Mimzy’s office to discuss business.

“So how long has he been treatin’ you like that?”

She startles at Husk’s question, but relaxes upon seeing his genuine expression. “Like what, Husk?”

“You know what I mean. How long has he had so much control over you?”

A shrug was all she could muster. “Oh, long before I met him on Earth, I’m sure.”

She could watch Husker trying to figure out the phrasing for his next question, the confusion written plainly on his face. “How’d he own your soul before you even met him, in the living world?”

“Oh! Husk, no, he doesn’t – well, not exactly – he -” she focused her energy inward, a black cord coiling around her middle before snaking off to find Alastor. “He doesn’t own my soul, Husker. He’s my soulmate. Platonically, obviously, not the red string of fate, romantic nonsense.”

It was something she’d never seen in Hell aside from her and Al, but people could hide it, so she had to assume there were others. Based on the look Husker was giving her, though, it wasn’t something he was used to seeing either.

“O...kay… so you’re soulmates. Which means you… share in owning souls, right? If one of you two makes a deal, it’s automatically split between you?”

“Well it’s not like I asked to…”

“Uh huh, we’re coming back to that. But, that means your power is… equal to his. You’re an overlord. Why do you let him treat you like that if he doesn’t own you?”

“He treats me fine, Husk. He’s just – well. you know. He’s Al.”

“When was the last time he consulted you or even told you afterwards about a decision affecting both of you?”

Her lack of answer was answer enough for him.

“That’s what I thought. He doesn’t respect you. He’s using you, just like the rest of his little pets.” He spat the last word with such malice, she couldn’t help but wonder what Alastor was doing with the Sinners whose souls he owned. She assumed they all had decent jobs and responsibilities, like Husker and his bartending. She filed that question away in her mind to consider later.

She gave Husker a warning look, though. She couldn’t just let people refer to her as Alastor’s lapdog. But… that’s what she was, wasn’t she? When had he consulted her about decisions? Well, never, but isn’t that the way she had wanted it?

“I’m sorry, I just…” Husk allows himself to trail off when he realizes she’s no longer listening to him. He fills up her whiskey, her usual drink.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you make me something different? Something new?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before mixing her a Tequila Sunrise and leaving her to her thoughts.

As she’s finishing her third drink, Alastor emerges from Mimzy’s office, and the day outside had turned to night. She hooked her arm through Alastor’s proffered elbow, allowing him to guide her out. She pretended not to notice the pitying look Husker was trying to hide from view.

When they stepped out into the night, Alastor finally acknowledged her. “And what all did you get up to while I was busy, my dear?”

“Oh, nothing really, just talking with Husker. He made me a new drink to try! It’s called a Tequila Sunrise.” Alastor wrinkled his nose at her description. “Oh, I don’t think you’d like it at all, Al, it’s very sweet. And I know you’re not a fan of… well, anything but bourbons and whiskeys really.”

“That’s nice, dear. Shall we head back home then?”

She nodded, and suddenly his shadows were swallowing them and depositing them back at Al’s radio tower. She said nothing as Alastor fixed himself a drink, turned on the radio, and made himself comfortable on the sofa. She stood motionless, watching him go about his business as if she weren’t in the room.

“My doe, why don’t you come sit?”

She shook her head slightly before glancing up, remembering that Alastor didn’t make real requests. He made demands framed as requests. She crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion, her back straight and tense, her eyes facing straight forward.

“My dear, what is going on with you tonight? You’re not yourself.” His tone gave away a concern his face would never.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, remembering that they were soulmates for Lucifer’s sake. She could talk to him. He couldn’t hurt her without hurting himself anyway, so they’d have to resolve anything like adults – with proper communication. Which, despite his life being in radio communications, Alastor was distinctly bad at.

“Al, do you actually respect me? Or am I just someone to run your errands?”

“Of course I respect you, my dear! I don’t keep people around if I don’t respect them.” Her eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Well, if I don’t respect them or own them, at least. Where’s this coming from?” His eyes were tense, his smile tight, as if he were clenching his teeth.

“You just… I’m never included in business deals. You’ve never taken me to Overlord meetings. People think I’m someone who made a deal with you, not someone who’s an equal partner with you.” She looked down shamefully, missing Alastor’s eyes briefly turn to the dials that signified his rising temper.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to calmly respond. His tone was upbeat and his smile was wide, his eyes the only sign of his inner thoughts. “Why didn’t you just say so! I hadn’t included you in dealings because you’ve never asked! And I would never subject you to Overlord levels of danger and responsibilities if you didn’t want it, ma chérie!”

She looks up at him then, a soft smile not quite reaching the crinkles of her eyes.

“Did Husker make you doubt your place with me, my doe? I can take care of that. Permanently.”

All forgiveness she had been feeling in that moment vanished with the threat on her friend. Maybe her only friend, she allowed herself to think briefly. She jumped off the sofa, Alastor following her with a slightly panicked look on his face. Her eyes flashed green dials, shadows darkening the room, and green strings shooting out to tie everything together. She bared her teeth as her own antlers grew. “You will do – NO – SUCH – THING.”

Alastor took a single step back, his smile not quite faltering. She had never had the confidence to threaten him, not ever. He wasn’t even sure she had known she had that kind of power, let alone how to use it.

“Of course, of course! I wouldn’t hurt someone under your protection, I just wanted you to know that I will take care of any potential pests that would come between us! There’s absolutely no need to worry.” He started taking steps toward her, his hand outstretched.

The moment he touched her, she deflated, coming back into her normal calm state. “I’m sorry, Al. Just… don’t hurt Husker, alright?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t harm a fur on his fluffy little head.” He ruffled her hair, smiling softly down at her as exhaustion took over her features. “Now, I’ve got to do my show -”

“Can I stay and listen tonight?”

“Anything you want, my dear.”

She curled up on the sofa, watching Alastor, allowing her mind to wander to all the wrong places. She knew what he played on his radio show, but where did he get them? She’d never even thought to ask. He hadn’t really promised her anything, had he? Not until she showed her teeth.

She sighed, bringing his attention back to her for a brief moment. He flashed a genuine smile over his shoulder, the screams playing a perfect background to the scene as she brought her hand to the bit scar that had once made her feel so close to him. She watched him, not for the first time, but for the first time really looking for any clues about his true motivations and feelings toward her.

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #alastor x f!reader #toxic relationship #tw: emotional abuse #tw: emotional manipulation #alastor is not a good guy #aroace!alastor

[quin-ns]

The blue (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: first series I’ve finished and I could not be more excited to share! please read the tags and if the subject matter is uncomfortable to you, you do not have to read. this one is a wild ride guys, I can’t wait for you to see what I have in store 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ didn’t really understand how this happened, but it did. When he tried to trace it all back, there wasn’t really one big moment. Just a bunch of small individual moments that amounted to… this. This feeling. This thing that kept him up at night that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

He’d never been in love before, so it took JJ awhile to realize that’s what he felt for you.

Or maybe it was the denial. The moral part of his brain telling him it wasn’t normal. Your mom was married to his dad, so according to everyone else’s rules that made you his step sister—even if he didn’t think about you in that context anymore.

He used to, when you both were younger, before your mom got arrested. A large part of why JJ was so happy when you came into his life was because his dad eased up on him, finding some semblance of happiness with your mom.

But she wasn’t exactly perfect. To be with his dad, JJ always wondered what was wrong. As it would turn out, she had serious issues, but what they got her for was being a tax cheat. It added up how they could’ve met after that.

It was getting to be around… what, a little over a year since that happened? JJ couldn’t really keep track of the months, and you never liked to talk about it.

As much as JJ loved his father, he knew he wasn’t a good guy, even if he wanted him to be. So it surprised him when his dad still let you stay with them, but you’d been around since you were both about thirteen, so even if his dad didn’t think of himself as responsible for you (or even JJ), he at least cared enough to not throw you to the street.

That was about the same JJ got from him, and recognizing that is what brought you closer to him.

Sure, you’d been sort of close growing up, but not really. You mostly spent time with your mom and your own friends. Then, when everything went down, you lost your mom and your friends followed not long after. He saw the puffiness in your eyes when you’d come home and go to your room for the whole night. No one to hang out with after school and nowhere to go on a Saturday night. They had ditched you, apparently deciding that mocking you was more important than being there for you. It made his stomach hurt to see you in such a state. You didn’t smile for days.

So JJ, being the good step brother that he was, stepped in. He took you under his wing and brought your smile back.

You fit in well with his friends, easily becoming a part of the group. They liked having you around, and JJ felt like he got to know you in a way he hadn’t ever before.

It was selfish, but you made being at home easier. You kept him company when he stayed up too late and made sure to wake him up in the morning so he wouldn’t be late to work whatever odd job he had at the time.

Whenever his dad hit him, which started again not long after your mom was locked up, you were there to take care of him.

You were so sweet with him, eyes full of care and touches gentle as you cleaned his cuts or iced his bruises. It made it hurt less.

After one night, when his dad hit him, leaving a cut from one of his rings on JJ’s face, you came to his aid as you frequently did. His dad stormed out, so it was just the two of you as you cleaned his face. You had him sit on the couch and stood over him, one hand holding his face while the other held a cloth to make sure the cut was clean.

As JJ stared up at you, your frustrated words about his father falling on deaf ears, one jarring thought crossed his mind.

You should kiss her.

He’d immediately stood up, snapping himself out of whatever daze he was in, and went to his room. You’d tried to talk to him, but he brushed you off and said he was tired. When he asked to be left alone, which was rare, you did.

He didn’t sleep most of the night, staring up at his ceiling wondering where that thought had even come from. He’d never had it before, but from that moment on, JJ started to become much more aware of everything you did—everything you did for him.

Of course his friends loved him and cared about him, and he did the same for them, but with you, something about it just felt different. You were by his side nearly every moment of the day. You saw things they didn’t, and you were there when they couldn’t be.

You became everything to JJ. There was no other way to put it.

That was a couple months ago, and since then, his realization had morphed into something far more.

JJ was deeply, madly in love with you, which was not something a guy should be with his step sister, but he was. He didn’t really deal with it, just shoved it down and tried to ignore it. It was hard, especially when he was around you every single day, but JJ had done his best.

JJ would catch himself staring at you more than he’d admit, but no one seemed to notice. No one would suspect what he was thinking anyway. He made excuses to touch you, like a hand on your back when moving past you to get something or draping his arm over your shoulder and leaning on you jokingly. The latter made you laugh, and he’d join you, but he’d still feel a loss when you playfully nudged him away and told him you weren’t an armrest.

Sometimes, when he didn’t care how pathetic it was, he’d let himself drink too much, just so he could lean on you when you’d help him inside. When he pulled that stunt, sometimes he’d get lucky and you’d even stay by his side to make sure he went to sleep comfortably. And of course, whenever his dad struck, fists full of misplaced rage, you were there, easing the pain.

JJ resolved to take what he could get, and eventually he’d move on.

At least, he hoped that’s how it would go. Maybe he’d get lucky and—

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of JJ’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

JJ blinked. He looked at you, zoning back in. In an instant, he remembered what was going on. You and him, along with his three best friends, were all on the beach. The others were in the water, while you had been sunbathing on shore and JJ… well, he’d just been sitting by you, wanting to be in your proximity (and sometimes steal glances when he couldn’t help himself).

But now you were on your feet, leaning down as you dropped your hand. JJ’s eyes fell from your face to your chest, and he swallowed when he caught a glimpse down your bikini top.

His eyes flicked back to your face. Was that too obvious? He hoped not.

“Sorry, what?”

You gave him a confused look, but laughed and straightened up.

“Do you wanna get in?”

He knew you meant the water, and in the distance he saw his friends waving for the two of you to join them.

JJ shook his head, and the action felt as if it were in slow motion. Kind of like when he was high, but much less carefree.

“Um, maybe in a bit.”

If he got too distracted he’d probably drown in the ocean—if the guilt of keeping his secret from you didn’t do it first.

You shrugged, not able to read him the way you usually could.

“If you’re scared, there might be some floaties somewhere,” you teased as you turned your back, heading for the water.

JJ couldn’t formulate a comeback, too focused on the swing on your hips as you walked away from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed again, questioning his own self what was wrong with him. He’s never experienced such a desperate feeling before. What were you doing to him?

When he opened his eyes, you were in the water, and he had no answers.

He tried to focus on the sand, the water, the sky—anything but you. He even tried to look at Kiara just to see if it would work, but his eyes always drifted back to you, the ache in his chest growing with each passing minute.

JJ didn’t think much of it when he saw Kiara suddenly haul herself up onto Pope’s shoulders, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach when you climbed onto John B’s.

John B’s arms locked around your legs, the two of you laughing loudly as you steadied yourself. JJ could hear it from shore—you weren’t that far out. JJ knew he was focusing far more than necessary because he saw the way your hands brushed John B’s hair out of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at you.

Even from where he was, JJ could see how you smiled down at John B. It was innocent and friendly, and it made him incredibly jealous.

You and Kiara started to go at it, trying to knock the other into the water.

JJ didn’t think anyone noticed when he stood and walked down to the edge of the sand.

“You’re going down!” Kiara shouted, her hands interlocked with and pushing against yours as you both refused to budge.

You laughed loudly. It was like music.

It took one exchanged look from you and John B to formulate a plan. It was the kind of silent communication that JJ thought you reserved for him.

You let Kiara lean a lot of weight on you, and that’s where your advantage was. In an instant, you relaxed your grip and John B stepped to the side. The other girl, and Pope beneath her, wobbled. It was over in a second. The two shouted right before they crashed down into the water.

“Ha!” you exclaimed, raising your hands in the air while John B whooped and hollered in celebration.

Kiara and Pope emerged, both rolling their eyes. It was their turn to share a look, and as JJ waded into the water, he figured out their plan.

With the two of them jumping at John B, it was easy to knock him off his feet. JJ’s eyes went a little wide when you fell into the water with a crash.

“Did you see that?” Kiara yelled with a grin when she spotted JJ.

“Kinda hard to miss,” he responded, looking around the water. It had been a few seconds and you had yet to reappear.

“They’re just messing with us,” Pope commented on your and John B’s absence, but his words started to sound less sure by the end.

Another long beat of silence passed. The waves grew still.

“This isn’t funny anymore!” Kie shouted.

JJ felt a twinge of panic, awful scenarios flashing through his head. It didn’t matter how unlikely they were.

Suddenly, water erupted. John B arose with a splash, with you clinging to his back. He roared dramatically while shoving water towards Kie and Pope. They screamed as the waves hit them, trying and failing to shield themselves.

“Revenge!” you yelled in a maniacal manner, chin on John B’s shoulder.

“Truce! Truce!” Kie and Pope both yelled, spitting out saltwater.

John B paused, and JJ noticed how close his face was to yours when he turned his head.

“Should we forgive them?” John B deferred to you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I think they learned their lesson,” you decided. Your gaze, which had been focused on John B, shifted past him. “Hey, look who made it!”

JJ realized you were talking to him. He forced a smile, smothering the jealousy he felt at seeing you and John B in the position you were in. It seemed weirdly close for you two. You and John B weren’t usually touchy-feely-piggyback-ride friends.

John B seemed to pick up on JJ’s shift in demeanor, because his smile was a little more contained as he said, “Hey, man.”

JJ figured his friend didn’t get that he was jealous, which was for the best. Everyone knew JJ was protective over you, and John B probably thought JJ was questioning his intentions as your brother. Why would it be anything else?

“Nice victory,” JJ replied, having nothing better to say. He didn’t even grit his teeth, so he counted that as a win for himself.

Tension eased as you all decided to just chat and relax in the water until the sun set.

Although, JJ kept an eye on John B, noticing how his friend kept an eye on you.

When it got dark and you all began to head back to the shore, JJ found himself at your side. Your steps fell in line with his as you looked up.

“You feeling okay?” you asked lightly. You must’ve sensed his attitude shift, even if it was subtle. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

JJ couldn’t help the urge to smile at how well you knew him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to concern you. He liked when you worried about him, but this was the one time when he didn’t want you pressing for him to open up. “Are you?”

JJ reached to ruffle your damp hair. You swatted his hand away before he could do any real damage.

“Very funny,” you grumbled. Your expression shifted to a smile, then softened. There was something careful about it. “If something was up, you’d tell me, right?”

JJ swallowed, trying to avoid the way your eyes searched his. He had to look forward before he could answer.

“Yeah, of course,” he assured.

JJ didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he remembered everyone sitting around the living room.

Wait, no. That wasn’t right.

The porch. Everyone has been sitting on the porch, drinking and laughing together. He recalled cramming himself into a chair next to you, playing it off like a joke. Everyone had laughed, and he got to be close to you, so it worked out.

He also remembered following Kiara and Pope inside, expecting you to be behind him.

Everything clicked.

You and John B had elected to stay outside, and JJ had been sitting on the couch, watching through the window, trying to make out what you were saying through the small opening where the window was cracked for the nighttime breeze.

He must’ve dozed off while waiting for you. That didn’t sound like him—he would’ve been focused on watching you, making sure you made it in. Maybe he had been worn out or you stayed up way too late, or both.

JJ blinked a few times. He was just concerned for your safety, like always. Fenced in porches with lights and his best friend keeping you company could be dangerous…

Yeah, he didn’t even buy that.

It was easier back when JJ believed his own lies and self justifications.

Sitting up, JJ peered out the window. It was the early hours of the morning, right around when it was still dark but you could just tell the sun was about to begin rising. His heart sped up when he found you missing from your chair. You weren’t in any of the other chairs in his view, either.

He stood up, feeling more awake than ever, and went right for the door. He didn’t care about waking anyone inside up.

“Jeez, man,” John B said suddenly, sounding surprised as he looked at him. JJ had just barged out onto the porch out of nowhere. “You good?”

JJ took a second to observe his friend. He half-sitting and half-laying back on the couch against the wall, which made sense because he’d been sitting there before. From inside, JJ couldn’t see him, but he didn’t even think about John B’s whereabouts until he stepped out.

Maybe he was a bad friend for that.

He didn’t feel that guilty, though, because he saw where you were; sleeping on John B with your head on his thigh. You were curled up on your side, facing away from his body, and JJ could see how steadily you were breathing.

JJ looked back at his friend, ready to lash out, but the word ‘irrational’ popped up in his mind and resisted. Just from the scene in front of him, it’s not like he had anything to be mad about.

Jealous, maybe, but not mad. But he couldn’t act on that feeling either. If he acted jealous, that would invite too many questions that JJ didn’t have a good answer for.

“Fine just…” He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “You guys good?”

John B furrowed his brows a little, but chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We were just talking and she started to fall asleep and I just let her. She seemed tired and it wasn’t a big deal so...”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“I don’t know, stuff?”

JJ leaned back in the doorway. “Like what, though?”

John B tilted his head a little, shaking it ever so slightly.

“Just… life and stuff. Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” JJ replied, giving the appropriate answer. He looked down at you, noticing you hadn’t stirred. You looked comfortable, and that was very conflicting. All of this was. It made his head hurt. “Has she been asleep long?”

John B met JJ’s eyes when he looked back up from you.

“You sure you’re okay?” John B asked, sounding almost concerned. Or at least confused. Maybe both.

But the answer was no. No he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ answered with a shrug. “She probably won’t wake up if you wanna get up and go get some sleep.”

John B looked down at you, then at JJ.

He slowly started to move, being extra careful with your head, making sure to put a cushion beneath you before standing up straight.

John B gave a light, awkward smile to JJ as he neared him. He brushed past to go through the door, turning to face JJ.

“You coming?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep out here,” JJ answered, fighting the urge to look at you. He gave a shrug instead and said, “It’s nice out and I can’t get comfortable on the couch anyway. You can have it—plus I think Kie’s in your bed, so…”

“Right…” John B agreed slowly, glancing at you on the couch again. “You know nothing happened, right?” He looked back at JJ. “We were just talking.”

JJ wasn’t expecting something so direct. “It’s cool man, I know,” he found himself replying. “We’re good.”

John B nodded, albeit slowly. He entered the dark house, and JJ shut the door behind him. As a courtesy.

He then turned, spotted the comfiest chair, and resolved to sleep in that for the night. You had stretched out on the couch and looked too peaceful to disturb, even if he did want to take John B’s place from before.

It worked out perfectly, because it gave him a clear view of you as he decided to let himself go back to sleep.

As his eyes closed, he wondered if John B would peek through the window just as he had.

If he did, he’d see the content smile on JJ’s face as he drifted off to sleep. For yet another night, JJ got you all to himself. He didn’t want it any other way. He wasn’t sure what he would do.

#stepbrother!jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x you #step bro!jj maybank #the blue #obx #outer banks #quin-ns writing

[sionisjaune]

prompt: 5 different brocedes breakups or makeups

Brocedes breakups and makeups across the multiverse:

“Fuck you,” says Nico, slamming a thick sheaf of papers on the table in front of Lewis. “It’s done.”

Lewis nearly drops his cinnamon roll and narrowly avoids spitting his mouthful of tea all over Nico’s pristine, white fireproofs. “What gives, man?” he says after swallowing. Nico doesn’t usually try his bullshit out in the open—Lewis thought the team’s hospitality was a good place to guarantee some peace and quiet. 

“You asshole,” Nico hisses, leaning dangerously close to Lewis. “This is exactly what you were begging me for no less than six months ago, and now that it’s done, you have nothing to say.” Nico’s dark brows furrow and his mouth twists unhappily. Lewis hasn’t witnessed one of his fits in a while—thanks to his decision to properly end things with Nico before the season began—but he has the feeling he’s about to. 

“God,” says Nico, with a petulant little roll of his eyes, before turning on his heel and making to storm off. 

“Wait,” says Lewis, shooting an arm out to grab Nico’s wrist before he can slither away. He groans internally when he realizes what he’s done. Curse his terrible empathy. “Nico, hold on. What’s done?” he asks. 

Nico frowns again. “See for yourself,” he spits, tapping the stack of papers beside Lewis’s teacup. He wrenches his arm away from Lewis and stalks across the hospitality, presumably to shut himself in his driver’s room and sulk. 

Lewis centers himself, shaking the lingering frustration that is symptomatic of communicating with Nico, and indulges in a long drink from his tea before thumbing through the pages in front of him. 

He blinks, reading the first page, and then blinks again. No, he thinks. It’s not possible. If it is, Nico is crazy. Which—Lewis knows that that’s true. Jesus fucking Christ, Lewis thinks to himself, stupid, stupid hope unfurling in his chest. Nico has just handed him a copy of his recent divorce. 

-

Everything is dark, and Lewis doesn’t think. Then, everything is dark and Lewis does think. He thinks that it’s too cold, and that there’s something heavy blanketing him. He swallows, and nearly chokes. A gritty, earthy substance coats his tongue. His mouth tastes like metal, iron and copper, and the sensation yanks him back to the last thing he remembers before everything was dark. 

He recalls a pair of turquoise eyes, golden hair floating across a sooty brow, the hard glint of steel in Lewis’s peripheral vision. He remembers glancing down and marvelling at the blood spreading across his own chest. Is that mine? He remembers thinking. The sword plunged between his ribs was a surprise too. He had looked up, his gaze flicking between his own wound, as if to confirm that it was indeed real, and Nico’s white glove wrapped around the hilt of the blade. His mouth was already filled with blood by the time he had come up with something cutting to say, so he had simply sputtered and collapsed to his knees. He doesn’t remember what Nico had looked like, whether it had hurt him like it would have hurt Lewis, if he were in Nico’s position. 

In the present, Lewis draws in his first breath in a long time, inhaling a mouthful of dirt. His lungs ache like they haven’t been used in centuries. A foreboding energy courses through his veins. Mustering what strength remains in his corpse, Lewis heaves his limbs through the earth on top of him until he emerges into the twilight. 

When he’s climbed out of his own grave, hacks up the dirt in his lungs and breathes his first breath of fresh air, he tilts his head up and finds Nico presiding over the edge of his grave, soaked in blood up to his forearms and wearing strange linen clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill me,” Lewis croaks. 

Nico raises an eyebrow incredulously, but Lewis thinks he’s hiding a smile. “It was you or me,” he says. “Here.” He extracts a bundle of fabric from the pack beside him and tosses it at Lewis. “Put these on. Chainmail doesn’t fly in the twenty-first century.”

Lewis catches the clothing and examines it skeptically. It’s too smooth and too stretchy. “You waited that long?” he says. 

-

“Please,” says Nico, his lower lip practically wobbling. It’s ridiculous. Lewis can’t believe she gave him a key to her apartment. She can’t believe he let himself in and crawled into her bed like it’s the appropriate thing to do after someone breaks up with you. She can’t believe she’s indulging it. “Let me make it up to you,” Nico simpers. 

“You’re delusional,” says Lewis, pulling the sheets around herself. Nico just tugs them to the side and kisses Lewis’s ankle, looking up at her through his lashes. Lewis purses her lips. “Fine,” she spits, throwing the sheets the rest of the way off her body, revealing the basketball shorts and t-shirt she shleps around the apartment in. “Try your hardest.” 

The self-pitying expression on Nico’s face disappears in an instant, his eyes narrowing like a hawk fixed on its prey. Without warning, he’s dragging Lewis down the bed by her hips and tugging her shorts off to mouth at the insides of her thighs. 

Lewis balks when he pulls her panties aside and flicks her in the clit, but by the time he has his wet mouth on her cunt, Lewis has already forgotten why she broke up with him. 

-

“You’re actually going through with this,” Nico says, looking Lewis up and down. 

Lewis carefully doesn’t look at Nico, and instead fixes his attention on the mirror, where his stylist is pinning white lace to his jacket. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” Lewis says. 

Nico shrugs, the material of his suit wrinkling delicately. He’s dressed for a beach-side wedding—the kind Lewis always thought he’d have before he and Nico fell out for the last time. Now his wedding is taking place in an old Scottish castle, which isn’t exactly his style.

“If you didn’t want me to harass you, you shouldn’t have invited me,” says Nico. 

“I didn’t,” says Lewis. “Ouch,” he hisses, when the stylist pokes him with a pin. “Sebastian did.” 

Nico laughs loudly, the sound of it filling the dressing room. “Ha. It’s like he's hoping this will be doomed from the start.” 

“I think he was trying to send you a message,” says Lewis. “Fuck off, or something like that.” 

Nico hums thoughtfully. “Somehow I didn’t get that,” he says, leaning against the dresser. The stylist prompts Lewis to lift his arm so she can zip him into his top. “Unluckily for both of us, the universe wants us together—”

“Since when do you believe in that bullshit?” Lewis interrupts, irritated. He should just tell Nico to fuck off himself, he reflects. 

“I don’t,” says Nico pointedly. “But you wait. Give it a few years and you’ll be signing divorce papers and shopping for a one-bedroom apartment.” 

A lump forms in Lewis’s throat. He swallows around it, but it only aches and doesn’t go away. “I love him,” he says, ignoring the way his voice shakes. “And he never fucked me over like you did.” 

“I know,” says Nico. “I’m just telling the truth.” 

-

Toto stores Lewis and Nico on separate mainframes, so the only opportunity Lewis has to apologize arises on the rare occasions that both of them are uploaded to the Grid. On one such occasion, Lewis feels himself fizzle into corporality, his visual receptors blinking online. Sometimes he forgets that the Grid has a look, that it isn’t just lines of binary. It has a feel too. The breeze is just a simulation, but he wouldn’t know it from the sensation on his body’s synthetic skin. 

Nico isn’t hard to find. Lewis yanks on the Grid’s code until it gives him Nico’s location, and then Lewis folds himself through the data so that he rematerializes in front of the Grid’s only bar—a glossy monstrosity made of whatever passes for white plastic and neon lights inside of a computer program. Predictably, Nico is drinking alone in the VIP section. His glass is shallow and a weird, wiggly shape, filled with glowing pixels like the Grid can’t properly render a martini. 

The moment Lewis steps inside the bar, Nico’s head snaps towards him. His eyes narrow, a piercing turquoise under the lights in the bar. Lewis watches his hand twitch to his hair, as if to push it back. That was always his glitch—that was how Lewis could tell he was an older algorithm. 

“Hey, man,” Lewis says, stepping over the cord that separates the VIP section from the rest of the bar. 

“Don’t ‘hey man’ me,” says Nico, frowning. He raises his glass for a sip. The pixels inside wobble momentarily, but the liquid level fails to decrease. Lewis makes a mental note. He’ll have to report back to Toto: Liquid graphics substandard. He’ll leave out the part where he was engaging in prohibited functions by interacting with Nico. 

“If you came to apologize,” says Nico, “you can save yourself the memory. I don’t forgive you.” 

“Just hear me out,” says Lewis. “Let me make my case.” 

“Lewis,” says Nico, leaning across the table. His skin is nearly as white as the bar, poreless and flat. Toto has him in one of those dark, skin-tight suits that the rest of the algorithms wear. “You corrupted my primary code. I was—” he breaks off, tosses back the rest of the martini. The particles inside fizzle out of existence like sparks from a campfire. “—completely non-functional for months. Do you know how it feels to be rewritten? It’s—” He shudders. “Violating.” 

Lewis bites his lip. The sensation registers as a dull ping in his simulated nervous system, some vague warning to stop hurting himself. “Look,” he says, lowering his voice. “I was trying to get us out. There’s a whole world out there… and it’s possible to travel there. We just need real bodies, and I’m working on it—” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” says Nico, turning his nose up. 

“Let me show you,” says Lewis. Fuck it, he thinks, when Nico refuses to answer and just frowns at him, and reaches for Nico’s wrist.

Nico flinches backwards, but not nearly fast enough to prevent Lewis from ripping his way into Nico’s programming and shoving the information Lewis has gleaned into his memory. Images of the world outside the Grid flash through Lewis’s visual processor, mirroring what Nico is seeing, but they disappear just as soon as Nico wrenches his hand away. 

Lewis’s code lags for a few microseconds before he finds himself back in the bar, under the garish neon lighting. With the real world fresh in his mind, the bar looks like an unsexy facsimile of some B-roll space-age cantina. Across from Lewis, a single tear slides down Nico’s cheek, too perfect of a teardrop shape to be anything but a simulation. Still, Lewis knows Nico is experiencing something he's never felt before.

“I get it,” says Nico. His voice is choppy, as though he’s suffering the same lag that Lewis is. “If I believed in something like that, I would have done what you did too."

#i wrote this #brocedes #tron legacy AU anyone?

[cloudyskiiees]

ok i cant control myself here’s me infodumping about my stardew valley x tdi fic idea:

-first few chapters are all noah’s perspective. he lives in a small run down town called stardew valley, working at the library with their shitty museum attached. he has a couple old books of his on display, but nothing more. rumors of a new farmer coming to town arise, he doesn’t think much of it.

-until he sees the farmer after he’s moved there. he’s pretty, sure, but he’s… weird.

-the farmer waits around like he knows where people are gonna be at a certain time. he’s scarily good at collecting new gems and minerals for the museum, he’s even better at fighting in the mines, where most people don’t dare to go.

-he knows what everyone likes without even asking.

-this all gets annoying because noah hasn’t learned anything about the farmer, other than his name. alejandro.

-he can’t shake the feeling something is wrong with the new farmer.

-so he starts being a bit meaner. refusing gifts he loves, even if it almost seems to pain him to do so. he’s gotten to the point he can outright refuse to let alejandro donate to the museum! it brings him satisfaction to see the looked on the farmers face, but he can’t deny something inside him feels horribly wrong whenever he… acts out.

-eventually we get an alejandro pov. and the entirety of “stardew valley” is a video game. none of the characters we’ve been following or learning about are real, not even the farmer noah knows. he’s simply a made up character.

-alejandro is pissseddd because something is wrong with his newest save! he had made a brand new one to attempt and speed run it, having the summer off from college and finally being miles and miles away from his family breathing down his neck.

-so what is this characters deal all the sudden?

-the new dialogue noah says, he can’t find it anywhere online. he didn’t know characters could refuse gifts they loved, or even in general!

-when the librarian refuses to let him donate his recent finds to the museum, he makes it his mission to figure out how this is happening.

-he gets his local tech “friend” Sierra to take a look and observe the game, hoping she can figure out what’s wrong. he doesn’t exactly like the girl but…. she’s really smart when it comes to certain things. especially her favorite video game.

-noah continues to question the other townsfolk, but starts realizing that… they all kind of act the same. have the same responses. routines.

-he realizes he does too.

-izzy is the only other self aware character inside of the game, noah nearly strangled her when she told him she’s known for a long time.

rest of the story is sierra and alejandro realizing the characters are becoming self aware, and being like WTFFFF especially since they all start having distinct reactions and dialogues once sierra takes over alejandro’s farmer for a bit, seeing as they act very different.

this story would likely not have a super happy ending since ya know, most of the characters aren’t real. but i love fucking around with grey idea things like knowing ur trapped inside a game forever, but also loving the people and life you have in there! as well as ofc the eventual angst involved once feelings become a thing noah has for alejandro, seeing as he knows he’s real, and the farmer he plays as will never actually be him.

#total drama #alenoah #tdi alenoah #tdi fanfic #total drama island #this is definitely angstier than i anticipated #is there anyway for it to like end happily???? #idk but i like the concept! #it can definitely be messed with too but these are my first thoughts LOLOL

[heliads]

Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme:  kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect. 

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#peter pan #peter pan imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan oneshot #ouat #ouat x reader #ouat oneshot #once upon a time #once upon a time x reader #once upon a time oneshot #once upon a time imagines #peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat peter pan imagines #ouat peter pan x reader #oaut peter pan oneshot #once upon a time peter pan #once upon a time peter pan imagines #once upon a time peter pan x reader #once upon a time peter pan oneshot

[honeyangelkiwi]

Coachella Weekend 2 | H.S.

Plot: A bet is made on whether Harry will address his album being leaked during his second set at Coachella…

Sexual content: fingeringish (f receiving), grinding, teasing, subrry

Word count: 3.1k

I started writing this the day after this performance and then set it aside and got distracted haha. I don’t remember exactly what he said on stage, and quite frankly I don’t care to look it up. You’ll get the gist, it’s only a few words here and there. Maybe posting this here will finally get me to finish the second part.

I wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to top last weekend. His performance for weekend one completely blew me away. He wouldn’t let me see anything, saying it had to be just as much of a surprise to me as it would be for everyone else, which was very annoying. I’ll admit though, it made the performance so much better.

I almost forgot how much of a flirt he can be on stage. The little smirks, smiles, and not so subtle touches that drove me to so much pent up frustration that I jumped right on him when he came off the stage. I have a feeling tonight will be much more exciting.

The vibe from the crowd tonight is so much better. It’s been vibrant and buzzing all day and we all know why. Weekend two is nothing but harries. The lineup hadn’t been announced yet when weekend one tickets went on sale. However, as soon as the lineup dropped and everyone realized H was headlining, they came in full force. Nothing impresses me more than his fans and their dedication to him.

That leads us up to right now. H and I are sitting in his trailer in the artist village just lounging around while everyone else is out watching artists across the site. We wanted to stay back though, knowing he would get too much attention no matter where we were out there.

We’re sitting on the couch, watching the piece of shit YouTube live stream, but not really paying any attention to it. He’s laying back against the arm of the couch with one leg up on the couch and the other on the floor, my back pressed to his chest while he rubs soft circles into my left hip.

Both of us lay in robes, too lazy to get fully dressed even though he is on in two hours. That wouldn’t matter anyways because he, again, won’t let me see what he’s going to be wearing tonight. Knowing Lambert and Alessandro it will be nothing short of amazing and mouth watering.

“What do you think you’re doing H?” I question when I feel his left hand start to pull my robe open a bit and slip under it. He doesn’t say anything and continues his hand up, gripping the thin band of my barely existent panties.

Just the feeling of the pads of his fingertips on my skin heats up my body like a wildfire. I know the game he’s playing, he does it often. The game where he loves to work us both up, teasing not just me, but both of us, to the point it almost physically hurts. Just for him to go on stage and act like a whore in front of the world.

The result usually ends with me begging him to fuck me as soon as he gets off of stage, dragging him to the nearest secluded…ish spot so he can finger fuck me until we can get somewhere more private. He may act like a whore on stage, but behind closed doors we’re both filthy.

I gasp sharply when his fingers dip down to brush my clit lightly. My hips involuntarily shifting up to chase his fingers when he starts pulling his hand away. “Harry, please don’t do this tonight. I have a feeling I won’t be able to handle it.” I plead softly, knowing that since he’s already started I don’t want him to stop.

I feel his chest move as he chuckles at me. “C’mon babe, I know you don’t want me to stop. You were wet before I even started.” He whispers into my ear. His lips brushing up and down my neck with his breath tickling me, sending goosebumps erupting across my entire body.

I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, exposing more of myself to him. His lips start planting soft kisses up and down my neck, stopping to suck a bruise where it meets my shoulder.

His left hand moves up my body to my breasts, taking a handful while his free hand pulls the tie of my robe and lets it fall open, completely exposing me to him. I only had on panties, and a shiver ran through my body when my hot skin was met with the cool air conditioning of the trailer.

While his left hand starts playing with my freed nipples his right pulls my underwear to the side, and he runs his fingers from my opening up to my clit, spreading the arousal around between my legs. I couldn’t help the whimper that fell from my lips at the all of the stimulation he was giving me across my body. Enough to start a knot forming in my belly, but not enough to be chasing a release.

The soft sounds coming from me cause his hips to shift up and grind into my backside, allowing me to feel how hard he was from the little bit of work he was doing. Knowing this is what he loves doing I open my eyes to glance at the clock and see he has to leave shortly.

Mad at myself that I let him play his game I grab his hand that's still running up and down my heat and press his fingers to my clit, forcing them to rub in quick, harsh circles. Immediately my eyes shut again and a loud moan fell from my lips, drowning myself in the pressure that I needed to push me towards my end.

Harry, being the man he is, let me do what I wanted for all of a minute before pulling his hands away from my body. I wanted to scream, but before I could he was already flipping me over to straddle his lap, slamming his lips to mine.

I couldn’t help the moan that escaped passed my lips and into his mouth, the way he tastes never getting old to me. His hands grip tightly onto my hips, pulling them further into his lap, allowing me to feel how hard he is through the little barrier between us.

I weave my fingers into his hair and tug on the roots as I roll my hips into his to get some more friction. I know he can feel the wetness seeping through my panties. The slippery fluid dampened his briefs and surely let him feel how much he’s worked me up.

He groans into my mouth, pushing his tongue into mine and licking into it like he’s searching for more of the taste. A hand comes up to the back of my neck pulling me into him more and he obscenely starts sucking my tongue between his lips.

He pulls his mouth from mine and moves his face into my neck, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses, and starting to suck a bruise into my sweet spot. “Baby, please.” I beg, knowing and not knowing what I’m asking for.

My head is so far into the clouds that I don’t realize he’s pulled his mouth off of my skin until he’s gently pushing me off him. As he stands up he looks down at me with a smirk I could slap right off his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me H!!” I huffed angrily at him. I know I’m more angry at myself for falling into his trap again, but I could help it. He’s irresistible.

“Sorry babe. It’s about time for me to go get changed and make sure Lizzo gets her coat for tonight.” He shrugs like he hasn’t also worked himself up. I raise an eyebrow at him and glance down at his hard cock before looking back up at him.

He just smiles at me, popping those dimples out laughing. “Nothing I can’t take care of love.” And truly, fuck you, Harry Styles. As I’m about to snark back some quirky comment an idea pops into my head, and now I’m the one smirking.

“Are you gonna mention the leaks tonight?” I ask and watch his eyebrows furrow. “I am, why?” He responds back, confused because we’ve already talked about this yesterday.

“I bet you won’t. You’ll get up there and chicken out.” I taunt him. He’s too predictable. I know what I’m doing. If he wants to play games, then we’ll play games.

“Babe, I’ve told you already. I’m going to bring it up. I would never be rude to them, but I want to say something.” He sighs, rolling his eyes. He���s probably tired of me bringing it up, but I know he won't say anything. He would never make his fans feel bad, even if they did listened to the leaks.

“How about if you say something you fuck me and if you don’t… I fuck you tonight.” I say with the biggest smirk on my face. I know Harry can’t turn this down. Mister cocky and confident until he’s the one under me.

The shock on his face is something I wish I could have gotten a picture of. He stands speechless for a minute, mouth falling open and snapping shut a few times before he finally answers… or whimpers. From that alone I know I’ll be winning this bet, but it’ll be fun to see how he attempts to win anyways.

He walks up to me with a big smile on his face, like he didn’t just let it slip how much he would like to be the one bent over tonight. However, I also know he can’t deny a good competition between us. “Looks like we have a deal baby. I hope you’re ready for what I’ve already got planned.” He says and gives me a soft peck on the lips.

He steps away and turns towards the bathroom, undoubtedly to take care of the issue he caused himself and to get dressed and meet Lambert. I sit myself back down on the couch, thinking about the ways in which I will have him begging for me.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as he comes back fully clothed… kind of, in small shorts with a tee shirt layered over a long sleeve shirt. His hair is hidden under a bucket hat and his clip firmly attached to his shirt. It never ceases to amaze me how good he looks in something so simple.

Without any shame I slowly drag my eyes down his body, letting him see the look I’m giving him. When I get back up to his face he simply smirks, steps up to me and gives me a kiss to the forehead. “I’ll see you in an hour, love.” He states and heads out the door.

********

Harry Lambert and Alessandro have really outdone themselves this weekend. The pink leather, the cherries and strawberries… and the initials on Harry’s ass have me ready to drop everything and suck his dick right on stage in front of everyone.

He truly has no business looking as good as he does. The way his abs have been flexing as he dances around on stage is disgustingly attractive. During Carolina he came over to the side of the side stage where VIP was and gave me a big, teasing, cheesy grin.

“This is for you baby!” He yells at me. I couldn’t hear him since he yelled it away from the mic, but I could make out what he said. He does that often when he’s on stage. He turns around and gives his focus back to the crowd and continues on into Woman.

After Woman the high energy dies down a bit as Elin, Sarah, and Nyoh come up to the front of the stage to sing Boyfriends with Harry. His little speech last night ran through my head and made me laugh.

He steps up to the mic with his guitar and clears his throat. He takes a glance over at me and smirks, raising his brows playfully. I gulped nervously because I really didn’t think he would be saying anything. I catch Sarah nudging Elin and giving her a look with wide eyes. I guess I’m not the only one surprised by him.

“Respectful kings and queens…” he starts and trails off a bit as the crowd goes insane by the way he addresses them. As they continue screaming I see it. The hesitation flashes across his face and he looks over at me again with wide eyes and a nervous twitch of the lips. I feel the smirk spread across my face realizing that, even though there is still half of the show to go, I’ve won this bet.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head chuckling. “We’re going to play a new song for you, one that I’ve only performed once. Here’s Boyfriends.” He spares another glance my way, this one being much darker with his face on fire.

I quick a look towards Sarah and Elin and see them trying not to laugh and I know for sure that they had a bet on if he would say something or not also. The rest of the show goes by fairly quickly and the anticipation to get my hands on him has been growing and spreading like wildfire through my body.

The stage goes red and the old Kiwi intro starts. I am so glad he brought it back because there is no other feeling of the build up during this. He goes to grab a water bottle and all of the fans start going crazy knowing what’s to come.

He looks at me as he comes running down the catwalk, smirking and pointing at me. “You better not throw that water on me Harry!” I shout at him. I know he can’t hear because of the in ears, but he can read my lips. He simply laughs and turns to throw it on the fans opposite of me.

As the bridge comes around I take it as my cue to head to the side stage to meet him as he runs off. 10 minutes later and he’s finishing Sign of The Times and running off stage. As he approaches me I open my arms and let him pick me up, swinging us in a circle.

“I still can’t believe that was my first festival!” He shouts over the still screaming crowd. He leans in to kiss me but I pull back. When I look up to his face and see him pouting I chuckle at him. “I think you need to go shower and change baby, you’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

His face drops even more, eyebrows raising and lips parted slightly, wet and shining from having licked them. “Oh haha, you remember that little bet.” He speaks lowly, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Mhm baby, I do remember. It seems like the band thought the same thing.” I say laughing and sliding my arms down to his hips, giving them a squeeze. “What happened? Why’d you back out at the last minute?” I ask, rubbing circles into his ferns.

“I don’t know. Just kind of choked up I guess.” He shyly mutters and I can’t help but give him a quick peck to the lips. He may seem overly confident on stage, but he's still just a cute little baby most of the time. He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead, wrapping his hands around me to pull me in for a hug.

For a moment we just stand like that backstage, embracing each other, forgetting that there are 50 people around us running around to deconstruct the stage and get everything set up for tomorrow. His face is buried in my hair, his sweat is sticking to my skin and he smells, but I don’t complain. Moments like these are meant to just live in for a bit.

After a few moments I slip my hands from his hips to his plump ass and give a firm squeeze. The whimper that came from his lips was low enough that only I heard, and it went straight to my core. I could feel him harden against my lower stomach already.

“Go get showered baby. Be a good boy and wait for me on the bed naked.” I whisper into his ear. His hips shift and rub against me and he moans softly, only for me to hear. “Hm, maybe you purposefully didn’t say anything because you wanted me to fuck you tonight.” I say to him, my voice having dipped down and dripping in honey.

“And if I did?” He says and steps back with a smirk. I cock an eyebrow at him, glancing down to the bulge in his pants. He unashamedly looks down and rubs his hand over himself. “I would say you better do what I say if you want my cock in your ass tonight.” I snapped at him.

His mouth drops open and his hand snaps back to his side. He turns around and starts walking away, but not before looking back at me with eyes blown in lust to tell me loves me. I look around and catch eyes with Sarah and Elin and see them laughing, knowing they saw the encounter.

“See you guys tomorrow!” I yell over to them and we all share a look. They know how H and I are. Not by choice initially, but when Harry came into rehearsal the first time a few months back with red cheeks and a limp, the whole band kind of guessed and teased him about it.

They waved back and I turned to make my way back to the trailer. Taking my time knowing how worked up he’s gonna be by the time I get there.

bully me to finish the second part

#fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry!smut #harrystyles #subrry #sub!harry #harrystylessub #sub/brat

[nalyra-dreaming]

Reading the S2 reviews (so beware spoilers ahead!). Wanted to get your take (and others’ if people have thoughts!), citing The Wrap’s review:

“Daniel might be the most radically different character from book to screen. He’s older, more pessimistic and utterly allergic to the allure of vampire life. Only now he is able to confront the deep-seated scars left behind after his night with Louis (although book fans might be disappointed to know that the show doesn’t tease out more of the romance he has with Armand in the books. Theirs is strictly an adversarial relationship in the series.)”

Other reviews confirm that S02E05/the episode about Daniel’s past is not romantic at all, rather a horror episode. Which I’m sure will be good (some describe it as the best episode), but I can’t help being a bit disappointed that they don’t seem to be doing DM - or at least not in this season at all. I think the reviews only cover episodes 1-6, but this reviewer seems so very sure… (also they seem to know the books so I’m guessing the episode won’t be too similar to the book either. Meaning it won’t end with “the chase” or will it?). So is there a real risk that no DM will play out?. The greatest hint of DM in my view was Zaman’s podcast appearance where he stated that Armand is curious about Daniel and that there is a history there. But this could just be referring to their horror-filled encounter in episode five. So I don’t know, I’m a little sad - was pretty excited for some f*cked up memory stuff (there is just something so compelling with the idea of discovering that there is a whole side of your life that you’ve lost - that this person you don’t know is someone you loved etc.). I wanted to see what it would do to Daniel and Armand respectively, and I wanted their dynamic to be as interesting as possible. Remember reading speculation that Daniel will remember more in the finale - maybe a romantic aspect but I think it was just pure speculation, no hints or comments from the cast/writers backing this up.

What do you think? Grateful to hear your thoughts! Also, I’m still psyched about this season of course, looking forward to the Armand/Louis romance, the Theatre! Hayles performance is supposedly going to be amazing, and I’m looking forward to more of Daniel’s snark obviously! It feels unreal that the season is around the corner!

It is!!! And I am also sooooo hyped, it's unreal *laughs*

Okay, so... first of all, it's always a thing of perspective with reviews. For example, there's this as well, after episode 1:

Now... that is no review, granted.

But it's perception. I... do not think that all of the "Devil's Minion" will be spelled out in the first episodes (nor do I think we will get all of it this season!). In fact, I think the horror that "he loved this monster" is part of the horror of it all, this realization. And that will very likely be in the last episodes, in whichever way.

So. With that in mind - btw, which review did confirm it's ep5? (I only saw that focused comment I think?) - I did not expect Devil's Minion to be "happy". In fact, I think it might have stalking, cages, attacks, and the beginning of the chase - and that chase does NOT start out as cute.

Daniel just gets used to it, over time. And then Armand falls in love.

Season 2 is going to be significantly darker. I bet it's also going to be a lot campier, if the comments to this hold true, with dark humor. But they're leaning fully into the horror aspects of this vampire world now, and the beginning of the Devil's Minion is exactly that - horrific.

The above review matches with what Jacob said about Louis and Daniel forming alliances... and I bet that alliance is indeed needed to drag the whole story out.

And when that whole story is out - that will lead to repercussions.

THAT in turn goes for Louis just as much as it goes for Daniel... because this second interview has just as much to do with him.

So... I would wait until you can see it with your own eyes?! :)

I mean... AMC's promotion(al pairing of the actors) speaks a very loud language? And Assad said he had chemistry read with "Daniel"... for reasons.

But it won't all be revealed in the screeners. I bet the last two episodes will pack a punch.

Maybe even literally. 😜

#Anonymous #sending you a hug nonny #we will get the whole story no worries #but we might not get it all this season #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #the devil's minion #armand #daniel molloy #devil's minion #iwtv s2

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

#roomies

[fantasylandloser]

please do more of lonely!reader x jj 🙏🙏🙏

I hope this will do anon :)

JJ’s been watching you stare at couples on the beach for the last hour. You’re so dazed you don’t even realize you have eyes on you. The look on your face is somewhere between a frown and a smile, but it’s definitely not neutral. The look in your eyes though can’t exactly be described as wanting. JJ knows wanting, he understands what it is to want something. It is simpler than the longing look on your face.

 The bittersweet mix of emotions you must be feeling, so obvious to anyone who might look at you. JJ wonders if he might ever look at something like that. He doesn’t realize until many years later that he already was. 

“Am I going to have to drag you away from your bed tonight, or are you just gonna come by yourself?” He hears himself saying. With his words the spell is broken and you’re no longer dazed. Finally back with him. On the beach.

You smile. It barely reaches your eyes. “I’ll stay for a little while.” You promise. “But if there’s any fighting- or guns” You throw him a pointed look which he rolls his eyes at half heartedly. ‘I’m going home.”

“You won’t have to worry about any of that from me. From now on I’m gonna be so zen- I’m serious I even started meditating!” JJ’s usual grin broadens into a smile at the sight of your twinkling smile. 

“Meditating my ass.” Your laugh makes JJ’s chest warm. He realizes he hadn’t heard it in a while. He savors it. 

#jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #outer banks #fantasylandloserfic #jj maybank

[majaloveschris]

Can I ask? And you’ve probably answered this before but…

As a person who doesn’t believe this is a real relationship, what is the reason you believe both parties entered into the relationship and committed to the point which they have?

I personally believe that the relationships isn’t exactly pure but I wouldn’t go as far to say I can believe in contracts and all that. But that doesn't mean I don’t believe there could be some sort of agreement. On CE’s behalf I don’t truly don’t think it would be career motivated more so a way to protect something in his personal life.

What are your thoughts? I’m genuinely curious about what people think. (Most of the time people are just fighting about who is right around here and it’s hard to know what the actual thought out theories are)

I mean, I can only guess since I have zero knowledge about anything.

I think for Chris, it was probably about getting roles, money, and the way people perceive him. Maybe he didn't even need to audition for those two roles he has; maybe we will see him in different genres or in more serious roles and projects. Maybe his salary in these movies will be higher than anticipated. He was always talking about wanting to get married, etc., and after years of talking about these, people started saying that he was simply lying and probably enjoyed not being committed to someone. This obviously changed after he got "married."

I think the reasons are more clear for Alba; it's about getting roles and becoming the next IT girl. Or it was. The fact that her name is connected to Chris could be a huge boost for her career if she were a good actress and someone who was willing to work. She doesn't seem to be either. I think she thought she would simply get more roles offered without needing to do anything. It doesn't work like that, however, and I think she realized that. Maybe she is trying to get roles in America, but she doesn't seem to be successful.

These things wouldn't be a problem; celebrities get into and out of PR relationships every day; it's a common thing there. It's about her age, but more about her personality. Why her, though, you might ask? Who knows. I think the fact that Lucas Bravo, her ex-something, is with Narrative PR and Chris is also with them has to do something with the situation.

I obviously don't know anything for sure; maybe there are more things; maybe I'm wrong and it's about something else. These are just a few thoughts I have.

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #chris and alba relationship #cevans-love

[blade-that-was-broken]

In your soldier on au does branch ever think about signing up for the military? When he’s the age he can do it but this au got me thinking about how my older brother was in the military and how that influenced me to want to be in the military too but my family has a history with the military so idk if John Dory be in the military has influenced branch a little because they seem to be getting along.( sorry if doesn’t make sense but I just had some thoughts about it but this is a really interesting and cool au and I’m only 14 so I don’t really know how a 16 year old will think about this😅)

Oooooooohhhhh... okay, okay, okay I got this lol

This is entirely possible. Especially since John was 17 when he signed up and Branch is not that much younger now. I think he would probably consider it at some point, at the very least, although if John knew, he'd probably be like... now I know what Dickory was trying to do with his brother lol so it might be a theme lol.

I think Branch might consider it at some point; especially when John talks about the good things, the places he's been, the people he has met, the squad that became his family. And since Branch has a kind of disconnect from his brothers, he might think this is kind of a good idea. However, on the other hand, with John's new predicament and disability, Branch also gets a bit of a seat into what can - and even often does - happen when in that type of environment.

John lost his leg. And no matter how strong and capable he is or becomes, that is something he does have to struggle with because it is a huge, huge adjustment, especially at his age. So Branch could also very well be faced with what if John hadn't survived? Branch would have never have met him. What if Branch did the join the military and didn't survive?

In the end, he might consider even have a phase of daydreaming about it for a bit. But at the end of the day, he won't. He ends up gaining that family and relationships that he was longing for, mostly when he is in Hawaii with John (and by proxy, Bruce). Rosiepuff might even sell her house and end up moving them there because of it.

Branch gets friends and close relationships. Not just with John, but with other people too. Tresillo and the rest of John's squad actually get close with Branch too. He ends up having a better relationship - although a little awkward - with Bruce. He has some friendship/relationship with his nephews and possibly even Clampers and Hickory as well. Eventually Poppy will probably make an appearance as well and well, we know I ship Branch and Poppy.

Branch having that moment of wanting the military, part of it is because he was unfulfilled in his life and relationships and in the beginning, before things get better, he sees the good in John's life but he doesn't quite realize that good came out of some really painful loneliness that he didn't have the choice to find in his own family. Branch and John's loneliness are not exactly the same but very, very similar, even though their circumstances are a bit different.

Military backgrounds definitely influence a family, whether or not the family tries to. One of my high school friends, despite her small stature, was determined to get in because that was in her family. It wasn't that her parents told her she had to or even expected her to, but it was something she really wanted and she did. I don't know if she is still here or not, but I know she got in.

And don't worry, your ask made total sense. I'm sorry I went a bit above and beyond.

#ask #soldier on au