#1K FOLLOWER EXTRAVAGANZA

[alwritey-aphrodite]

ahhhh congrats scout, ilysm!

could i request a cards and letters moodboard? (and ftr, I will make you one too after you post!)

xoxo

You are such a wonderful person, I love you beyond words <3

I was trying to focus on the outdoorsy, academic, cozy, fish vibe hehehe

[strrykais]

perfect blues

idol : stray kids // bang chan song : perfect blues - hannah bahng warnings : none word count : 431

it was late at the company, practice ended hours hours ago, telling your group mates that you would be home later. you could hear the constant buzzing of your phone in your bag as you lay on the floor. 

you were supposed to choreograph this part of the song yesterday, but you couldn’t seem to either come up with something or when you did you couldn’t even get the steps right. huffing out you get back onto your fight, playing the track trying to feel the rhythm coursing through your body. only to stutter your steps, getting frustrated you take off your cap throwing it across the studio.

“woah almost hit me there.” a voice rings out making you jump. eyes squinting you notice chan leaning against the entrance of the dance studio. giving your greetings to him you walk towards him grabbing your hat from the ground. 

“sorry, i wouldn't have thrown it this way if i knew you were here.” placing the cap back onto your head, walking back to your spot, flopping straight to the floor.

“so you would have thrown it anyway?.” you could hear the smile as he says it steps getting louder as they come to a spot next to you. you watch in the mirror as he sits next to you.

“you kind of remind me of hyunjin, always doubting your skills. needing everything to be perfect. its okay to fail every once in a while. it shows us that this little thing wont stop you from reaching the top.” he says while going down to lay on his back.

you follow suit laying next to him. “i know but it sucks when they have all their faith in me and i'm doing nothing but failing them.” 

“i'm sure they don't think that. it's all in your head. they respect you and trust you, which is why they put their faith into you. you just gotta put faith in yourself.”

“what do i do about this dancers block, everything i think of is trash or too easy.” 

“try a new environment, a new style, hell, go scream out. release that negative energy and work around that little bump you are facing. every one has step backs. what makes you different from those is what matters. you gonna let it hold you back forever? they are only called ‘step’ backs not ‘forever’ backs.” 

you giggle out his dumb joke smiling up at the ceiling. “thanks chan, i think imma go scream from the rooftop, and come back tomorrow with a fresh mind. thank you really.” 

1k extravaganza

ⓒstrrykais

[hotchscoffeecup]

a bau found family easter

category: fluff, found family, drabble

characters: rossi, reid, derek, hotch, prentiss, jj, will, garcia, jack, henry

word count: 1k

summary: rossi hosts the bau team for easter sunday including the perfect home cooked italian dinner and egg hunt extravaganza for the kiddos.

“Hey Rossi,” Spencer interjects from where he’s perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter. “I don’t think they’re quite old enough to know what ‘reconnaissance’ means.”

A graying eyebrow arches toward his hairline as the elder agent regards the young doctor before turning his attention back to the kids. “Well, kids. Anyone know what reconnaissance means?”

“Reconn-oh-swince,” Henry whispers as he rolls onto the tips of his toes, fingers twitching around the handle on his Easter basket.

Rossi points a ring adorned finger at him and smiles. “Close!” He shifts his attention to Jack. “Any ideas, son?”

Jack looks at his shoes, then over at his dad, who is smiling at him encouragingly from behind the bar where he sips on a Corona. “You were collecting facts!” he finally answers.

Rossi claps his hands together, “Bravo, Jack!” He inclines his head toward Reid whose furrowed brow indicates his confusion and surprise.

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron calls.

“Well,” Rossi continues. “I did some of that and it looks like we had a special guest visit the backyard.”

An excited giggle escapes Henry’s lips as he bounces up and down in place. “Who? Who?”

“My good friend, the Easter bunny.”

Henry’s eyes widen as a big smile spreads across his face. He looks up at his mother, who is standing by the backdoor with his father. JJ smiles in turn, her heart swelling at the sight of the boys’ excitement.

“There are a lot of eggs out there in need of gathering.” Rossi reaches into his blazer pocket and withdraws two plastic eggs. “Jack, you’ll be looking for the blue eggs and Henry, you’ll be looking for the purple eggs. You each have twenty eggs. Are you ready?”

Both boys nod their heads eagerly.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Oh, Rossi, for the love of God please let the little babies run free. My great big auntie heart can’t take the suspense.” Penelope cries from her place at the kitchen table. She leans her head against Morgan’s chest, feigning passing out. The bunny ears headband she’s wearing nearly pokes Derek in the eye as she does this. Morgan’s brow arches as his lips curve into a sly smile. “Babygirl, what are you doing?”

“Shh,” Penelope says. “If this is how I go, it’s how I go.”

“Go!” Rossi shouts and jumps out of the way as the two boys tear toward the back door. Fortunately, Emily is there to pull open the sliding glass doors just in time. The boys clamber over one another as they race across the patio and down the steps into the wide expanse of Rossi’s backyard.

All of the adults follow, drinks in hand. JJ and Will are first into the backyard, Will with his smartphone in hand capturing photos and videos as the boys dart around the yard.

Penelope dashes out after the boys with Emily, clapping and cheering as they find their eggs hidden around the grass, in bushes, and on top of rocks. Derek picks Jack up at one point to help him reach one that was perched in a low hanging tree branch. That had been one of Rossi’s “hard” finds though all of the eggs were in relatively plain sight.

Rossi approaches Aaron, who is watching Jack from the patio. A genuine smile plays on his lips as he watches his son run around the yard. “You think he’s having a good time?”

Hotch looks away from Jack for a moment to look at his colleague and friend. He nods. “I think so.” He pauses and takes a swig of his beer. “The holidays are always hard for him, since Haley—”

“I know,” Rossi interjects. Hotch didn’t need to finish that statement. He elbows him gently. “It’s okay if they’re hard for you, too, you know?”

“I just don’t want him to miss out on anything,” Aaron says as his gaze shifts back to Jack, who’d just found another egg. He holds it up in the air, his toothy grin lighting up his face. Henry had just found one as well. JJ ushers them together for a photo.

“He won’t,” Rossi assures. “You’re doing a great job, Aaron. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” Jacks calls as he trots over toward them, plastic eggs clattering as his basket bounces alongside him.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“I can’t find the last egg!”

Hotch passes his beer to Rossi and takes Jack’s hand. “Let’s see if we can’t find it, how’s that sound? Come on, let’s go.”

Rossi smiles as he watches the scene play out in front of him. Everyone is smiling. The children are laughing. There’s no vestiges of the horrors and dread of what they face daily at work lingering on anyone. Today, they’re all just people; friends, fathers, mothers, godparents…one, big, found family. He couldn’t be prouder. The BAU had been his pet project from the beginning, and he’d always known it would grow and be a success. He’d never thought it’d turn into a family, not one as closely bound together as this one.

As Jack finds the last of his blue eggs hidden behind a bunch of daffodils, a chorus of cheers erupts from everyone. Henry even calls out, “Good job, Jack!”

Rossi smiles to himself as he heads inside to check on dinner. It wouldn’t be Easter without one of his perfectly al dente pasta dishes, after all.

He drops Hotch’s empty beer bottle into the recycling bin and watches through the glass of the sliding back door as Aaron and Will hoist the boys onto their shoulders, holding their full baskets in the air like trophies. Everyone gathers together as JJ extends her arm to take a selfie, commemorating the occasion to memory.

A Happy Easter, indeed.

[violant-apologia]

An Appointment at the Parlour of Virtue

aka marian's homoerotic antagonistic extravaganza

words: ~1k

it's on ao3 or literally right here!

Marian stalks the Veilgarden streets, shifting in discomfort. She chafes against the aroma of spices, bristles at the discordant music and scowls at passing lovers. This is far from her usual haunt, as any onlooker would be well aware. It would perhaps undermine her authority were her crew to find her here: a captain so severe in this den of intemperance. Luckily, after so many recent brushes with watery demise, they’ll all have better things to do than tail their captain to this meeting.

The Parlour of Virtue is a large building for Veilgarden, where buildings often run squat or narrow. Its services are desired enough – and its clientele rich enough – to finance the grand facade. Speaking of the clientele, they look almost as out of place in Veilgarden as Marian. They loiter around the entrance, checking watches and tapping feet and clad in classy suits and frocks. Some have faces Marian remembers from the margins of Slowcake’s; the rest are masked. The Parlour caters to tastes expensive and eclectic – those wealthy enough to afford its premium services are also those least likely to want Doubt Street catching wind. Marian is not notable enough to go masked; besides, her face is already obscured with ragged bandages. The expressions on the unmasked faces as she skips the queue are ones of jealously, not recognition.

The inside of the Parlour is comfortably warm. More masked clients mill around the lobby or whisper to receptionists at polished wood desks. Marian is nodded through by stockinged women she recognises but couldn’t name. She climbs scarlet-carpeted stairs to the gallery of suites, doors numbered and, for the most part, occupied. As she follows the usual route, her attention drifts to the sounds behind the doors. Many are the typical affair for such an establishment, but as she traverses deeper into the building, the noises get odder. Recorded music and staccato tap-dance. A screaming argument. Chewing. The Parlour caters to all tastes.

Eventually Marian reaches the customary room and lets herself in. She takes a seat on the luxurious bed (shared by most rooms) and observes the neatly-folded pile of silks that lays on it (not shared by most rooms). Sinning Jenny is late. She is often late. But she always comes.

“You’re late,” Marian says as the door opens at almost ten minutes past the hour. “Again.”

“And I apologise again,” replies Jenny. Her cheeks are a little red and her breaths come heavily, fluttering the veil that hangs before her eyes. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. You’ll have to teach me your methods sometime.”

“Here’s an easy one: don’t work yourself to the bone on a hundred lost causes,” Marian replies.

“Ah, so you’d rather I didn’t make it here at all,” Jenny grins.

“Shut up,” Marian retorts, “and sit down. Lets get this over with.”

Jenny laughs (infuriatingly) and takes a seat on the bed next to Marian. She takes the silk bandages in her hands – seafoam blues, this time.

“Lovely colours,” she mutters to herself, “must remember to mention that to Ruth…” She lets the silks flow onto her lap. “Shall we get started?”

Wordlessly, Marian hold out her arm.

The process is painfully slow, and Jenny agonisingly gentle. She takes the right arm first – the one with skin beneath. She unwinds the ragged bandages like an expert. Marian doesn’t know whether Jenny has other tomb-colonist clients; nor does it concern her. The pair’s relationship is one of debt and repayment, nothing more.

Jenny works in silence – soon the old bandages are gone and Marian’s pale skin is left bare. Jenny takes one of the darker silks from the pile, secures it up the forearm, and begins to wrap. As she does so, her fingers graze Marian’s skin; Marian jerks her arm away.

“Watch it,” Marian spits, breaking the silence.

Sorry, Jenny mouths. Marian bristles. Despite the decade between them, Jenny still manages to make her feel like a child. It’s insulting.

“Done,” Jenny soon says. Indeed, the arm is covered. Marian flexes her fingers beneath the bandages: not too tight, not too loose, and the colours complement her old uniform well.

“Acceptable, ma’am?” Jenny asks with a smile. A coy twinkle plays beneath her veil.

Marian rolls her eye. The eye in question is still not visible, but she hopes Jenny gets the message anyway.

“Other arm?” Jenny offers. Marian shuffles over and Jenny moves to her left side. The bandages here are significantly more damaged, poked and pierced from within. Jenny barely has to work them before they fall away in scraps, revealing the mass of brambles beneath.

“Don’t prick yourself, princess.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jenny chuckles.

The process is even slower on this arm – the bandages have to both hide the vegetation and restrict its shape to that of a more traditional arm.  In her many visits here, Marian has noticed that Jenny gets more stressed – and more likely to make mistakes – when she works in silence. It is for this reason and no other that Marian clears her throat.

“I made it to Polythreme.”

“Oh!” Jenny says. “I’m glad you’re following those leads!”

Marian scoffs. “I couldn’t fairly come back here if I didn’t keep my end of the bargain, could I?”

Jenny laughs. “I suppose not. Anyway, did you find the surgeon? Did he help?”

“Yes,” Marian says, “and no.”

Jenny’s face falls. “I’m sorry, Marian.”

“Oh piss off,” Marian responds, “you don’t care a jot. You just want me out of your hair.”

“I’ll remind you that there’s no actual obligation for me to make these meetings.” Jenny pulls a bandage tight around the vine.

“You want me off your conscience, then.”

Jenny sighs. “I’m also not responsible for the Campaign. Is it so difficult to imagine that I just want the best for you?”

“Yes,” Marian responds. “You’ve made a whole business profiting off of devotion. Forgive me for guarding mine.”

“Do you mean the Parlour or the Church?” Jenny asks. “It doesn’t matter, you’re wrong either way.”

She fastens the final bandage and trails a finger over her work. Marian shivers. “It’s been fifteen years, Cook. Why do you think we do this?”

Jenny’s fingers drift to the final set of bandages. She takes the end of one  at the base of Marian’s neck.

“Guilt,” Marian mutters. “The Church did this to me.”

“I’m not the Church,” Jenny murmurs, beginning to unwrap. Her breath tickles the slivers of newly-exposed skin. “War’s over, soldier,” she breathes. “You’re safe now.”

“I—”

A rose petal flutters onto the sheets.

Marian jumps up, snatching the last silks from Jenny’s lap.

“I think it’s best if I do the last myself,” she stammers. “I’m more practised, and all, and you’re obviously not focused on quality.”

“Oh,” says Jenny, “perhaps I was wrong. We can return to a purely professional relationship, if you’d like?”

“I— no, I’d—” Marian struggles, “Aurgh!”

She storms out of the room. Light, infuriating laughter rings out behind her as she stamps down the hall. Then Jenny calls out.

“See you next month!”

[purple-eye-au]

Oh? So you’re curious about our 1k raffle extravaganza?

Here’s how it works!

To join simply reblog this post! Likes don’t count!

First place receives a flat colored art piece by me, like the last two of this very post! Second place gets a sketch!

The art piece can be from any fandom, OCs, even real people as long as it’s:

Safe for work

Not overly detailed (unless you want me to lower the detail a bunch)

3 characters in one maximum

I’m very busy lately so this raffle will go a little longer, ending at February 3rd 2023! It might get an updated end date but not earlier than Feb 3rd.

Once the winners are chosen I’ll make a post and @ them in it, plus contact them through tumblr DMs.

Thank you and GOOD LUCK!!!

QUICK EDIT:

You must be following this blog if you want to join ok xoxo love you!!

[beom-pyu]

i have an idea for my 1k followers bash extravaganza party time omg it'll be so cute

[mooosicaldreamz]

A teenage girl meeting Lena Luthor and saying how she's her role model and the girl just being enamored with how awesome Lena is....(maybe Kara getting jealous of her? Idk Kara getting jealous of a teenager??) Maybe Lena offering for that girl to Follow her around at LCorp for a day??

o, u thought i was done writing prompts from my 1k follower extravaganza??? NEVER, BECAUSE YOU GUYS SENT ME SO MANY. here’s another one! it’s the story of sierra searfoss, whose last name i 100% stole from a customer at my workplace! 

When Kara comes stumbling into Lena’s office one afternoon, having sailed past Jess’s desk with wave and a quick dropoff of food, she finds Lena sitting on her couch - their couch - with a girl. And it is a girl, a blonde girl with glasses and brown eyes, and when Kara comes in already halfway through an anecdote about Winn, the girl nearly falls off the couch, she turns around so fast.

“Kara!” Lena says, standing up and smiling widely. “I didn’t know you were stopping by!”

“I mean - do you ever?” Kara asks, just as Lena wraps her arms around Kara’s neck and hugs tightly. They had, of course, seen each other that morning, but Kara never much enjoyed being separated from her girlfriend. The strength of Lena’s hug, the press of her nose into Kara’s neck - those indicate to Kara that Lena feels the same way.

The girl is still twisted awkwardly on the couch, her face confused and her mouth open. Kara clears her throat and Lena laughs a little, waving at the girl to stand up. She does, stumbling and staring at Kara.

“This is Sierra Searfoss, from the Girls in STEM contest I was telling you about last night,” Lena says, smiling and looking between Sierra, who looks dumbfounded, and Kara, who can’t help but tune into Sierra’s heartbeat propelling faster than it was when Kara walked in the room. Kara reaches out her hand for Sierra to shake, and the girl’s hand actually trembles in Kara’s grasp. Lena seems unaware.

“Hi,” Sierra says. “Hello. How - how are you?”

Her hand is shaking. Kara casts a worried glance at Lena, who seems to find Sierra’s stumbling over words sort of amusing, rather than concerning. She’s smiling softly, watching the girl.

“Good,” Kara says. “I’m Kara Danvers, a reporter at Catco Magazine. Congratulations on winning the contest.”

“I know who you are,” Sierra says, and her hand grips tightly (Kara knows it’s probably about as tight as a teenage human girl can grip, even if she doesn’t feel it that intensely). “I’ve read all your articles about Miss Luthor. My favorite is the one about her work in aerospace engineering.”

“Right,” Kara says, watching as Sierra’s eyes widen as though the high of talking about Lena is equivalent to cocaine. “Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Sierra is still gripping her hand.

“ - I also enjoyed your article about Miss Luthor’s renovations on the Luthor Mansion, even though I felt you weren’t quite as appreciative as you should have been.”

“Okay,” Kara says, and actually has to try a little bit harder than normal to remove her hand from where it’s clasped in Sierra’s. The girl still looks far too intense. Lena still doesn’t seem to have noticed, so she pulls her phone out of her bag and blinks at it. “Oh, uh, Snapper’s calling - the truth awaits!”

Lena does let out a laugh at that, as Kara drops the phone back in her bag and gestures at the bag of food she’s set on the coffee table for Lena.

“That’s for you,” Kara says. “Fried rice and a salad from that place you like in Coast - I mean. Yes. Food is for you. I’ll see you tonight?”

Lena nods, smiling gently. She nearly books it out of the office, and she can sort of still hear Sierra ask I thought I read you were allergic to egg, Miss Luthor, are you sure it’s safe for you to consume fried rice?

-

The next day, a small explosion sounds out from the lower levels of LCorp’s labs, and Kara’s there nearly immediately, picking out the sound of Lena’s voice amongst the smoke and other scientists. When she calms the fire down with her freeze breath, Lena’s there. Along with Sierra, who looks like she is seconds away from jumping up and down out of joy.

“Supergirl,” Lena says, coming closer and thankfully maintaining a respectful distance. Jess had almost walked in on them making out one times too many after some event or another. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Supergirl!” Sierra yelps, looking away from the mess in the center of the room and practically bouncing over to them. “I have so many questions.”

Kara cuts her eyes uncertainly over to Lena, who once again only looks amused, and tilts her head in a semi-indulgent way at Sierra.

“How is it working with Miss Luthor?” Sierra asks, and Kara blinks. “You two have collaborated several times.”

“She’s a good partner to have,” Kara says, after some consideration. Lena’s smile turns soft, and Kara desperately wants to smile back, wants to fly them somewhere and kiss for a while, but Sierra Searfoss has other ideas.

“We were building a freeze ray,” Sierra offers. “To mimic your freeze breath. Miss Luthor mentioned she’s catalogued many of your powers, and she thought, in her wisdom, that perhaps replicating them would be an interesting challenge - though, of course, nothing is a challenge to Miss Luthor.”

“Your freeze ray went well, then,” Kara says, offering a wry half-smile that earns a bark of laughter from Lena and a burgeoning frown on Sierra’s face.

“It’s certainly not any fault of Miss Luthor’s,” Sierra says. “Freeze breath is not that interesting a power to have anyway.”

Kara looks at Sierra for a moment, then looks over at Lena in confusion. Thankfully, firefighters and a couple cops interrupt them, and Supergirl finds an opportunity to fly away, far away from Sierra Searfoss.

-

“I thought you said the gala wasn’t until seven thirty,” Kara mutters, her mouth halfway down Lena’s neck, her hands trailing down the soft skin of her girlfriend’s back. “We have a whole hour before we need to leave.”

“We’re driving,” Lena gasps out, her own hand gripping at Kara’s neck. Kara makes a sad humming noise, nips a little at Lena’s neck before sliding back upwards to pay more attention to Lena’s mouth. Maybe she could convince her to be late anyway, even if she was going to be trapped in a limo for twenty minutes through event traffic.

“I love you,” Kara whispers against Lena’s mouth. It earns a bit more of a response than has been given up to this point, a hard, searing kiss that distracts Kara from most other thoughts.

“We have to get dressed,” Lena mutters, even as she gets pushed back into the bed.

“Five minutes,” Kara mutters back, occupying her hands with tugging at the small bits of clothing Lena does have on. Lena doesn’t bother replying to that, just lets Kara kiss her -

Lena’s phone starts ringing. This is upsetting on many levels - usually it’s Kara’s phone that interrupts their moments, and Kara groans, thumping her head down onto Lena’s chest while Lena giggles. She reaches for her phone, and Kara can see the name there clear as day - Sierra Searfoss.

“You gave that girl your phone number?” Kara asks, nipping at Lena’s collarbone and grinning when Lena’s hips jump a little.

“I gave her a number that routes to my phone number,” Lena says. “I should take it. We’re supposed to be picking her up from her hotel on the way to the gala in - fifteen minutes.”

It’s a quick phone call, mostly logistical, but Sierra’s enthusiasm is still a little terrifying and Kara spends much of the duration of it running her hands up and down Lena’s ribs, watching goosebumps rise up along her chest and sides. When it’s over, Lena tosses the phone to the side and grabs for Kara.

“Five minutes,” she mutters, just before their lips crash together.

-

“We’re so sorry for being late,” Lena says, as Sierra and her dad climb into the car. “It was Supergirl’s fault.”

Kara frowns at her girlfriend, and Lena’s smirk is the only indication she feels it.

Sierra’s dad gives a laugh, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch in the limo and smiling heartily, not like his overeager daughter.

“She does seem like she causes some traffic sometimes,” he says. “I’m Samuel, we met briefly?”

“Of course,” Lena says, offering out a hand and shaking it across the expanse of the limo. “This is Kara Danvers, my girlfriend.”

“Righto,” he says, and Kara shakes his hand too. Next to him, Sierra is rolling her eyes at her father in such a normal teenager way that Kara thinks that perhaps she’s been cured of her insanity. But then, her eyes land on Lena, in her bright blue dress that Lena had barely managed to pull on with a smirk and a it reminds me of your uniform when Kara had decided to pull it off her again - and they go cocaine-wide again.

“Supergirl implied earlier today that Miss Luthor was not a capable scientist,” Sierra says. “I’m not impressed.”

Kara blinks, and Lena laughs a little, her hand sliding on Kara’s thigh and gripping at her fingers. Sierra’s eyes watch it happen and she frowns even further, looking grumpier than Kara could have ever imagined the girl being.

“Miss Danvers, didn’t you once write that LCorp’s initiatives on green engineering weren’t as satisfactory as what’s been done at Lord Technologies?” she asks, and Lena laughs even louder now, her eyes turning to Kara with amusement written all over them. At some point, her girlfriend has to realize that this girl is a little crazy, right?

“Sierra,” her dad admonishes, and Sierra directs a weak glower at him that he smiles gently at.

“It was a fair criticism,” Lena admits, her fingers now playing absentmindedly with Kara’s. Sierra’s frown returns in full force as she looks back at the two of them. “I think Kara would say we’ve made significant progress.”

“I would,” Kara says, smiling at her girlfriend and accepting the kiss on the cheek she receives with an even larger grin.

Sierra makes a noise of deep and unabiding unhappiness.

-

“Miss Luthor has been really kind to us,” Mr. Searfoss says, holding a pint glass of beer and watching as Lena takes pictures with the various finalists for the STEM award that Sierra had eventually won.

“She usually is,” Kara says, smiling softly as she watches her girlfriend. Sierra is smiling brightly as well, looking at Lena like she’s hung the moon.

“Sierra’s had a bad couple years,” Mr. Searfoss says. He taps at his pint glass for a second before reaching to set it down. “She’s always been a bit of an oddball - not a bad thing, but still - and she came out about a year ago.”

Kara tilts her head, turning to look at the man as he adjusts his tie and looks nervously at Kara.

“Her mom was an ass about it, and we got divorced, and kids at school have been - well, you know kids,” Mr. Searfoss says, smiling wryly. “She’s thrown herself into her chemistry club and robotics club and she, um, really latched onto Miss Luthor. She’s sort of her hero, in more than a science-y way.”

Kara smiles, glancing once more over at her girlfriend, who’s talking animatedly at Sierra, both of their hands waving around in the air as they talked about something.

“Anyway. There’s no way in hell I could say all this to her, so I thought I’d say it to you,” he says, reaching for his drink again and looking down at the ground. “She’s a great role model for a gay, nerdy girl from Arkansas to have. I’m really - grateful for that. And all this, too. I mean, she even helped me get this suit tailored. I probably have a crush as big as Sierra’s by now.”

“You know, I think Lena probably would like to hear this from you,” Kara says, smiling gently. “I can distract Sierra.”

“I’m not sure that girl could ever be distracted from Lena Luthor,” he says, with a laugh. “I’d do it just to see you try.”

-

“So, what do you think about LCorp’s recent attempts at manufacturing nutritional compounds for aliens?” Kara asks, sipping at her champagne and watching Sierra’s eyes flick from where Mr. Searfoss has just pulled Lena away to Kara’s face. Apparently, the topic is interesting.

“Well, don’t aliens deserve to have their needs met? They are citizens now,” Sierra says, shrugging and eyeing Kara. “I thought you were a proponent of alien rights.”

“I am,” Kara says. “I suggested the initiative to Lena.”

Sierra blinks at Kara, her eyes still wide as ever, before she suddenly leans closer, looking - semi-normal for once.

“What’s it like? Being her girlfriend,” Sierra asks. She looks surprised to have even asked, but Kara smiles anyway.

“It’s pretty cool,” Kara say. “You’ll find out someday. Probably not with her, but maybe some other super genius nerd icon.”

“Thank you,” Sierra says, and she smiles like a completely normal person.

-

“Kara Danvers,” Lena whispers, right in Kara’s ear, after Sierra and her father have scrambled out of the back of the limo and Sierra and Lena hugged for a full ten minutes. “You told Mr. Searfoss to talk to me.”

“I thought you should know,” Kara says defensively. Lena is pressing closer to her, and Kara is grateful for the partition and the dark tint to the windows. “You’re her hero. And she’s super in love with you. You have a fangirl.”

Lena’s lips press right under Kara’s ear, her hand tangling with Kara’s on her lap.

“I love you,” Lena says.

“I love you more,” Kara says back, pulling Lena’s hand up and pressing a kiss to it. “I’m definitely your number one fan. I’ll wear a t-shirt.”

“No need to wear anything at all,” Lena says, and Kara can’t help but laugh, just before it gets swallowed up by Lena’s kiss.

[buckets-and-trees]

King [Steve x Reader]

Characters/Pairings: mob boss!Steve x female!Reader Word Count: 1k Summary: As an archeologist neck deep in a library for research or out in the wilds of desserts and jungles searching for ancient civilizations, you’re not the type you ever thought would catch the attention of one of the city’s mob bosses. They meant nothing to you, and so you never expected it, and you certainly didn’t know how it happened, and yet you find yourself entering the early domestic stages of a serious relationship with Steve Rogers, king of one of the most powerful mob networks in the country, and he’s made dinner for you, seemingly with no agenda…

Content Warnings: a bit of angst, feminist frustration

Additional Notes: Another day, another short piece for my 2022 Holiday Extravaganza! This one was inspired by King by Florence + the Machine. It really hit me hard when I first heard the single earlier this year, and it’s been clawing its way into this little story for many months in my brain.

You threw you plate down into the sink, shattering it, taking Steve completely off guard.

“Hey!”

You slam one hand down onto the counter, and cover your mouth with the other, hanging your head as tears burn behind your closed eyes.

“Hey,” he says again, more quietly now, coming up behind you. “What’s-?“

“No!” You shout, flinching away when his hands went to rest on your shoulders. “I’m not ready!”

“Not ready for what?”

“Kids!” You turn abruptly to face him. “I’m smart enough to know that my mob boss boyfriend isn’t dropping idle comments about children without intent behind them, and they’ve been stacking up all week!”

“Fine. You’re right. I want kids and I want to have them with you.”

You turn to face him finally, the tears having spilled over. Sad and angry. “I’m just not ready now, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s all so easy for you! You only have to dump your seed and then wait nine months for a baby to pop out, and then, what? Pat it in the head once or twice a day? Go off and continue doing what you do every day, while I, on the other hand, a pregnancy will change every single moment of my life! Carrying it to popping it out and then watching over the child for the following eighteen years! I won’t even be able to fly on a damn plane in the third trimester of the pregnancy, and if I can’t fly, how am I supposed to remain one of the forefront archeologists in the field when I can’t even get to the field?”

“Sweatheart–“

“No! Don’t sweetheart me, Steve! Growing up, I was definitely one of those girls who just wanted to go to college, meet the man of my dreams, be swept into the perfect wedding and marriage and pop out five babies before I was thirty. House with the white picket fence, dinner at six, kiss my husband goodbye every morning, but then I finished college, no marriage. Went to grad school, dove into this field, found something exciting that I’m passionate about and damn good at. Still no man in sight. I turned thirty. I actually went to a conference with a bunch of strangers over my thirtieth birthday weekend - it was kind of an unexpected thing that came up, and I accepted because I was so relieved I wouldn’t have to be around my family and friends turning thirty and still single and alone.”

Steve moved forward, wanting to take you in his arms, but you moved back, and held your hand up.

“I need to finish saying this. It took me so long to untangle myself from the fluffy housewife propaganda I was told was the only thing I should aspire to be, to shove away the silent disappointment from other people’s expectations of what I was supposed to do, and to find things that made my heart sing, made my soul burn with purpose just because I wanted them any no one else. And I was happy before you.”

“Are you unhap–”

“No, I was happy before you, and I’m happy now,” you cut him off quickly. “But it’s unfair how easy it is for men, and it’s not your fault, but it is a reality. For me… you know I can’t half-ass something even if I tried. I won’t do it if I won’t do it well, and I don’t know how to… I don’t even know how to be your girlfriend yet. I know you’re not asking me to just give up my life, but I do know you’d prefer it.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said simply.

You shake your head. “Don’t lie. I overheard you on the phone with Bucky last week say how much easier it would be if I could be the simple housewife type of girlfriend.” The words had been horrifically branded into your brain.

Steve exhaled and put his hands on his hips.

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to respond.

“Yes. That’s true. I did say it would be easier. I didn’t say it’s what I want though.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t. As you so aptly noted, I’m always very careful with my words. It would be easier, but I don’t want easy, I want you, and I want you to be happy. The closer we become, the more of a target you are.”

“Oh,” you responded quietly. Steve saw you start to let your guard down, so he stepped forward and brushed his fingers up and down your arm, then grasped your fingers.

“I have been dropping comments about kids and our future because I am ready to talk about it with you. A future with you is what I want, but I was testing the waters trying to get a read on if it’s what you want.” A smirk flitted across his face, and he added, “You have been playing things very close to the chest.”

“Yes,” you huffed, “well, that’s because I’m terrified of falling for you.”

He gently pulled you closer, and you melt against him. “Fall with me then. I’m already at the edge of this terrifying cliff, I’m ready to jump.”

“How can this be terrifying? You’re a mob boss!”

Steve laughed. “That’s nothing compared to handing my heart over to someone else and trusting them not to smash it or throw it away, to literally give them everything – to give you my everything.”

Your chest constricted, breath catching at his words.

His hands moved to the small of your back, securely holding you closer to him. “I mean it. Everything.”

His eyes locked on yours, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. The moment stretched out between you – he would wait for you to answer – and your heart seemed to stop, freezing the moment in time.

Then finally you reached up and pulled his lips down to yours, crashing fiercely together. You still had so many questions, but you did at least know you were certain about each other now. You would rule your worlds together.

And that's day three of the Holiday Extravaganza! Do we want to see more of mob boss!Steve and his reader? (Archeologist because... why the hell not?)

I think I might have something totally out of left field for you lovelies tomorrow, just depends how the muses go...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[doiefy]

ballroom extravaganza !¡ (unofficial) preview

(this isn’t much of a preview, i just wanted to post a little blurb that got me into the mood for a new fic! trying something new: mxm, very atmospheric writing, some incoherency inspired by dpr ian’s new album, and a jolly good time)

pairing: doyoung x jaehyun

genre: angst, crime, thriller, slight paranormal and psychological horror

preview length: ~1k

warnings: this preview doesn’t really contain smut but it’s still rather nsfw in nature in terms of sensuality and sex; minors please dni. the usual language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, and the full fic is intended to be rather dark and depressing.

When Doyoung found Jaehyun that night, he was staring at the ceiling.

The young man laid flat between the cotton comforter and the linen sheets, fingers moving absently against the fabrics, eyes half-closed, his brown hair a damp mess across the pillow. His long lashes kissed his cheeks whenever he blinked—hiding his gaze from view every few seconds, then casting soft shadow against pale skin. When they closed, he looked peaceful. When they opened, then he seemed aged and trouble.

There was an eerie sense of calm, like he wasn’t thinking at all. It was as if the thoughts had all drained from his head, then pooled in his eyes for the world to see: worry mixed into amber depths, satisfaction floating just at the surface among golden specks. He was an open book.

And yet, Doyoung couldn’t fathom him. He couldn’t fathom his thoughts, nor pick the specks out of his eyes for examination. He didn’t want to understand, either; he was reaching the end of his intoxication and now infinitely more upset with Leliel, all rage and weariness bundled up in a frail vessel, hardly keeping it in. All he knew, was that he couldn’t be alone for the night.

“You’re back,” Jaehyun murmured from his spot on the bed; he didn’t move. Doyoung got the sense that he had been in this exact spot countless times before—swaying in the doorway, halfway between the blackwood of the hallway and the greenery of Jaehyun’s room. The moonlight fell through the window and shone three streaks of silver just ahead of him. That was one streak more than he remembered. Then he realized: he had been here, only about ten minutes ago, and a lifetime before then, when the moon had been just a cloudy circle in the sky.

“Sit down,” he heard Jaehyun say. “Or if you’re going to leave, at least close the door on your way out.”

Doyoung closed the door, trapping himself between potted aralia trees and creeping ivy on the stone walls. He sat down, first at the edge of the bed, then a little closer to the man lying upon it. He was cold from all his wandering around the halls, and Jaehyun was warm. Warm, and just about the most beautiful thing Doyoung had seen all night.

“It’s one of those nights,” Doyoung said lowly, now leaning over the man so he could thread fingers through his hair—callused fingers dragging through silky strands.

“One of those nights,” Jaehyun repeated. He shut his eyes. Opened them. Shut them again. The open-close rhythm, the steadiness of it all, it only enhanced his beauty. He was ethereal in the darkness, soft in appearance, yet inexplicably dangerous.

“Mm. Think you’re up to it, pretty boy?”

Jaehyun closed his eyes. And this time, he didn’t open them. “Anything you ask.”

A lazy smile found its way to Doyoung’s lips; lazy, but coy, like he had been all day. “Can I kiss you?”

There was a gentle nod, barely an inch of a movement. So he did—pulled Jaehyun upwards to sit him against the headboard, fingers still tangled in his hair for leverage, lips meeting violently before teeth and tongue followed. He straddled him with ease, and pushed all the offending fabrics away from their bodies. Whatever warmth they previously held meant nothing when an enticing heat danced across his skin with each point of contact. He knew what he want, prided himself on always knowing exactly what he wanted, and now he yearned.

“You’re pent up,” Jaehyun noticed, now breathless, his lips swollen and red beneath the moonlight. Smiling incredulously, he reached to cradle Doyoung’s cheek, only to have his hand snatched away. It was far from painful, barely harsh, but he still cried out in surprise.

“Did I say you could touch me?” The question came swiftly, accompanied with a piercing glare that sent a shudder down his spine. He shook his head and retracted his hand, murmuring a soft apology.

“Let me help, Doyoung.”

And at that, Doyoung’s expression softened. His frown receded, and his eyes took on a gentler look, somewhat endearing. He took Jaehyun’s hand, guiding it to his cheek where the younger previously tried to touch him. A grounded moment to establish trust, before they went any further. “Is this okay?”

Again, Jaehyun nodded, sighing in contentment when Doyoung kissed him. It was brief this time: only a few seconds before he felt lips against his jaw and fingers tumbling through his hair.

It took a darker turn quickly enough—just as Doyoung had hinted, and just as Jaehyun had wanted it to. His head was yanked back with little remorse and knocked into the wooden headboard; he bit back a groan, letting the sting travel pleasantly through his scalp and into his temple. He vaguely registered fingers wrapping around his throat and a sickly sweetness flooding his senses. He could practically taste drugs and smoke and alcohol through the kiss, and while he normally couldn’t stand the stench, he found himself chasing after it. Sugar, candy, tobacco, Doyoung’s cologne, Doyoung himself.

“Good?” Doyoung asked for confirmation one last time, his gaze hungry but still patient for the time being. Once Jaehyun had responded with an eager nod and choked noise of satisfaction, then he tightened his hand further around his throat. He lowered his lips to Jaehyun’s ear, allowing for a quiet chuckle that reverberated somewhere deep in his chest.

“If I decide I don’t want to be as nice tonight? If I push you around, hit you, if I break you, then what? Still good?”

And Jaehyun’s reaction—Doyoung would remember it in utmost detail until they both passed out from exhaustion and woke up the next morning with foggy recollections of the previous night.

Jaehyun all but arched off of the bed in desperation, a whimper breaking from his lips. There was fear, there was excitement, and there was a yearning that matched Doyoung’s, if not exceeded it. “God, fuck, yes,” he hissed, to be met with Doyoung’s hand across his cheek. It didn’t hurt—like all previous gestures, it was only in warning—but he did recoil at the abruptness. “Good, Doyoung. Ruin me.”

“Good,” Doyoung repeated, practically mocking him with a derisory sneer. He lowered his lips to the younger mans’, never touching him, never giving in to desire, simply hovering out of reach.

His smile was the last thing Jaehyun remembered before slipping under.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2021.12.24 ~ Christmas Eve

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. A Drinking Song by Riyan_Blue [T, 4k]

►Draco sings a highly inappropriate song to Harry at the Leaky Cauldron's Christmas Karaoke. But will it convince Harry to go out with him?

2. Edge of Great by DracoWillHearAboutThis [E, 19k]

►Harry hadn't planned on snogging Draco Malfoy at the Yule Ball. But now, he can't seem to forget about it.

3. The Malfoy Manor Christmas Extravaganza Vendor Manual by @academicdisaster24 [G, 1k]

►Potter can't follow simple rules, and Draco has had enough.

4. Snow On Snow by @tackytigerfic [T, 1k]

►Harry and Draco were deep undercover in Europe, and had to pretend to be a couple. When everything went wrong, they got out by the skin of their teeth. Little did they know they'd be stuck spending Christmas together in a Ministry safe house in Muggle Edinburgh. [...]

5. Under a wicked sky by @nccis [E, 46k]

►2nd of May 2018 marks the twenty-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Anybody who had been a somebody back in the day has been invited to a celebration at the Great Hall. Harry has his hands full trying to remember his speech, hiding the fact that he and Ginny are divorced and, you guessed it, obsessing over Draco Malfoy.

---

Fest/Exchange

★ Gay Juice Secret Santa Exchange [10 works]

★ Harry Potter Trans Comfort Fest | @magicaltrans

vos que queréis by @mysticdreamers [T, 1k]

yours (in every way) by @softlystarstruck [E, 1k]

3. Chasing Squirrels by @devilrising [T, 1k]

►Harry loved Christmas shopping; there were always so many things to do and look at. Including Draco, even if he pretended he didn't like when Harry kissed him in public. ★ 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2021 | @slythindor100

4. A Dovely Compromise by Anonymous [T, 5k]

►Draco’s idea of a good Yule is quiet and cosy. Potter prefers bold exclamations of festivity from…absurdly early in the year. Draco wonders if they’re truly compatible with each other. What they can both agree on, though, is that burning all things Christmas to the ground isn’t the way to go. ★ H/D Erised 2021 | @hd-erised

5. Not Just a Tattoo by Anonymous [G, 1k]

►Harry can't understand why Ron is being such a big deal about a tattoo. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2021 | @hdowlpost

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Happy 1k!!! Also whattt, ONLY ONE Johnny request!? There needs to be more come on people!

Could I request what would Johnny do if you’re having dinner with friends and he’s rubbing the reader’s knee, the reader brings it up their thigh and inner thigh and he sees shes just wearing a thong 👀 car sex ensues??

Pairing: boyfriend!johnny x f.reader

Genre: smut (18+ only)

Warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, choking

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: thank you for this johnny request! and with that, this officially ends my 1k (1.3k, 1.4k :) follower milestone extravaganza! thank you to everyone who sent in requests!

“... and then the jacket I have to wear is really heavy, the front of it is decorated with all these ribbons and tassels…”

Doyoung was in the middle of recounting his first dress rehearsal for a musical he was in, and everyone at the table was listening intently. Everyone, except your boyfriend, Johnny.

“Johnny, what are you doing?” you whispered. His hand was on your knee, moving ever so slowly up your thigh. You looked over at him and he had a bored look on his face, pretending to be listening to Doyoung, but you saw the mischief dancing behind his eyes.

You briefly thought about warning him, but decided that he got himself into this, let’s see how he handles what he finds. You stayed positively still, waiting for the revelation, and when his hand pushed your skirt up he took a peek down.

He inhaled sharply, making everyone at the table turn to look at him.

“Oh no, really? Wow that’s crazy,” he said quickly, trying to cover up his outburst, “well that was a great story and this has been a fun night but Y/N and I gotta go see you all later.”

He got up so quickly from his chair it almost fell back onto the floor, pulling you up to join him and dragging you out the door, while everyone just watched with mild amusement.

“Johnny!” you laughed, trying to keep up with him as he walked towards his car, “what has gotten into you!”

“You! You have!” he pointed a finger at you accusingly, “why would you wear that on a dinner out with my friends!” He pretended to melt into the sidewalk and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It’s just easier because that way you don’t get visible panty lines-”

He groaned, practically pushing you into the car. “And why do you have to say ‘panty’ for crying out loud! It’s hard enough for me to walk around with this boner!”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh as you got comfortable in the passenger’s seat. You looked over at Johnny and he had a very tense look on his face, his mouth a thin line as he pulled out of the parking lot. You felt a little bad for doing this to him, but at the same time it was really stroking your ego with the effect you were having on him.

“It’s only a fifteen minute drive, I can make it,” he said to himself, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white.

“Are you sure about that?” you teased, staring at the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

“You’re right, I won’t be able to make it,” he suddenly swerved into an empty parking lot, driving to the darkest corner of it.

“Uh, Johnny, what are you doing?”

He had a determined look on his face as he put the car in park and turned to you. “Now, Y/N, care to show me the rest of what you’re wearing under that skirt? Or should I say, what you’re not wearing?”

You smirked, pulling up your skirt to your waist and turning to show him your bare ass, just the string of your thong nestled between your ass cheeks. He made a low whistle, while his eyes became hooded as he stared at you.

“God-fucking-damn, Y/N,” he groaned, “you were hiding that this whole time.”

“If I told you, we wouldn’t have made it to dinner, would we?” you said slyly, and he smirked, nodding in agreement.

“True, but we’re not at dinner anymore, so you’re gonna get it.”

His words made your pussy wet, but the way he was looking at you was what made you succumb. He reclined the passenger seat all the way back, then bent you over it, his hand warm on your ass as he caged you in with his much bigger body.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you scream, until this entire car is shaking, got that?” he grabbed a hold of your hair and yanked you back to him, his voice rough in your ear.

“Yes, baby, yes please,” you begged, your pussy getting wetter with how roughly he was handling you. You felt his hand grab your ass and squeeze, making you yelp.

“That’s it, baby, I wanna hear how I make you feel,” he grinned against your neck, almost biting you as he sucked harsh marks onto your skin. His hand moved to the string of your thong, toying it with his fingers. With what felt like his middle finger he followed the string down, until he was at your wet pussy.

“Baby, you’re positively dripping,” he growled, and you could feel his finger sliding along your slit, rubbing your juices around. You could feel the wetness on the insides of your thighs, panting as his finger continued to tease you.

“Mm, Johnny,” you moaned, hands gripping the back of the seat as heat flooded your core, “more, please.”

“You ready for my cock, baby? You want it?” his breath was hot against your ear and it made you shiver, just as his other hand wrapped around your throat. He held you like that while he unzipped, and then you felt him pull the string of your thong aside, the head of his cock teasing at your folds.

“Yes, Johnny, please fuck me,” you were almost breathless already, but at your words he lost all control, plunging inside you. A scream tore from your throat as he spread you apart with his cock, every inch he pushed inside increasing the pitch of your whines until your voice went hoarse.

“Fuck, so tight,” he said through gritted teeth, “so fucking tight, so good for me, such a sweet pussy.”

You clung hard to the seat as he railed you, the car shaking on its wheels just like he wanted. The windows had started to fog up with your combined heavy breathing, and you couldn’t even spare a thought to the cramped confines with how Johnny was abusing your hole so deliciously.

“You like it, baby,” he groaned, “you wore this thong just so I could fuck you like this, didn’t you?”

You could barely nod, your body being thrashed against the seat with the force of his thrusts. Whenever he did it from behind he always seemed to lose all control, maybe it was the sight of your ass bouncing as he thrust into you. Sometimes he would knead your ass cheeks, sometimes spank them, but this time he just caressed them, almost fondly. “So beautiful,” he murmured, “such a pretty ass, such a pretty pussy.”

You felt the knot forming in the pit of your stomach, your limbs starting to shake as it threatened to snap. Johnny felt it coming, squeezing his fingers around your throat and pulling you flush against him with his other hand.

“You’re gonna come for me, baby,” he growled, “I wanna hear you, I wanna hear how it makes you feel.”

“Oh fuck, oh Johnny, it feels so good, your cock feels so good, I’m gonna come!” you let out a last high-pitched moan when your orgasm finally hit, your pussy contracting around Johnny’s cock as he continued to ram into you. He didn’t let go of your neck, hand still wrapped around it as he kept going, squeezing you so hard you were surprised you didn’t pass out.

“Oh shit, baby, you’re gonna make me come,” he thrust hard into you a few more times, spilling his cum deep inside you, until he finally stilled, releasing his hold around your neck at the same time. You took huge gulps of air, as he started to stroke your ass cheeks again.

“See what happens when you keep stuff like that from me, then decide to reveal it to me when we’re out in public?” he said in a sweet voice laced with a darker tone.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” you replied cheekily.

---

Thanks for 1.4k :)

[REQUESTS CLOSED]

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[strrykais]

requests complete

1k follower extravaganza event

cowboy like me // enhypen - jake

golden hour // stray kids - chan

paper rings // stray kids - han

besides you // stray kids - felix

angel with a shotgun // stray kids - seungmin

dress // nct dream - jeno

you belong with me // nct dream - jaemin

the beach // stray kids - chan

fourth of july // stray kids - seungmin

perfect blues // stray kids - chan

up all night // stray kids -seungmin

kiss you // stray kids - han

champagne coast // stray kids - leeknow

bartender // tomorrow x together- beomgyu

red lights // stray kids - hyunjin

i can see you // stray kids - seungmin

partners in crime // stray kids - seungmin

confident // nct dream - jeno

bang bang bang bang // stray kids - chan

APT // nct - mark

king of my heart // nct - haechan

drive // stray kids - leeknow

older // stray kids - leeknow

love // stray kids - changbin

mine // stray kids - seungmin

[morganaspendragonss]

hollyyy okay i do have a prompt for you bc i don’t think i sent one before?? it’s kinda vague and i’m willing to consult if you want more details but i’m thinking maybe something where carlos is getting treated in the er for something (minor; something like a sprain or cut idk dealers choice) and then tk is dropping a patient off in the er and spots him and he’s just like oh hello??? and carlos is trying to be all casual about it like “hey tk, how are you?” and tk is just not having it

holly's august extravaganza day 30: ease my mind

thank you jamie! combined with your bthb prompt though it's far more fluffy than angsty anyway 😊

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: fingore

ao3 | 1k | fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt carlos, worried tk, minor injuries

“Okay, Officer Reyes, you’ll need to keep that strapped for a month, and we’ll be in contact shortly to arrange a follow-up appointment to check your progress.”

Carlos nods absently, flexing his hand in an imitation of one of the exercises the doctor had shown him. It sends a sharp pulse of pain through his hand, starting at his two broken fingers and ending somewhere in his wrist. The nurse discharging him smiles sympathetically as she hands over his paperwork.

“You might want to wait a couple days before starting on those,” she whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Trust me—I have experience in these matters.”

She winks, and Carlos snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, me too. Kinda. A few months back my fiancé—he was my boyfriend then—broke half his hand, and then rebroke it after it had healed because he’s an idiot who can’t take a day to rest.”

The nurse giggles, and Carlos has no idea why he’s telling her all of this. He chooses to blame it on the painkillers they gave him, though admittedly said painkillers were very mild and wouldn’t send him loopy enough to lose control of his tongue.

He just likes talking about TK, is all.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake, then,” the nurse says, patting him on the leg. “You’re good to go.”

Carlos thanks her and slides off the bed, grabbing his APD jacket from the chair it had been slung over. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages, smiling when he sees one from TK.

TK, 14.38: I get off in a few hours, see you tonight babe. Love you, stay safe x

Briefly, Carlos considers calling him and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and, unlike TK, Carlos did not injure his dominant hand. It barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He settles on a simple, Love you too xx, then pockets his phone, looking up and around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

He’s considering ducking behind a pillar and waiting them out, but Nancy chooses that moment to appear next to TK, her eyes almost instantly landing on Carlos. He tries to frantically shake his head at her, but he’s too late; she’s already smacking TK’s arm and pointing right in Carlos’s direction.

TK’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow upon catching sight of Carlos. He straightens, folding his arms, and raises a pointed eyebrow. “Carlos Reyes, you had better be here to question someone.”

Carlos then makes the fatal mistake—he plasters a smile on his face and raises a hand in a wave, realising too late that it’s his left.

AKA, the hand that is very obviously bandaged to hell.

TK doesn’t waste a second in striding over, shifting back into paramedic mode despite the blatant worry all over his face. Carlos sighs and bears it as TK gently takes his wrist, raising it to inspect the bandages.

“What’s the damage?” he murmurs, still looking at Carlos’s hand.

“Two broken fingers, and I have to keep them strapped up for a month before they want to review. It’s nothing, Ty.”

“Nothing?” TK demands, taking a step back and staring Carlos down. “When I broke my hand last year it was ‘you need to be more careful, babe’, and ‘how do you keep getting yourself in these messes, babe’, and ‘I didn’t realise I distracted you to the point of injury, babe, maybe I should stay in the guest room for a while to make sure it doesn’t happen again’.”

TK pauses for breath, glaring as Carlos tries and fails to bite back laughter. He’d feel bad for all the teasing his boyfriend had endured back then, but, well, it had been funny.

“But now you’ve hurt yourself, suddenly it’s nothing?” TK huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I’m not going to stand for this, I hope you know that.”

“Okay, first,” Carlos laughs, “even you have to admit that what you did was kind of funny. Second, it’s literally just two fingers and they’re going to heal up fine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m barely hurt, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your shift worrying about me when you have an important job to do.”

TK softens and he glances down at his shoes, a small smile playing at his lips. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Because I know you. And because it’s what I would be asking if I were in your shoes.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them—seconds of understanding and love—but the moment is broken by Nancy yelling TK’s name across the foyer.

“That’s my cue,” TK says, though he makes no move to step away from Carlos. He gives him a searching look, eyes lingering on his bandaged hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I could—”

“Ty.” Carlos shakes his head, smiling gently. “Go. A couple broken fingers is not a good enough excuse to get you off your shift; I’ll get an Uber home and I promise not to do anything that would make it worse. I’m okay. I promise.”

TK sighs, still looking reluctant, but he seems to accept Carlos’s assurance. He takes his injured hand once more and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it, cupping Carlos’s face gently. “For the record,” he says, “I always worry about you.”

Carlos leans into the touch, nuzzling into TK’s palm. “The feeling is mutual.”

Nancy calls for TK again, and they’re forced to break apart.

“I’m coming!” TK shouts back, and Carlos spots Nancy rolling her eyes behind TK’s back.

“You really had better go, babe,” he says, laughing. “I think Nancy might kill you if you don’t get back there right now.”

TK grumbles, but he does go this time, sparing one last smile back at Carlos. Carlos nods at him, trying to reaffirm the promise that he’s really, truly okay and, by the look on TK’s face, he understands.

But then, they always understand each other.

Eventually.

[hoe-doroki]

Good Afternoon Ana. I am here for a compliment. As there are many amazing Baku writers on this lovely site, I have been blessed to be told that I too am an amazing Baku writer and that I write him so well that it makes people see him in a new light. SO my compliment is I'M A BOMB ASS BAKU WRITER THAT CAN MAKE PEOPLE WANNA DO THAT NASTY WITH HIM EVEN WHEN THEY NEVER WANTED TO! *dabs*

Good afternoon, my love! I adore how good you’re getting at doing this! And lord, this statement isn’t always true, so don’t take it out of context, but in this case and this case only:

THE PEOPLE OF TUMBLR DON’T LIE!

You are a great Baku writer and what’s more is that you play with him. Not just your bratty reader-chans toying with him, but you yourself! You manipulate him into different scenarios and then think about how being in that kind of AU would change him. That’s fanfiction heavy lifting my friend! That’s the deadlift of fanfic writing.

Examples for the poor souls who don’t know your Baku writing: rockstar AU, college AU, gamer AU

My never ending 1k followers, self-compliment extravaganza!

[mooosicaldreamz]

I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE. I don't know if you're still doing prompts, but if you areeeee, could you maybe do supercorp ice skating?

bros. you thought……..you thought i was done? with fulfilling the prompts left from my 1k follower extravaganza???? i’m not done. i still have like a whole page. sorry this took so long. anyway here’s some supercorp fucking ICE SKATING because I LOVE ICE SKATING FICS because I’M A BIG SAP??? here are my other ficlets, here is where u can give me coffee, here is my gf because we all know she’s the best. 

It’s cold and blustery the day Kara suggests it. They’re coming back from lunch, Kara’s arm wrapped around Lena’s shoulders and bleeding warmth into her. One moment, Kara is giving a blow-by-blow account of her and Snapper’s argument at the morning meeting, and the next, Lena’s losing her footing on a hidden patch of ice left over by some ice monster Supergirl had fought in the middle of L Corp’s plaza. She pretends not to notice that Kara takes a steady, floating hop and gets them over the patch, her hands gripping at Lena’s shoulders, pulling her ever closer.

It makes Lena laugh, and then Kara is laughing too, and she rolls her eyes when Lena calls her her hero and then they’re just looking at each other in the cold, a scarf wound around Lena’s neck and an adorable little knit beanie atop Kara’s head.

“You know, you should just build an ice skating rink out here,” Kara says, smiling and tugging Lena’s body forward again, toward the revolving doors of the front lobby. “You know, call it a science experiment, have your engineers keep ice up and running for a month. I’ll write a puff piece about it, and we can make Alex come skate - and she’s so bad, Lena.”

It makes Lena laugh even louder, and it makes their separation feel even colder when they shuffle into the revolving doors.

-

“You want me to somehow keep a sustainable ice rink together when the average December temperature is fifty degrees,” Jackson asks, looking down at the blueprints and then looking back at her.

“Yes,” Lena says. There’s no other option. The construction crew is already scheduled, the Plaza has been roped off and the south lobby entrance has already been prepped for use.

Jackson looks down at the blueprints again, then shrugs, a grin coming up across his face.

“Sounds like a fun time.”

-

The special coolant coils are on her desk in a week, and the rink springs up in the Plaza just after Thanksgiving. Three days before opening, she heads down to check on the progress with Jackson, only to find him caught square in Kara Danvers’s charms.

“ - so yeah, we created special coils to keep the ice cold at all times, and the panels on the roof are reflective, so it bounces the light away. It gets pretty rainy here in December, too, so we have a system of collecting and purifying the rainwater to reuse on the rink itself, so it sort of keeps itself - ”

“Mr. Lampard,” Lena says, and Jackson snaps to attention from where he’s leaning on the boards of the rink to talk at Kara. “Is this young woman bothering you?”

Kara had started smiling the minute she noticed Lena, but she breaks into laughter that seems to do nothing to calm Jackson down. He starts scrambling, almost slipping on the just-laid first layer of ice as he sort of stumbles through an explanation about how this lovely young woman from Catco is just interviewing me about the ice and the rink itself and no she’s bothering no one.

Kara hugs her in the middle of his explanation, her arms pulling tight at Lena and rubbing down her back, shaking warmth into her frame. She hadn’t anticipated spending very much time outside, but then - there was Kara Danvers.

“Oh, right,” Jackson says, looking relieved when Kara lets go of Lena but remains close. “You’re that Kara Danvers. Boss, no need to pull out the CEO treatment just to scare the shit out of me.”

“I thought it was rather funny,” Lena says, and Jackson rolls his eyes, and he’s walking-sliding away again, down the boards and over to his construction crew.

“You didn’t tell me you would be stopping by,” Lena says. Kara shrugs and smiles, adjusting the messenger bag she has slung across her shoulders.

“I was going to surprise you,” Kara says. “You know, tell you all about how I figured out what your secret project was, and then buy you some lunch at that disgusting place down the street.”

“I would hardly call the large construction project in front of my building a secret project. And I thought we had agreed that the black bean burgers were not that disgusting,” Lena says, warming some more as Kara stays close to her, rubbing at her arm absentmindedly and laughing.

“When does it open up?” Kara asks, looking out over the ice and then back to Lena, her glasses tilting down her nose.

“In a week,” Lena says. “We’re inviting children from the youth centers for opening day so you’ll have to wait your turn.”

Kara groans, her body knocking into Lena’s as she looks up at the ceiling in fake-frustration.

“Those darn kids,” Kara says, but she’s looking at Lena in such a way that Lena can’t help but smile.

-

Supergirl shows up on opening day, her cape rippling in the cold wind. The kids are thrilled by it, a loud, collective shriek of excitement rising up from the crowd of them in the lobby. Lena smiles indulgently at the other woman, at Kara, whose eyes are twinkling and whose smile is bright and kind.

“Miss Luthor,” she says. Lena imagines she’s trying to look professional, distant, even, but her cape brushes against Lena’s legs and she’s close enough that her warmth bleeds between them. “I was just informed you named this beautiful ice rink after me.”

“I thought it might bring in a little extra money if I painted that symbol of yours on the ice,” Lena says, a wry smile playing across her lips. Kara laughs then, her blonde curls swaying as she throws her head back.

“It’s my family’s crest,” Supergirl says, and Lena hears the click of some of the photographers cameras as she leans just the slightest bit closer. “The house of El. So it makes sense, in a way.”

Lena isn’t sure what to say to that. But she smiles, and so does Supergirl.

-

Kara shows up at the end of the business day, with her - their - friends in tow. She gets tossed a set of clothes, a sweatshirt that smells like Kara, and a pair of jeans that she left at Kara’s after they had gotten caught in a rainstorm, and then she’s being ushered downstairs, to the still-bustling ice rink.

“We have a bet open on who will fall first,” Kara says, conversationally, her skates already laced and a broad smile playing across her face. On her other side, Alex snorts and gives a particularly vicious tug to her own laces.

“It’s definitely James,” Alex says. Lena laughs when Kara does, tying her skates and kicking them out, her legs resting against Kara’s.

“Alex, it’s always you,” Kara insists, and her hand knocks against Lena’s thigh then, for leverage, as she shoves at her sister’s shoulder. It doesn’t move after Kara’s done, just rests there, and it’s so warm that Lena can’t think of anything else.

-

“I took ice skating lessons until I was seventeen, you know,” Lena offers, just before stepping out onto the ice. Kara laughs, brushes past her and is off quickly, doing a wide turn that brings her against the flow of traffic on the ice before she bumps up agains the boards just next to the entrance. Alex, who’s taking floundering and imperfect steps out onto the ice, throws a glare at Lena.

“Of course you did,” Alex says. Winn offers a hand to her as he slips out onto the ice then, and the glare he receives makes him cower.

“Alex, come on, let someone help,” Kara says, her hand resting against Lena’s on the boards between them. Lena can’t help but focus on that point of contact as Kara weaves her fingers between Lena’s, tying them together.

“No,” Alex insists, glaring now at her sister. “I’m an agent of a powerful, secret, government organization, not some damsel in distress who needs to be saved by Super - ”

She cuts herself off as color drains from her face, and she glances from Lena to the surrounding area. No one is paying any attention, except Maggie and James are laughing hysterically.

“J’onn’s going to be really mad at you,” Kara says, her fingers holding tight to Lena’s. “I’m glad it wasn’t me, for once.”

“Fuck,” Alex says, and then she helplessly hits the ice as she loses her edge.

“I already knew, you know,” as Kara tugs at Lena’s hand and pulls her onto the ice. They’re skating away all of a sudden, as Alex curses out the clutch of people all offering to help her up.

“I figured,” Kara shrugs, and she turns to grab for Lena’s other hand, skating backwards effortlessly. Lena wonders if she’s using her powers or if she’s just naturally good at it. “Thanks for putting my name on the ice, by the way. Kal made fun of me for three hours on our phone call yesterday.”

“Well, you did inspire me,” Lena says. “I thought it’d be a little odd to splash ‘The Kara Danvers Ice Rink’ all over everything. I went with the next best option.”

Kara pulls up to a stop, and Lena realizes they’ve centered themselves on the rink, right over Kara’s symbol. People flow past them in lazy circles, couples and children and more, National City swirling about as Kara smiles down at Lena, her hands tugging and tugging at Lena’s until their bodies bump together.

“You’re my favorite,” Kara says. Lena laughs a little, feeling Kara’s hands drift away from her hands and settle around her back, warmth pressing through her light coat.

“That’s my line,” Lena says, and Kara’s coming closer, a smile lighting up her face.

“Still true,” Kara says. And then Lena’s eyes slip closed, because Kara is kissing her, and it’s something close to perfection. She thinks, somewhere in the middle of the kiss, that she should give Jackson a nice Christmas bonus, but she chooses to wrap her arms around Kara’s neck and think about that later.

-

“I have a huge bruise on my knee from your dumb ice rink, Luthor,” Alex says, later that night, after the whole group has piled into Kara’s apartment and drank a good deal of spiked hot chocolate.

“You’ve finally caught onto my plan for world domination,” Lena says, running her hand through Kara’s hair when she sets her head on Lena’s shoulder. “Ice rinks.”

“It’s a miracle you survived,” Maggie says.

“Yeah, a Luthor on the warpath? Dangerous stuff,” Winn says, nudging at Lena and laughing loudly. It makes Lena laugh, too, and Kara does as well, their fingers linked together under the blanket slung across their laps.

“Fuck all of you,” Alex says. The whole room erupts into laughter as Alex flips them off individually, but Kara’s smile pressed against her neck is something else entirely.