#And for just. Generally being annoying with this

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LOVE SONG (youtube series)sophia laforteza x reader

💌★ ͘ ⴰ ever since dream academy the general public took notice of the tension between sophia and yn and not the good kind, it was obvious the two weren’t the biggest fans of each other and even more obvious when people watched pop star academy, so it leaves people wondering how they went from not even hiding their dislike for each other to being the most shipped in the group?

a series that shows youtube videos made by the very eyekon that made yn and sophia the ship they are today.

PARING — sophia laforteza x 7th member!reader

★ ͘ ⴰ genre + warnings : smau, various youtube videos, fluff, slight angst

last | masterlist | next

★ ͘ ⴰ VIDEO#1 yn and sophia being the ultimate enemies to lovers 80k views

— BEFORE DEBUT

➩ INTRO… 📼(when almost everyone in dream academy had sophia in their lineup… and then there’s yn)

yn tilted her head in thought, tapping her fingers against her chin as if solving a world shattering puzzle. “okay, definitely lara,” she began confidently, nodding as if solidifying her decision. “then daniela... megan... lexie…” she paused, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. “wait, am I just naming all the powerhouses right now?” (the audacity bffr yn.)

“nayoung, for sure… uh…” she trailed off, her brow furrowing before she suddenly snapped her fingers, her face lighting up. “oh! and manon. my girl, obviously.”

➩ INTRO… 2 📼(the infamous “maybe you’re just early every time”)

sophia and yn are standing side by side during practice, reviewing choreography. Sophia’s expression is calm but clearly exasperated. “yn, you’re late on the turn every time,” she says, her voice cutting but controlled.

yn nodded her head and turned around to get back in position before muttering “maybe you’re just early every time,” as quietly as possible but camera still picked up on it.

➩ INTRO… 3 📼(yn leaving sophia on read)

[screenshot of a group chat shared during a pop star academy episode ]

lara: hey guys, can we finalize vocals by tonight?

yn: yup!

sophia: sure, I just sent the arrangement notes to yn. yn let me know if it works.

lara: yn?

➩ INTRO… 3 📼(when they both showed up late…)

everyone was warming up when sophia walked in first, looking frazzled. moments later, yn strolled in casually, earning a sharp glare from Sophia.

“you’re late,” sophia pointed out.

“so are you,” yn countered, raising an eyebrow.

— AFTER DEBUT

➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼 (sophia and yn during rehearsal 🤭)

the camera zooms in as the members are stretching and warming up for their upcoming choreography session.

in the background, yn and sophia are standing close by, both practicing their formations.

yn reaches up to adjust her hair, and in that moment, her hand brushes against sophia’s. at first, sophia pulls back sharply, her gaze flicking towards yn with a flicker of surprise. but yn doesn’t make a big deal of it, instead casually continuing to adjust her position.

sophia hesitates for a moment, then subtly places her hand back on yn’s lower back to guide her into position.

➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼 (when sophia looked for yn after their first show)

the clip cuts to backstage where the members are all celebrating their first successful performance. Sophia walks past the members of the group, clearly scanning the area.

“has anyone seen yn?” she asks, her tone just a little softer than usual.

lara and daniela exchange a glance before lara shrugs. “she was just with megan, I think. why?”

sophia shrugs before she walks off in the direction they pointed. the camera follows her for a moment, and as she turns the corner, she finds yn sitting quietly, already taking off her stage makeup.

“hey,” Sophia says, her voice softer now. yn looks up, surprised but not annoyed.

“you okay?” Sophia asks again, sitting down beside her.

yn nods slowly, her eyes meeting sophia’s “yeah I’m just tired.” she mumbled before looking at the camera, “I can’t wait to nap in the car.” she says to it.

sophia watches her for a moment, “okay well, hurry up so you can sleep.”

➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼 (when yn got sophia extremely flustered)

the camera stilled on katseye as the girls stood together at a festival, watching the performance unfolding in front of them. the energy was electric, but yn’s attention shifted slightly to sophia, who was sitting beside her, intently watching the stage.

yn leaned in, her lips dangerously close to sophia ear as she whispered something. sophia barely registered at first, distracted by the booming music around them. she turned her head slightly, her face now directly in line with yn’s, and was startled at how close yn’s face had gotten.

sophia flinched back, her cheeks instantly flushing, and covered her face with her hand, the camera couldn’t pick up on what sophia was saying but they could tell she definitely said something along the lines of “what the hell, yn?” 

yn, laughing softly, leaned her head onto sophia’s shoulder, her cheek brushing against it as she continued to chuckle at the flustered girl beside her.

➩ CLIP #4 PLAYING… 📼 (no words just this moment)

after a performance, the girls were walking out of the venue, chatting and laughing as they made their way to the van. sophia casually draped her arm around yn’s shoulder, she looked at yn and whispered something.

before yn could respond, megan suddenly pulled her away, waving enthusiastically at a fan and dragged her towards the van.

💌★ ͘ ⴰ TAGLIST @jaythegirlkisser @gtfoiydlyj @goofymickeyr @mandumandy @falling-intoo-deep @cassiespoiler @arihiu @fruityg0rl @sunshinez4 @kristalag

[riversenchanted]

My advice for your Chiron placement:

- find your house placement and the sign it’s in for most accurate message (example: Chiron in the 1st house in sign of Scorpio)

Chiron 1st house/ Aries: Your wound is connected to your personal expression and authenticity. Leading to insecurity, physical ailments, suppressed anger,and shame. This can create a disconnect between how you present yourself and how you truly feel.

To heal this wound, embrace radical self-acceptance and trust your instincts. Take a leap of faith by setting boundaries, both with others and yourself. Hold yourself accountable for your desires and advocate for your needs. Challenge negative self-talk and self-doubt by asking, “What would my life look like if I let go of others expectations and pursued what I truly want?” With Chiron in the 1st house, it's essential to prioritize your own needs. Regularly check in with yourself to ensure your actions align with your true desires rather than people-pleasing. Remember to show yourself compassion and love, by doing so you encourage others around you to do the same and can help heal those who may struggle in the same ways you do!

Chiron 2nd house/ Taurus:

Your deepest wound relates to material security, self-worth, and stability. You may have felt unsupported at times, leading to a sense of constant lack and difficulty relaxing in the present moment.

To heal, recognize that your worth is not tied to money or possessions. Address feelings of unworthiness stemming from past trauma and explore areas where you may be settling for less due to fear of scarcity. Open yourself to new opportunities for abundance and let go of unnecessary attachments driven by the fear of loss or loneliness.

Address challenges with balancing spending and saving or even hoarding. By confronting these fears, you can begin to heal and find balance in your life. By healing these areas of life you can help others that struggle in these areas as well!

Chiron 3rd house/ Gemini:

Your wound lies in communication, social interactions, and understanding. You may struggle with learning disabilities or speech issues, or just feeling unheard or misunderstood. This can lead to social anxiety and difficulty connecting with others, especially in your early years.

To heal, focus on detaching from others opinions of you. Journaling, writing, and public speaking can help you find your voice. Surround yourself with accepting people and practice mindful communication and active listening. By nurturing this pain, you can transform it into a strength, becoming an effective communicator and even helping others who face similar challenges!

Chiron in 4th House/Cancer:

Your deepest wound relates to family, home life, and emotional stability. Growing up, you may have faced significant hardships that impacted your sense of safety. Healing can be challenging since family is central to your identity. Create a sanctuary at home and build a chosen family to foster support. If safe, work on healing toxic family dynamics. As a generational curse breaker, you may feel alienated, but nurturing yourself will help you appreciate your connections and establish a safe, loving home environment. By creating a safe stable home life you end generational issues and can help heal others who struggle with the same issues.

Chiron in 5th House/Leo:

Your wound lies in creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle with taking up space, feeling unworthy or annoying, even when well-received. Early experiences of bullying or rejection may contribute to these feelings. To heal, identify the root of your insecurities and explore creative outlets to express yourself positively. Cultivate self-trust and avoid second-guessing. Affirmations of self-love and acceptance are essential for building confidence and embracing your true self. By being your most authentic self you encourage others around you to do the same.

Chiron in 6th House/Virgo:

Your wound revolves around health, wellness, and routine. You may overextend yourself, prioritizing others needs at the expense of your own, which can lead to physical or mental health struggles. You may have grown up caring for a loved one in some way or were placed in a situation where your needs often came second, so you might lack boundaries in balancing self-care vs caregiving. To heal, simplify your daily life and establish a structured routine that prioritizes your health. By focusing on self-care and setting practical boundaries for yourself you can also become a healer for others facing similar challenges.

Chiron in 7th House/Libra:

Your wound is centered on personal relationships, partnerships, and justice. You may struggle with trauma in relationships or find it difficult to connect deeply with others, leading to feelings of confusion and isolation. Healing comes from focusing on your individual goals and cultivating independence. It’s essential to balance your needs with those of others, avoid settling for attention, and take the time to truly know people before committing. Additionally, work on opening your heart and learning to trust again after past traumas.

Chiron in 8th House/Scorpio:

Your deepest wound involves intimacy, trust, and shared resources. Past trauma may create fears around vulnerability, making emotional connections difficult. This placement indicates a profound healing journey that requires deep emotional transformation. You will face challenges that confront your fears, often leaving you feeling powerless. However, like a phoenix, you can rise stronger. To heal, explore your innermost self, allow yourself to feel your emotions, and confront your traumas. Embrace surrender and discover your personal strength amidst the darkness. This placement is an indication of being a powerful healer, as you learn to alchemize your pain you increase your personal power and help empower others by doing so.

Chiron in 9th House/Sagittarius:

Your wound centers on spirituality, religion, and faith. Past experiences may have led you to question your beliefs, creating a rift in your spiritual understanding. You might feel betrayed by life and struggle to see the bigger picture, often facing religious trauma or issues with higher education. To heal, engage with topics like psychology, culture, spirituality, and religion. Open yourself to diverse belief systems and experiences. Finding purpose is key to your healing, and accepting your past as part of your journey will help you on your path of soul-searching. By healing these areas of your life you may also help others who feel lost in life as well!

Chiron 10th house/ Capricorn:

Your wounds are around career, public image, father/fatherhood, and authority. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness in the professional realm, often facing challenges with authority figures or societal expectations. You may have issues stepping into a leadership role or question your ability to lead confidently. Healing comes through redefining success on one's own terms, embracing leadership roles that feel authentic, and working to build self-worth independent of external validation. By helping others through mentorship or guidance, particularly in career-related matters, Chiron in the 10th house can find a sense of purpose and healing, turning past wounds into a source of wisdom and empowerment.

Chiron 11th house/ Aquarius: Your wounds are related to social groups, friendships, and one’s sense of belonging within a larger community or collective. Individuals with this placement may feel like outsiders or struggle with feeling accepted by their peers, leading to a deep sense of alienation or unworthiness in social circles. Healing occurs through embracing one's uniqueness and finding communities that truly resonate with their authentic self. By fostering deep, meaningful connections and learning to contribute to groups in a way that honors personal values. You can heal your sense of isolation, transforming past wounds into a source of strength and empathy for others.

Chiron 12th house/ Pisces:

Your wound is related to spirituality, empathy, and the sense of oneness with the universe. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of confusion, disillusionment, or a lack of boundaries, often feeling overwhelmed by the suffering of others or disconnected from their own sense of purpose. Healing comes through developing a strong spiritual practice that helps them reconnect with their inner self and a sense of divine support. Embracing their intuitive gifts and learning to establish healthy emotional boundaries are key to healing, allowing them to offer compassion without losing themselves in the process. By transforming past wounds into a deep well of empathy and creativity, Chiron in Pisces can find healing through self-acceptance and a renewed connection to the spiritual or collective whole.

[persicipen]

𑑛 “ARMOUR-CLAD HEART” ﾉ MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 0.9k ᯽ mydei teaches you some self-defence. reader is not made for fighting and rather weak. an awkward display of affection from mydei’s side lol ﾉ no proofreading, we die like kremnoans ᯽ FLUFF ﾉ GENERAL CONTENT ᯽

You hear a displeased click of his tongue — nothing surprising given your stance and previous pathetic tries at blocking his fist — and take a step back with your face embarrassingly hot. His fake hit was nowhere near fast nor strong, just a mere presentation of where such an attack would come from and land at the end.

“You’d be dead within a second on the Strife’s battlefield. Or perhaps should I even say that a mere thug would get through your defence with little to no preparation?” Mydei’s gaze moves all over you in a judging way, and it takes your every strength not to look away.

“I’m not made for battle! You wouldn’t see me anywhere near it. It’s just way too hot today to focus.”

Another loud “tch” escapes his lips, now much more annoyed and agitated than before, as if he has already completely given up on any hope for you. A blazing sun over the terrace is no excuse to stop the lesson, or perhaps it’s precisely because of its presence.

“Surely someone with an ill intent would wait for you to be comfortable and well prepared for their arrival, am I correct?” He snickers in a sarcastic tone, leaving a short pause to give you another opportunity to oppose him.

But again, this time not only is his attitude towards you harsh and insulting, but his words make complete sense, and they burn with embarrassment even more than the scorching heat that surrounds both of you.

Maybe you’re simply spineless and will forever be even under his tutoring. You bite your lip, trying not to appear weaker than you already are, knowing very well that there will be absolutely no use in defending yourself anymore. But it doesn’t matter now. What does he plan to do next?

Your body tenses up out of reflex only seconds before his warm palm wraps around your arm, turning you around effortlessly while pressing your back against his own chest. An uncontrolled gasp leaves your mouth as you are left immobilised in an instant and the forced proximity feels even hotter than midday, yet the one behind you pays no mind to it, completely focused on keeping you in place.

“Most people would assume you cannot get out of this hold unless you’re physically stronger than the aggressor.”

You feel every slight breath he makes pressing harder on you. Not to mention how his voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine by being so close to your ear. All the discomfort disappears the second a faint memory reappears in the most unexpected of places. The way he holds you reminds you of something entirely different from sparring.

Curse your mind, it doesn’t help to focus at all and it’s especially shameful when Mydei’s not affected; calm and composed, with a fiery spark running along the red marks on his body.

“You’ll most likely always have a free hand or two. Instead of wriggling them mindlessly, use one to press on the bottom of your opponent’s nose or even punch them. The nose is always sensitive, even under the slightest pressure.” He eases the grip around your body and demonstrates what he just said and although he doesn’t apply force at all when bringing his knuckle above your cupid’s bow, you squirm involuntarily in an attempt to escape.

But since he never lets go of your other arm, there’s nowhere to run.

“Now, try it yourself.” Yet instead of waiting for your move, his hand — armoured in golden claws, a trap for your smaller palm — grabs yours and brings it behind towards his face. You peek over your shoulder, a little afraid.

To add on top of everything, he is as serious about this sparring lesson as ever, not paying attention to the closeness between your bodies. The red lines decorating his chest seem brighter than usual, with sweat glistening along his collarbones and hair dishevelled by the breeze.

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation when you are almost certain he’s about to kiss your fingers instead, but in the last second, he inches away and brushes them against the underside of his nose. “Here. Remember this.”

“I’m sure that my enemy won’t navigate my hand towards their weak spot.” A shaky sigh of disappointment escapes your lips.

He chuckles lowly at your comment, raising the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.

“You’d rather aim blindly than focus on where and what to attack? You’ve just earned the disapproval of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.” He moves in front of you, abruptly pausing all physical contact. “Be thankful that I’m not only willing to teach you how to defend yourself but also for that I will protect you with my own strength as long as you’re near.”

He pushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, the lightest touch of his bare finger causing more tingles to travel down your spine. At the same time, he flinches when realising what he has done and lets his hand drop to his side; the victorious glint in his golden eyes changes to bewilderment. His armour rattles at the subtle gesture of humanity and betrayal of his emotionless posture.

“We’ll practice again until you gain the approval from me. Do not expect me to be lenient.” The heat spreading on your cheeks becomes a problem only after Mydei finishes the sentence and moves away with haste, surely caused by his discomfort.

A gentle breeze runs through the illuminated terrace and cools your skin. You watch him walk away without turning around (you wish he would). This feeling of shame mixes with admiration and unadulterated curiosity to stir up something completely bizarre in your heart.

A pomegranate-sweet infatuation with the prince.

[thebrazilianfan]

I'm all about make up if you enjoy it as an art, an hobby, or even if you really just like the way you look with it. but this clean girl thing annoys me to no end

here's a phenomenon for you: everytime something consider "high profile" just for being expensive becomes affordable to the masses, the elite goes and says it's no longer a thing for them. the example I can think it's hydrogel nails. here in brazil it was THE THING the "rich" influencers had to have, and then it became affordable and durable for the general people, and it's now there's a whole trend of people saying it's gross that people keep the nails on for weeks

this clean girl aesthetic will die when it becomes really popular between the masses

social media has got twenty year old women thinking they have to be a "clean girl" at university with a morning routine and face masks and expensive water bottles and a 9pm bedtime. I am begging the world to let young women go through a crucial developmental stage of being disgusting messy little rats. for feminism.

[venti-tangents]

General Rafayel Relationship Headcanons

F!MC, no use of Y/N. These are based on my interpretation of the text in Love and Deepspace

sfw

1. His works contains traces of his MC almost everywhere. Rafayel is known for not drawing humans, but that doesn’t stop him form incorporating his lover in everything he creates. Those who look closely will find the flow of the painted ocean to be similar to the flow of her hair, the colours of the fish lifted directly from her wardrobe—Rafayel’s devotion is clear in his paintings, for all to see.

Intertidal zone reveled a lot about how Raf gets inspiration for his craft—and how much of it comes form his MC (sometimes to the point where it concerns him)

2. He wants be around his lover at all times. They don’t have to be talking, touching or even directly interacting—just her presence is enough for him.

3. Cuddliest boyfriend on the planet. I think it takes a bit for his super cuddly side to come out, but when it does, he is almost always attached to his MC. He’s addicted to her warmth, and loves how soft she feels in his arms. Perhaps a small, yet ever growing part of him feels as though she will never forget him again, so long as he can keep her in his arms.

I just know that the MC and Rafayel are most annoying couple you know, if the recent event stories are anything to go by lol. They’re all over each other all the time

Abyssal Chaos gave us rafmc cuddling in front of a window, Tailwag Obsession gave us rafmc cuddling on the floor with a cat by their side, the list goes on and on

4. Banter never ends with this guy. No matter how long him and his MC have been together. On the other hand, long, philosophical discussions are also common place.

5. Raf can canonically sense his MC’s emotions. I read him to be incredibly emotionally mature, and knowing of what his MC needs, and how to provide it to her.

In many of his 4 star audio cards, Raf is shown taking care of MC emotionally. He pulls back when she needs quiet (Rainbow Strokes), is pushy when she’s hesitant, is reassuring when she feels insecure (flowery words). He pulls her out of the house when she’s down(sparkling traces), he lulls her to sleep when she needs him to (sleep aid, memory replay)

6. On the flip side, I think Rafayel loves to be pampered. He melts so easily when his MC provides him with reassuring words and actions (Omniscient perception, intertidal zone, sea god event story).

7. This is a bit of an underdeveloped thought in my head, but Rafayel has a rather possessive side, as shown in his most recent stories. The lumarian words he uses to describe his feelings for the MC literally translates to “You’re mine,” and he talks a lot about leaving his “mark” or “colour” on her.

I think he also likes being claimed by the MC—he wants her to possess him just as much as he possesses her. I wonder if part of this comes from his fear of taking too much from the MC, wanting too much from her, so her being possessive over him calms those fears

nsfw

1. I used to think of Raf as a switch top, but as I learned more about him, I would say he’s mostly a vanilla (no power exchange) verse (tops and bottoms/ gives and receives).

In other words, I think him and his MC don’t really exchange power in their dynamic outside of the sea god - devout follower bond. I think they’re very back and forth about giving and receiving, leading and following in almost every interaction they have.

When him and his MC do decide to play with power dynamics in bed, I think he leans towards taking the dominant role; as much as I love subby Raf, I can’t recall a time in the game where he *truly* summits to MC (in the context of bdsm dynamics). Even when the MC attempts to take control, he flips the dynamic the second she falters. Even when she ties him up (ie. Tipsy Invitation, Promised Wildfire), he makes demands of her in a way that goes further then provocation.

I’ve spoken on this before, back when gem affection came out, but I think Rafayel gets off on “turning the tables” on his lover. Very siren like of him

2. Body worship. He’s absolutely enamored with his lover’s body, obsessed with every part of it. He’ll leave kisses everywhere, so that even if his lover forgets him, her body will never forget his touch

On the other hand, he would love to have his body worshiped too. He wants his lover’s touch *everywhere*, to the point where he finds himself feeling the ghost of her lips all over his body long after their last encounter. In the moment, it serves as a reminder of her obsession with him, that his devotion is reciprocated. He is a god after all—what’s the job of a devout follower if not to worship her god.

3. Scent Kink. He’s OBSESSED with how his lover smells.

4. The biggest tease to ever tease. Off the top of my head, I think of fiery undercuts, but he’s a huge tease in all of his cards

5. I read Rafayel as an incredibly passionate lover. I think to him, intimacy is sacred—it’s not just pleasure to him, but rather him and his lover surrendering themselves to one another. It’s deeply romantic to him, and an exercise in trust

[back2bluesidex]

BTS Scenario: Seeing Them Out With Someone Else - Hyung Line

Pairing: BTS Hyung line x Reader (Individual storyline)

Word count: 1.4k+ total

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak

Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: Tried something different. I always wanted to write angsty scenarios. Guess it's a good time to give it a try since basically nothing else is working out. haha.

Kim Namjoon

You are an expert in random trivia. You take pride in adhering to a little more than average general knowledge. But the moment someone asks you “what’s the deepest spot on earth?” you would fumble all over the floor with your answer because you don’t know if it’s Mariana trench or if it’s Kim Namjoon’s dimples. 

Kim Namjoon is not a simple name - it’s the person who holds your years of interest, the catelogue of your first kiss, the awkward skinship that were forbidden for any high schooler back then. Kim Namjoon is your first love, your first heartbreak, your first and last “will always remember him with a smile on my face.” so when you spot the depth of the same dimple, through the mass of black, brown and other coloured heads - you reel for a minute. 

You reel and reel and reel back to the time when he threaded his fingers with yours right under a cherry tree that was yet to bloom into beauty and whispered that he liked you. Your stomach feels light, butterflies uncaging in a moment to fly around all over your insides. 

You take a step towards him, ready to rekindle whatever the spark is left off after ten years of radio silence. As you make your way through the annoyed crowd, whispering ‘sorry’s but meaning none, you pray. You pray for him to remember you the way you remember him. But as you trudge close, you see another human being, attached to his side, fingers interlaced just the way he had yours once upon a time. 

Fool. A fool is what you  are. A fool in memory of a love that was lost long ago. 

Obviously. Obviously Namjoon has someone. Not everyone is an emotional fool like you. Not everyone cherishes memories more than living beings. 

Not everyone searches the crowed for a familiar pair of dimples for ten fucking years. 

You try to move forward, move on in cue. But it’s too late because Namjoon is looking straight at you. 

“Y/N…” He calls your name with a lingering familiarity. 

“Hey” you smile, trying to recall the time when you weren’t in love with him. 

Kim Seokjin 

From the beginning you knew it was a bad idea - both sleeping with your senior manager and falling in love with him. 

But when it’s Kim Seokjin on the other side, do you really have a say?  

He walked into your stuffy, damp life like a breeze of spring air, swept you off your feet and you gave in. you took whatever he offered you. 

It was a mistake to accept the ‘no-strings-attached’ condition he attached to your relationship even while being fully aware of how you feel for him. And now you are paying the price. 

Your corset dress threatens to choke your chest to death when you witness him walking in with an otherworldly beautiful woman in tow. 

They look beautifully perfect together. Now you understand what Seokjin meant when he said he needs to stop seeing you, that he found someone perfect for him. 

While you still think the conception of perfection is overrated - you would agree to the fact that you wouldn’t look as graceful as the woman he is carrying tonight to the party. 

“Yuri, this is Y/N. My best subordinate. And Y/N, this is Yuri, my girlfriend.” Seokjin introduces his woman, not meeting your eyes at all. 

You put on your best smile, “Hey Yuri. Nice to meet you finally.” 

Your eyes meet with Seokjin’s over her shoulders and he has a thousand different emotions playing in his iris. 

Min Yoongi 

Min Yoongi has always been a fraction of your dream. A faraway star residing in a different galaxy - light years away. 

So it doesn’t bother you at all when he walks into the cafeteria and doesn’t spare a single glance at your way. 

Your teammate rises on her feet and greets him with a bow to gain his attention, so you are left with no choice but to follow her suit. 

When his eyes find yours, he stops in his tracks, “oh. You are Y/N, right?” he asks in his rough yet soothing voice. 

“Yes, sunbae” you duck your head in respect. 

“I heard the demo you prepared for Jimin’s album. Must say, you have potential. Keep working hard and one day we will produce music together.” he smiles at you, full and gummy. You melt. All of the unsolicited feelings that you nurtured in the cage of your heart spread long vines around your rib cage. 

You find your ears and cheek heating up with the impact. 

“Sure, sunbae. I will work ha-” 

“Oppa! You are here? I have been looking for you!” one of the raising solo idols, that you forgot the name of, runs towards Yoongi and holds his arm in her grip. 

He, as much as you know, despite being someone who hardly encourages physical touches pulls her even closer. 

Your heart breaks as fast as it expanded earlier. 

He smiles at her brighter than he just smiled at you and you know… you know dreams hardly ever come true. 

“Have a good lunch, sunbae.” you greet again, before sitting down and focusing on your lunch. 

“You okay?” your co-worker asks once the couple is out of earshot. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you shove the bitter feeling down. 

Jung Hoseok 

It’s not everyday when you get to see a celebrity on the sidewalk. That too, the one that was in a relationship with you just six months prior. 

It would have been okay seeing Hoseok after he blocked you with a single explanation if there was not another human being with him currently. Her face is covered with a mask, head is bragging a black simple cap with a LV logo and somehow you know she is the reason behind Hoseok’s treason. 

A pang of fresh, sharp pain courses through the entirety of your body. 

If he told you once, you would have let him go without a fight. He didn’t… didn’t have to close the door on your face like that. 

Now as you walk behind them, while he has no idea of your presence - you find irony in the universe. You are witnessing the very thing that he didn’t want you to know, that too, on a random sidewalk. 

Funny. 

Suddenly your eyes fall on a car parked on the otherside of the road. A camera is pointed directly at the couple through the narrow slit of the glass window trying to capture them discreetly while they roam freely. 

You suck in a deep breath. 

It’s none of your business. You tell yourself again and again. 

But something about waking up to Hoseok’s dating rumour playing on the national television bothers you to the core. 

You take your phone out. Place it on your ear pretending as if you are calling someone. Then you walk close to the couple. 

When you are right behind Hoseok and you are positive he can hear you, you speak, “Hey Hoseok, it’s Y/N.” 

Hoseok visibly stiffens. 

“Don’t worry. I am not stalking you or anything. It’s a pure coincidence.” you continue. 

Hoseok is about to turn and face you but you stop him, “Don’t. Don’t turn around. I have my phone attached to my ear pretending to be in a call. I just wanna tell you that there’s a car on the other side of the road and they are clicking your pictures. 7337, the license plate number. If you have your managers somewhere nearby, you should inform them.” 

You finish with a huff and then proceed to walk away without a look back. 

Next day your phone buzzes with a call from a restricted number. You know what it can be. When you receive it, you hear him address you by your name after six long months. Your lungs fill with so much pain that it’s even tough to breathe. 

“Y/N..” Hoseok calls. 

“Hmm” 

“Thanks for yesterday. Manager hyung caught the papps in time. My face would have been all over the place today if not for you.” 

“Yeah. glad that I was of help.” 

“Yes. and I… I am so sorry for what I did-”

“Hoseok, if you are done then I think we should keep it till here. I am short on time. Gotta go. Take care.” 

You cut the call without waiting for a response. Tears spill through the corners of your eyes and you let yourself cry. 

If this is the end, your tears should be the best mode of farewell. 

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[taabee]

Jealous little fish

Pair: Rafayel x Y/N reader

Warning: none, fem!reader, rafayel being cute and jealous, fluff stuff

If rafayel was regretting anything, it was the goldfish he had given you 3 months ago, as a gift to celebrate your move to his home. You had finally moved in with him, but if he could throw those fish down the toilet he would. But he couldn't, why?…because you wouldn't stop looking at them, taking care of them and even talking beautifully to them. ' You just talk nice to him' thought Rafayel, when Thomas tapped him on the shoulder and brought him out of his trance.

“Sir, we have to go now, or else we won't make it in time for the exhibition,” says Thomas. Rafayel was invited to an event, which he didn't want to go - . But he had to do it…somehow he had to generate money. “Yes I know…just give me 10 minutes” says rafayel, watching as thomas walks away and heads for the exit of the home. He approaches you, who was looking at her pets with great care and amazement. “baby?” rafayel speaks softly, trying to control his irritation. “mhhh?” you reply without taking your eyes off the fish. Rafayel takes a deep breath. “I'm going now…see you in a few hours” he says a little annoyed. You look at him, with a smile and move in for a kiss. But he turns his face away. For a moment, you were going to argue. But by his pout, and by the expression on his face. You can tell he's doing one of his tantrums. You stand a little on your toes, and give him a quick kiss on his cheeks. “Ok, enjoy yourself a lot, here I wait for you!!!” you speak, turning all your attention to your new pets.

Rafayel turns away quickly, even more annoyed. You didn't even ask him how he was, and why he refused your goodbye kiss. You simply ignored him. And if there was one thing Rafayel hated most, it was being ignored. He got into the car, where Thomas was waiting for him. And slamming the door very hard, “Start!” rafayel orders. Thomas says nothing, but laughs to himself. Rafayel was having a toddler tantrum right now. “When we leave the event, we'll buy a giant bowl of chlorine,” rafayel says. Crossing his hands and looking out.

The event ran smoothly, good business was done. But he kept looking at his phone all night. He was still waiting for you to text or call him.

Arriving home, Rafayel said goodbye to Thomas, telling him to go home and rest. Entering through the door, he saw that the lights were off. A few candles gave a quiet atmosphere. And only the light of the fish tank was the strongest. Giving a beautiful reflection, and something aquatic to the walls of his home. He had to admit that it reminded him of his old home…but there you were. Feeding your fish, as you turned to greet him.

“Hi love!!!” you run up to him, to wrap your arms around his neck. This time he wasn't going to deny you a kiss. Rafayel kissed you back, and moved his arms around your waist hugging you tightly over his body. “I missed you” he says softly, you can feel the weight of his head fall on your shoulder. “mmm you poor thing, you must be tired… but could you get more clients?” you ask, looking at rafayel for a moment, he had a tired smile on his face. “I have 12 clients…12 paintings to do” rafayel speaks, I feel you hug him.” Congratulations!” you snuggle more into his chest, both of you staying there for a moment.

“How about I set up the tub, and we take a long, relaxing bubble bath?” rafayel says, noticing how your eyes light up with joy. Both you and he needed to relax. “Perfect, go get everything ready…I'll go get something” you say, turning away from Rafayel, running towards his room. Rafayel chuckled a little, you didn't know what you were up to, but it was going to flow. Taking a quick glance at the fish tank, seeing how the fish were looking at him. “If you guys think you're competition for me…you're wrong” Rafayel speaks, as he begins to fill the tub. A tub that was in his own living room, a living room that was in his studio. Rafayel's house was complicated but beautiful.

“She will spend more time with you, but she prefers me,” touching the water to make sure it was good. Taking off his clothes, he laid them on the floor. “I'm going to cook you…and then” Rafayel hadn't noticed but you had already arrived in the room. You could see how he was arguing with the fish, and you didn't know how to react. “Rafa…” you speak, seeing how he looks at you with wide eyes. “Oh, my love…look, the tub is ready” Rafayel signals with his hands for you to join him. You shake your head slightly, ignoring what just happened.

Getting close to the bathtub. “Look…I bought these patches to reduce swelling. They're shaped like kitty whiskers” you show him the package, you were sitting on the edge of the tub. Rafayel makes a face, “I'm not going to use those” he says, while you pinch his nose a little. “Sure you are…they are good for you” you speak, as you get up to start removing your clothes. Rafayel adjusts a little, leaning back now on the edge of the tub. Enjoying the view. You may have lived just recently, but two years of relationship was more than enough for there to be that intimacy and trust that Rafayel so craved. He loved seeing you confident in front of him.

You take off your shirt, then your pants…and then proceed to take off your underwear. You glance at rafayel from time to time, he has a lovely look on his face…as if your whole being is a work of art, and he is just admiring it. “You are so beautiful” rafayel says in a low voice. “mmm do you think so?” you ask, as you step into the tub. Rafayel helps you a little, taking your hand. So that you can settle close to him. “Of course I do…every part of you, is a work of art” Rafayel comes closer to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “And so are you” you reply, nuzzling your nose with his. “Well…which one do you want?” you show him the packages, and rafayel has no choice but to accept. “I like this one,” he says, watching as you excitedly open the package.

About 20 minutes have passed, and you were lying on rafayel's lap, while playing with his hair, making him kitty ears with the help of the bubbles. While he simply enjoyed your attention. “You would make a very grumpy and scary kitty” you tease. “Ahh yes?” rafayel pulls you closer to him, tickling you a little. You both giggle in the process. The moment is interrupted when you hear a tapping of glass. You can see Rafayel pull away from you a little, and look back at the fish tank with a pout.

You laugh to yourself, but it was loud enough for Rafayel to hear. “Why are you laughing?” he asks, somewhat annoyed. “Are you jealous of …. some fish?” you look at him for a moment, you can notice how his cheeks turned red, and his face started to make that grimace he always did when he was on the edge of a tantrum. “No…how do you think!!!” he yells a little, letting go of you to cross his arms. He looked so adorable, fussing with his little kitty ears made out of bubble. You wanted to shower him with kisses. “Are you sure?” you tease him a little.

“Well…yeah, so what's up? Lately you're just looking at them, saying how cute they are and blah blah blah blah” rafayel explodes. You put your hand to your mouth, in order to control your laughter. “Don't laugh” complains rafayel, he was getting embarrassed by his behavior, but it was something he couldn't control. “Why do you think I would trade my great little merman for some fish?” you joke, moving closer to rafayel, so that your body lies fully on top of him. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Very close to his face, only to give him a soft kiss on his chin. “ They…ahhhh” he was frustrated.

You are silent for a moment, and trying to understand this sudden jealousy. He wasn't like that with other things…but with sea creatures. Rafayel felt that fish were competition for him…. you couldn't believe it. “They get all your attention, I just…I want your attention to be only for me,” Rafayel says, looking you in the eye. “Did I tell you that your eyes are beautiful?” you say suddenly. Seeing how rafayel's face breaks into a smile. “yes…about a thousand times” he laughs a little. As he hugs you closer. “I'm a fool, aren't I?” rafayel asks you.

“Yes, you are my dumbest little fish” you move in for a kiss, but rafayel stops you. Holding your chin with his hand. “Do you promise to love me forever?” he asks, you can see that look. One you had seen many times since you got together, always of fear and worry. “ Until eternity….even if you become a fish” you joke, and watch as he laughs. Catching your lips.

The fish stayed and the fish tank stayed in the same place….until eternity.

[gotham-daydreams]

Suspicions

Day 3 {Challenge Masterlist}

Getting close, but not close enough. Something's wrong here. How could they have known? Who did this?

[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only briefly talked about in dialog), cults, occult like acctivites, weird behavior (?), arson (sort of).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

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

Unlike the previous two days, this one starts off rather eventful - which is honestly more common and normal than anyone in the Wayne family liked to admit, but really, it wasn’t their fault they all just worked better in chaos. Nevertheless, for those that weren’t up already, the day is smooth sailing until they exit their rooms - or wherever they slept - and are left to find what’s happened in the batcave.

Tim is one of the last to find out, as he just gets his slow morning started - grabbing a cup of tea to help him wake up instead of coffee, rubbing his eyes to get the tiredness out of them, and starting things off officially with a plate of breakfast. Once that’s done and out of the way, he finally gives himself a good, simple stretch before heading down to the batcave. It’s only there, does he see the mess unfolding.

It’s subtle, sure, but with how long Tim has technically been a Wayne, well, he can tell when something’s going on. Bruce is drinking coffee, and Cassandra, while out of the suit, already looks to be itching to put it back on again. Tim noticed that Stephanie had slept over while he was on his way to the kitchen earlier, but didn’t think much about it - though what caught his attention was the fact that not only was Jason here, but that he was awake. Huh.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asks, voice having its usual echo as he takes a sip of his tea, approaching the little crowd by the batcomputer - taking note of Barbara’s presence as well, have any of them slept?

Cassandra seems to take note of him first, and perks up, though just as she goes to supposedly explain what they’re doing, Jason cuts her off. Instead, he straightens himself out, and asks, “Hey, have you or any of your birds seen anyone weird around, lately? Like, extra shady or just new? Like they come from out of the city?”

Tim raises a brow at the question, “This is Gotham? Every other person looks like someone shady- and what does ‘extra shady’ even mean? And besides, Gotham is a big city, newcomers come in and out everyday,” he points out, and though his response only gets an annoyed groan out of Jason, he can’t help but remain curious, “why? What’s going on this time?”

Jason seems to ignore Tim’s own question, and instead asks, “Okay, have you seen anyone with some weird symbol on them? Something simple that represents a sun, maybe on their neck, wrists, arm, or just some exposed part of their body?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” Just as Jason looks like he’s going to throw something, or someone, Tim adds, “but I think a few of the birds have, and- hey, some new officers came in from Metropolis, right? What’s up with that?”

Just as Jason goes to open his mouth again, Cassandra gives him a nudge, and gestures for Tim to come over.

From there, he’s given the gist, and he has the reasonable reaction of just, being confused. While he understands what’s going on, what he doesn’t get is the supposed group itself. While they do seem to be working towards this ‘Red Dawn’, is it something they’re working towards, or merely preparing for? Is there something on that specific day that will happen, and will allow… well, whatever they’re hoping for, to happen? There are a lot of things that are undetermined, but Tim is on board with the general goal - they have to learn more about these people, what they want, and put a stop to it since it has to be something bad that people are killing themselves over it. You were right when you said that the only people they were hurting were themselves, but they were still people, and what if their influence spreads? What if they rope in more people, only for them to die-

Duke rushes into the cave, a smile of sorts on his face and he hurries around the space, gathering a few things here and there - mostly his gear, but some other things too - quickly, as if in a hurry. It was hard not to notice, seeing as he was the only real movement going on in the room and it drew the attention of those at the computer. Tim was the first to question it, asking, “What’s the rush?”

“Patrol!” It was an easy enough answer, but something felt off about it, though Tim couldn’t put a finger on it - no one really could, but those that were paying more attention did notice something.

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” Barbara points out, and Duke pauses, chuckling briefly before grabbing his helmet.

“Right- thanks! Anyway, gotta go-!” With that, the young vigilante rushes out of the cave after hurriedly putting on his suit and gear. A few of those in the cave stare, raising a couple of brows or just looking confused before ultimately returning to what they were doing – even if such a sight weirded them out. Cassandra, however, couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the sight as she watched Duke rush out of the cave.

He seemed… really excited to be going on patrol… hm.

Duke could hardly focus on where his feet were going as he rushed out of the house, a warm sort of feeling blooming in his chest as he made his way out of the cave, and through the front door – nearly bumping into someone on the way out. Even if he was able to just barely move out of the way, a quick, “Sorry! I’ve really got to go, Selina!” Leaves him, the words tumbling out of his mouth like how he almost trips over the single step in front of the door. Leaving behind a confused but amused catwoman all the while.

Getting to the city is easy enough, and even more so with a small tug in his chest seemingly guiding Duke somewhere. Does he know where? Not particularly, but he can’t help but have a good feeling about this.

Dropping down in an alley, Duke peaks around a corner to get a glimpse of the city before slipping out – only to bump into someone… somehow.

Shaking it off, he goes to say something – only to stop himself when he sees who it is, what a coincidence. “Oh, [Last Name], what’re you doing here?”

You glance over your shoulder, and raise your brow at the sight of the teenager, “Grabbing breakfast? Why else would I be waiting in line at this breakfast spot?” A small, amused chuckle escapes you as you offer a hand to help him up, and it’s only then that Duke notices he fell at all.

“Oh! Yeah, that… um, makes sense?” Grasping your hand, he pulls himself up and glances to the side awkwardly. This wasn’t very professional, was it? As a vigilante, he was supposed to be better than this – and more, well, vigilant! He had to get it together, he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you!

Clearing his throat, Duke meets your eyes once again, “Seems like things are busy here, huh?” Just what the hell was he trying to do? Duke couldn’t understand – he had patrol to do, he couldn’t just sit here and make small talk-

“I guess you could say that, it does seem busier than it has been the last few days, but nevermind that- what’re you doing here, Thomas?” Your grip loosens on his hand, but Duke can’t find it in himself to let go. Not after what you just said, and so casually at that – like knowing his secret identity was common knowledge and not, well, secret!

Duke’s mind races, with him staring at you like your face alone will provide all the answers, and in the midst of his disbelief, a breathless, stunned, “What?” Slips past his lips, and your brows seem to furrow.

“Is something wrong, Thomas-?”

“How-” Duke can barely even speak, his eyes blown wide. He wants to pull away, but it’s like your hand is the only thing keeping him grounded – making him almost hate how real it feels, especially as his hold tightens. With him now grasping onto it like he’s both afraid to let go, and desperate to cling onto something, but what? Duke doesn’t know. Hell, he’s almost scared to know, and that confuses him even more. “How do you know who I am?” It’s a simple question, but it’s spoken so quietly and hesitantly that it’s like Duke himself is unsure if he should’ve spoken at all, or if he even said it to begin with. As if, for a moment, he couldn’t tell if he managed to speak at all, or if his eyes and the way his hand shook had asked the question for him.

It’s beyond confusing, and honestly making Duke’s head hurt the more he tries to make sense of everything. The world spins, and yet zeros in on this moment at the same time, and Duke almost feels like he’s about to fall or even collapse all over again-

Then, he sees your smile and how you turn more towards him, and it’s like he can breathe all over again.

“Well, you’re adopted- or at least being taken care of by Mr. Wayne- aren’t you? It’s pretty hard to not know you, Thomas, especially in Gotham. Which- is sort of like Mr. Wayne’s little empire, don’t you think?” You respond easily, words almost playful as you carefully rest your other hand over his – most would pull away or tell him to stop because of how much it hurts, but you don’t. Almost like you can’t feel it, or just see how much the small action means to him – to hold onto something steady, unmoving, and undeniably real in this moment of confusion, dread, and fear. Maybe it’s both, but who’s to say.

Duke struggles to respond, only managing to stutter out an, “I-” a few times before you decide to spare him once more.

“Granted, I’m surprised to see you out and about so early. A growing boy like you needs his rest, doesn’t he?” Your fingers brush against the back of his hand, and it’s only then that Duke realizes that he’s feeling it on his skin, not though his gloves or suit – and he finally looks down. When… did he put on civilian clothes?

Regardless, he can’t help but ease. The tight tension in his shoulders drops, and Duke exhales, relieved. “Right- well, I was just out grabbing a quick bite to eat. Always good to get outta the house, yeah?” He replies easily, the excuse coming easy to him – and as if on cue, his stomach rumbles… Did he eat breakfast this morning? When’s the last time he’s forgotten something like that?

Your expression softens, and you give a small shrug, “‘Suppose you’re right, can’t really argue with that.” You glance down at his stomach before looking back at the teen, and pull your hand back – an action that makes Duke’s hand twitch before he lets it fall back to his side. “How about you join me?”

Duke can’t help but be taken aback by your request, and stammers a little as he straightens up and says, “I couldn’t- I can’t-”

“Oh, c’mon. It’ll just be a little bite, and besides, I’ve already got a table. Breakfast’s on me, yeah?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“[Last Name]?” A waiter calls out, causing you to perk up.

“Ah, that must be it! Now, c’mon,” you gesture for Duke to follow you inside, “I promise I won’t keep you long. But consider this my thanks for yesterday- I definitely underestimate how big Gotham really is.”

The young vigilante hesitates, unsure if he should follow you or try to decline again. After all, he still had patrol – and with this weird group going around, he couldn’t afford to just go off and push aside his duty for breakfast, could he? In situations like this, it was best to stay on top of things and remain vigilant, wasn’t it?

Duke feels his stomach growl much more insistently this time, and he can practically feel the painful pinch of the void growing inside it… It wouldn’t be good if he did patrol on an empty stomach, would it? After all, he had to be in top shape to properly perform his duties, right? Being on an empty stomach wouldn’t do him any good, and would only hinder him further…

“You comin’, Thomas?” The teen’s feet before he could fully process your words, but he offers a nod and agreement all the same.

Bruce would understand, right?

The waiter leads you and Duke to a booth, and from there, things go smoothly. The silence isn’t as bad as one would think, and for those that didn’t know any better – they’d think you were friends or had some friendly relation since conversation flowed seamlessly and easily. It wasn’t long before your orders were made, with you encouraging Duke to order whatever he liked, and the wait was practically nonexistent. Though, that’s only to be expected when you two got along so well. It may have been weird in any other circumstance, but here, it wasn’t. It was natural, just like everything else was.

Really, only those on the outside looking in could notice anything, and someone eventually did.

Cassandra had felt that something was weird, and with how Duke’s body language had read this morning, she couldn’t help but be curious. Not to mention worried, especially since they had enough things to worry about. So, seeing her brother eating with a cop from Metropolis was… weird to say the least. It felt weirder knowing it was you for some reason, but she couldn’t explain why. You couldn’t have possibly been the reason for Duke’s excitement, could you? No, that didn’t make any sense – unless… you knew each other previously? Would Duke have left something like that out?

Just seeing something like this spawned too many questions, and Cassandra wasn’t getting any from standing across the street. Especially not when your body language reads as calm, happy, and oddly enough – full of energy, along with a trace of confidence. With Duke being almost… too happy, too calm and content for someone that was supposed to be a stranger. You were helping them on the case, of course, but they didn’t know you as civilians. They weren’t supposed to, and yet Duke didn’t have the suit on – where was it?

… She could stand there until you both left, but something told her that wasn’t going to get her anywhere either. Something told her that she had to approach, if only to confront you and get Duke out of there herself. To help him get back on track if anything, and to get some sort of explanation if she was smart about things.

So, approaching the establishment, Cassandra steps inside and wastes no time heading over to where you and Duke are sitting. Resisting the urge to just grab you by the collar and get answers out of you, she simple rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze – which is more than enough to grab your attention.

Looking up at her, a confused expression passes by before another bright smile rests and makes itself home on your face. “Ah, You must be Cain, correct? Or would you prefer Cain-Wayne?” A light laugh escapes as you add, “It’s a bit of a tongue twister, but the choice is really yours, young one.”

Surprised, Cassandra can’t help but blink before her expression hardens and he brows furrow. Taking note of her confusion, you simply say, “I haven’t been here for long, but word travels fast in Gotham! Besides, who wouldn’t know about the children Mr. Wayne has taken in? You’re all a very common topic amongst the city folk, and from your expression – I’m willing to assume you’re surprised to hear that.” There was something in your tone that made those last few words of yours almost sound sarcastic. Cassandra couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it made her narrow her eyes all the same. What were you trying to get at-?

“Cass?” Hearing Duke’s voice makes Cassandra glance at him for a moment, and the look in his eyes rubs her the wrong way. He shouldn’t have an expression like that, not for a stranger, even if you are from Metropolis. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were still… home.” The small pause in his words doesn’t slip past her, and it certainly doesn’t make Cassandra feel any better either, but it isn’t enough to make her leave.

Even as she doesn’t say anything, her eyes say enough, and you notice how Duke tenses slightly while under her gaze. You don’t understand what they’re saying, or whatever they seem to be communicating, but you’re not bothered by it. Communication was a universal thing, after all, and you’ve seen many people find all sorts of ways to do it – with or without words. It’s something you’ve picked up on with time, but that’s a given considering things.

Nevertheless, you speak up and interrupt… whatever it is that’s going on here. “Why don’t you join us, Cain? Thomas was just finishing up, but it’s like they say; the more the merrier!”

Cassandra seems taken aback by your offer, and so does Duke, but you only focus on her for now. Despite not having said a word, it’s like you can feel her growing quieter, and just as you go to say something else, she glances at Duke before promptly taking a seat next to him – nearly pushing him towards the window just to create some space for herself.

Naturally, Duke responds with a surprised, “Hey!” At the sudden intrusion of his space, but ultimately does little to get it back, and instead moves over to grant Cassandra her desired space.

From there, you carry on as you did before, but the younger ones across from you seem awkward – you can’t decipher a reason for this, not on your own, but a few eventually come to you and you try to work around it as best you can. At the start, things are strained and it’s obvious that there is something more than what both are deciding to show. Which, while smart, is inconvenient at best.

Regardless, you do what you can to spark conversation. Duke responds well enough after a few questions that ease him back into the flow of things, but Cassandra takes a while longer. Though that only makes sense since she’s just gotten into things, and is only starting to get into that flow as well. It’s not hard to notice that she’s simply just observing for now, and most likely wants to keep it that way, but you didn’t make that offer for her to just watch.

You start with something to drink, offering coffee since that seemed to be a common choice around here, and even take a sip of your own beverage while you were at it, and ask if Duke wanted anything else. It’s always the little things that count, but of course Cassandra remains as she is, and doesn’t respond. It’s only after a good minute or so does she get something, though if it’s to ‘blend in’ easier or because she genuinely wanted something to drink, you couldn’t tell – but that didn’t matter. Eventually, she gives you small responses by nodding or shaking her head, among other small gestures that seem to give just enough information to count as some sort of reaction. Cassandra was responding and reacting more to things Duke was saying, but that didn’t bother you. She was beginning to ease up, and that’s what ultimately counts.

Then, you’re given a golden opportunity as her stomach gives a small rumble. It’s barely noticeable, and not even Duke hears it, but Cassandra does and you notice her reaction well enough to tell. Of course, you give her the same offer you gave to Duke earlier – and even if she is more hesitant and reluctant, you take a risk and push things as you get her something. Just as before, the wait is hardly long at all – even if Cassandra seemed to feel it more than you did – and when it comes, it takes her a bit to even poke at it, but she caves eventually.

From there, everything eases just as it did before. Whatever you picked, she ends up liking it, and the conversation flows much better now that Cassandra is less tense. Your smile from before remains, and the morning carries on splendidly.

However, as with all things, it eventually comes to an end as you get a notification on your mobile device, and a small huff escapes you. Things are coming along, but it’s time to call it – you’ve been here long enough. You signal for the check, and once it arrives, you simply say, “Well this has been nice, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pleasantly surprised by both of you. This has been… eye opening, as one would say,” you muse, another light laugh escaping you, “but I’ve kept you both for long enough. I’m sure you both have places to be.” You don’t even look as the waiter takes the check back after you slip on your Rose Bank card.

Duke seems to tense slightly, and stops you from standing as he shoots up from his seat, “Wait, do you have to go right now? If there’s anywhere you need to go, I could take you-” You wave him off, and shake your head.

“There’s no need, I know my way around well enough, but thank you-” Cassandra moves to stand as well, and before she can even fully get out, Duke scrambles to get out of the booth and stand in front of you.

“You just got here a bit ago, right? I’m sure I can still help-”

“Thomas, I assure you I’m fine. I’m just heading back to the station,” you handle the check and slip your card back into your wallet when the waiter comes back around. Duke struggles to speak, and Cassandra seems concerned. Hm.

Exhaling softly, you give the teen a pat on his shoulder, “If anything happens, remember, you can always contact the GCPD if need be, alright?” Duke didn’t seem too pleased with that response, but all it takes is one more long look before he averts his gaze and nods.

“Yeah, yeah… alright.” You grin, and give him another pat.

“Perfect! See you around, kid!” With that, you leave without a second thought, feeling more confident then before – and Cassandra could tell. Of course she could, but before she could think about why you were going to the station this early in the day, her eyes drift back to Duke, and she can’t help but pause. His body language and overall attitude is completely different now… but… why? What could have made him so upset?

The young vigilante glances up when she hears the small bell of the door, indicating your leave… and she doesn’t know why, but she can’t help but feel disappointed.

— — — — — —

Making your way to the station is easy enough, and as you check the time, you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Just in time.

You turn around, and are greeted by the sight of blue eyes and dark hair – honestly, if his face shape was different, you’d think he was Bruce. It’s almost weird that they aren’t biologically related, but that’s the funny thing about genetics, you suppose.

Nevertheless, you offer a smile as always, “I got your call, but I didn’t expect to be meeting you in Gotham this soon, Grayson. You really are punctual. Though noon is an odd time to meet up, don’t you think?” Richard – or as everyone apparently calls him, Dick – just gives a smile of his own that borders on a smirk, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Couldn’t think of a better time, and besides, it isn’t that bad. It’s just in time for lunch!” You hum at his response, finding it a bit curious before giving a nod.

“Well, when you put it like that it almost sounds smart,” You chuckle out, watching as his face contorts slightly. “Regardless, I got your call. You wanted to discuss the case?”

Dick doesn’t seem to appreciate your little jab, nor how you brush past it so fast – but just huffs before giving a nod. “Yeah, some guys said you’d know some things…? Or that someone here did?” You raise a brow before a look of confusion settles on your face.

“A few of us here do, but the one that would know the most would be detective Greenwood,” yet, you pause, as if thinking for a moment before adding, “I assume the situation in Bludhaven has gotten worse?”

The sigh that escapes him is telling enough, even more so with how he rubs the back of his neck, and the nod he gives is almost guilty. “Yeah… and even saying that feels like you’re sugar coating it.” Hm, must be like Metropolis then – that’s good to know. “I guess Ludwig told you?”

“Among a few other things, but just gave a general idea,” Dick visibly deflates at your words, and so, as if extending an olive branch of sorts, you gesture to a cafe nearby. “How about we get you some coffee and a quick bite to eat, hm? Can’t imagine getting here was an easy trip.”

Dick’s practically already following you to the small shop when you make your offer, and a low, exaggerated groan escapes him. “You don’t even know the half of it, it’s like Gotham’s become some highly sought out tourist destination overnight! It’s insanity, I tell you- makes no sense! The people who live here don’t like it enough as it is, why would anyone else want to be here?”

You shrug your shoulders, and guide both of you over to the cafe, “Not a clue, but it is weird when you put it like that. But maybe it’s nothing, who knows? We’ve got enough to deal with, anyway.”

“Tell me about it… not like there's anyone around here that wants to deal with this kind of weather. It feels way too warm for fall, if you ask me.” Dick mumbles, making his way over to the counter to order, and you only partially shrug, giving another nod in half agreement. You didn’t feel a difference, but it could just be because you’re used to it.

“I guess so,” you say, pulling out your wallet to pay – seeing as you offered to begin with. Obviously, Dick notices and doesn’t move to stop you, but can’t help but raise a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?”

You glance at him for a moment before huffing softly, almost as if amused by what he said, and just hand the cashier your Rose Bank card to pay.

“I had a filling brunch.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Despite everything that’s been going on, this is probably one of their more organized efforts to tackle the night – which is really saying something, since there’s always been attempts, but it’s hard to be orderly amidst chaos. Something that Gotham practically breeds, even if this particular strain comes from out of town.

Tim and Duke are in the manor running tests on the organic material Stephanie and Jason had managed to get from the other night, with Barbara doing similar work in the clock tower. The others are out in the city, with Bruce running some things by Gordon, Selina being god knows where, and the others tracking some shipment while taking care of minor crimes and such along the way.

It’s almost… weird how coordinated this ‘cult’ seems to be, not to mention just how many people seem to be in on this thing. There didn’t seem to be an exact number at the moment, and if they really did split up, then there may even be more members that they weren’t aware of that have taken refuge outside of Gotham-

Point is, there were definitely a lot of people in this cult. Maybe even too many to coordinate and organize, at least for them to work so in sync with one another as they were now. It’d make more sense if they were only in Gotham, but until they got Clark’s report, no one could be sure of that – even if Dick responding so readily when Bruce had called him in was telling enough on its own. There was also the possibility of there being multiple organizers and leaders for this, which seems like the obvious choice, but even so – who could get a system in place that works this smoothly? It’s almost unnatural. Uncanny, even. Not to mention it doesn’t make sense if there’s no incentive for these people to be doing all of this-

Tim couldn’t figure it out, anyway. It felt like there was still so much they didn’t know yet, and like one thing was happening right after the other. Despite not being out in the city himself, he could use his birds as his eyes to see outside while he remained in the cave – so, in a way he was also tracking the cult. What Tim found weird himself is that you didn’t think the cult had a proper name, or that they weren’t called after the event all of these groups seem to be working towards. It made the most logical sense that they would be, or at least something similar to it – but you, someone who's been working on this case longer than anyone they knew at the moment, disagreed. Why? Regardless, aside from this supposed ‘Red Dawn’, what incentive did… well, anyone have to be a part of the cult to begin with? Did the event itself grant them something? What even was the Red Dawn? What did it have to do with all this soil and sand?

There were too many questions and not enough answers, but he supposes that’s why they’re even investigating to begin with. Though, if Tim had a say in this – it feels too organized to be something that only started three or so days ago. Have they really only been in Gotham for just a couple of days? If what his birds are seeing is real, then it’s more likely that they’ve been here for months-

[“Oh, would you look at that? They split again. Geez, really makes you wonder why they’re moving this stuff around like this. Seems ssseriously inefficient if you ask me.” Jason’s voice sparks in the commlink, tone sarcastic and rough.]

[“Agreed, there hardly seems to be a purpose to such tactics.” Damian huffs, going quiet for a moment only to add, “Unless they really are trying to distract us.”]

Tim perks up at this, and uses a nearby bird to perch on top of one of the telephone lines that go across the street. Watching as the next load of… whatever this cult was hauling and bringing around, drives off down the street. Some of it in a truck, and the other half of it in various cars. Not exactly subtle, but it would be hard to keep track of it all if one person was trying to keep tabs on things. Especially if said person was human.

[“Gonna have to agree with you guys, these people… they’re doing something, alright.” Stephanie chimes in, the suspicion clear in her voice.]

“What does that mean?” Tim can’t help but ask, trying to focus on the sample he’s analyzing, but can’t help but focus more on what his birds are seeing – especially when it’s more interesting the shuffling through samples of dirt.

[Stephanie sighs, “Seems like they’re trying to spread this stuff all around. Parks, gardens, bakeries, flower shops- all kinds of places, and from the looks of things? Whatever they’re doing here, it’s getting to other civilians as well. Guards and employees are helping them, and not just to open the back door either.”]

[“Someone open the front door?” Jason asks rhetorically.]

[Stephanic stiffs a chuckle, but Cassandra responds with a curt, “Yes. And storage.”]

[Jason was quiet for a moment before a small, “... Right, ‘course they did.”]

With his birds, Tim is able to follow as many trails as he can – and upon noticing a particularly weird detail, his brows furrow. “They… looped back around.”

[“Yep, I see them. Right back at the gardens… weird.” Stephanie confirms, sounding equally confused.]

[“They’re obviously trying to play us, but why? So they can plant more of this… red shit everywhere?” Jason can’t help but question.]

Tim shakes his head, which the closest bird to Jason and Damian emulates, “No, that doesn’t make sense. They’ve got loads of this stuff all over Gotham- I don’t see why they’d need more, unless…” He grows quiet, thinking for a moment before he looks down at the sample he’s supposed to be examining. Were they thinking of this the wrong way?

[“Unless… what?” Stephanie asks.]

He tries to think of a way to explain it, fumbling for a moment before just saying, “Well, do we even know what this stuff does?”

[“That’s what we have you looking at it for, yeah? Shouldn’t you or Barbara, or hell- even Duke know?” Jason chips in again.]

[Damian sucks his teeth, “Of course you can’t even do the one job we actually give you, Drake.”]

Tim can practically feel the disdain in Damian’s voice as he says his last name, which makes his brow twitch – but he shakes it off. He tries to, at least.

“I’m trying! I just… don’t know what I’m looking at, or why, okay? This whole situation is… weird.”

[“Look, Tim, people… people died over this stuff. There’s gotta be something weird about it. Maybe weird chemicals or…?” Stephanie tries to suggest.]

The watcher huffs at the reminder, but ultimately relents as he gives it another look while still having his birds keep tabs on things. All he sees is the same thing, and as he increases the magnification on the microscope, he only finds himself growing more… confused. More weirded out than anything, and a little curious, sure, but confused all the same.

Leaning back, he takes a breath, “I don’t understand, it looks alien… but how can that even be possible?”

[“We work with aliens, is it really that strange, Drake?”]

“I know that- but this is like- different! The organisms in the dirt are being taken over by something- and it’s like it’s both trying to take over and adapt to it?”

[“Like… a parasite trying to get used to its host?”]

“Kind of? It’s hard to explain… and this substance in the dirt- no wonder some of it looks like sand…”

[“So, instead of ‘getting used to’ the host, it’s killing it.” Jason suggests.]

“Yeah, like it can’t adapt properly or… is valuing infection over adaptation. It seems to feed on organic material and create more- but there’s something weird about it too.”

[“... And that is?”]

Tim hesitates for a moment, unsure himself, before eventually just putting the idea out there. “Well, at this pace… if their plan is for it to infect all the organic material in Gotham for whatever reason, then this is a seriously inefficient way to do it. Their plan here isn’t to have this stuff in all the dirt - at least, not to change it all. It seems more like a byproduct of whatever they’re trying to do with it.”

[“Well, what’s in the dirt, Tim?” Stephanie asks.]

“That’s the thing- I have no idea. It’s like its own organism, but I haven’t seen anything like this. It’s completely alien, and I doubt it’s the friendly kind.”

[“Well- I have to agree with you there. If it was… well, who knows how this would go. But nothing about all of this particularly screams ‘friendly’.”]

[“Did the people shooting themselves give that away?” Jason sarcastically quips.]

[“The purposefully suspicious activity certainly doesn’t help.” Damian adds, sounding equally pleased.]

Tim zones out of the conversation, glancing back at the samples Jason and Stephanie were able to bring in that he hasn’t fully looked at yet. The samples themselves don’t seem to ‘decay’ necessarily, and it seems to take them a while to eat away at the dirt or sand they’ve been ‘mixed’ with – from the looks of things, anyway.

No, if anything it gives the impression of a substance trying to reach homeostasis. Since, it’s either that or it’s trying to revert back to it’s original state for… whatever reason. Whatever other material it produces in that process is simply a byproduct of its efforts. The real question is why. Why is it trying to change? Why is it working to do… whatever it’s trying to do?

Mindlessly, Tim’s blank eyes drift over to where Duke was sitting, only to pause.

The teenager was hunched over, entirely focused on the task at hand – and whereas that isn’t inherently a bad thing, Duke hardly seems to be breathing, like the smallest gust of air or wind will tamper with the sample so much. Taking too much precaution when it comes to treating it. Not like it’s dangerous, but like it’s precious, like handling something more fragile than glass.

The sight alone makes Tim feel unnerved, and as his senses heighten – its only then does he pick up on the faintest smell. What… what is that-?

[“Oh shit- we’ve got to bounce. Now-!”]

[“Agreed. How did you even manage to-?”]

[“Let’s save the questions for when we’re out of the burning warehouse.”]

Tim blinks, eyes blowing wide as he looks away from Duke and focuses back on what’s going on. Using one of his birds, he can see that a warehouse is, in fact, on fire – and it is growing fast. “Steph-”

[“Already made the call, fire department is on the way but- how in the world did you guys even manage to set the whole place on fire?”]

[“Don’t lump me in with this brainless brute-” Damian’s complaint is cut off.]

[“I didn’t even expect the stuff to catch that fast! Just- ugh,” Jason groans, the subtle sound of the warehouse coming apart is just barely audible through the comlink. “Do everyone a favor, and keep those samples away from fire. That shit lights faster than propane.”]

“Even if it spreads quickly, how did the fire get strong that fast?!”

[“Hell if I know! You said this crap is alien, right? How is anyone supposed to figure it’d have so much kick!?”]

“You knew it could set on fire?!”

[“Last I checked, dirt isn’t flammable- of COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW!”]

[“Guys! Just- focus on getting out of there! We can figure out all of this once we regroup. Meet me and Cass at the station. We need to tell Bruce about this.”]

Tim glances at Duke once again, who’s hand twitches slightly, and the watcher grows quiet before looking back at his own sample.

… Could this night get any weirder?

— — — — – – – – – – — – – –

Eventually, towards the heart of the night, Bruce is able to reach the batcave once more, and everyone recounts what they found or learned – minus certain individuals.

The discussion is as chaotic as one would imagine, but the main points get across eventually, albeit between suspicions a few of them had, and more speculation on what could be going on. The biggest question is why this group had chosen Gotham of all places, if they really have been here recently or have been in the city for longer, who Tim and Cass were able to identify as members of the cult, and so on.

Whoever was organizing this was clearly doing something to the people following them. How perfect everything seemed to flow without their presence was uncanny and unnatural, not to mention how readily members have killed themselves without a hint of hesitation. Honestly, it was terrifying – and the fact there was still so much left unknown wasn’t helping. Not knowing who was behind this, or at least in charge of the group in Gotham was setting them back – and the risk of confrontation was too high. There was no telling if they’d dispose of themself just as quickly as the other members of the cult, but that was assuming there even were other leaders in place.

They certainly had their influencers and people who brought in more members into their cult, but for some reasons… most of the vigilantes had a feeling that there wasn’t. That there was just one person in control – the lack of evidence on that end didn’t help, but they sort of just knew. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to fully dismiss anything, even if some of them were pretty set on a couple of things. Duke, Jason, Stephanie, and Cassandra in particular. Bruce was… well, himself, but he seemed to have his mind set as well even if he left the door open for possibilities.

If this was really alien, who knows what they’re dealing with – and if what Clark said earlier was true, then it’s definitely mind altering, at the very least. Though, that did pose another question entirely about you and the cops that came in from Metropolis.

Were any of you under the influence of this… alien substance?

They weren’t given much time to dwell on that as something pops up on the batcomputer – a notification of sorts. “Ah, must be Clark.” Bruce mumbles, already working on displaying and finding out all the information Clark had gathered.

A map of the United States first flashes onto the many screens, before red dots begin to appear on the map. Like little fairy lights, they flicker on, and don’t stop until it looks like the country has got the bad case of chickenpox. Then, it zooms out, showing the whole world map, and more dots appear. They’re sparse in some areas compared to others, but the message is made clear enough.

Yet, before anyone could fully digest even the point Clark was trying to make, the funniest thing happens.

The dots begin to move. They weren’t just markers, they were trackers.

Some move faster than others, all of them blinking for a moment before shifting, showing their movement. There aren’t any labels, but the direction seems to be clear enough. Especially as the map zooms back into the United States, and shows the movement there a little more clearly.

On the East Coast, all of the dots closest to there seem to be moving towards two cities in particular – but before it can be shown where they are clearly moving towards, the power cuts. The batcave is swallowed by darkness, and the vigilante family is left in complete darkness for a few moments. The cave being the most dark any of them have seen it, and the silence near deafening.

It doesn’t take long for the lights to flicker back on, but they have the oddest shade of pink, and as everything powers back on – the ventilation is still paused, and something else has taken place of the map on the batcomputer – it’s taken over every screen even remotely connected to the advanced computer, actually.

A red solar eclipse with a timer right on the bottom, counting down. No explanation, nothing aside from the eclipse and countdown.

There’s no way someone in the cult could’ve got into the system, and especially not tonight when they were all on high alert and keeping an eye on them! It wasn’t possible, the security in the cave and manor would’ve been enough to stop anyone from getting in, or at least notified any of them if someone had gotten in. Hell, Damian’s sense and trigger would have alerted him if anyone had so much as stepped onto the property that wasn’t supposed to be there. There are too many precautions put into place for this to happen – and for the sight to stay on screen as well.

That didn’t leave many possibilities, and it was less about the why and more about how this could even happen. Which, amongst the options to shift through… with the threat they were dealing with here, only one seemed to stick out and seemed the most plausible.

There was a traitor among them.

[rescuebabiesau]

Transformers Keeping Their Cover

TFP Autobots: Don't reveal themselves to mankind at large because they don't want them getting involved in a war that is not their own and getting hurt or worse.

TFP Decepticons: Don't reveal themselves to mankind at large because it's honestly just harder to get anything done when humans are around. They're either running around screaming and potentially getting stepped on like insects (and nobody wants to have to clean that out of their stabilizers, yuck) or those brave enough just start throwing stuff at them and being generally annoying. (Unless you mess with KO's paintjob, then it's personal-)

Bayverse: Autobots mostly try to keep hidden from the humans out of convenience until the Decepticons show up and don't care, so then they're just like "Frag it, we doin' this-"

Animated: Transform in front of everyone due to a misunderstanding about who was the sentient species here, and then just try to work with it as best they can. Plus new ones are being born (thanks a lot, Allspark) all the time, so hiding's not really an option...

G1: Autobots reveal themselves because the Decepticons just didn't care and then are like "Welp, if the humans want to help us protect their world, then we'll take the help!"

Cyberverse: Transformers mostly try to keep humans out of open involvement, but aren't really hiding from them either (it's only for a few episodes tho)

Earthspark: Similar to G1, but the humans at large are more hostile towards continued cybertronian presence following the war's end— Autobot and Decepticon alike.

Beast Wars/Machines: Humans are absent (pre- and post-G1 stuff)

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Oh well, since you encouraged me... Something that's been on a mind since I've read your older brother!Dick I just keep thinking of the incest potencial... Even with the more than controversial ages

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! 18+ THEMES, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, GN reader, fauxcest, age gap, toxic dynamic, noncon, making out, disgusting touching, brief hints of sexual content, general yandere fuckery, manipulation, kind of grooming(?), controlling behaviors, poor reader trying to cope so hard.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA—

Don’t worry, pooks, I saw all of your other asks about this idea and I’ll try to remember to hit all of the points you bring up. I just wanna keep it all in one place.

ALSO, ALSO, ALSO, LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER ENJOYERS. HEY. HEY. LISTEN. If you’re not fucking with this ask and you don’t want the wholesome platonic dynamic you conjured in your brain ruined for you, DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER. LIKE, AT ALL. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You literally clocked me so badddd. Yes, the undertones in that series are 100% intended. I’m not gonna add anything overtly incestuous, but like… the subtext is there for the freaks to pick up on. Platonic incest where the lines blur every now and then, I love you so much.

Anyways, lemme get to yapping for real.

If we’re going to vaguely follow the Life With Older Brother series, Dick suddenly being so friendly to you would be… a little bit jarring. But try to think about it from his perfective: he wasn’t really there for Jason, and the thought of failing another younger sibling is too much to handle. Maybe he’s just trying to be more present for you. As weird as he may come off, you should at least give him a chance.

The beginning isn’t all that bad. Even if he’s relatively new to the older brother thing, you can tell he’s trying his best, and dare you say it, he’s actually fun to hang out with. Playing video games, going out for ice cream, trashy movie marathons… it almost makes you forget about those weirder behaviors. Almost.

Now, one thing you quickly noticed is how touchy-feely he is. Whenever you’re together, it seems like he’s always got sort of body part touching you one way or another. Sometimes, it’s subtle: a knee resting against yours, a very quick head-pat, his hand brushing against you as he gestures at something. Nothing all that noticeable unless if you’re very sensitive to touch. But then there are times where it’s a little more… overt. Like when he slings an arm around your shoulders. Or when he holds your hand while out and about. Or when pulls you against his side by your waste when it’s a crowded area. Every now and then, you find yourself wondering if this is normal. Do siblings usually touch each other so often? It kind of makes sense, but… considering you haven’t even been siblings for a full year, should he really be this comfortable around you yet?

If you think you can set boundaries with him, good fucking luck. He might’ve made it seem like he was hearing you out, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it with the touching. Okay… maybe this is something he really can’t help. As annoying — and weird… and uncomfortable — it may be, you’ll probably just have to suck it up and get used to it. Some people are just very handsy. But not like that! Oh my god, no. Dick’s Nightwing; a good guy, for Christ’s sake. He would never do anything like that!

(… Right?)

Here’s the thing about platonic physical affection: how weird can it get before people finally draw the line? Is it forehead kisses? Hugging someone by the waist? Having them sit in your lap whenever the opportunity arises? Are any of those things actually weird, or does Dick somehow make them weird? Because, yes, he still most definitely acts like an older brother — he certainly teases you like one, and you constantly have to fight against the urge to bite him like a feral weasel — but the touching… well… maybe familial affection is just a concept foreign to you (thanks in no small part to Bruce), but Dick somehow makes it feel like something else.

And you’ll admit; you don’t actually know what that something else is. All you know is that you’re pretty sure big brothers do not do that gentle, extremely intimate thumb-stroke thing to their little sibling’s face before a forehead kiss. And they also do not come up from behind their little sibling for a hug.

And the lap thing?

That was probably the turning point.

Because what older brother has their little sibling sit on their lap while watching TV? One hand on your hip, the other on your thigh… he’s doing that weirdly intimate thumb stroke thing on your bare skin, and all you can do is sit there and think, oh… I don’t like this. If you’re brave enough to ask him what he’s doing, he’ll play dumb. Hm? What do you mean, kiddo? He’s not doing anything… what are you talking about?

Before you can even begin to express how uncomfortable you are, however, his fingers start toying with the hem of your shit. You’re acutely aware of his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your torso, sending an uneasy shiver up your spine. Dick’s no stranger to touching your waist area, and while you still don’t really like it that much, you’ve gotten used to it. But this? Something about the actual skin on skin contact makes you freeze up entirely.

“You know,” Dick would thoughtfully begin, “I’m probably the luckiest big brother in the world. I don’t think you realize just how cute you are, (Y/N).”

His hand then inches its way up your shit.

BadbadbadbadbadbaDBADBADBADBAD—

Don’t bother fighting back. Don’t bother yelling at him. Don’t even bother squirming as he gently begins to run circles into the skin under your shirt. His grip on your thigh is like iron, holding you down to his lap and making any struggle futile. In fact, if I were to venture a guess, you’d probably be too petrified to even move, the shock of the moment rendering you completely immobile. This was supposed to be your big brother; yes, he’s a bit weird and overprotective, but he’s still your fucking big brother. And while your knowledge on big brothers may be extremely limited, you know for a fact that this is crossing a line.

Your faces become closer and closer until his breath is ghosting against your lips. “I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

You don’t dare to offer him a response. Hell, you don’t even know what you could say to that. The only thing filling your brain is the brazen warning bells screaming for you to get the fuck away from him. Except you can’t. For whatever reason, your body’s frozen in place, limbs weighing you down like heavy ice blocks.

You can’t move.

You can’t fucking move.

And, of course… he takes advantage of that.

By the time his lips softly plant themselves on yours, it’s too late. The lines between platonic and whatever the fuck this is have long been crossed, and you can never go back to pretending like everything is normal between you two. All of the subtle warning signs you opted to ignore were now blaring in your mind like loud sirens, almost mocking the fact that you didn’t fucking trust yourself.

This can’t be happening. This absolutely can’t be happening. You thought of this creep as your big brother; was this really the same guy that helped you with homework and let you play games on his laptop? Was this really the same guy under the Nightwing mask?

While the kiss evolves into something a little more passionate, he doesn’t take it too far. Just a gentle make-out session with roaming hands. He ends it by holding you against his chest, seemingly content with just occasionally peppering kisses to your face for the next hour or so. Neither of you say anything during this time. Even if you want to yell at him and demand why the fuck he did that, you’re too shocked to even form a coherent thought.

The man you thought could be your big brother is a massive fucking creep.

You think you’re going to be sick.

He doesn’t go out for patrol that night. Instead, he simply picks you up and carries you to his room, dressing you in his clothes for bed. You’re still trying to process the humiliation of letting this all happen as he slips you under the sheets with him and cuddles up to you. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night. How the fuck could it? Not only do you have that stupid fucking kiss haunting you, but now you have this sicko’s hand playing with the waistband of your shorts (his shorts), and god. You’re not sure how you didn’t throw up then and there.

So. What happens afterwards? Well, first off, no more phone. Dick’s not an idiot; he knows the lines he crossed that evening and would rather you not call Bruce or Alfred or the police. You’re also not allowed on his laptop unless if he’s supervising you, and your ass is not going outside anytime soon. Then we have the gross shit… yeah, now that he’s had a taste, he’s gonna be all over you. It won’t go that far just yet — he’d rather ease you into that territory, much like what he’s been doing before — but it can get a bit steamy. At least for him. You might still be grossed out over all this or whatever.

You know what the worst part is? He still has the audacity to act like your older brother. It doesn’t matter how many times he touches you or forces you to kiss him: he’ll call you kiddo through it all and offer to play some video games afterwards. In fact, are times where you both return to your previous sibling banter and you can almost convince yourself that things are totally fine. There you go again, falling for his meticulously set up trap.

This new dynamic might take some time to get used to, but Dick will try his damned hardest to make it seem natural. So what if Big Brother sometimes wants to pin his cute little sibling against the counter and leave love bites on their neck? Sometimes, it just has to happen. No harm, no foul. This could be normal if you stopped being so weird about it, you know.

And, you know what… you may find yourself finally accepting that this is your new normal. What else are you supposed to do? You can’t call anyone, you can’t run away, you can’t even fight back because he was trained by fucking Batman… you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but maybe you can make peace with it. This is nothing more than an annoyance from your big brother. That’s all. It’s not him grooming you. It’s not him taking advantage of you. It’s just him being a little irritating at times. Ignore the urge to throw up… ignore how your skin crawls whenever he’s near you… every sibling has their flaw, and being a total creep is Dick’s.

You’d probably begin to despise Bruce a little, too. Did he know how fucked up his former ward is? Or is the exact same way? Guess you’ll never know, because the man can’t even bother to check up on you. He essentially took you out of the system and threw you into the den of a wolf, subjecting you to a new personal hell you can’t even escape from. And Alfred… you thought he actually cared. Is he not concerned about the sudden radio silence on your end?

You really can’t help but wonder if anyone even thinks about you outside of the apartment, and with Dick being in control of what information he feeds to Bruce over the phone, all you can do is guess at this point. In the meantime, Big Brother just came back and needs a hug… why don’t you come on over to the couch, kiddo?

Ugh. There are so many fucking directions I can go in from here. You mentioned Bruce (or eventually Tim) becoming suspicious and finding out what’s going on, and GRRRRR. SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I need to write a blurb about this. It’s so addicting. I just had to get some of the base ideas on this out because this concept has been marinating in my brain for way too long. I’m not kidding, I was going to actually explode if I didn’t get to talk about this. I NEED MORE OF THIS TYPE OF SHIT.

[ponett]

hi uh so um do you have any tips for someone who wants to make an rpg (more general game design stuff i'm not planning to make it in rpg maker) (sorry if this is really annoying) (loved slarpg)

So this is a very broad subject since RPGs are a complex genre that can be approached a lot of different ways, but in general I think the most important thing is to look at the games you play analytically.

How do individual design choices contribute to the big picture of the experience the devs are trying to give you? How do they make you feel? If something is annoying, can you think of an intentional reason why it might have been designed that way? How are things paced? How much are you pushed to use the tools at your disposal? How do the enemy behaviors influence your actions? What kind of rewards are you given, and when? What sort of choices is the player given? How open or constricted is the world design? How does the gameplay help convey the story? And what really speaks to you about the games you love, deep down? When you can break things down like this and think about what you'd do the same and what you'd do differently, you can build something new off of the core pillars of the games you love, rather than just copying them on a surface level.

And as everyone will tell you, start small. Don't sit down and decide to make a 60-hour epic right from the jump. You will burn out. Everything takes longer than you think it will. I made what I thought was going to be a 5-8 hour game and it ended up being a 20+ hour game that took me the better part of a decade.

[bambooswordwielder]

Ever since I found out that Wei Wuxian shares the same surname as Wei Qingwei, I've just been imagining an AU where after Wei Wuxian dies, he somehow ends up in the body of a disciple Wei Qingwei who is the current Head Disciple of Wan Jian and just goes

"Well... I was Head Disciple once, I can be Head Disciple again."

Cue Wei Wuxian (Now Wei Qingwei) absolutely being the most talked about name at Cang Qiong for revolutionising sword forms, talismans, and just generally becoming a well known Shixiong you can go to if you ever need help.

You need clarifications on this one talisman? Go to Wei-Shixiong.

You need someone to help you take down this one water ghoul that's been haunting your favourite pond? Go to Wei-Shixiong.

You need someone to help you prank that one annoying stick-in-the-mud Hall master? Go. To. Wei-Shixiong.

He simply becomes the big brother of the entire Sect.

Eventually he's the confirmed 100% successer to his Shizun and he's made a pretty good reputation for himself throughout the peaks. Apparently he has such a good reputation that he's now being taken with all the other head disciples to go with all the Peaklords for some inter-sect meeting with some Sects in the far South.

All Wei-Shixiong hears is how all the other disciples are afraid of going to such a 'scary' place and how 'their Sects are so backwards over there!'

Wei-Shixiong rolls his eyes, can't be that bad.

He realises it is that bad when he sees familiar Blue, Yellow, Grey/Green, and Purple banners lining the hallway before a few familiar faces show up one by one and sit down at the head of the table.

[darbonime]

resisting the desire

contains: lawyer! alex x assistant! reader, age gap, smut, fingering, unprotected sex. not sure if it's important but mention of daddy issues and kind of depressive suicide thoughts.

word count: 8.1k

The rustle of documents in messy office of his. It’s a small, crumpled room, during that month he has too many cases. Or it’s always like this, and he just seems not handling it? His office from a neat place became chaos and he already made a note to clean it after tons of work, if there will be any end to it, of course. Tie starts choking him and piles of paper seem endless, Alex sighs, getting annoyed and more exhausted with every passing second. Darkness surrounds him and the only light he has is the dim typical greenish lamp and light from another office.

His hand rummages through the documents on a table, not bothering to look while he is busy with other ones. A groan escapes him, and he eases his tie one more time again. It’s stuffy in here, his head is going to blow up, and later, janitor is going to gather pieces of his scalp all over the place.

“Where is the fuckin’…” his hand still tries to find the paper, he needs. He hits an empty cup with leftovers of coffee inside with elbow, almost dropping it down. He slams his tight clenched fist on the table as his patience comes to an end, which is a rare sight. Shiver runs over table, little spoon clinks in the cup. He exhales, his eyes shutting for a second, trying to regain tolerance again.

“Love, is there accidentally might be the robbery case on your table? The defendant this one young girl…” he trails off, trying to find the right description of his client simultaneously massaging his temple with closed eyes. Always keeps his voice serene for you, it’s a rule in his head.

A feminine humming comes from the next office.

“Bratty one?” you question casually, not trying to make him laugh, which does exactly the opposite. This attitude of yours. You would never be a lawyer with a mouth like yours.

“Yeah, bratty one.” he nods with a grin, taking off his jacket hanging it on the back of his chair. He brushes off hair from the forehead, leaning in his ancient leather rolly chair, making it creak. A minute to take a full breath, finally.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor is his favorite sound of all sounds in the drudgery. His smile turns into a small smirk. When you gracefully walk in as if with no trace of depletion to hand the file case he needed, Alex, with playful respect, bows his head, accepting it.

You fix piles, then walk to the small, curtained window, you open it letting in freshness and sounds of buzzing city, hearing him mumbling concentrated “thank you” as he reads the case papers with furrowed brows and serious expression which makes his wrinkles more prominent. Being younger than him, you found yourself liking his older look, at the beginning you tried to ignore it but then just gave in.

“You should ask for a more comfortable office,” you throw him, gazing around the place, “After all you are the best here, boss.” He shakes his head with a heavy sigh, not skipping the foggy praise from you.

With odd masochist edge in him, he finds himself liking to be in that office. Sometimes, because of overworking, the walls looked like squeezing around him and every time he flinches, closing eyes for a moment and the walls stand in one place as they always did. Despise that, that little corner of his feels somehow… nice. It feels like that exact office should be his. Some connection to it.

That one case wasn’t hard, but judge wasn’t interested in case, that cocky old man in general never was interested in cases or being fair, and for that girl, bratty but for sure not thief by her own nature, it might cost messed up future and quite some time in jail. Alex meanwhile got too attached. In the beginning the girl was so annoying that he almost couldn’t hold his own temper to himself. Rude phrases and sarcasm dazzled him like a kaleidoscope, and she seemed to have thousands of ways to rile him up. She was blowing smoke into his face, clearly trying to defend her boyfriend that was the guilty one, it was easy to understand considering how many cases he had in his life... Before one day, she finally told the truth, with a remorseful face and pointing table eyes. That bastard set her up pining it all on her. Convenient. Since then, trust found a place to develop between them, and every time concern rises in his chest when he thinks about his fatal role in that young lady’s fate.

Every case that he fucks up, has a long impact on him. Alex can’t allow himself to think about possible failure. Every case that he fucks up, is like committing a crime. Especially when his clients were anything but guilty, and for some irony it’s the most of his clients. It passes but always settles on the bottom of his mind.

“Coffee, boss?” you propose, because it’s obviously your work, not just be pretty and accidentally find the papers on your table that he forgot in the bustle of the day. Though, he would agree to keep you there just as nice company. He thinks you aren’t that bad; your humor entertains him, and a pencil skirt sits nicely on you, quite tight. Alex can’t help but catches himself staring, every time you leave his office after bringing him a cup of caffeine. You always brought a small cookie from cafeteria downstairs on a limpet with a cup. You didn’t leave a chance for him, of course, he started liking you.

He had five cups of americanos today, he couldn’t say he really felt the impact. Alex read one sentence already third time only to let it slip out of his mind again. Stinging in his eyes forces him to shove papers inside of the case file with a heavy

“I might have a heart attack soon or somethin’…” he wearily attempts to joke.

“Does it matter if you die of heart attack or exhaustion?” you shrug, “I can bring you tea, if you worry about your heart,” chuckling, you add, “Though I think it’s too late to worry about it.” That honestly makes him laugh, nothing funny about it, but every joke that leaves your mouth automatically grasps a laugh from him. He can’t quite place it, but you are a charmer.

You have worked as his assistant for a year already. He is alone, and so are you, he assumes. You often stay up late with him. Alex didn’t solve that one riddle yet. Are you that industrious or do you like his company, or do you just have nowhere else to be? So, during that year he still didn’t find the guts to ask you on a date. He mulled over it at night after wearing out days in the law office. Hell on earth. Suffering from insomnia brings a deep thinking with it. You kept his mind occupied in the moments when it wasn’t occupied with clients or finally ending life. A nice refreshment among everything, he must say.

He had poor excuses about it. He forgot, he had no time, you left earlier than he intended, but honestly, he just didn’t know how to go for it and don’t lose cool like a fool.

Also, he had real reasons. The first reason why he still hasn’t invited you to have dinner with him is the fifteen-year gap between you two. People will look strange on both of you in a restaurant. God, people will look strange on you and him everywhere. He simply felt like a dickhead, but that didn’t stop him from being interested in you. Second reason is… Office romance? Very smart of you, Alex.

He isn’t a man for attachments, he had few affairs, but it ended quickly as began, and he can’t say he regrets or miss it. He just works. It might be the thing that sucked off any energy for living from him. Sometimes he thinks about it. Possible family, love of his life… Sounds nice, he just wonders who even needs a grumpy drained old lawyer like him.

“Anyway, I don’t think coffee might work. Seems like I’m immune to it, after all these years.” scoffing, he laughs quietly, which makes you smile. Laugh suits him well, even self-deprecating. If liking a middle-aged man is bizarre, in your defense you could say his laugh is pure endearment.

Alex became a lawyer about thirteen years ago. Goddamn thirteen years. He doesn’t think he really remembers the life before. He doesn’t exactly remember life even now. Cases, cases, cases. He recalls how he studied back in Sheffield, moved out to get more perspective in his career and he did. Now, he has an apartment aloof from downtown, because endless noise makes him sick. All the sounds of people and their activity are ringing in his ears constantly, and if it’ll be loud at home he will lose it. His place is not big, but it’s enough for him. Speaking of Sheffield. He thinks about his parents often too, it’s time to see them or at least call. The thought of them being proud of their lawyer son while he can’t even make a call is like an aching wound that constantly reminds itself. When was the last time he was back at parents’ home? Or just called?

“Go home then. Rest for god’s sake.” you sit on the corner of his wooden table, and his gaze runs over the curve of your hip, black nylons that hug your thighs, unbuttoned at the top white blouse and your hair became a bit disheveled after an entire day of working. He rushes to tear away his eyes not wanting to appear old pervert. You were a delicious sight, but he felt dirty for staring.

“Bed ‘s cold. Lonely. Don’t wan’ to come back.” he mumbles, looking up at you, not fighting the urge to look. His smooth warm voice has a hinting tone literally on the surface, that tiny smile seems angelic bur for sure hides a devil deep down.

Pretty head of yours doesn’t know that he hardly can sleep. But the piece of truth in that. It is cold and lonely in bed. When he doesn’t get any sleep at all, one day slips into another creating infinity and feeling of hopelessness, thoughts that this will never end. His fear of losing sleep fully chases him silently, but he always knows it is behind. Thinking replaces sleep, which honestly makes everything much worse. Alex couldn’t say he is really excited to live, but remains doing it, like many others. Sometimes night is like reaching the lowest point. It’s silent, and in these moments, he knows it’s a grave he made by himself by living so far away from the downtown, he desires at least hear anyone outside, window is always open, but there is barely any sound. He laughed about is few times, what a stupid thing - to want silence and yet don’t want it at the same time - and every time, the way his laugh lonely rings all over space he goes shut immediately. Alex is alone. No one is here. Throbbing thoughts and fears grabbing his legs and arms, and he can’t even fight back. Something that rots can’t fight back, can it?

Anyway. You got the hint.

“Buy a plushie.” you try to appear composed and unbothered by his incredibly obvious hints, and joke without a smile, which is hard, you always laugh even before the joke is told.

He laughs, running his hands over his dog-tired face. If only you knew. Work and sleeplessness pressured him to have more age lines and clear bags under his eyes. Stubble, that became more protruding already, because he had not time to shave. Even the way he wears exhaustion is attractive in a strange way. It makes you want to cradle his head, lull him until he falls asleep and kiss him. Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, jaw, corners of his lips and then finally lips itself.

“You are hilarious.” he shakes his head, trying to hold back a smile, keeping eye contact with you.

You look away, scratching the back of your neck, and scuttle off from his table, smoothing your skirt down.

Not wanting, but mostly just deep down, frightened of that little moment of proximity to grow it into something out of control, you walk away back to corner, where is located your small cozy table filled with different knick-knacks - papers he will need to have soon or later, cup that is left after tea. In comparison to him, you are more a tea person, though, have many cups of tea as he has many cups of coffee.

Your father with a crack, divorced with your mother, then after few years he died. You can’t wrap head around it, old memories of him making your mother suffer still coming back to you, supplying with tormenting old days that disappeared suddenly as came back. Blinded little girl in your soul misses him every day. Eyes get teary when you think of him beating your mom, but they also get teary every time you see random dad with daughter passing on a street. He visits you in dreams, and even through the sleep you know he is dead, often these dreams ended up being horrendous nightmares, but sometimes they were too good to wake up from them.

You never desired to open up. School is a time when faith in people dissolved. People you considered friends suddenly left, when carefree fire in eyes changed with a stuck image of pale corpse of your father in the coffin. Then you grew up and started dating. Guys of your age were like cheap toys for you. The craving to fill the emptiness inside you and around you, is a child that is capricious about getting a trinket that brings quick happiness but loses interest quickly. There was no longing for them, you could miss the feeling of someone nearby, but there was nothing about love.

You gave preference to money and work. Yes, well you tried, but the man you serve coffee every day became too attractive for your gaze. Sometimes you catch a hint of your father in his expression, and then you peer into his figure. Long, without blinking, when Alex doesn’t notice. May it be not your father but the father figure you crave so much? There is no explanation about your attraction to older men, it disgusts you but at the same time it’s what you desire. Some weakness to it that you can’t let go and forget.

That flirtatious theatre play began as innocent off-related to work talk in a free minute that grew to playful banter and blossomed into silent attraction to each other. He always had words between the lines in his script. Long stares, gentle manner of voice, gestures. You didn’t stem it back then, and now grape vine has grown too persistent and entwined both of you to cut it.

Exceptions. That’s what you became to each other. You are humorous, yet calm, in a way of reassuring the reality he lives in, and with tinge of care for him, that deepened into him becoming a need, and he was intelligent, polite and with trace of sarcastic grumpiness, but sheepish grateful smile ever, which no one other showed to you before.

The radio quietly plays some jazz songs. The little music machine plays only when other lawyers leave and only both of you are here. He doesn’t mind the music, if it’s quiet and somewhere distant. If a familiar song on a radio makes you happy for a fleeting time, could he resist? He knows a young soul like you needs a source of dopamine or you will be captured by the void that everyone has at some point in that diabolic torturous place. Alex had no desire to watch you turning into dry human like him with craving to have a bullet shot through his temple. He simply won’t forgive himself.

It's not that bad. Sometimes just a bad patch comes to life, but he can’t quite remember when he had a good one. Nuisance, it is. He has money and a good career, his mother always told him to look at others and not complain, because some people have no legs or arms. Alex never gets it. Is having legs and arms compensate not having desire to live? He would argue.

“I’ll go home in twenty minutes.” soft encouragement for him to go home too. It’s become a sign between both of you already. He silently nods and you are good with that answer.

You sit down at your table opening the magazine to waste time as if waiting for him but not waiting for him. He watches the way you hold the magazine, the way delicate fingers flick pages, the way your leg crossed over another. Your heels sitting on your feet, calling out a distant favorite sound of clicking in his head. Black bra just tiny bit is noticeable through your cheap blouse, it’s lacy, he bets. Every day you made yourself look like it’s the last day on earth, he could say you spend quite some time on your beauty. Effortless in his eyes.

It’s not illegal, he reassures himself, but for sure is sinful.

He looks away for now, tries to get concentrated on a bratty girl case again. He opens the file again, looking through it carefully. There are no thoughts about the case, no thoughts about that robbery. He is on the verge of screaming something like “God damn it, isn’t it obvious that she couldn’t rob anyone?!” Alex closes the file.

Can’t he simply live?

“Love, I’m gettin’ ready to leave,” he announces getting up, putting on his jacket back. He is sick of that place. He is going to ask you on a date, whatever happens. Picking up his coat from the floor hanger and throwing it quickly on his shoulders. Holding a file, to work on it at home, he closes the door in his office, “Hurry, darlin’.” he grumbles as you put away the magazine. He hooks your coat from the hanger holding it open for you to slip in. The gesture breaks a tiny smile on your face as you put on coat with his help. His hand warmly hovers over your lower back leading you out of the law office, closing the door with a satisfying click.

As you both appear outside, the sounds of the city become evident and loud, fresh air catches in the lungs. Cars drive back and forth, pavement damped by rain hours earlier. The city isn’t sleeping even though it’s ten in the evening already. You nestle in the coat with a howling November wind ruffling your hair.

“Don’t mind me havin’ a smoke?” pack of cigarettes already in his hand and his hazel eyes look at you under eyelashes with hope, but he is still gentleman enough to ask if you okay with that. Smoking with him since high school. So long ago, it makes him laugh. Alex started to smoke to look cool, ended up being addicted. It is funny.

“Of course, it’s not like you have enough of habits that kill you.” a sarcastic remark leaves your mouth, playfully dismissing him with a wave of your hand.

He nods, chuckling, and places a cig in his mouth, familiarly inhaling and lighting it at the same time with an old shabby metallic Zippo lighter. Smoke blows from a cig as he takes a drag of it with spreading relief in his chest, looking himself as if he’s breathing finally. You don’t mean to stare, it’s just smoking after all, but mix of drain, cigarette and him, is an arousing mix.

You both stand in silence, not looking at each other, expecting things to be said.

“I probably should go- ”

“Want to have a dinner with me?” he interrupts.

You both look at each other, slightly awkward. The question that has been avoided for months was finally said out loud. Silence lingers between you both, and the only sound here is driving cars and the whisper of leaves on the trees.

“It’s kind of late.” you look up to the dark clouded sky as if prove him that it is late and empathize the point, but no way it will stop him. Not today.

“I didn’t eat. Didn’t notice ya eat during the day too.” he licks his lips nervously, keeping the cool facade. His eyes penetrating in your skin and between every bone, as if keeping you with gaze on one place. No way he will let you escape.

You have some unexplainable feeling of wrongness about connection with him. Accepting the fact that you are about to get into something with a man much older than you, with obvious gawking thoughts of finding concrete attention from him felt disgusting. You could use anyone for your urges, but not him.

“Jus’ say no, if you don’t want to. Don’t torture poor man.” he jokes with a short, yet sonorous laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but the last thing he wants to hear is “no”. He takes another drag of cigarette to gain confidence and compose. It’s just a woman after all; he says to himself. He pats the cig with a finger, forcing ash to fall and melt into air.

You keep your eyes down, shifting uneasily. Nervous chuckle all you can manage out of yourself. Lump forms in your throat, your body tightens. Doing something that you aren’t sure of at all, always scares, and you never were good at risking. Will he take a chance to impact on your decisions in the shadow? Will he use you? Will you let him use you?

Alex could see your conflicted expression, wanted to reassure you that this dinner shouldn’t mean anything, which would be total bullshit. Not quick answer makes him doubt if he did the right thing by asking you. Deep down, he was sure you would answer immediately, he saw you were interested. Or was he mistaken? Was he blinded by lack of long attachment and thirst for love? Was he fooled by you?

“Okay,” almost exclaimed you, tad too loud, shrugging as if it’s no big deal, trying to look calm to the bones. Lump is disappearing, replacing with tremble in your hands afterwards, like a shockwave punctured you, “Any ideas where to eat?” It feels like a fever, temperature seems to rise and your cheeks flourish with red color, ribs squeezing lungs cutting into them. You have no idea what you are doing, you just did what you did, and now you can’t turn back.

You look forced, he could say, you aren’t sure what you are doing, that is clear. His eyes narrowed, still piercing you through. For a second, he considers giving you more time to think, but greedy animal in him already digs into you with its claws, refusing to let go.

“There’s place ‘round the corner. You will like it.” the answer comes out too fast. Offering an arm, you silently accept it. It felt like a secret, not a nasty one but the one you hide well, with no desire for anyone else to find out. You breathed out, and he noticed it, letting the relief spread over his body. It’s not that scary now, you caught yourself thinking. His body against you brought up immediate comfort and calmness, like nothing bad couldn’t even happen.

Alex leads you to the one quiet spot that he thought about for a long time already. He hasn’t been to this place in a while, but he always is welcomed here. He and the owner are on good terms, smoking sometimes after he has a meal there. Nice old man with cough that heard in the whole neighborhood, Alex always pats his back before farewell, every time hoping to meet again with him before old man passes away. Its place has live music in the evenings, so he believed you’d appreciate it. The desire to impress you was fighting with the thoughts that he is already at the autumn of his life, which is a bit dramatic.

At the doors of the restaurant, he courteously opened the door letting you in. No way back. Let’s see how that is going to be, the same thought races through both of your heads.

The place has a warm and inviting atmosphere, the light is dim, people chattering and it seems to be like a separate world from gloomy cold streets outside. Wine aroma spread in the air, lampshades with fringe making it look old-fashioned in a good sense of it, bunch of musicians playing all-favorite public music on a small cozy stage. Wooden panels garlanded with vintage posters, small candles are glowing on every table, and if a restaurant could have a vivid soul, it would be that one.

That sight makes you above the clouds, you struggle to explain it, but you turn to glance at him and he shyly grins seeing your satisfied expression, hiding his own gaze down. There’s no trace of uncertainty now, not even a little thought about it. Waitress leads you to the table, not too far away from musicians and too close to them, placing the menus on a table, she disappears. Gallantly helping you to take off your coat and taking out a chair for you, before slipping out of his own coat and sitting down too, carelessly throwing robbery case on his side of table.

“Okay, boss, I like it, I’ll give you that.” chuckling, you still look around with a wide smile not be able to help yourself but be excited. Your gaze held by musicians doing their thing.

“Jus’ Alex,” he nods with a light proudness on his face, “Glad you like it.” You could swear his voice would taste like milk with honey, warm and soothing. You nod at his request, feeling the invisible space between you two disappears with a riveting transience. He always perks up at “boss”, it is noticeable, his gaze changes to a lost and aroused one. That label does sound good from your mouth, but he is sure his name will sound much more satisfying.

Both of you looking through the menu for some time considering what to order and what to drink, and after few minutes waitress is taking your order writing down the bottle of red wine and pasta for both of you.

“So,” you can’t contain your curiosity, glancing on a file with case, begin you, “That arrogant girl. You mentioned she was hard to handle during your discussions with her.”  Alex frowned. The way you called her is partly true, yet cuts his ears and dimly hurts his heart, the care that grew for the young girl fuels in his soul, like it’s his own daughter. He blocks any thoughts about it, he gets too sentimental, it’s simply unprofessional.

“Darlin’, I’m sick tired of work,” he sighs brushing away the topic as an annoying flying bug, running fingers through his shaggy hair, only to let them fall on his forehead again, “And I can’t tell you anything. Just ‘cause you are charmin’ doesn’t mean you will know details of a case.” he simpered, but after all it’s just attorney-client privilege.

Waitress brings two crystal clear glasses, pulling out cork from a bottle with a pop sound, pouring fragrant burgundy liquid for each of you, retiring away.

You pout lip, and he smirks, shaking his head.

Rolling your eyes with a tinge of playfulness, you continue, “I thought we are friends.”

“We are boss and assistant.” he lets out a low chuckle. He plays a fool now. Seriously?

“Yeah, that’s why we are having a dinner in a cozy place like that.” you say satirically, taking a sip of wine, keeping eye contact with him over the edge of the glass. That remark sprung up from earlier anxiety. Your awareness of his attraction to you, made you feel a step ahead of him, even if it was unfair to him.

Alex clears his throat, tensed by your remark. Something felt bitter about it, even if it was just teasing from your side. Doubts fill him once again.

Musicians in the background continue pouring the music out of their instruments creating the bubble of movie-like energy in that place. It’s not a stadium level, nothing special, not at all, but it what exactly made their playing so delightful. Simple and nice.

“Do you feel ashamed for liking me?” question you, and he scoffs, his palm nervously runs over his rough stubble. “I mean, everything is on the surface there-”

“It’s not about… shame.” he rushes to answer, exhaling, “It’s ‘bout morality.”

Alex’s lips pressed into thin line, and brows furrowed a bit. Does he feel ashamed? Not really. Conflicted? Yes, it’s about to make him go off his rocker and do something he might regret at the end.

“We are not in the court, Alex.” first time you use his name, and you see the slight hitch in his breath as with the “boss”. Oh, these genius remarks of yours. He can’t contain a chuckle.

“Did I say you are hilarious?” he says with fatigued middle-aged man smile, clearly suppressing the topic again. He isn’t a fool, you could try to play as if you are in control there, but, honestly, both of you are blind on this path.

“You watch my behavior later after we finish bottle of wine.” you let out mischievous giggle, agreeing silently and leaving the topic, glancing at the musicians once again. They kept you mesmerized.

The pinch of tenseness between you two disappeared, letting the evening continue. You both ate and drank, he laughed, and you watched him with a smile. Everything felt right. The talk poured between you, and neither of you could stop because it’s too good to stop, like reaching paradise from the deepest bottom of hell. That’s what he wanted. Be casual with you, interactions in the office were good but not fulfilling. He worships expressions you share with him tonight.

Wine. Your behavior did become… frank.

The rest of the dinner went quite nicely before you became too talkative, attempting to sing every song that played. He honestly was caught out of guard. When you both left restaurant you scarcely could walk with your own feet, stumbling out of the blue and laughing noisily, riveting the eyes of others. Your laugh was so loud that it started ringing in his ears, peaking him to annoyance. Alex convinced to catch a taxi for you and take you home. If he knew you were a lightweight to that extent, he wouldn’t order wine and wouldn’t let you drink half of the bottle by yourself.

Both of you sat in the back seat of the taxi as the driver was making his way to your apartment building. You leaned on him sleepily rambling balderdash about random things while he kept your head safely on his shoulder. Skirt on your thighs lifted as you sat, which became a constant place to stare during ride.

He will lead you to the apartment and it’s enough.

“Alex… C’mon…” tugging him inside of your apartment, you giggle, “How is it usually? Just a cup of a coffee.” you stumble again, reassuring him that he is there just for a few minutes. He securely catches you without hesitation, wrapping his arms around to stable you. Little smirk unconsciously pulls out on his lips, you were adorable to watch. Your intoxicated demeanor is quite in contrast to the way you usually carry yourself.

His feet already stepped over frame of the front door, defeatedly sighing. You do your best to walk to the kitchen straight but lean on the wall on the way. A click, which awakens kettle from sleeping and demands to boil water, spreads through the silent apartment. There he is, in your apartment. Alex looks around, awkward to be there, like he is out of place.

Closing and locking the front door, he takes off his coat and costume jacket, setting them on the little couch near front door placing case file over it, keeping his eyes on it for a few seconds, watching if it falls. When it’s not, he kicks off his boots.

It is nice to get to know someone closer after long time of being lonesome man. He does his best to be meticulous, to catch every possible detail that could spark a future talk between you two, just in case. Your apartment is a mess here and there, but he enjoys seeing that side of you, pile of clothes lies on the back of the couch, few plants seem to be dry, nearing extinction. Just like he imagined. A glimpse of your bedroom shows him not entirely made bed. He thinks you have enough time to clean the apartment but concludes with a thought that you have no motivation to do it. You are alone there after all.

“Maybe better tea? I bought pack of coffee last week but…” your words fading away as he leans on the doorway frame before kitchen. Your figure fidgets with a cupboard, fumbling with boxes of coffee and tea. Creases on your skirt that appeared from lots of sitting in the office. He stares. The itching feeling to lie hands on your alluring curve of hips soaks into skin of his palms.

“Boss?” formal name slips off from your mouth, you turn to face him to get his attention, “Tea? Coffee?” you step closer to him with glittering sparks of playfulness in your eyes, “Or a dance? How my grandfather used to tell.” Charming drunken laugh pours from your pretty lips.

Alex can take his eyes from you, smile crawls on his face on its own. You carried some simple pleasure in his life. Right now, he doesn’t feel the usual constant heaviness on his shoulders or lack of normal 8-hour sleep, that is so evident in his fatigued eyelids. Everything you do makes him grin and chuckle. You are so easy to enjoy, in a life where nothing is easy.

“Do we need a coffee?”  his voice is gravelly rough after a long silence from his side. Tie loosened, revealing a sight of his collarbones merging into the curve of his deliciously strong neck.

You make out a silly smile looking down at your own feet and shaking head. You know what is about to happen. Control of the situation failed with a crash. Alex and you, alone in your apartment, it’s late, and you are hammered.

His two fingers lightly make a touch with your chin forcing your head to lift, leaving nothing for you but to look up with pliable and innocent gaze and a silent demand to do something. His chocolate eyes run over moles that adorn the skin of your face, the way night luminary from the window kisses mellowly your face. There’s a trace of reddish lipstick on your slightly opened lips that stuck to them even after dinner. Your jawline is leaking in between his calloused fingers as he slowly with a tiny hesitation and searching eyes leans in to capture your lips.

Alex doesn’t rush, he has everything he needs right there. His lips move slowly, tasting you for the first time, not letting passion to breach the dam. It would be such a loss to ruin kiss with hurried temp. You are giving in the kiss entirely, letting go any concerns. He doesn’t need to wait for your mouth to open, his tongue slips inside, without any cease from you. His palm brushes in your soft strands, with tender thoroughness, cradling the back of your head. Other arm snakes around your waist pulling you in the radius of his body warmth.

You expected to experience the wave of pure desire and passion, but you feel quite different from it. The strange feeling of safeness and prominent absence of judgment washes over you. His arms feel like the safest place in the world, that you would be quite capricious to leave later. You wish later never come.

His thumb hooks the elastic of your skirt delicately, while breath sweeps over sensitive curve of your neck, urging goosebumps creeping in the skin.

“Let me take care of you.” the way he says it leaves no choice for you but melt like a cubic of ice in his hands.

Alex presses your back against the surface of a table cupping your full curve of ass. His disused stubble scratches the skin of your neck from up to down. His lips trail between your collarbones downwards, slowly unbuttoning your blouse, revealing the same black bra adorned with lace and very appealing neat bow. Exactly what he could catch a glance of in the office. He will be a mess at the end of that little rendezvous, he believes.

His other hand halfway of lifting your skirt. “Can I?” he whispers, and you nod, not trusting yourself murmur at least one word, knowing any sound from you will be too exposed. You sneak your arm around his neck.

Nylons stretched on your thighs, light pink panties appear underneath as he moves skirt higher, and he can’t hold back a lighthearted chuckle. You feel embarrassment crosses your face about that incongruity between black bra and pink panties. His fingertip slides over your pubic bone through the fabric.

“Cute,” he nods thoughtfully couple of times with zoned out for a moment expression, “I’ll take these off too.” Referring to your nylons he tugs him down to your knees, and with no break, he does the same to your undergarment, not asking this time. He takes a few seconds just to observe, panties are hanging now on your thighs, blouse unbuttoned. Yes, that’s how he prefers you to look.

His finger slips carefully between your folds, not any further just so you can feel the touch. You grip the back of his neck, noticing how hot and sticky became his skin. First one finger finally slides inside, you feel the stretch while he feels the merciless pressure of your walls, so tight for him. You groan shamelessly with nothing else left. Soon, the unknown yet, form of his second finger slips inside of your feminine heat, you hum closing eyes as sweet exhale escapes you, like crisping sound after opening champagne. His other hand can’t stop from palming, your peeking underneath unbuttoned blouse, swell of breast.

Alex follows your every reaction with deep brown eyes and searching gaze of his, being tender with you, for now. He prefers soft in the beginning and raw in the end. Even slow rhythm urges your legs to start bending. Edge of the table cuts into your skin forcing satisfaction and slight pain to play in contrast with each other. Dizziness from the alcohol and intimacy melts together, you try to shake off fogginess that surrounds your eyes by tilting your head back for a quick moment. His coarse hand nudges your neck to keep your head up straight, his face shows mild concern.

“Okay ‘here?” his palm slips to your cheek brushing thumb over your cheekbone, after your head lifted, you look at him with drunk eyes, from both sensations and alcohol.

“Yeah, yeah. Good.” you shake your head negatively with tiny reassuring smile, wrapping arms around his neck tighter, giving in his caresses.

Your frame desperately presses to his, letting out torturous noises pleading for more, as he curls fingers inside of you, waiting few seconds before pulling fingers out, all wetted by you, wiping them against trousers with slight negligence. He doesn’t want you to be undone before the main part started. Standing to him close like that, you can almost hear his rapid heartbeat and anticipation penetrating his body.

Confusion crosses your face by his decision to empty you, but sight of him unbuckling belt sets your thoughts on the right course. While he fidgets with his trousers you unfold him from his office attire. Yanking his tie on yourself, you see his smirking expression still looking down controlling what his hands are doing. He almost dealt with his part, and you are catching up with him undoing his tie with close to tearing motions, throwing it somewhere to the side of forgotten kettle. Your fingers tangling in each other in an attempt to unfasten the buttons, which makes you huff in annoyance.

“Where do you rush that bad?” he sneers gently, preventing your desperate for him, hands, just doing your job himself and unbuttoning his shirt gradually. Your eyes observe his body, little patch of hair on his chest and a bit of a dad bod makes you giggle in your own head, “Get on a table.” He simply but firmly says without any impish undertone, which sounds in different way even more passionate, almost like an order, and you conform.

That firm voice reminded you of his confident voice on one of the court sessions. One day you were walking from the cafeteria holding a cup of tea, not rushing, you passed the door that led to a courtroom. It had a window, and you managed to see him for the first time during work. Alex carried himself confidently, holding his head high. Closed door couldn’t keep the eloquence and thrill his voice was filled with. He was fully engrossed in the process as he talked, pacing back and forth, but slowly and assured, like a predator in its own habitat. That sight forced you to freeze and look. Accidentally tilted cup of tea, which made few droplets fall on your skirt, liberated you from your charm by him, ushering you back to office.

Hoping on a table, you lean on it with elbows, your blouse is disheveled, unbuttoned in area of chest, skirt meanwhile doesn’t cover anything. Alex sees everything, what he wanted to see, since you just started to work with him. Not wasting any time, he settles himself between your legs. He is hard and strained, not having trousers on, only grey boxers cover it, and they don’t cover much. Form-fitting fabric shows off his manhood in a way of clinging to the right places.

“Ready?” he decides to get sure before anything happens.

“Yes.” your voice sounds much different from your sarcastic and confident now. You are vulnerable, on a table with all ins and outs. Even if he is older, and you tried to close some father gestalt - nothing already felt wrong about it.

Pulling out his length he hisses through the teeth quietly feeling the protruding pulsing ache all over it. He makes few strokes with palm around himself fueling thirst more. Your gaze trails his every move, how his hand curls knowingly around his cock. Spreading your legs, still attentive Alex stops just for a second to take a breath, and then he slips inside of you with something for sure more enjoyable than just fingers, only few seconds after you hear your own overpowering hum that smooths into whimper that left your lips.

“Goddamn…” he curses grunting, sprawling your leg more, closing eyes for a millisecond, to enjoy the boiling warm inside of you. His breathing is heavy and with a tad of rasp. Alex can’t hold back the first thrust, relieving all desire he collected for you these months, his head throws back, trying to sweep some hair away from the sweaty forehead.

Alex carves his hips into you, deep but slow and steady. He finally gets to feel the shape inside of you. Your eyes settling over how his shaft disappears in your cunt, and you lose yourself in a quiet moan that scatters around the kitchen like pearl beads. His motions become rougher and rougher with every second, losing any left piece of gentleness. Table, sways back and forth following his movements, letting out suffering creaks and squeaks. Heavy and thick breaths filling the room just exactly as sloppy sounds.

Your elbows get close to numbing holding your body, and you just lie on a cold surface of a table receiving his cock in yourself, with a groan, hoarse and dry, inside of your throat. Even when you don’t let out any sounds, your mouth is gapped, concentrated on the sensation of his tip reaching the blunt end of you, filling you absolutely.

“We jus’ began.” lightheaded chuckle leaves his lips, and as if to emphasize his words he thrusts himself into you with even less restrained impulse, “No, love, that won’t do.” Shaking his head displeasingly, he wraps his arms underneath you, lifting your lying body in the half sitting position, closely to him. Feeling even minor change of his length deep inside, urges you make a sharp intake with your mouth and hold a breath for a moment, not letting any air in the lungs.

Fixing your position, he wraps his arms around your sultry frame bending his head back catching for breath with pent up gasps. Your legs wrap around his, nice-looking taut almost sculptured hips, evenly pushing him inside of you, creating the most pleasurable rhythm for both of you. Caging around his neck, your arms, taking him in the imprisonment of seduction.

“Oh, yeah, this ‘s good.” Alex croaks, gripping your thigh leaving reddish imprints on skin. He holds your body in his arm, pressing you tightly to him. All you can do is furiously clench him with all you have, begging in your head for him not to stop.

His hand roughly, not caring about tenderness anymore lifts your bra to open your chest for his grabbing, making you gasp in surprise. He groups your breast, massages it, squeezes it, and then pinches the hardened nipple, playing with it with his thumb. That brings you to whine and grip the table, your peak is close enough to be reached with something simple as touching your chest.

“Close?” he barely can make out anything, speeded up breath is an obstacle for proper speaking.

“God, very!” quite impatiently and on edge, with zero of compose, you beg.

Alex nods. He got it. His own cock is twitching and seems to swell up even more, if it’s possible. Movements became uncoordinated and mostly just frantic bouncing into you, searching for release. His grunts, that he tried to hold back, became honest moans, and your legs are keeping his body in close raging vicinity. A musky scent filled the kitchen, turning arousing atmosphere to the fullest.

With loud moans from both of you, he quickly pulls out, helping himself spill all over your thighs. His cum leaks over you as your legs falling from his hips, with no energy after your own orgasm. Alex catches one of them to drop a feather kiss on your knee as praise. Heavy breathing fills the room as he leans on the dining table struggling to regain energy, table legs creaked one last time under his weight. Your gazes connected with each other, while you both catch breath to finally speak.

“Table handled it.” thick accent with the inherent him roughness, makes him sound very appealing. You chuckle lying on the surface taking a full breath with your chest, your hands fall over with satisfying tiredness on your stomach. Shaking your head as if not believing what just happened. Old table creaked again, under your shifting, as if with grievance and room filled with you both laughing over something silly like that.

After a proper quiet shower that brought out his tender side again, your bodies, enveloped in sweet weariness, landed in bed. Life gave you the opportunity to lull him just like you wanted and imagined, with kisses, cradlings and caresses of his head. He doesn’t mind. Alex has no idea when someone last time actually cared about him. You were watching him in the sleep for some time – he dozed off first, and it’s not surprising. His face tucked in your comforting warm chest, as if you are offering a place to hide from suffering, a place that he craved to find so much deep down. When you get sure that he is asleep, you pull sheets over his shoulders, providing him with a sense of safety. Cradling him in your arms, your eyes closing, leaving only a reigning silence in your apartment.

a/n: everything began when i saw “…and justice for all” with al pacino, i feel like idea was great in my head but then at some point i ruined it… i checked it through so many times that i started hate it. it's the longest thing i wrote for now and i hope it's bearable, haha. i think there will be a long break after this one, because my college takes a lot of energy and time. not sure if there will be anything else with lawyer alex, so far it is just a one shot.

[isaacsapphire]

Normies like sportsball 🤷. Non sports types hate sports because 1. they were bullied in gym class 2. Normies are fucking annoying about sportsball 3. Resources are devoted to sports, which non sports types think is wasteful.

Participation in headline team sports like football, basketball, baseball, and to a lesser degree hockey, soccer, and lacrosse are heavily associated with being a certain type of successful and sociable person.

If you are claiming that college sports aren’t actually doing anything, the normies and successful people disagree with you on that, and they’re calling the shots because they are normies and successful people. College sports scholarships can’t just be presto chango made into academic scholarships, because those successful normies are donating money to sports scholarships, and they won’t transfer that money to a nerd who doesn’t “bring glory to the school” on the field of battle basketball.

As I already said, I am not sporty. I didn’t even play intramural sports, let alone Division whatever scholarship sports. My alma mater had like 1 whole sports team that was a division sport at all.

I am not personally defending the concept of college athletics here, because 1. i am absolutely not the person who is going to argue about why my full ride Ivy sports scholarship was totally reasonable because tfw no full ride Ivy scholarship 2. I don’t think that college athletics necessarily deserve their current position. (But tearing into that means digging into the entire academic system and that’s another argument and another post.)

But attacking a system that normies like and often have as their hope for their children’s financial future and chance of maintaining the family’s class status intergenerationally is a tough sell and may be a bridge too far. Consider that for poor teens, achieving a scholarship level academic performance from a shit public school is a challenge, and in today’s hyper competitive college environment, excellence in sports is how kids who would have been shoe-ins a generation or two ago but aren’t 3.8s make a good start. The alternative is enlisting.

To a degree, of course this is about gender and not sports and is being used as the most effective anti trans angle, but basically all the pro trans people seem to be aggressively ignorant of WHY sport has been such an effective angle of attack… while acting as if it’s both nbd and existential for trans teens to have the right to play women’s sports.

You walnuts aren’t going to win if you don’t understand the terrain and maneuver accordingly, so stop being angry that I am trying to explain why Title IX was a feminist victory and why people care about women’s college sports.

The issue of how to divide leagues for noncombat sports is obviously for more specific discussion, but again, you are describing a titanic change in the bedrock of multiple sports, which again, the normies aren’t going to like.

Also does anyone actually want a petite basketball league?

Really getting flashbacks to the gay rights era, where the talking points used to justify anti-gay discrimination were just transparently nonsensical but people just really kept repeating them.

"The purpose of marriage is to have kids so that's why we can't let gays marry"

"So, we should also ban infertile people from getting married?"

"No, because an infertile man and a woman might be able to have kids if they hypothetically became fertile so it's okay for them to get married."

????

Okay, I mean, if we're just imagining an arbitrary change in reality gay couples could have kids if one of them suddenly changed sex, I don't see how "If they could have kids, they could have kids" makes any more sense for one couple than the other.

Same with the transparent nonsense of "In biological reality there are only two sexes"

I mean... There are more than two arrangements of sex characteristics in biological reality.

"Yes but it is an indisputable biological reality that only two of those arrangements count and the rest don't."

Yeah I feel like that's a taxonomy, not a "biological fact".

[okaysonny]

Hiii!!! Omll I js came across your page few days ago, love the way you write the Characters!! I was wondering if I could request a Vin Jin x reader, in general just fluff and goofing off like two mischievous idiots, and Mary having to deal with their bs a lot. Also could you include Reader and Mary bonding time like I feel like they would honestly be best of friends!! 😭

If you picked this up thank you so muchhh and don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated! 🫶

karaoke night ╏ vin jin + mary kim

𝄞 summary: your karaoke night with mary takes a chaotic turn.

𝄞 details: fluff, f! reader, won't make sense if you haven't read jacedaichi case files arc!

𝄞 wc: 780

𝄞 A/N: anon! thanks for being so nice 💘 hope you like it :)

the plan had been simple. you and mary, a chill karaoke night, a fun time.

until vin jin finds out, of course.

“are you kidding me? karaoke again? i’m a rapper. i’m basically built for this” he boasts. “you’re welcome for blessing you girls with my skills”

now, here he is, sitting on the couch in the private room with an air of importance.

mary sighs. “...this was supposed to be relaxing”

vin jin scoffs. “relaxing is listening to me rap. instead we’re stuck here listening to amateur hour”

you roll your eyes, flipping through the song list. “you talk a lot for someone who can’t rap on beat”

vin jin slams his hand on the table dramatically. “what did you just say? i’ll have you know my skills are—”

“trash” you say, cutting him off. “anyway mary, how do you feel about singing illusion? it's my favourite DG song!”

mary’s eyes light up. “mine too! let's do it!”

as the music starts playing, you and mary grab the mics, your voices completely off pitch, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

vin jin winces, sinking deeper into the couch — as if your singing physically hurts him.

“this is painful. how does DG even make money? they should put my songs on here instead. then you’ll see what real talent sounds like”

you smirk, lowering your mic. “your talent? you mean the ability to make everyone’s ears bleed?”

mary stifles a laugh as she tries to focus on singing.

vin jin grits his teeth. “you’re just jealous of my raw skill!”

“oh...i'll show you some raw skill alright” you shoot mary a devilish grin and select a new song.

mary’s eyes widen in horror as she sees the title. “no...you wouldn’t. stop! you know what’ll happen!”

vin jin looks confused, his eyes darting between you two. “what’s the big deal? what did she—”

the instrumental to duke’s song starts playing.

he freezes. “you…you bitch!”

to mary’s resigned disappointment — vin jin can’t stop himself.

“You look like you're an aboker, Y'all just clueless!” he barks the lyrics into the mic, standing up abruptly.

vin jin moves involuntarily to the beat, his body already betraying him.

you cackle hysterically. “oh my god, he’s doing it! he’s twerking again!”

“shut up! i can’t stop!” he shouts as his hips shake — quite aggressively.

mary watches in disbelief. “...stop twerking” she mutters.

for just a moment, mary finds herself thinking about the old days in cheonliang. the teasing, the laughter — it felt…familiar. she didn’t say it, but the sight fills her with something warm.

after some more singing (and vin jin refusing to acknowledge he’d ever twerked), the three of you wrap up the night.

vin jin had stalked off, grumbling about how he’d been “set up” and “betrayed by the system,” leaving you and mary walking home together.

“you two are exhausting” she says, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

“pfft, admit it. watching vin twerk made your whole week” you bump elbows with her.

“watching vin twerk will haunt my whole week” she shoots back.

but mary shakes her head, her smile undeniable. “you guys are so ridiculous, but it’s kind of fun. makes me think of…”

— of her friends back in cheonliang. the teasing, the ridiculous antics, a place where mary felt like she belonged. watching you and vin jin tonight, it almost feels like those days again.

“...yeah?” you ask, noticing her distant look.

mary blinks, snapping back to the present. “nothing” she murmurs. “just thinking”

“about how you can’t wait to sing with me again?” you beam, pleased with yourself.

“...sure, we’ll go with that” she replies dryly.

as you continue down the street, the conversation shifts to lighter topics — what tunes you’d sing next time, why DG suddenly announced his retirement, and if vin would ever admit he likes duke’s songs.

when you reach her house, mary turns to you, her expression soft. “thanks for tonight. it was…nice”

you grin. “you’re welcome. karaoke wouldn’t be the same without you”

mary raises a brow. “you mean it wouldn’t be the same without vin embarrassing himself”

“okay, true. but you make it better! you keep us from being too chaotic” you nod in satisfaction.

mary rolls her eyes, but there's a flicker of genuine gratitude. “someone has to”

you smile warmly at her. “...goodnight, mary”

she gives you a wave, before disappearing inside.

you stand there for a moment in contemplation. you can’t shake the feeling that mary had more to say, but you leave her be.

you tuck the moment away, turning to head home, already thinking of what you could bring to karaoke next time.

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Yummy Yummy Eye

Finally indulged in my fantasy of licking Silco's mutated eye and decided to write a reader insert fic of it.

Not beta read, and can also be found on AO3 here.

Word Count: 2.6k

Relationships: Silco x You, Silco x GN!Reader

Tags: Eye Sex, Eye Licking, No Smut/Sex, But heavily suggestive, Some Fluff, Shimmer, Inappropriate Use of Shimmer, I guess?, Trust, Biting kink, Only mentioned though, Established Relationship, Teasing, Suggestive Themes

Summary: You’ve been dying to lick Silco’s mutated eye since the first time you both met.

A couple of months later and after some slight conversation with him, it looks like you’ll finally get your wish, and it'll help ease that itch inside you that desires the unknown.

You couldn’t stop staring at his eye. The brilliant orange and black that it was. You just needed to do this. To curb the itch that just wouldn’t go away.

Just one little lick. One little taste and it’ll all be good.

Gods you were salivating at the thought. This desire had been hounding you since the moment you had met Silco in all his intimidating glory.

A chance encounter when you decided to drink at The Last Drop and found yourself entranced by the striking man smoking a cigar in the far dark corner of the bar. What hooked you first though was his glowing orange and black eye that seemed to be staring through you. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity and had decided to join him at his table.

With a little talking and some exchange of ideals, you both hit it off fairly well. 

Now months later found you both in an intense relationship of power and trust, with you currently sitting on his office’s couch, watching him read over reports at his desk. His damaged eye occasionally flickered a brighter shade of orange when something piqued his interest.

The Shimmer has to add some flavor. Hmm, fruity perhaps? No, no maybe salty with some spice? Would he even let me try?

A deep sigh brought you out of your musings, and you glanced up to see Silco staring at you with a hint of amusement and annoyed curiosity.

“As much as I generally love your undivided attention, I am trying to work at the moment. I can see that you’re thinking about something, so please, spit it out already.”

While the words were a bit sharp, you knew intrigue was overtaking the displeasure of being interrupted while working.

You glanced down at your hands, fiddling with a book you had given up reading a while ago, as you tried to stay nonchalant. Silco would instantly know if you tried to lie or avoid the question, so there was no use in bothering to bypass it. Besides this relationship was deeply built on trust and loyalty, and you weren’t about to forsake that. With a small hum and shrug of your shoulders, you replied almost boredly, “Just curious about your eye.”

Silco put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly in the otherwise quiet room. Whatever annoyance he had before melted away as deep curiosity took place with a slight gleam and flash of orange in his eye.

“You already know how it came to look this way, and the burdens that came along with it.” A slight tilt of his head as he stared at you questioningly. “What more can be ascertained from it?”

Usually, you had no qualms about what you asked about. Both of you had been open books with each other once the relationship was officially founded. It wouldn’t even be that outrageous of an inquiry compared to past conversations.

But this…felt different. Felt personal in the way that it could be too weird. That Silco may finally deny a request from you. Granted he had also encouraged any weird fantasies either of you had. Zaun knows you were both a little fucked up in the head, especially being from the Undercity. Vanilla was a foreign concept to either of you.

Yet licking the reminder of why he had become a Chem-Baron? The reminder of the life he had lost? The one noticeable physical weakness that he had? That felt too close to prying open an old wound.

But you knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to your fascination with his eye. He knew how much it riled you up. How much you loved it when it glowed that deep possessive orange that occasionally flickered red. How you stroked the skin around it with an almost worshipping fervor.

Yeah, you’re honestly surprised he never questioned you about it sooner. But it seems now it’s time to own up to the fantasy that’s been looping through your mind.

Putting the now-shut book you were holding on the table next to you, you looked up, focusing on the eye that haunted and possessed you with such desires. With as much honesty and longing as you could muster you finally let it spill out.

“I just really want to taste it. You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to lick your eye, Silco. It’s like an itch that’s festering into an open wound the longer I think about it.”

With that, you waited with bated breath to see what the most powerful Chem-Baron in the Undercity would think about someone licking his fucking eye.

For a few agonizing seconds, Silco made no comment, as if he hadn’t heard your question at all, but if the increasing glow of his eye was any indication, he definitely found your question very affecting.

You still held your breath in anticipation, trying to convey that you meant the question truthfully and weren’t messing with him. The more his eye glowed the hungrier you became, and the stronger that inner itch gnawed at you. 

You would describe the itch as a yearning for the unknown. When you saw a carrot you knew the experience you would have eating it. You knew the feeling of it crunching between your teeth. The natural sweetness that enveloped your taste buds (or bitterness depending on if it was grown down here) but you knew what it would feel and taste like before you even put it into your mouth.

Silco’s eye (and many other past tastings) were unknown. You had no idea what the taste or texture would be like, and it ate you up inside wanting to try it. Sure you could theorize it to past things you’ve had the fortune of trying, but that still didn’t appease the innate itch to try the unknown. Yes, you knew that tears were salty, but tasting tears didn’t equate to licking an entire eye in your mind. And with the Shimmer that Silco injected into his eye, you knew it had to add some flavor.

I wonder if it tastes different depending on when it’s glowing or not?

You could feel yourself becoming frenzied at the idea. Nails bit into your pant legs where you were gripping your thighs, muscles tensed, but to lunge forward and forcibly try a taste or to run away you didn’t know.

Finally, Silco reacted, with a hum and a slight uptilt of his lips, eye still flaring brightly, he walked over and joined you on the couch. Sitting down with the gracefulness of a predator he turned towards you and patted his lap encouragingly. 

You didn’t hesitate to slide onto it, facing him as he rested his hands on your thighs. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity after all, and it seemed like Silco was more than attentive to your desire.

You placed your hands on his shoulder, one of them scratching through the hairs at the back of his neck. Focusing on his face you saw him deeply looking at you, no, looking through you.

He chuckled softly in the dimly lit room, “I knew you were only interested in me for my eye. So all that desire I saw was just so you could lick it? My my I knew you were fascinated, but this wasn’t something I predicted. And an itch that feels like an open wound you say? We don’t want that now, do we?” Throughout this he had started rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs, causing you to relax into him more and release some of the tension you had still been holding.

You knew he wasn’t poking fun at you, and after he finished speaking you saw that besides the inherent interest still present in his expression, he now seemed to have a spark of his own desires showing as well. His eyes raked hungrily over your face, stopping occasionally at your mouth.

Composing your thoughts, you looked into his good eye and felt yourself curl in pleasure at the acceptance he was giving you. With some confidence from seeing your desire reflected back, you smiled softly and murmured, “You know I love you for all of you.” You paused and smirked, “But your eye is definitely a captivating sight, and the thing that garnered my initial interest in you when we first met.”

Silco feigned a wounded look, “And here I thought it was my rogue charm and wit that had captivated you.”

You snorted a laugh, “Those too, but there’s just something so delicious about your eye.” You gazed longingly at it, licking over your lips and teeth. 

He watched amused. “I thought you said you wanted to lick it, not eat it.”

You rolled your eyes in mock offense. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go that far. As much as I enjoy feeling you on my teeth, I don’t desire to bite your eye.”

He looked fondly at you. “How reassuring. But you still haven’t said why the urge to lick my eye feels like an open wound.”

You shrugged, “It’s like I’ve mentioned to you before when I’ve eaten something I shouldn’t have. I can’t control it. I see something that may taste interesting and I get an intense desire to follow through on it. The longer I try to avoid it, the more it eats away at my thoughts until I can only think about trying it.” You had explained this before a few times when Silco had caught you eating stuff you really shouldn’t have, so even though it still scared him at times, he knew you were being truthful, and nodded to show he understood.

Tilting his head in thought he replied carefully, “So I’m to assume you’ve been wanting to lick my eye since the first time we met? That’s an awfully long time then. In fact, the longest I’ve ever seen you try to avoid trying something was a few days, and that was with Sevika forcibly holding you back. How have you managed this long with my eye?”

Again you shrugged like it was the most obvious answer, “For the exact reason that it’s your eye. It’s not some random thing I found lying around, and I didn’t want to possibly make you uncomfortable. We both have our boundaries and I associated your eye as part of one.”

Silco appeared to accept that answer, again giving a slight nod, but it still seemed he couldn’t help but prod a little. “I’ve let you touch it before.”

Now you were the one looking at him amused, and with a sarcastic tone responded, “Touching is quite different from straight up licking it, Silco.”

He smiled all sharp teeth. “Perhaps, but it’s just a different kind of touch, is it not?” His smile grew wider, going a little feral as his eye pulsed eagerly, “And one that I’m not opposed to either. You know me. There’s very little that I would say no to you too.” His grip on your thighs tightened before loosening slightly, showing his interest but allowing you an out if needed.

You were not about to back out now. Months of craving even the smallest touch of your tongue to his eye built up in a tidal wave inside you. Tightening your hold on the back of his neck and shoulder you leaned forward, further encouraged by Silco who had moved one of his hands behind your head, guiding you closer.

You tensed back up in anticipation, tunnel-visioned on his eye. Nothing would be able to stop this moment now, you were in too deep and had to soothe that pulsing itch inside you that threatened to claw its way out.

With no other encouragement needed, you leaned the rest of the way in, but stopped mere millimeters away, breath ghosting over your long-coveted prize. Silco’s eye was flaring so bright it was almost blinding. Instead of diving in as you assumed Silco thought you would, you lightly kissed his eye, softly uttering a thank you, before slowly dragging the entire length of your tongue along it, savoring the moment and its smooth texture.

Silco’s hands tightened painfully when you sighed in pleasure, shivering in his embrace as you experienced what it must feel like to taste ambrosia from the gods.

As you had expected, Silco’s eye tasted divine.

Unsurprisingly it was salty but not overwhelmingly so, but quite unexpected was just how mouth-watering the Shimmer had enhanced it. A slight metal tang was quickly overpowered by a natural sweetness far exceeding anything you’ve ever tried. The closest thing you could think of in that moment was the one time you had licked off the pollen from a dandelion you’d found, but this was more intense than that. More potent due to the nature of Shimmer.

With one lick you felt like you were floating on ecstasy. This had far exceeded anything you could have theorized and the itch inside you quieted to a content purr. It didn't die away fully, and while that should have been a concern as it generally left after finally trying something, you knew that the desire to taste Silco’s eye would never truly go away now that you’d indulged in it. 

Pulling back slightly and glancing down at Silco with half-lidded eyes, you noticed him breathing heavily, a flush covering his face as he looked at you with more love and desire than you knew what to do with.

With a rasp, he snarled at you. “Did I say you could stop?”

With a huff and a slight shudder you finally dove in like you knew you both wanted. Lapping at his eye with no amount of finesse you moaned greedily. Each stroke of your tongue brought in that sweet sinful flavor, causing you to float higher and higher in euphoria.

By the time you had had your fill, you were both panting and shivering in satisfaction. It looked as if Silco had enjoyed that experience as much as you had.

With a content sigh and a lick of your lips you leaned back, feeling drugged. “That was so fucking good, Silco. Thank you, though I feel that this may not be a one-time thing.”

Silco leaned back resting his head on the couch, his eye fading to a low glow. His grip on you had loosed a bit and he pulled you down to lie on his chest, words still a little breathless, “I was thinking the same.” He chuckled warmly and caressed your neck and back. “It seems we both enjoyed that more than we thought we would, and from the looks of it, I’m guessing you’re feeling the effects of Shimmer, hmm?”

You grunted softly as his warmth enveloped you. It did seem that you had enacted a bit of Shimmer just from licking his eye, and as the floaty feeling fully consumed you, a wave of tiredness also fell over you. But he wanted a verbal answer, so with a slight mumble you agreed before pressing yourself closer to him and relaxing your whole body.

He took the hint. Both of you felt the drained after-effects of the moment. The lead-up plus the final climax in events left you both feeling sated and content to just rest there.

Grabbing a blanket from nearby, Silco maneuvered you both to lie along the couch with you still resting over him. He draped the blanket over you both before pressing a lingering kiss to your head.

Before you fully drifted off into a nice post-eye-licking nap, you heard Silco whisper a quiet ‘I love you’ as a hand continued to stroke your back.