#Cheerie Lane

[haybug1]

Last Minute Holiday Treats for Your Favorite Foodie

We are down to the wire, so if you are still searching for the perfect Christmas present for your sweetie, time is ticking. If your loved one is a fan of sauces and spices, little jars and bottles of flavorful jams, jellies, or oils to enhance the taste of your favorite meals, or a lover of big baskets of foodie fun, here are a few tips sure to bring delight to your sweetheart’s Christmas…

[01zfan]

presidential suite | s. es

actor!eunseok x actress!reader | 10k words

loved the idea of actor eunseok so much i had to write a fic about it unfortunately.

contains: mentioning money and an uncomfortable relationship with it, reader is assumed to be a prostitute by hotel staff, dry humping on a couch like horny teenagers, eunseok and the reader are enemies kinda

Your taxi finally made the final turn into the roundabout of the hotel. The otherwise dark drive was suddenly illuminated with the bright yellow lights of the lobby and drop-off lane with bellboys ready to tend to the rich with their luggage carts in toll. The hotel trolleys were gold plated and the young boys were clad in black, from their black polished shoes to their glove-bound hands that covered their open-mouthed yawns and picked at their faces in boredom. 

When you saw the boys stand at attention waiting for your cab to come to a halt you felt a pang in your heart. Even during the night California was much too hot to be wearing a full suit, and you imagined the pay didn't match the manual labor their job demanded. When you saw their tired faces preemptively light up with the dead customer service smile you were taken back to those days yourself. Young, broke, no clear visions of your future. The memories of working late night odd jobs that didn't pay you enough still plagued your mind. Sometimes you still found yourself using your fake customer service voice, overly cheery with the intent to please by any means necessary. But that isn't to say your new wealth suited you any better. Sometimes you went months without looking at your banking statements, and you were so plagued by guilt that you couldn't identify.

Your guilt made you insist on carrying your luggage up yourself and tipping the bellboys extra despite them not doing any work and taking pictures with them even if you were tired. Because of your guilt you would slip into your customer service mode, and then because you were acting fake cheery you would feel even more guilty. The endless cycle was a downwards spiral, leaving you with an acidic taste in your mouth and making you feel like you've made a fool of yourself. It made you incredibly sweaty too, and your back was already lined with sweat from the excessive layers you wore.

You were lucky that today you weren’t checking into the hotel, technically you weren’t here at all. To everyone’s knowledge—including your team’s—you were back at your motel getting rest in preparation for your long day tomorrow. 

You made the decision after filming, one that you told yourself was impulsive even if you had the directions to this hotel saved on your navigation app the second you landed. The person you were here to see told you where he was staying with a simple text. You replied with an even more simple fuck you before going radio silent. He replied with a you wish, and five hours later you were sneaking away in the dead of night.

You left the motel quietly to avoid suspicion from the paparazzi that were hellbent on catching you in the middle of something juicy enough to sell. You called the yellow taxi a five minute walk away from your motel, covered head to toe in black. When you felt how nervous the taxi driver was seeing someone in several layers of clothes in the middle of summer come into the car you felt guilty. Part of you debated on taking off your mask and shedding the jacket, but you didn’t know what he knew. You didn’t know if middle aged man had the paparazzi on speed dial next to that faded picture of his family paper clipped to his foldable windshield, ready to tell them that an a-lister was in his cab going to a hotel that was very much not hers in the middle of the night. Your paranoia made you keep your identity hidden and deepen your voice as you gave him the directions to the hotel across town.

The taxi ride was spent in complete silence. The only sound was from the occasional squeaks from the vinyl seats and the low, low volume of The Hot 100 playing on the radio. As the radio continued playing you realized how out of the loop you were when it came to music. You tried to remember the last time you had a chance to listen to an album in full. Maybe you listened to the latest project of the person that did the soundtrack on your last movie? Something playing in the background as sat in a makeup chair getting ready, or the white noise of rain as you tried to force yourself to fall asleep?

Your schedule was too packed to enjoy anything but work. Your schedule was so much to the point that you were operating on autopilot. Your brain was just a turning cog, something that send a signal to your mouth to open and your limbs to move. You couldn't handle anything more than that most days. You were so lost that your personal assistant set your schedule as your lockscreen, trying to force you to remember how present you’d have to be the following day. The method seemed outlandish, and the schedule was hideous each time you opened your phone, but came in handy; when you turned on your phone to check the time you were reminded of the day you’d have tomorrow.

Hair and makeup: 5:30AM

Breakfast: 7:00AM

Interview #1: 7:45AM

Interview #2: 8:30AM

On set: Filming Scenes 48-52, 77, & 83 9:15AM-9:15PM

Looking at the schedule made your head spin. You already felt your body grow weary at the thought of the work waiting for you the next day.

But did you really have the right to be tired when you were on your way to a hotel getting ready to do anything but sleep? 

Behind your mask you slowly started mouthing the lines to the scenes you’d be shooting tomorrow in an effort to make use of the time you were wasting. If your very first agent could see you now, he’d be disappointed. You could see him so clearly, with his nose pointed to the air as he talked about if he was you, he’d never do something so stupid. 

You rolled your neck and put a hand on the knot forming at the junction of your shoulder. You dug your fingers underneath your jacket and shirt to prod at the tense muscle, trying to find some form of relief. Now the sound of your jacket moving filled the car, and the sound of your heavy sigh behind your mask followed behind it. You can admit that your newfound wealth did make you feel comfortable in the confined spaces like these ones. You weren't scared to let your presence be known or your discomfort be heard in the back of taxi cabs. You also had your fair share of revelations in the backseats of cars. Your first callback was in the back of a car like this one, the first time you felt like the paparazzi were actually looking for you was in the back of a tinted out van. You just wish you could feel something like that again, giddiness instead of this terrible sinking feeling.

You put your head back and let out a sigh, closing your eyes to try and find a reason why you were doing all of this. In the beginning you loved it, but now it felt like you were grasping at straws to find a solid reason. The art? The money? Because it feels good? Because you like being held?

You could feel the taxi driver look back at you from the rearview mirror, you could tell he was on edge from the way you were behaving. You had half a mind to comfort him, to pull down your mask and ask a question about the current song playing on the radio. But you only blinked hard to try and will away the tight band of ache forming around your head before going back to your phone. 

Who isn’t on edge this late at night? You said while scrolling through the script. To be relaxed late at night was a privilege, one that was revoked when you got your first paycheck as an actress.

You told yourself that it’d all pay off a million times over in between reading the lines of the script and suffering through every single pothole in Los Angeles. You told yourself each time your but raised in your seat that was another million in the box office. Each car that had their high beams on and blinded you was another accolade. You were so caught up in your mantra you didn’t even realize you were at your destination until the taxi driver spoke for the first time.

“Is here okay, miss?” He asked.

You looked out the window to see the hotel. Before you could prep your fake voice and tell him to park on the side of the building the taxi pulled into the curved driveway and stopped in the pickup area. 

From your tinted window you watched the bellboys flock to you, excited for some sort of work this late into the night. You looked at them motioning for the driver to pop the trunk as you took in the sight of the large building in front of you. You pressed your forehead to the window and still couldn’t see the top, only lights from the rooms that still had people awake and the never ending skyline. 

When the view became too much—when everything became too much—you took another deep breath and rested your body against the backseat. You heard the low music from the radio cut off completely as your taxi driver rolled down his window.

“There’s nothing in there!” The driver yelled to the bellboys.

They scattered from the trunk and went to your side of the car next. A trio rushing, and then singled down to one when they realized all of them couldn't open your car door.

They pulled you from your breathing exercise to fully immerse you in the five-star hotel experience. One of the bellhops offered the side of his forearm to you, an invitation to treat him as a living breathing step ladder to get you out of the car. You could feel the air conditioning on full blast from the grand entrance of the hotel, chilling your sweating body.

You quickly reached in your pocket and grabbed a wad of cash, not caring to look at the number on the meter before handing it to the driver. You assumed it was the right amount by how wide his eyes got and the extra arm of a bellhop that came into your line of sight.

“Are you going to be in the area in an hour?” You asked.

The taxi driver nodded, his eyes still fixed on the cash.

“I’ll be here, miss.” He said.

You nodded and grabbed the bellhops arm, feeling your body get pulled from the backseat of the cab to the curb. One of the bellhops told you to watch your step as you were fully hoisted up.

You couldn’t say thank you before another bellhop closed the door. As the taxi driver drove out of the drop off area the other bellhop lead you to the front of the hotel. None of you spoke and you stumbled trying to go through the motions of a life you still weren’t suited for.

The smaller door into the lobby was opened for you by a man in a different suit, one that had an enamel pin of the hotels logo pinned to his lapel. You wish there was a name badge, so you could atleast pretend you were interacting with another human being.

“No luggage, madame?” Enamel Pin asked.

You shook your head, instinctually gripping the arm of the bellboy a little harder. You took in the sight of the lobby behind Enamel Pin, from the white marble floor and the stairs with solid gold handrails.

“No.” You swallowed when you tilted your head and saw the large chandelier. “I’m just visiting someone.” You said.

The air seemed to shift as Enamel Pin and the bellhops eyed you down. You realized the situation long after everyone else, what it could possibly mean for a young woman to arrive at a hotel with rich clientele once the sun went down. But the working class don’t ask questions, they only follow procedure and assumed in hushed voices during their lunch breaks that there are prostitutes coming into their place of work. 

So Enamel Pin doesn’t ask you to clarify, he only points towards the concierge and flicks his head subtly the same time the bellhop goes back to standing outside to wait for their next rich customer.

“You can check in at the front desk, miss.” He says.

You’re no longer a madame. You felt like you’ve been striped of a title, you aren’t the distinguished madame but instead the dirty miss who is here to do nothing but tarnish the reputation of this fine establishment. You almost pull down your mask and take off your cap to reveal your true identity, that you’re the one starring in a blockbuster every summer and receiving endless praise for your indie projects. You’re tempted to throw a wad of cash at Enamel Pin and yell I’m nominated for a fucking Oscar, you dipshit! But you keep your words to yourself. You knew by the time you woke up the next morning you’d be circling the gossip pages, your identity badly hidden in a not-so blind item. 

Young and rising actress making it rain in the hotel lobby where her former costar ex-fling is staying. You could see it so clearly, and you could see the disappointment of your current agents face even clearer. So you only nod your head and start walking towards the desk, wishing that the bellhop stayed around a little longer to get a tip.

“Who are you visiting today?” The concierge asks.

You lean closer to the desk, trying to hide all evidence that you’re nervous. You assume the same fake deep voice again, trying to sound so different from the movies you’ve starred in.

“Song Eunseok.” You answer.

The concierge looks from her computer at the name. You thought places of this caliber would be a little more inconspicuous. But she is wide eyed, even leans in to make sure you said the right name.

“Song Eunseok?” She asks.

You can practically see the way her eyes light up at the mention of the actor. You still haven’t come to terms that he’s not you’re little secret anymore, that he’s not the same boy you saw at all your low-brow auditions when you first came to the scene. He was an international heartthrob now, one that made women lose their tact and become unprofessional.

No one knew what type of person he truly was underneath all the charm and the good looks.

But it was arguably worse that you knew and were still putting yourself in these predicaments just to see him.

You were in one now, as the concierge started to realize you were a girl going up to his presidential suite dressed like a shadow and like you were hiding something under all of those layers. 

She went back to looking at the computer, going over the approved list of visitors.

“What’s your name, miss?” She asked.

In the beginning of your careers when Eunseok still slept in motels and poorly managed inns you never had to worry about checking in. There wasn’t a concierge in a pantsuit but instead it was a man in a stained shirt who didn’t even look up from the game on the television. He would only slide you a key and say Don’t make too much of a mess before going back to his regularly scheduled program. 

You were so used to the anonymity that came with being a nobody that you panicked at the question. Your mind scraped through the people in Eunseok’s circle, who would be on the list so you wouldn’t have to give up any of your information. You thought about Minjeong and Wonbin, Eunseok’s stylists and then went to his agent Shotaro. The concierge looked at you expectantly, raising her eyebrows waiting for your response.

“Sohee. Lee Sohee” You adjusted your mask on your face to try and add sureness to your voice. “I’m Song Eunseok’s personal assistant.” You added.

The lady looked at the list then looked to you. Her eyes stayed on your face mask then flitted up to your tinted shades and baseball cap. You could tell she wanted nothing less than to let you upstairs. In her mind she was protecting her precious actor as she reached for the landline in front of her.

“Let me call Monsieur Song to let him know he has a visitor.” She said.

You nodded, feeling another layer of sweat line your back as she looked over the room number. Each button she pressed into the keypad vibrated your skull. Over your shoulder you swore you could feel Enamel Pin staring at you, ready to escort you out.

Maybe you should really get back to your agent on the spy movie she pitched to you. You already had real life experience of lurking in the shadows and going on top secret missions where there was so much at stake. Maybe instead of risking your career you could play a role that would help propel it further. 

You pulled your baseball cap as far as it could go and settled into your jacket more. This was the part of the movie where the phone rang for an embarrassingly long amount of time, forcing the concierge to ask for your ID. This was the part that it’d be revealed you were not Lee Sohee, and you were not Song Eunseok’s personal assistant. You were arguably something much worse, something way more valuable to a concierge looking for some extra cash.

Just when she was able to ask you to materialize some form of identification, Eunseok answered the phone. You and the woman drew in a pensive breath the same.

“Monsieur Song. Sorry for calling at this hour but there is a Lee Sohee here to see you.” She said.

Your eyes were focused on the transmitter, trying to imagine Eunseok on the other end of the line. The concierge was imagining him too, she turned her body and played with the handset cord like they were in their own private conversation. You leaned further against the front desk in an effort to hear the conversation. You heard the low hum of a voice on Eunseok’s end but couldn’t make out a response. 

The concierge acknowledged your presence again when she took a quick peak over her shoulder. The smile she had faded slightly as she hummed a yes into the transmitter.

“She said she’s your personal assistant.” She said.

Your eyebrows raised as you heard no response on the other end of the line. For a second you thought that Eunseok was going to tell the concierge that Sohee isn’t a girl and would never be up this late at night. But instead you hear more low hum, and the concierge nods again.

“Yes sir. I’m sending her up now.” She says.

She puts the handset on the switch hook and you can see the wistful look in her eyes before she turns to you again. She pulls a sticky note from the pile of her supplies and a pen. After quickly scratching a number onto the note she slides it to you.

“Sir Eunseok is at the top floor in room 7319.” She says.

The relief of not being caught still has you frozen. You take a moment to clear your throat and reach across and grab the note.

“Thank you.” You say. 

You’re tempted to slide money across the marble countertop to the concierge, but something holds you back. Maybe it’s the last bit of sense you have left that tells you to try and not make it look painfully obvious you’re doing something you’re not supposed to do. By the time you take the note the concierge is already doing something else that involves her computer. She’s switching between tabs and typing maniacally as if you no longer exist. She doesn’t spare you a second glance as you turn on your heel and head towards the elevator. 

As you walk across the lobby to the elevators, you imagine the sound of heels clicking across the floors. Even underneath the heel of your flat worn out shoe you can tell the floor so badly wants to make a noise, that it wants your presence to be known. You purposefully make your steps light as a feather to try and leave no trace of yourself behind. 

You find true relief when you’re in front of the elevators and hear the sound of someone coming in, booming about their flight and chatting with Enamel Pin. You silently thank the man for being unashamed to make noise as you press the button to the top floor.

As you watch the red analog number climb you settle further into the corner. Your eyes mindlessly travel around the tiny box, peering from corner to corner until you see it. The small camera hangs from the corner diagonal from you, but it’s pointed at you all the same. You stay unmoving in your spot and you imagine the security guard in the basement staring at your unmoving moving image. You don’t take a step until the elevator doors finally open to the top floor, and you let out a pensive breath when you step across the threshold into the hallway.

Your eyes are fixed on the carpet underneath your feet as you make your way down the hall. Your eyes wander from your worn shoes in contrast to the fresh carpet as you look for an imperfection across the fabric. You don’t see the dark stains caused by God knows what or fraying threads, you don’t feel parts of the carpet that were threadbare from constant foot traffic. All you see is proof of a well managed building. The difference is already staggering, you’re reminded of your motel room that had unknown stains and janitors that did illegal substances in the supply closet. You could’ve sworn there was noise coming from every room on your floor; noise surpassed the tearing wallpaper and leaked into the dimly lit hallways. The sounds of program television and people bounced off the walls of the narrow hallway and even found its way into your room. You had to blast The Price is Right to try and drown out everything, but you slept soundly. You felt more comfortable in the bed you had to check for bugs and bloodstains than you did now. 

The hallway you walked down now was completely silent. You strained your ears for signs of life, looking past the doors of the suites imagining someone was there. You were the only source of noise. Each time your heel scraped the carpet you flinched, afraid that someone was going to open one of the doors and shush you to death. The fear of being caught making noise made you knock on Eunseok’s door quietly, three small taps before you brought your arm back to your side.

You knew that Eunseok was going to make you wait outside. He had a habit of forcing you to revel in the lengths you’d go through just to see him. You were in the hallway, completely covered, but still so exposed. You imagined any second one of the doors would open and there’d be a camera pointed at you, and the very next day your career would be over. You shuffled on your worn feet and looked back tot the elevator. Maybe the taxi was still close. You could go back to your motel and get enough rest for your long day tomorrow.

Before you could even fully consider that option the door opened. Light filtered into the dim hallway, and past the tiny gap in the door you saw Eunseok looking down at you. Despite all the layers and all traces of your face being hidden you saw Eunseok’s eyes soften before part of his smile was revealed.

“Kinda late, isn’t it Sohee?” He asked, smile getting even bigger.

You pushed at the door despite the chain keeping it locked in place.

“Let me in.” You ordered.

Eunseok scoffed but didn’t even close the door all the way before getting the metal latch off. Even when there was only a slit of you visible between the cracks of the door Eunseok didn’t take his eyes off you, like he was afraid you would disappear into thin air. He opened the door wide for you, and you stepped into the entryway past him.

You heard the door close and the dead bolt lock as you took in Eunseok’s room. The corridor was small, even smaller than the one at the motel with half the amount of rooms and you understood why. You looked at the hotel room—this presidential suite—to see the full kitchen and California King sized mattress. There was a full sofa, clean and inviting in front of the flatscreen plasma television. Your motel room had scratchy seats and unknown stains on a cramped loveseat with an ancient box television that had screen burn in the bottom corner. The ceilings above you were high, maybe even higher than the ones of your apartment back in New York. There was definitely a better view, from the large windows it looked like you were at the highest point of California.

You were still taking in the view when Eunseok put his hands on your shoulders. You felt him try to turn you, but when you didn’t give in he started pulling at the sleeves of your jacket.

“You told them you were Sohee?” He asks. 

Eunseok guides your arms out of your jacket as you walked further into his room. You never understood what a presidential suite meant or what separated it from the other types of rooms in a hotel. But you saw what parts of it was illuminated from the small light hanging above you, and how it seemed to stretch even further past the darkness. 

“Because Sohee is a feminine name.” You reason.

Your voice sounds far off as you try to conceptualize how much wealth is in the room. The marble countertops with the stove embedded in and the open bathroom door that exposes the large shower. Your mouth only drops further but Eunseok is unaffected as his heavy hands drag down your arm, feeling your clammy newly exposed skin.

“Could’ve said you were Minjeong.” Eunseok whispers from behind you. His head lowers down to yours, whispering in your ear as you continue to look around the dark suite.

He can’t see the way you shake your head from his suggestion when he turns away to put your jacket on the hook by the large door. He comes back to you and puts his hands on your shoulders again, rubbing your arm and messing with the end of your sleeve.

“I don’t want the gossip pages to have her name in their mouths.” You respond.

Your mouth feels dry when you turn your head and see the light fixtures that hangs from the ceiling. Eunseok bends down to kiss your shoulder but stays there, whispering into your neck.

“You’re that paranoid?” He asks.

As if a switch had been flipped, you turn away from the wealth to look at Eunseok. He already has that knowing smiling etched into his features, like he knew he was pushing your buttons.

His hands reached up to take your mask off, smiling even bigger at the pout that he knew was already there. He lifts your cap and takes off your shades, gathering all the things you used to hide yourslef in the bowl of your upside down cap. He ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, causing you to reach up and smack his hand away.

You can tell that Eunseok is trying to corral you further into the suite, but your feet are planted. You don’t think you could move past the space of the entryway even if you wanted to. The thought of you not deserving to see so much luxury keeps you focused on Eunseok’s amused face. You don’t dare to look at the walk-in closet next to him or the pristine paintings hanging on the wall.

“No woman is in a mans hotel room this late at night unless—”

“Unless what?” He asks.

Eunseok tilts his head to the side. You hate when he interrupts you. You hate when he looks at you so intently waiting for what you’re going to say next. You hate that he’s so used to the wealth that he wears plain designer shirts to bed. You hate that he seems more comfortable in his skin while you're ready to crawl out of it. You hate that he tilts your chin up when you try to avert eye contact.

“Unless she’s a murderer or a prostitute.” You say. You make sure to emphasize the first word, as if you were capable of hurting Eunseok.

Eunseok takes his hand away from your face to laugh. It’s a dry chuckle but it has something blossoming in your chest, a warmth that’s different from the layers of clothes you were wearing earlier. It's equally strangling, and equally makes the knot form at the base of your neck again.

“I did think you were a stalker at first.” Eunseok walks past you, forcing you to follow him across the room. He subjects you to his wealth, he practically rubs it in your face as he lazily pads to the couch like he owns the place. His black tee and low sweatpants reveals the lowest part of his back for you. You let your eyes stay focused on that as he continues to walk towards the couch. “Sohee would never be here at this hour.” He says.

“But you let me up anyway?” You ask.

You can barely see Eunseok’s expression as he sits on the couch in the near darkness. You thought it would look like he was photoshopped against the backdrop of the Los Angeles skyline, but he was a natural. Eunseok settled into the gray modular couch and put his arm on the back like it was second nature. He spread his legs out and shrugged before looking behind him at the night sky.

“I figured it was you.” He answered.

Whatever you and Eunseok had truly wasn’t all that complicated. Yes you cursed him out before showing up at his suite in the middle of the night and yes you two must hate eachother to some degree. But your separate careers grew side by side, you came out during the summer and he dominated the winter. In the fall that following year—when your careers were still fresh and you two would’ve agreed to anything to chase the fame—you were told about the opportunity you had to grow your careers and build more hype around the project you were both starring in. 

Looking back, you could admit you had fun. When work dragged on or you were feeling extra lonely you’d look at old issues of the tabloids, thumbing through the pages until you got to the gossip and celebrity couple section. You'd look down the doggy eared pages of the magazine and look at the paparazzi traps disguised as dates. You looked at the two of you walking around in matching athleisure wear on the way to pilates with Eunseok trailing behind you holding your things and the infamous Central Park date where you two played with children and dogs that weren’t yours. There was even that one photo of you in the bottom corner of the page with Eunseok's hand on your lower back guiding you to your chauffeur. That date felt very real. The drinks you held in your hand was real liquor, you felt actual excitement and the buzz of being in a Hollywood party. Eunseok's hand that reached across the back row of seats to buckle you in was real. The way he pinched your cheek and told you teasingly you should let loose more often was also very real.

The wobbly view you had of him was the same you had now. His pointed noise and high cheekbones, the softness in his expression that defied his sharp features. His hair still fell the same as he continued looking at the outside, picking at the top of the couch like he was subtly trying to find an imperfection. Back then in the back seat of the tinted SUV he was red in the face, looking out the windows in awe of the flashing cameras. Back then you only had your bleary sights on him, you only took in the smile on his face instead of the sounds of paparazzi calling out your name and orders to roll down a window.

That fall you two seemed to be the worlds couple, coming from humble beginnings and navigating the glamour of Hollywood together. You two attended every event attached at the hip, wearing a something that complimented the other and said praises during each interview. For a moment you thought everything was right in the world. The money had started rolling in, the two of you compared checks like kids compared trading cards, wide eyed and passing them in your two-person circle. Eunseok sent you the magazine issue to your new high rise loft in Astoria that had you two on the cover. We look cute together was the note he wrote in permanent marker on the back, you smiled and ran your fingers over the black ink, thinking about how he thought of you all the way in Tempe, Arizona.

Eunseok was the first person you would call when you got a positive feedback, and he was the first one you went to when you ended up losing a role. You believed for a long time the relationship was the same both ways, but when your joint project came out your relationship did what it was supposed to do. You two found solid roles and your names started being mentioned in the acting world. The same time you found out you were in the running for Best Actress the magazines found out the one thing that sells better than love was drama. So less than a week later you found Eunseok snuggled up to the co-star of his upcoming movie underneath the trees at the Maria Hernandez park, playing fetch with a Goldendoodle and cooing at a toddler that was hobbling towards them. 

The sides chosen only fueled your anger. People believed that Eunseok wronged you (they were right) and that you were the best thing that ever happened to him (they were also right). Others didn’t really care, but still participated in the feud to say that at the end of the day it didn’t matter because Eunseok had more accolades (they were unfortunately right). 

Your hatred for Brooklyn and Eunseok started then, you cut him off without hesitation and ignored his texts begging for reconciliation. You put your nose your work without coming up for air, replacing every moment you had with him in favor of lines for your upcoming films.

Somewhere along the way in the middle of your bout of no contact he caught you (or you caught him, that was still unclear) at a wrap party in NoHo. Minjeong, who you built a real friendship with during your very fake relationship with Eunseok, promised you that he wouldn't be there due to a conflicting schedule. For a moment at her wrap party you were at peace, free to drink due to the lack of press and phones that were collected at the door. But when your nth shot of the night started tasting like water, Eunseok arrived. He took the pregame route, showing up to the party already drunk and haughty like the jackass he truly was. When you were at your weakest and the party was winding down, you two set your eyes on eachother. You narrowly tried to avoid him, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of unknown cast and crew members and their plus ones as he weaved through right behind you. The further you went to try and hide the further you strayed from the crowd.

You ended up in the bathroom (the only one that didn't have people doing coke inside), trying hard to close the door on Eunseok's Golden Goose shoe. You were slurring that his shoes were hideous and he was telling you about the botched trailer for your movie one minute then the next you were on top of the small sink spreading your legs and swapping spit with him. You told him you hated him and his stupid movies and he nodded while sticking his fingers in your mouth. You told him none of it was real and he hesitated, your spit covering his lips in a thin glossy layer before he said sorry so genuinely it made you almost regret everything. You never meant to fold, you never meant to be anything less than cruel to him, but Eunseok grabbed your hands the same way he did when there were no cameras around and kissed each individual knuckle while keeping bleary eye contact with you. He truly seemed sorry when he slid inside of you with a quiet sigh, and you seemed to accept his apology by the way you begged him to go faster. 

Something that was meant to be a messy and regretful one time thing for closure happened again, and again, and again. Wherever you were working on for a movie Eunseok seemed to be trailing close behind for his own project. You two begrudgingly came to an agreement, a secret kept behind closed doors. 

Despite the level of trust needed for something so reckless you found it hard to be with him. Sometimes you questioned if you even liked Eunseok, or if you were just blinded by the false sense of familiarity and the lasting effects of the dopamine rush from the PR stunt. He was nothing like that boy from humble beginnings you met at your very first audition, the one you felt like understood you. Then he wore beat up shoes and had a hole in his polo where he accidentally tore the fabric trying to remove the logo. The same boy who talked about name brands with disdain was endorsed by several now. The boy that was so afraid to take up space spread out on the Italian leather upholstery and patted his lap like it was a seat.

“Don’t be afraid to get comfortable.” He says.

You start by taking off your shoes, carelessly kicking them behind you where you saw Eunseok’s other pair of shoes lay.

“I can’t get comfortable.” You say.

Him rolling his eyes takes your attention away from the silk sheets on the bed and the large windows that give a full view of the city.

Eunseok picks at the stitching of the upholstery and focuses on his prying fingers. He focuses on the integrity of the couch, lips pulled into a scowl before he turns to you. Almost instantly a taunting smile replaces his features as he settles into the couch again. 

“Just because your fake humble doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little luxury.” He taunts.

Despite the snarky comment Eunseok still holds his hand out to you. 

“I’m fake humble because I like to save money?” You asked.

Even with your eyes raised in anger and surprise at the jab you start walking towards Eunseok. His smile gets wider with each step you take. The floors are cold against your feet but you feel warm all over. You tell yourself it’s the rage, your body that's burning itself out from being overworked.

Eunseok doesn’t speak again until you stand in front of him. He brings his hand from his lap to hold your waist, a steady grip to keep you in place. He dares to lean forward and press a kiss to your clothed stomach before looking directly up at you. With a sigh your hands go to his shoulders and your head lulls to the side to look down at him.

“I saw how well your last movie did.” This time he lifts up your shirt to press a kiss to your bare waist. He pulls you in a little closer by the belt loop of your jeans before messing with the button. “An extra couple hundred here and there won’t break your bank anymore, baby.” He responds.

"I'm not your baby." You say it quietly, your hand rubbing his hair slowly.

You feel the tension and the forming headache melt away like rain. You already feel relaxed when you shake your head. The need to fight back leaves your mind when you feel Eunseok come forward with his other hand to undo the button.

Your body turns with each pull and before you know it the denim pools at your ankles. You step out of them and Eunseok sees it as his chance to pull you onto his lap. When you try to straddle him he directs both of your legs to one side. You stumble into the position, unsure what Eunseok has in mind for the night until you sit on his lap sideways and he brings an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. 

You can already feel his dick twitching underneath you, but before you can mock him you’re distracted by the feeling of Eunseok running his hands up and down your bare legs. He inches closer and closer where you need him most before retreating. He repeats the motion of tracing up and down your leg over and over again. It’s not long before you’re squirming in his lap and keeping your eyes on anything but the rest of the room. When the teasing becomes too much you finally grab one of Eunseok’s hands and lead it towards your cunt.

“Just because you flaunt doesn’t mean I have to.” You say.

Your words lack bite, the edge is completely gone from your breathy tone. Seeing you remain steadfast while becoming weaker and weaker only fuels Eunseok to make you suffer even more. His hand restricts yours to the side and he waits just above your waistband. He looks at you silently with a pout on his face as your stomach jumps from being so close to getting what you need. Your hand pulls against his grip uselessly and suddenly you're too embarrassed to look at Eunseok anymore.

Your head tilts towards the high ceilings as he finally pushes past your waistband. You arch your back and he pulls you closer before pressing his fingers deep to your clit with his cold middle finger.

“Is that what you tell yourself when you wear designer straight off the runway just to walk around the Upper West Side?” He asks.

Before you can defend yourself Eunseok presses deeper into your clit, pulling a pained whine from your lips and a pathetic thrust. His refuses to trace down to your slit to collect your slick before messing with your clit. Somehow it is infuriating but erotic that he knows how to not touch you but does it anyway. He doesn't treat you sweetly, he doesn't do what your hands guide him to do. He does what he wants, he goes straight to picking up the speed on your clit that sends currents through your body.

When he realizes you can’t speak anymore only then does he dip his hand down further, gathering the slick from your hole and prods your entrance with his two fingers. You feel the tension and pressure from his fingers, you preemptively let out a sigh and a small shake when Eunseok kisses your temple. The kiss is passive and small, but it makes you relax enough for Eunseok to slide his fingers inside of you.

You practically suck his two fingers in, and you whine out to the large light fixture above you. You turn your head to Eunseok’s chest seeking some type of comfort but he gives you nothing of the sort. Even if you are cradled in his lap he doesn’t baby you, he doesn’t coo at you affectionately while pumping his fingers in an out of your heat.

“Seriously. You think just because you stay at The Struggle Inn on the other side of the tracks you’re humble?” Eunseok presses the pad of his finger against your walls for emphasis. “This little persona you got going on makes me sick sometimes.” He laughs.

“Sometimes?” You breath.

You let out a labored whine from the feeling of Eunseok playing with you. He’s making a mess of you and you’re almost ashamed that you do nothing about it. Your hand reaches back to dig into the firm cushion of the couch as a means to ground yourself. You see Eunseok look from your clothed cunt to you, nodding his head as he pushes his fingers in deeper. You can feel his soft fingers, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle as your back arches. When your chest is high enough he kisses your covered nipple until you lower it out of his lips reach.

“Sometimes it’s so cute seeing your eyes get all wide like you don’t have money. Kinda feels like I’m ruining you.” Eunseoks’ free hand travels up your back and moves your body close to his. Your hands go back to gripping his shoulders instead of keeping yourself propped up. You lean all your body weight on Eunseok’s side and his arm as he runs his eyes up and down your twitching body. “You’re committed to the bit, I gotta give you that.” He laughs.

“Not a bit.” You respond.

You don’t know how he manages to string so many words together during times like this. You’re all for the jabs at ones character—especially Eunseok’s—but you think it is extremely unfair when you can’t form a coherent sentence that doesn’t involve whimpering his name. He further tips the scale by plunging another finger into your heat and using his hand to lean your head against his shoulder. One of your legs stays on the couch but the other slides off, opening yourself up to him even more.

“Slumming it in a motel while filming a movie with a half million dollar budget.” Despite being in a position of comfort Eunseok’s words have the opposite effect. He’s sturdy against you, unmoving from your body twitches and sudden movements when he hits that spot he has memorized. He so clearly wants to aggravate you while bringing you pleasure, he wants you to fight with him while he bends his hand at an odd uncomfortable angle just for you. “Aren’t you sick of it?” He asks.

“No. I’m not.” You try to bite back but your body preens forward into Eunseok’s fingers and your head leans fully into his shoulder. “Not everyone becomes a classist pig after a little success in the box office.”

“It was actually after I got my first Emmy.” Eunseok’s hand wraps around your waist and brings you further into his lap. Eunseok speeds up his hand as he brings his face closer to yours, so close your clammy cheeks touch. “You wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” He sneers.

Everything always goes back to that fucking Emmy. You still remember being up against him in the Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series. Your project was your one and only attempt at anything that wasn’t a movie, and it was Eunseok’s first of many. You remember thinking about how nice the titles of your shows looked side by side when Eunseok won. The fan wars that were fueled by Eunseok’s win plagued your social media feed for weeks. You still periodically saw the clip of Eunseok appearing on screen before the camera cut to you in the crowd. 

“The award wasn’t just for you.” You dig your hands into Eunseok’s waist to try and ground yourself. “You’e not that special. Just a one trick pony.” You lie.

Your heart only has the chance to drop for a second from your lie before Eunseok chuckles again. His fingers inside of you don’t even falter from your jab, instead his other hand pushes your leg until you move it to one side. Your other leg comes up from the ground and before you know it you’re straddling Eunseok as his fingers continue to push into you. The squelching sounds between your two bodies is louder than the kiss he places on your sweaty forehead before going to your ear. 

“You haven’t even seen all my tricks.” He teases.

Eunseok bested you once again. You have nothing to say in response to his fingers that suddenly picked up their pace, you only clutch at him tighter and moan so pitifully it’s barely muffled by his shirt. Your voice floats up to the ceilings as you crumble against his chest. You see the darkened spot on the shirt from your saliva the same time you feel Eunseok press a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re breaking my heart, honey.” He coos. “I didn’t take you for the competitive type.” 

Eunseok’s hands increase their pace and you can already feel more drool peaking past your lips. You’re being bullied to the edge and Eunseok hasn’t even take his pants off yet. You squirm in his touch again, pressing your hips down to feel his hard dick jump in his sweats. The feeling pushes you forward, it gives you motivation to try and speak.

“I’m not competitive.” You lie again.

Eunseok hums and slips his fingers out of you. The lack of stimulation causes you to whine but gives you room to push your hips against his. Eunseok’s wet fingers grab at your hip and works them back and forth. You hear the content sigh tumble past his lips as your hands grip the couch on either side of his head. You finally find the strength to lift your head up and press your open mouth to Eunseok’s. 

“Then say my movie is gonna do better than yours.” Eunseok murmurs against your lips and pushes you down again. You pant hot air into his mouth and tilt your head, silently wishing he’d kiss you instead of taunting you. “Say it and I’ll fuck you so good.” He says simply.

You shake your head and Eunseok runs his hands up and down your arms, light as a feather to make goosebumps raise across your skin. He pulls away from your lips and looks at your heaving chest and your perked nipples that poke against the fabric. One of his hands harshly pinches at your nipple, causing you to cry out. As an instinct you smack his hand even harder. He looks up from your chest to your face with a smile on his lips.

“So, so, so good.” He taunts.

Eunseok looks you in your eyes again but you can’t even bring yourself to retort. You are still trying to clear the haze and calm your lust from the edging. You only slightly back away from the peak of pleasure before you start pressing your hips down on Eunseok’s. Your previous position on his lap made it had to feel it but straddling his hips let you feel all of him. He throbs against your clothed pussy through his gray sweatpants. Eunseok even lifts his hips upwards to press against you more. You breath heavily into the crook of his neck, but you still shake your head weakly.

“I’m not gonna say it.” You whimper.

“Then you’re not getting it.” Eunseok groans.

For a moment your heart drops at the thought of Eunseok lifting you off his lap or holding your waist to cease your movements. But Eunseok is caught up the same way you are, even if he tries to act like he isn’t. He doesn’t want you to stop, clear in the way he greedily moves your hips when you lose your pace. 

You can feel his dick continue to pulse, the stimulation has you dragging your bare cunt on the fabric of his sweatpants. You swear you can feel all of Eunseok and he moans like he can feel all of you too. His hands press unbelievably hard into your waist to help guide you up and down his length.

“You’re not getting it.” He repeats.

Eunseok is so quiet you think he is speaking to himself rather than to you. But you still nod in the crook of his neck, kissing the exposed skin before tilting your head upwards towards his ear.

“I’m not getting it.” You echo.

Eunseok brings a hand between your shoulder blades and presses your chest against his. he starts lifting his hips with more fervor, letting out a quiet curse into the air when a tiny whine escapes your throat. You purposely push your hand against Eunseok’s thigh just so he will grab your wrist and hold it against your lower back.

“You wouldn’t even be able to handle it, would you?” He whispers.

"It's been too long." You quietly whimper back.

Moments like these where you two are so desperate to be quiet takes you back to your motel days together. The walls were thin as paper back then and you two had an irrational fear of being caught like you weren’t two consenting adults. You’d moan and whimper quietly into eachothers ears, chasing so desperately after that feeling you were both pursuing now. Back then you two would kiss alot more and only praises would fall from Eunseok's lips.

You weren’t sure what you preferred. Pleasure was pleasure the same way wealth was wealth no matter who was administering it. You did wonder if clutching at Eunseok’s shirt would’ve been more fulfilling if you two were on the stiff loveseat cramped in the corner of your motel room. You wondered if hearing him moan your name sweetly would’ve sent you over the edge faster if he still presented himself the same way he used to.

The thought of slumming it with Eunseok again brought you back to the edge again. You went back to the crook of Eunseok's neck as your body swayed against his. You felt the impeding orgasm loom over you. You dug your nails into his shirt and leaned against the back of the couch. For a moment you were so lost in the throes of pleasure you forgot where you were. When you opened your eyes you remembered, and when you remembered it felt further away than ever.

You were subjected to the view from the top floor of this fancy hotel, looking down at the rest of the city beneath you. You saw the cars of people just now getting off from their shifts or people heading to work while you were all the way up here, carelessly enjoying the life of luxury by fucking in the presidential suite. Your hands were tangled in the hair of your arguably richer ex-whatever, and you were grinding on custom Italian that cost more than what most made in a year. You remember being down there, struggling to get a decent nights rest after being a corporate slave all day. That was your life but it felt like an eternity ago. Instead of Eunseok and what he was giving you your mind went to the yawning bellhops and the barista who made your coffee this morning. You saw them in the dark reflection next to yourself in the glass of the window. You focused on your mussed appearance and the back of Eunseok's head. Maybe this really was a persona, maybe you were something worse.

“I can’t.” You whimpered suddenly, stilling your hips against Eunseok’s.

Eunseok looked from your waist to you. His furrowed eyebrow went from focused to confused. You looked at the sweat dot his forehead and line his top plump lip. He looked like he did when you first met, taking you back to the time you wanted to escape from so badly. When you tried to pull away Eunseok shook his head and continued to hold you close. Your loudest sound fell from your lips, something between overwhelming pleasure and the unbearable guilt that comes with achieving success you can barely conceptualize.

“You can. You’re so close already.” Eunseok pulls your view away from your reflection to press your forehead against his. He looks at you intently again, like you were his beginning and end. “My star.” He coos.

Your hips falter at the nickname. Eunseok smiles and grinds his clothed dick against you again, showing that your nickname has an effect on him too. You press your forehead harder against his, the sweaty surfaces sticking together as you two let out heavy pants. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing, squeezing around air as you get closer and closer to the edge. The grip you have on Eunseok becomes so strong your hands begin to shake.

“I’m close.” Eunseok breaks apart from your forehead to lean his head against the couch. His neck is on full display for you, the protrusion in the middle of his throat bobs up and down as he tries regaining his composure. “Keep going.” He whines.

Everytime without fail, Eunseok became the most vulnerable right before he finishes. His own persona crumbles before you. If you ever brought up how pitiful he becomes in the pursuit of his orgasm he would accuse you of projection, but his submission was so palatable you could taste it. He was no longer the cocky movie star, but a defenseless whining mess underneath you. You could always see how badly he wanted to be taken care of, it was written on his lips and evident in the way his grip tightened on you but no longer guided your movements. He needed you to press deeper into him, to kiss him all over and talk him through it.

“Look at me.” You said.

Whether your voice was commanding enough didn’t matter, because Eunseok opened his eyes almost immediately. You looked at him instead of looking around his suite or looking past him outside the large windows. You stayed locked in on Eunseok’s blown out eyes, focusing on yourself in his eyes instead. You never changed on the glassy wet reflection. You still looked the same when you stared intensely at them.

Something about Eunseok being so weak made you feel strong. You forgot about your overwhelming guilt to press your hips down to Eunseok’s and rock against him quickly, looking directly into his eyes. He only lasted a moment before his back arched off the couch and his eyes were screwed shut. You moved one of your hands from Eunseok’s shoulder to thread through his hair, pulling tightly as your hips continued to move.

He started twitching underneath you and you let yourself collapse against his chest. Designer perfume and Eunseok filled your nose as you whimpered against his chest and a beat later the familiar warmth washed over you. Your hips started moving erratically as you settled deeper into his chest, repeating that you were cumming after Eunseok already came in his sweats. 

“Go ahead.” Eunseok weakly cooed at you as his hands ran up and down your back. “I got you.”

You nodded against his chest, and you didn’t stop nodding until you felt the warmth subside. You let out a heave against Eunseok’s chest. The both of you had matching heart rates and the same heavy pants. 

You rested against him and he pulled you closer, still rubbing your back as you came down. When you could manage moving your body agains you started massaging Eunseok’s scalp, paying closer attention to the area that you had his hair tugged between your fingers.

Even with knowing you were a sticky sweaty mess you felt comfortable. When you were against Eunseok’s shoulder all you saw was him. You didn’t worry that you defiled the expensive Italian sofa or that you might’ve disturbed the neighbors. You were only focused on the whirring of a machine somewhere and the fact that Eunseok smelled like you now. Everything was reminiscent of the life you were accustomed to.

“So.” Eunseok clears his throat and lets his head rest against yours that’s still slumped in his shoulder. “You gonna stay the night? Or go back to the dirty motel?” He asks.

Instantly the veil is lifted. The fog in your mind clears and the strength comes back to your limbs. You pull out of Eunseok’s hold get up from his lap with a grunt and walk over to your pants, pulling them up your leg as Eunseok scoots forward to the edge of the sofa.

“Don’t be like that.” He says.

You shake your head again and pull up your pants quickly. You even wag your finger as Eunseok to show him he’s really messed up. 

“You ruined it.” You say. 

You walk through the dark of the suite, trying not to run into anything on your way out. The worst thing would be to leave a trace of your presence anywhere. You want to be in and out like a ghost, you want to be back in the comfort of your scratchy sheets.

“Seriously you should stay.” You hear a tiny gross leave Eunseok’s lips as he gets up from the couch. You can hear his bare feet against the floor of the room as pads after you. You don’t turn around, you only reach for your baseball cap sitting on top of the command center. “It’s so late.” He reasons.

Your mask is already on your face by the time Eunseok makes it to your side. His voice is hoarse, when you turn around you see his hair is still bumped on one side as you secure the baseball cap onto your head.

“I gotta get back to my dirty motel.” You emphasize the end. Eunseok’s eye roll and the dark splotch on his sweats is tinted behind the your shades before you turn to grab your jacket. “My taxi is waiting for me.” You say.

You can tell Eunseok has given up any attempt to get you to stay when you zip up your jacket. Instead he puts his hand on the doorknob, stopping you from pulling it open. When your hand goes to the deadbolt Eunseok puts his hand over that too. You see his softened gaze behind the dark tint of your shades, so inviting you have the urge to stay.

“How long are you in LA for?” Eunseok asks. 

Your hand goes to the small chain above the deadbolt lock right beside Eunseok’s head. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You say.

Eunseok puts his hands up in defense and you take the moment to undo the lock and turn the knob. The door is heavy, it pulls you slightly forward as you try to open it. Eunseok helps you the rest of the way and you’re forced to walk past him to go into the hallway. You don’t dare to turn back and look at Eunseok when you make it to the hallway. You keep your eyes on the elevator only, so close to escape.

“Maybe next time we can fuck on the nasty sheets in a motel?”

Eunseok speaks above his normal volume because he knows it will make you turn around. He swears he can see the indignation  in your eyes as you point your finger at him in warning. He puts his hands up in defense again and laughs at your reaction.

“Shut up.” You seethe behind gritted teeth. 

“I’m just saying it’ll be a nice change of pace for me.” He says, equally as loud.

Eunseok is happy he’s able to wear you down when you pull out your phone and start vigorously typing. He hears his phone chime behind him on top of the command center before you stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“I sent you my schedule for the next month.” You point your finger at him again as you start heading backwards to the elevator. “Don’t make me regret it.” You seethe.

Eunseok leans against his door, nodding mockingly.

“You won’t.” He says.

Eunseok stays leaned against his door even when you turn away from him and walk towards the elevator. He doesn’t catch your eye again until you turn inside the open elevator to face the exit. He decides to be even more of an asshole by bowing to you just to show you how grateful he is. Eunseok waves to you with all his might as the doors came to a slow close in front of you. 

You make it back down to the lobby, the same staff there as when you went up. You notice the concierge staring at you from across the lobby. You feel her gaze never leave your body as you shift uncomfortably from the unwanted attention and the feeling from your underwear. Enamel Pin doesn’t say a word to you as he opens the door, he barely gives you a nod as you walk past him.

The bellhops look from the yellow taxi to you, they make a step towards the back of the cab before standing still in their place. You don’t know what you’re waiting for but you’re still too. Everyone outside is still, no one moves until you hear see the passenger side window roll down.

“Have a nice night, miss.” Enamel Pin says.

The bellhops move to the car that comes up behind the taxi and your feet finally move. You open your own door and clamber into the backseat. You close your own door and motion for the driver to take you back to the same spot.

You look up from your seat in the car, trying to find the top floor of the hotel. It’s impossible to see from down here. You still try to find the top as the cab leaves the lobby, heading the same direction you came from.

[lamiadrowned]

Hellooo! those jinx dating headcanons were so cute, could you maybe expand on Silco meeting Jinx's partner? 🩷

*:･ﾟ✧ silco meeting jinx’s partner

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

this made me so happy to write, the flashback we got of younger silco is heavy on my mind :,) missing him

it would definitely be a lot less intimidating than you’d expect!

in the month or so that you’ve been with jinx, silco isn’t immediately distrusting of you since she talks often about how great you are. not only that, but he can see the difference you’ve made in her life and her mental state. how cheery she becomes when she talks about you. how big her smile gets when he asks about you.

however, it seems she’s a bit embarrassed at the idea of introducing him to you. so, being the protective father that he is, he takes the initiative.

one day, as you’re heading home from work, you quickly reach for the switchblade in your back pocket when you feel a hand on your shoulder behind you.

you turn around to see there’s a woman (who is considerably taller and buffer than you) standing there, clearly surprised to see a knife pointed at her. “my name is sevika, i’m here on behalf of silco. he wants to see you in his office before the day ends. is now a good time?”

thankfully, you recognize the name. jinx had talked about going on a few missions with her. you lower your knife and shrug. “uh… yeah. yeah, now’s fine. lead the way.”

she nods and proceeds to walk with you a few streets down to the building, offering some polite conversation and reassurance– this meeting is solely for the purpose of introducing himself to you, since his daughter won’t.

she takes you to the door of silco’s office, opening it for you and wishing you good luck.

you don’t immediately see silco, but you do hear his voice. “take a seat wherever you’d like.”

once sevika shuts the door behind you, you take a deep breath and follow his instructions; sitting down at his desk and watching his own chair spin around so that he can finally come face-to-face with you.

your anxiety is through the roof and your heart won’t slow down no matter how many deep breaths you take, but you’re able to muster a polite smile.

he sees right through it, though. of course. like father, like daughter. “you seem frightened. i apologize if sevika gave you a scare.“

“oh, no– she was really nice. it’s just… i wasn’t expecting a meeting with the kingpin of the underground today.” you joke.

he laughs, which makes you a bit more comfortable. “another apology is in order, then. i know this is sudden, but jinx… she gets so bashful at the idea of introducing us. i figured, why don’t i take the big leap?”

you nod. “yeah, of course. she talks very highly of you.”

“and you, as well. she talks my ear off, a million words a minute if she finds a way to bring you up.” silco shakes his head with a growing smile. “it’s impressive, how quickly she’s become smitten with you. i’d think you were a sorceress if i didn’t know any better.”

you’re flattered by his kind words, and a bit excited by the fact that she seemingly talks about you so much. you must be doing something right.

the two of you continue on as you answer all of the questions he asks about your upbringing and your current life, and you ask questions about his. it almost begins to feel like you’re talking to an old friend, not the most feared and influential man in the lanes.

however, at one point, he suddenly becomes very serious.

“now, i feel this is an appropriate time to tell you this. you seem to be a genuinely good person, which is all too rare these days.” silco sighs. then, he clasps his hands together and casually leans forward onto the desk, resting his chin on his fists. “with that being said, if i ever come to find out that you have made my daughter suffer in any way, and you will never know peace again. do i make myself clear?”

your eyes widen. you’re finally starting to see why the entire population of zaun is scared witless by him. “understood. it will never come to that, though. i can only hope you take my word for it.”

silco nods in approval of your answer. he’s very impressed by your ability to remain calm in the face of his intimidation. it only proves to him that you’re as good as you seem, and that your intentions are pure– you have nothing to hide.

after a brief silence, he opens his mouth to speak again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of his office door slamming open.

“she’s missing!”

you’re shocked to hear jinx. she sounds frantic, voice hoarse and pitchy, like she can’t contain her terror. “i checked everywhere, high and low! we need to send one of your goons to–”

she’s silenced when she sees you turn around in your chair and meet her glare. her look of horror turns into one of confusion. “what the hell is going on here? is this an intervention?”

you snort at her question, patting the chair next to you, inviting her to come sit down. her shoulders slump and she lets out a dramatic huff as she sulks over to sit beside you. her arms cross defensively. “i don’t know what you weirdos think i did, but those fireworks going off last night were not mine, and to be frank, it’s kind of offensive that you’d assume i–”

“jinx, if you don’t mind,” silco puts a hand up, imploring her to stop talking. “we’ll talk about those fireworks later.”

“what?! i just said they weren’t mine.” jinx scoffs.

“you ramble when you lie. don’t you think i’d know that by now?” silco sighs. “that’s beside the point. since you had no plans to introduce me to y/n, i decided to introduce myself.”

you hum in confirmation. “that’s all. no intervention.”

it takes jinx a long moment to process this information; it seems as if she forgot silco has eyes everywhere, and when he wants something done, it will be done.

you’re almost expecting her to be upset before a beaming smile replaces the scowl on her face. “un-fuckin’-believable! i’m searching all over zaun for you, while you’re here, kicking back with him?!” she points in his direction.

“precisely.” silco steps in for you, aware that this is one of those times where she is very happy, yet tries to pretend that she is very upset. “if it’s of any reassurance to you– to both of you– this relationship has my badge of approval.”

instantly, you feel a sense of pride in knowing that you’d made such a good impression on him. he’s a man that’s very hard to impress, as far as you’ve heard.

you reach for jinx’s hand and squeeze it. her smile is almost as big as yours now. “look at that. i aced the big interview, and i haven’t gone missing.“

[norrizzandpia]

Let Me Help (OP81)

Summary: She’s got a math test the next day and unfortunately, she can’t do math. However, her boyfriend can.

Warnings: PURE FLUFF 👹👹👹👹, me being uneducated abt the British schooling system (PLZ FORGIVE ME IF I GET ANYTHING WRONG I KNOW THERE ARE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE AMERICAN AND BRITISH ACADEMIC SYSTEMS)

Note: i want a bf to tutor me math wtf bitch 😐

As she sat in the University of London’s library, staring at the problem on her laptop, Y/n was on the verge of tears.

She had been trying to study for four hours, but she was quickly realizing she had absolutely no idea what was going on in the class. No amount of step-by-step videos or lecture notes could help remedy the confusion she was suffering from. Her grade relied on this test and if she failed, she wasn’t too keen on retaking the course.

Nevertheless, she knew if she continued to sit and stare, her heart rate would accelerate even more and her watery eyes would turn into full on sobs. So, she excused herself, packing up her backpack and making a swift path toward the bathroom. Once settled behind the door, she let the tears fall and the anxiety consume her.

As if the world wanted to hurt her more, her crucial moment was ruined as her phone began to ring. Her sweet boyfriend’s face stared back at her as she contemplated answering the call or not. If she didn’t, he would most likely call her again, and if she did, he would be able to notice the way her voice wavered with self-doubt immediately.

For whatever reason, she answered the call. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to start the conversation, as she stared at the wall in front of her and tried to calm herself down.

“Baby! How’s studying going? I was thinking we could get food because I’m sure you haven’t taken a proper break yet.” His cheery voice met her ears and while that tone usually brought air back into her lungs, it pushed her over the edge this time.

Silence on the other end of the phone as she cried into the speaker and Oscar tried to figure out what had her so distraught.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He questioned, trying to comfort her sorrows as he ran around his apartment and grabbed his things, already on his way to help her.

She tried to speak, but the words never came out, sobs replacing any kind of sentence.

He continued to speak, knowing his voice was the only thing that could really help her as he sped to the library.

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He urged, changing lanes and turning abruptly which granted a loud honking behind him from a frustrated driver.

She shook her head as she said, “It’s not, Osc. I don’t understand anything. I haven’t done anything these past few hours. I’m going to fail this test, and then I’m not going to pass this year, and then I’m going to fail out of college, and never get a job or provide for myself in anyway.”

He breathed out. Her way of jumping to conclusions and overthinking always gave her a problem, a major obstacle Oscar was so determined to help her through. Any inconvenience and she was worrying over what would happen next.

“Woah, woah, woah. Baby, slow down. None of that is going to happen. This is about your math test? You don’t understand the material?” He said softly.

“Yeah,” She whispered into the speaker.

He nodded, “Okay, well, how about this: I’ll come to the library and help you through the problems. You know math’s one of my strongest subjects. I can do this for you. Let me help you, baby.”

“But, Osc, aren’t you hungry? You just said you wanted to get food.” She said, trying to stop him from seeing her in this state.

“Baby, food can wait. We can get food after.” He smiled to himself as he pulled into the parking lot and got out.

“It’s going to take all night for me to understand this, Osc.” She stressed.

He shrugged, “Well, then I’ll get us food and we can eat while we study.”

She shook her head, “No, Oscar.”

He stopped in his steps, staring at the building as he sensed her overwhelming anxiety over his proposition.

“What’s wrong with me helping you, Y/n? That’s what I’m here for.” His eyebrows scrunched together, confusion and concentration over her next answer.

Her small voice bled through his phone and met his ears in a broken whisper, “I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

His heart squeezed in his chest, “Y/n, I do not and will never think you are stupid. Just because math was easy for me doesn’t mean it was easy for everyone else and that’s how it should be. Everybody struggles with math. There’s a reason why the majority of the world hates it. Trust me, baby, you are one of the smartest people I know.”

After a beat of silence and when he wasn’t certain if she would respond, Oscar tried again, “Let me help you, Y/n. I want to help you because I love you.”

Her cheeks blushed even in the intensity of the moment. The warmness she felt spread throughout her body moved her to say, “Okay, fine.”

“Good because I’m already here.”

—

Y/n’s eyes lit up, “Oh, so x is 2?!”

Nodding, Oscar rubbed his hand lightly up and down her back, “Exactly, my love. See? You’ve got this, smart girl.”

Her blushing had him chuckling, but her shyness didn’t stop him from kissing her temple.

“Okay, I think I understand this then.” She muttered, a big smile on her face as she looked at the time and realized it was still early enough that they could find a food place open.

“Still wanna get food?” She inquired, her body falling into his chest as they sat back on the wooden chairs. It was completely quiet and empty in the building, only a few students lingering. Because of their position in the very corner, their privacy was ensured, something they both were grateful for.

Oscar nodded, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair and nudge her face toward his. He kissed her softly, whispering sweet nothings when they broke apart. He was so proud of her and the fact that she had doubted herself as hard as she had didn’t sit right with him.

“You’re so incredibly smart, baby.” He said against her lips as he tilted his head to the other side, going in for another.

Their lips continued to tenderly meet, but every time he broke away, he would say something he loved about her.

“You never back down from a challenge. I love how determined you are.”

Kiss, Kiss

“Even when you fall, you always push yourself to get back up again. I love how resilient you are.”

Kiss, Kiss

“You’re so loving. I love the way you love me.”

Kiss, Kiss

“As we saw tonight, you’re so intelligent and knowledgeable. Even though you might not believe it yourself right now, you are so incredibly brilliant. I love how you never dumb yourself down for anyone. I love how confident you are to be yourself.”

He went in for another touch of their lips, but her giggling made it slightly impossible.

“Oscar, you’re so sappy.” She whispered, faces centimeters away from each other.

All he could do was smile down at her and whisper as his lips brushed against hers, “I just love you so much and I hate to see you doubt yourself. You’ve got this in the bag, Y/n. Sometimes teachers just don’t teach well and that isn’t your fault. Look at how fast it took you to learn it when someone actually sat down to introduce it to you! Two hours, baby! A whole unit in two hours! That’s impressive, baby, and you know it.”

She pulled back to lean against her chair, smile illuminating the room, “What would I do without you?”

He scoffed, “You would be perfectly fine. It’s me without you that you should be worried about.”

“Well, I’m not worried about it because I don’t plan on ever leaving.”

Kissing swiftly once more, his hand laid gently on the side of her neck, “Me neither.”

The two stayed like that for a few minutes until his stomach started grumbling and she was reminded of her earlier question.

“Food?”

He was already halfway out of the building, “Always.”

[wosoluver]

There's a place for you hc

Part 1

Claudia Pina Masterlist

Patri Guijarro Masterlist

Little moments

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Vicky! Come back here!" you yelled running after the younger girl, that as usual made everything in her power to have fun annoying , not only you, but the whole team. "That's not funny!"

But before you can mutter another word, Patri trips her, making Vicky fall hard, face first into the grass, dropping your phone.

"Be careful, Alexia will kill us if she gets injured!" you say hitting the back of her head playfully.

"A 'thank you' would've been nice!" she follows, looking up to you.

"Thank you, my knight in shining armor for saving the day once again!" you say mocking her a little.

"Oh just kiss already!" says Cata from her spot, sitting next to her friend on the ground, while Pina looks amusingly at the scene. And at the constant bickering between you two.

"Don't start giving Y/N ideas!" said Lucy.

"You know she'll take them!" completed Ona.

You only shook your head laughing as you walked away not entirely denying it.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Bon dia, meus amors!" you say coming into the gym to start the workout for the day.

You noticed that Claudia, usually playful and cheery looked a bit tired and not in the mood at all to be there.

"Hey, anything up with Clau?" you said coming to do some pushups next to Patri.

"Uhm not really, she's been like this all morning. Almost got attacked for asking if she wanted a bit of cinnamon on her coffee!"

"Who even puts cinnamon on coffee?" you gave her a disgusted face.

"She does! Well, sometimes."

You decided to follow the girl into the locker room after you were done.

Claudia was taken by surprise when you hugged her, sitting next to her. She looked up at you, questioning silently.

"You look like you need a hug." giving her a small kiss on her temple. "I can get you a warm towel you can use as a heat pad, if you want?"

"How'd you know?"

"We have a similar menstrual cycle, and I've heard Guijarro almost lost her head this morning. And honestly that's exactly what I feel like doing, when I'm on my PMS."

"Thank you." she said as you got up to get what she needed.

Jana shook her head wondering when would you guys ever move out of the friend zone.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"You, Cata, Salma, Paredes and Ona with me." said Patri pointing at you, picking out her team for the day's training.

"Not again!" you said with a groan. "Alexia please! I want to be in the winning team at least once in my life!" you said looking at the older woman who was captain of the other team, adding a small laugh at the end.

"Maybe if I didn't insist on picking you as a defender every time, we wouldn't be losing!" Guijarro rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"It was just a joke," you put your hands up in defense. "I love doing charity work." you said looking at the others in the group. "No offense guys."

They laughed along, knowing you just wanted to spite Patri.

"Since you're being so selfless today, can you please manage to stop Pina's attacks?" she says back with a clever smirk.

You only passed her the ball while sticking out your tongue. And she remembers wishing she could have you doing that in between her legs.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You guys got ready to play yet another clássico. The superiority of Barça was already proven, but it was still a lot of fun work, for you to deny them goals, and for your teammates to get the ball past Misa, as many times as possible.

You greeted your rivals as the game was set to begin. The game had been heated as usual, a lot of fouls committed, and by the second half you had already received a yellow card, a few substitutions were made by the 65' minute mark, and Pina joined the game.

You tried your best to keep it in your lane, but you didn't mind dabbling into other positions, so when you had the chance to cross a ball to Claudia, you did and she managed to score beautifully, after a solo play.

You ran along to hug her and celebrate. You had been in a group hug, when she interlaced her fingers around your head pulling your forehead to hers, giving you a slight nod. Sharing a sweet moment, blending your beads of sweat together.

Pulling apart you noticed Patri holding onto the both of you with a big proud smile.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Can't wait for the day to be over." you sighed disappointed.

Today had been a tough one. It seemed like every other play you tried to complete failed, your passes weren't assertive enough and you held yourself to high standards and maybe too high for your own good.

Having a bad day felt like the end of your career, ignoring completely the fact that you were a human being and that lows happen.

"Can't take another ten minutes huh?" teased Patri.

"Stop it." you said, brow raised warningly at her. It wasn't like you to cut the jokes short.

"You look stressed." changing into a concerned tone.

"I am." you said barely above a whisper. You weren't one to talk about how you felt, not when it came to your unhealthy relationship with work.

She only nodded her head, putting her phone on her pocket.

"Hold this?" she said handing you her water bottle. "Okay, hop on."

"Why?"

"I'm piggybacking you to the locker room." you two shared a moment of silence as you gave in. Feeling thankful for that small favor, from her.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Lovely anon, thank you for this idea! I love it so much, I just don't want to give away the plot yet! 🤭 that's the only reason why I haven't attached to your request.

Already have three parts planned for this!

Good to be back! 🩷

don't forget to like and share!

[angelicguy]

all the toons of toonville USA quickly gathered for my funeral. this was the first death that toonville had ever had within its borders, so the processions were brief and crass. many of them did not know what had happened to me, and arrived jovial with gifts and favors to share with one another.

a whole line of red and blue convertibles filled the one lane street that led to my body. since everyone in town knew each other, they engaged in bright lively conversation about all the sweet memories they had of me. my birthday, my bris, my several rushed visits to the toon hospital were all discussed among the townsfolk who shared their popping candies and hot sodas that they had prepared for the celebration.

Cowboy Frito and Juliet Juniper (one of toonvilles hottest couples) brought a boquet of my favorite treats in apparent memory of me. Dr Lollipop and his beau Beauty Bee were especially excited to witness my body, flayed and broken, as they had never seen one before. Fashionista Frida Frizzlemeister was dressed from head to toe in the most dazzling outfit she had, with a black and white photograph of my own head featured as the centerpiece to her famously glitzy bouquet.

gathered in thousands of seats surrounding my thick, red, plastic coffin, the show was finally on the road. despite being delayed a half hour (the felt arms of the pallbearer made it difficult to actually get the dang thing near my ready grave!), the mood was light, as everyone in attendance were best friends. scattered lines of conversation quickly concluded as Pastor Paisley cleared his throat to begin his eulogy- at least he tried! pranks were all the rage in toonville, and who else but Scoots McBuzz would spit a hot wad of greasegum right at him. Paisley, experienced from his many sunday school classes over the years, grabbed his toupee and ducked down-causing the gum to stick right onto my fisher price brand tomb.

a long pause filled the air, followed by bright laughter at such a farce. in fact, all of toonville decided to cover my final resting place in bits of chewed paper, bottlecaps, smile stickers (the lowest form of their complex currency) and all kinds of knick knacks while hollering with laughter. and what could cap off such a good time like a hearty meal? Chef Al LaRonge had prepared a veritable feast for the hungry attendees, who stuffed their mouths with gooey, cheesy pizza, hot pepper patties and classic peanut butter chocolate superbars.

as the sun set, Mayor Megamouth of toonville declared their first funeral a complete success and thanked everyone for being a part of such a touching event. "he knew every one of you, and would have loved to know he caused such a record turnout among the toontopians!" after cheery "hip, hip, hooray!" and a final goodbye towards my flesh, the now urine-soaked coffin was marched straight into the freshly built mausoleum, the only gravesite to be found in the brand new toonville boneyard.

given the limited use of the land, it was eventually folded into the soda treatment plant. over time, my final resting place became stained with the colors and smell of sarsaparilla, caramel, and beetroot. the foundation eventually buckled beneath the sagging heft of the pop-drenched wood that surrounded my now bleached bones on the fourth of july, the sounds of creaking and splintering masked underneath the no-expenses-spared fireworks show. shapes of cakes and pies filled the air as my remains were carried out to the stinking sea.

[chaotickryptonitetree]

grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver. 

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money. 

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport. 

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts. 

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building. 

And you waited. 

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat. 

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back. 

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake. 

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver. 

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo. 

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage. 

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script. 

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again. 

“Music alright?” 

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive. 

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely. 

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit. 

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.” 

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so. 

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night. 

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh. 

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased. 

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute. 

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.” 

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy. 

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.” 

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.” 

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.” 

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!” 

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering. 

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme. 

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination. 

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken. 

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.” 

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right. 

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it. 

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye. 

Despite yourself, you believed him. 

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone. 

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep. 

From: unknown 

Sent $50 

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact. 

From: Jeremy 

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning? 

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered. 

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate. 

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out. 

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit. 

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not. 

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.” 

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him. 

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe? 

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was. 

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.” 

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over. 

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything? 

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind. 

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it. 

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks. 

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside. 

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm. 

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his. 

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours. 

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight. 

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though. 

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours. 

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours. 

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates. 

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat. 

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited. 

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine. 

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist. 

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates. 

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that. 

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands. 

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys. 

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide. 

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly. 

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.” 

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye. 

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.” 

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile. 

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once. 

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head. 

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud. 

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand. 

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat. 

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed. 

You smiled all the way home. 

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away. 

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine. 

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match? 

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.” 

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.” 

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well. 

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege. 

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him. 

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you. 

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you. 

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you. 

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot. 

But you couldn’t forget it entirely. 

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him. 

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm. 

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.” 

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest. 

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.” 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been.  “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.” 

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.” 

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.” 

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.” 

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him. 

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight. 

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap. 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater. 

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

[heroineimages]

Weird parody idea

I haven't been able to find it again, but a while back on Tumblr there was a post going around about being the one maid in a hentai mansion who actually does her work while everyone else in the place is busy fornicating. While the maid in the post seemed grumpy about her work, I had the idea of making a cheery little ace maid who's completely nonchalant about the weird deviance she's surrounded by. I wrote this brief sfw scene that's all about making weird dialogue seem like an everyday exchange, and I have ideas for a few other scenes that are less sfw.

“Thank you for waiting, Mister Jacobs!” I called, holding my apron and skirts up as I trotted down the lane to the manor’s front gate. Without breaking stride, I scooped up a used rubber from the nearby grass with a trash-spear and deposited it in the little disposable bag I carried for that purpose. The master’s family could be so messy about that kind of thing.

“Miss Ada again, is it?” Mister Jacobs, the postman, greeted in return. “No Mister Harris again this morning?” he asked, referring to the usual doorman.

“No, I’m afraid Mister Harris the gateman is still chained up in the mistress’s sex-basement,” I informed him as he handed me the master and mistress’s letters. “I regret to tell you that he won’t be able to say ‘hello’ and give you head this morning.”

“Ach, that makes three days in a row,” Mister Jacobs lamented humorously. He squinted a bit at me with a queer tilt to his head. “How’d you do it, lass? You told me yourself that you don’t enjoy sex much, so how do you handle working for a family as notoriously deviant as the Williamsons?”

“Oh, I really don’t mind for the most part!” I answered, blushing a bit at the bevy of spicy memories about their aforementioned notorious deviance. “The master and mistress are both kind and very respectful of my boundaries—but I understand how unlikely that seems, given how few boundaries everyone else around here seems to have!” I laughed.

“Well, do remember me to Mister Harris when you see him,” Mister Jacobs nodded, tipping his hat.

“Of course!” I beamed, curtsying. “I’ll tell him you said hello when I put fresh water in his dog-bowl later,” I promised. Letters in hand, I waved farewell and trotted back up the lane to the front door.

[sgiandubh]

What choice is there for you to make? Caitriona is legally married to Tony. It's her choice not anyone else's. Sure you want to believe Sam and Caitriona secretly have something on, your belief is your choice. Her choice of partner is hers, and it's not Sam, really none of anyone else's concern or approval. Enjoy and celebrate your beliefs, but beliefs are not always rational nor true. No one on this subject knows the truth about Sam, the shippers, the gay onlys, the man whore-tellers, the SamSaviors. No one, which is the way he wants it. No one knows and no one will.

Dear Choice Anon,

Unlike many of your Mordor peers, I feel a half-baked effort towards questioning, in your submission that wants to be cheeky and smart. And is, instead, sophistic and predictable.

I was baking something, in the meanwhile. I always cook when I need to think carefully about something, from a distance. My hands are quite good at it and my brain is free.

And so, I thought. I thought about how you people always feel the urge to cross lanes and come here peddling your #silly wares. I thought about how you came here on a Sunday, Mother's Day on top, and how sad (empty?) life must feel for you. Instead of going out for coffee in town, smelling a rose, baking a cake, laughing around, cheering on your favorite team or hugging Mom, here you are. Battering a perfect unknown person's mailbox, for the sake of a woman who does not even know you exist and, most probably, does not even care. Same applies to S, by the way - but unlike her, he might probably care about you, provided you buy whatever he has to sell.

The Marriage Certificate argument is a fallacy and you know that very well. You grasp at a piece of paper, oblivious to the whole schizophrenic show the Happy Couple puts out there for everyone to see. I can understand that, Anon: you are a conformist, soothed by a black & white reality, even where and when it's plain to see things are anything but. You need reassurance and you hate anything that might reach out of your tiny box, even at the expense of your own critical sense. Congratulations, Anon: you are perfect fodder for all the demagogues out there and so, so easily fooled. I have more thoughts about it, but I am in a cheery enough mood and really unwilling to humiliate you further.

Unless you are S himself (hi? 🤣), his PR or his lawyer, you have no right to presume what he really wants or doesn't want, what he really intends to do and what his thoughts and feelings might be. On any given matter, from the trivial to the important. We can only guess and/or speculate, based on our own life experience, our own critical sense, our understanding of the world. And also based on many other things that are NEVER discussed publicly, which is the right way to do, if you really care about someone's private life. You see, unlike people on your side of the fence and no matter what the Original Troll always says, we never did anything of what you accuse us of. We never started flaming wars just to self inflate our importance (probably because we live rich, loving lives on our own). We never accosted their entourage and then blamed in on 'The Others', without ever substantiating those very serious accusations. And we never came to your lanes to send hate or sow doubt.

Do we make mistakes? Oh, aplenty. We are human, Anon. Come back when you are ready to ask yourself some real questions about all this charade. It is an honest, but almost rhetorical invitation. You won't, simply because you despise the very idea people could think differently and you never, ever wonder why. It would clash with your own fantasy. And this, this is something you will never be ready to face, Anon.

PS: despising the very idea people could think differently also clashes with the very idea of having a choice. The implications of your own shortcoming are much, much wider than this context. But that is not my problem, Anon. After all, you also have a choice to remain as you are, and who am I to hinder you?

[cherriqa]

+.*i get those goosebumps every time*.+

SUMMARY: he just cant shake the feeling that somebody knows... let alone his own wife..

NICK GOODE (1994) X FEM! READER

MASTERLIST : HERE

AUTH NOTE: aahhhdgfgy first fic!! based on the song goosebumps by Travis Scott 😍😍😍😍 (update, it’s been like 5 months since i started writing this.. i’m so sorry 😭😭🫶🫶)

"hello?" you ask, twirling the landline phone cord between your index and middle finger. "shit, sorry hun.." you notice the voice instantly, its your husband Nick. "sorry forr..?" you trail off, now curious. "um.. ill be home late again." his voice is low and laced with slight malice. "oh." is all you manage to say. you turn to look back in the dining room. your children are sitting happily at the table, eating spaghetti bowls.

"are you upset?" he questions, slightly nervous. "no! its fine.. ill put your food in the fridge then.." you mumble into the speaker. he sighs before speaking again. "listen, i gotta go but ill be back when you wake up. promise." he tries to sound as cheery as possible, but you can see right through the act. "okay, bye! i love you." you murmur with a small smile as the line clicks.

something is up, you can tell. you set the phone down before heading into the dining room and picking up your husbands plate. your daughter looks up at you, her curly pigtails bouncing as she swings her legs off the chair. “mommy… where’s daddy..?” she asks, her voice laced with worry. “baby, he’s fine.. he’s just caught up with work again.” you manage a smile. she nods before going back to eating.

about 4 hours later, you hear the door open and the familiar leather shoe footsteps. your husband in all his glory walks into the living room. “well hi there..” Nick says with a small grin. he walks over to you, sitting beside you on the sofa. “how was work..?” you ask, resting your head on his shoulder. he shrugs, “boring, as per usual.” the way he says it makes you giggle. “you’re sweaty, my love.” you kiss his cheek, making him smile again.

“ouch.” he jokes, standing up again. “i’ll go have a shower then.” you nod and watch as he turns around. “and by the way, could you find me that book.. um.. the one about criminology!” he recalls, to which you respond with a small “yup!” before you too, stand up.

you hear him walk up the stairs as you reach the bookshelf. as you look around, you spot a small knob out of the corner of your eye. you try to ignore it, thinking your vision is just playing tricks on you again. that is, until a passing train nearby causes the knob to rattle. you quirk your eyebrow, setting the newly found book down on the coffee table before inspecting the round knob closer.

as you get a better look, you realise that it belongs to a trapdoor that you happen to have never noticed. ‘strange..’ you think to yourself before turning it slowly. you’d think it’d be locked, considering you’ve never noticed it in your 8 years of living in your house. but it isn’t. the door slowly creaks open and the light from inside the living room shines into the small space.

upon further inspection, you spot a few candles, all of which definitely had been lit within the last few hours considering the faint smell of candle smoke. but also another thing worth noting, the two large stones with writing etched into them. one’s been fully covered, the second having almost just been started. you can only read the last 3 lines of the second stone.

RUBY LANE

THOMAS SLATER

RYAN TORRES

you make a face, weird that the last three shady side killer names are etched into.. wait.

what..?

[yslende]

ask and ye shall receive!!! context + fic clipping below

context: both bruce and clark are AFAB in this au. bruce's deadname is antigone, clark's i haven't actually picked yet but whatever! antigone wayne isn't out publicly, clark kent is; batman is batman and kal jor-el is supergirl. woohoo!

(this isn't edited, sorry for grammar or weird plot stuff. i like to think that i write with good grammar, but idk. the stuff in bold is footnotes (yes i do footnotes. fight me) but tumblr doesn't support those. enjoy!! :) )

—

One miasma and crime-coated night, not to say that all days and nights in Gotham aren’t like that, the Bat sees a flying woman. She’s dressed in blue and red with a giant S on her chest, roaming around Gotham, looking for something. Presumably. Batman does a quick search online.

Supergirl, a superpowered alien native to Metropolis, became active around a year and a half ago. She fashions herself a hero, and Metropolis residents certainly aren’t complaining. The Daily Planet has several interviews with her on record, though in every single one the interviewer was Lois Lane. She has a multitude of powers, not limited to invincibility, superstrength, laser vision, and flight. He’s almost jealous.

Of course, he already knew all of that [He keeps tabs on everything that could threaten Gotham—the database already spans 12 terabytes—and a superpowered alien definitely applies. He already has four fully constructed contingency plans with phases, steps, and instructions prepared, but another four couldn’t hurt. [Yes, they could, but that’s to worry about later.]], but why she’s come to Gotham is still a mystery. The Bat plans to find out.

She lands a few roofs away from the Bat’s current stakeout spot, seemingly frustrated, but he knows better. She’s pointedly not looking towards where he’s watching, instead faux-searching the previous row of buildings that she’d already searched. She, quite literally, twiddles her thumbs.

He can’t get out of this, can he. He quickly adds super senses, x-ray vision? to the powers list before standing, silencing the click of his boots to try and stay hidden as long as he can, knowing that it’s a futile effort. To her credit, Supergirl does a good job of pretending to be fooled.

“What do you want,” he intones, standing with shadows draped over him like blankets. Right now, to a normal human, he’d be a pair of white slits where his eyes are. He has no idea what Supergirl sees. 

She pretends to startle. “Dear—Rao, you scared me!” She rubs a hand on the back of her neck, smiling sheepishly, before flying over to stand in front of him.

Her eyes are inhumanly blue, with glowing white irises. They’re enchanting.

“Leave Gotham.” He narrows his eyes.

“Woah there!” she says, holding her hands up, palms out. Is she trying to look less intimidating? Does she think that he’ll think that she’s, what, cramping his I am a terrifying vigilante style? “I just want to talk to you! Can you spare five minutes?”

“No.”

“Three minutes?”

“No.”

“One minute and you consider what I say?”

He considers. “No.”

“Great!” Supergirl looks inordinately pleased with herself and her technicality. She takes a deep breath, one that seems to make a slight rattling purr. “So!”

One excruciating minute later, the Bat has a rudimentary understanding of the superhero club Supergirl’s trying to start and an unwelcome reminder of why he stopped watching most videos on 2x speed. He squints his eyes further.

Supergirl’s stopped floating, holding her hands behind her back and looking cheery. Even standing at his full height with his boots, she’s taller than him.

To be fair, it’s not a completely unsalvageable idea. Having an alliance already set up for world-ending threats with other superpowered people saves the ideological arguments for drawing the contracts up, not when something’s trying to absorb all oxygen from Earth or something similar. [Simply a hypothetical; Ivy doesn’t work at as large of a scale.] Supergirl already has a roster in mind, including him for some reason, but that’s about all that’s been prepared in advance.

There are several flaws with this plan: first, he doesn’t have superpowers. Supergirl had explicitly said “superhero team,” and he fits on none of the counts. Besides that oversight, the logistics weren’t thought out at all. Where would they be operating? What are they planning to do? Who’s taking responsibility for this? How are they going to settle the power structure? Conflicts of interest? The governmental alliances alone deserve an entirely separate discussion, and funding—dear God, funding.

All of it is incredibly idealistic. Did Supergirl come all the way to Gotham to propose a first draft to the Bat of Gotham? That’s an insult, even disregarding the fact that she’d interrupted him on patrol.

“Why now decide to make a team?” As good an opener as any. Supergirl seems to mistake his skepticism as curiosity, looking pleased.

“So, the United Nations contacted me—” she grimaces for a split-second— “and asked if I could be their interplanetary defense person. Basically. And I’m totally not against that!” She holds her hands palms-outward again, bashful. “But I don’t think it’s a job I can do totally on my own. And I felt like it was right to ask, since you’re kinda the first superhero, y’know?”

He did not know that. Some quick mental math reveals—yeah, he was the first. Supergirl made her debut a few months after he did, Wonder Woman revealed Themyscira shortly after, and now it’s a tossup of which superhuman will come out of the woodwork this month. Fuck, and he started it. Shit.

He grunts. She hesitates, before taking it in stride. “What do you think? Questions, comments?”

Plenty, but he doesn’t care to give her the entire roadmap. “Short-sighted. This ‘Justice Party’” —some vicious, clawed airquotes are employed— “will starve to death even with my involvement.” What did she think was going to happen? Her and her tea party sing kumbaya while he duct tapes the entire operation together?

Supergirl winces. “So that’s a no?” She sounds disgustingly hopeful.

He glares at 52% intensity. “No.” 

As her face falls, the Bat fades into the darkness, jumping off the building almost faster than the human eye can see. He doesn't have any data on what Supergirl can and can't see.

As he makes his exit, he hears a faint, frustrated “Goddammit,” alongside a sniffle.

It’s good for her to be disappointed now, Bruce tells himself. The world is disappointing, cruel, and unkind, and it’s best for her to shape up before she actually puts it into motion.

He tells himself that, listening to Supergirl fly off crying.

( @securitycapecreature wanted to be tagged when the fic was posted; i think this counts at least a little)

[milkywaydrabbles]

Meeting the Haitani brothers in their clubs

A/N: literally no one asked for this but I am a firm believer the Haitani brothers are raveheads. Rindou is for sure a wook, while Ran stays in his progressive house lane. I could literally talk about them and their music taste for hours, writing a dissertation as we speak.

Haitani Rindou Artists inspo: ATLiens, Svdden Death, Rezz

⁍When you first met Rindou you were at one of his smaller clubs. Definitely an edm club, one that he owned for fun and not to push drugs or be a cover for any other illegal activity. He knew it was a silly club but it's one he often visited for the fun of it if he wasn't doing business. That's when he was his most casual. ⁍He was by the bar area, leaning by the rails of the elevated section and looking out to the sea of ravers. That's when he saw you. Across the masses, you were on one of the pillars that has some footing (not its intended purpose but you know what it worked). It let you be above the crowd for some air, really taking in the lights and visuals of the artist performing.  ⁍He’s seen it done before, not a new concept, so he let it be. Though his eyes lingered for a beat longer than normal of any other girls that frequented his club. For one, he hadn’t seen you before, a newcomer he assumed. But you were so comfortable in the scene it must have not been your first rave. Second, your attire might have matched his aesthetic in terms of rave gear than anyone else. All black, showing skin in a tasteful way, but paired with spikes and chains. Hot.  ⁍He watched you every now and again throughout the night, but not acting on anything. And then he saw you next weekend. And the weekend after that. And each time, no matter the artist, your aesthetic regularly stayed the same save for a jersey or pashmina that matched the artist. Each time you were heavily involved. Either fanning the crowd to give some air, trading kandi, hell even turning up in the pit.  ⁍The third time he saw you Rindou decided to say something. He got there early enough before the crowd started to form. You turned to him with a bright smile, and he thought just for a second you were too pure to be here.  ⁍You got to talking before it got too loud, and he learned you were new to the city, and you just found this club. He asked you your opinion, almost anxious on what you thought of his club. When you gushed over how amazing it was, he almost preened. ⁍Rindou wasn’t much of a smooth talker, didn’t really continue much conversation from there but he lingered, dancing and headbanging with you to each of the performers. You gave him a piece of kandi for the great night and wished him a safe trip home. ⁍He spoke to you again the weekend after that, and ultimately decided to just man up and ask for your number. You gladly gave it to him. Your hangouts eventually made it out of the club, now turning into breakfast dates, lunch dates, park dates.  ⁍Rindou over time confided in you, telling you that the club you frequented was his, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He laughed in your face, immediately apologizing but it was too funny not to.  ⁍The two of you continued to see each other in and out of the rave scene, promise of this new found relationship blooming into something more.

Haitani Ran Artist inspo: Slushii, Dabin, Elephante

⊛Like his brother, Ran owns an edm club too, though a much different vibe. You were a bottle service girl at his club, and a diligent one at that. You’ve jumped in to help on nights you weren’t supposed to work, and even took on cleaning shifts if the rest of the bar was understaffed. ⊛All the bottle girls knew Ran, he liked to hire them personally to make sure they all fit the bill he was looking over (aka running background checks on them and making sure they were clean.) ⊛Every night he’d show up you greeted him with a cheery ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani!’ to which he responded with ‘you can always call me Ran, pretty girl.’ It ended with a giggle and a roll of the eyes, before heading off to your duties. ⊛You weren’t any different than the rest of them, not really, but he did notice you tended to get more tips than the rest and he was interested to know what you did. Maybe it was heavy flirting? Or maybe you ended up taking shots with the poor bastards and you milked them dry of their money that way? ⊛When he started watching you more, he noticed he was completely wrong. While the other girls tried to dance sexy with their tables you actively ended up singing all the words to the songs the performers would play and headbanged with them. That’s what got you more tips, you genuinely enjoyed the music. Huh.  ⊛At the end of the night while you cleaned up Ran came to find you and ask you about it. Oh boy, your face heated up so much you swore you could fry an egg on your forehead. You apologized for your behavior, stating that you ‘just really like the music, so working is really fun’.  ⊛Ran threw his head back and laughed, and asked you out on the spot. You paused, confused at the random offer and started to decline. That was your boss and you were pretty sure it was definitely against policy. ⊛But Ran was so pleasant and asked so pretty it was hard to say no. ⊛So you went on a date with him, thinking it would be one and done, and that it’d be short. Turns out, you had the best night of your life with him.  ⊛Every shift after that started the same, with your eager ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani’ his rebuttal ‘Call me Ran, pretty girl’, a giggle and smile.  ⊛And ended the same, Ran driving you home with a kiss and finally getting to hear you say ‘good night, Ran’.

[glbettwrites]

Creators' Club: Fun Fact Friday!

Tales from the Black Plains: My Spin the Wheel chose Lily today! Here's a list of some fun facts about her (that are actually fun compared to Elijah's last week LOL).

Quick Facts:

Demisexual.

Can't read. Not even her name. Not a clue.

Has one cheek dimple.

Bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Is the type to have a cheery conversation with someone while holding a gun on them, just in case.

Talks a lot. A lot. Nash wants to die when they partner up.

Slightly Less Quick Facts:

1. Lily is the youngest of three...and these two brothers I stole the names of when I had to come up with Lane's brothers in An Asphalt Odyssey. And I ALSO gave him a sister called Lily!

Now I've brought this back I'm gonna have to come up with alts for Lane's family, because Roy and Emmett are very much tied to Lily and have been for years; it'd feel too weird changing their names here.

2. The St. Johns are a family of filthy tax-dodgin' moonshiners who sell to saloons across the Black Plains and Great Gila. They own their own saloon too, which criminals tend to frequent because its lowkey location is great for shady dealings. The St. Johns are usually at the centre of those dealings.

3. Lily grew up around these criminals; she spent most of her time at the saloon with the rest of her family. She wasn't kept out of it; it was a family business. So she has a lot of criminals out there even today who are very fond of her and who'd take it upon themselves to help her out if she needed it.

4. She's ridiculously good on the fiddle! She used to perform at the saloon, too. She was the life of the party. No shyness. Weirdly she grew up with so much confidence in herself and her abilities because she had a roomful of criminals supporting her. This also means that she's very out of place in actual towns where the rules for women are very different.

5. As much as she supports wearing 'men's clothes' when she's out rootin' and tootin', she actually likes dresses a lot. She thinks they're pretty and it was always a special occasion when her dad bought her a new one when she was growing up. She'd take such good care of them and wear them when she played at the saloon.

@creators-club Daily Writeblr Games & Asks from @bardic-tales!

[megalony]

Don't Leave Me

As promised, here is a new Jonah Hauer-King imagine for all you lovelies, I hope you like it. Any feedback or requests are always amazing, enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys​ @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae @notagreekgal28 @ellietalenfwlers

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is on his way home when a car accident delays him a while. And he finds himself desperate to help the girl in the accident and make sure she's alright.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A steady beat drummed out against the steering wheel, matching in time with the tune playing quietly from the radio. As the daylight started to fade and the darkness drew in, he turned down the radio every so often until the tunes were soft and quiet in the background since his mind was so easily distracted.

He didn't always find driving calming and easy and distractions tended to make it worse.

The moon was a dusty, pale yellow with an outer white glow that looked very luminescent and eye-catching. There were a few stars poking through the layer of mist and the sky was a pale navy blue with streaks of purple and tints of red. Jonah loved looking at the evening sky because it looked so capturing and interesting.

He used to hate driving on the motorway, it always panicked him because everyone was driving so fast but now it felt normal. It didn’t feel like he was getting whiplash when he increased speed, it felt rather slow now that he had gotten used to it.

Drifting his eyes around the road, Jonah rubbed at his temple as he noticed his sliproad was coming up to get him back on the normal roads and not on the motorway anymore. He wasn’t too far from home now which was a relief because he couldn’t wait to put his feet up and just have a drink.

He was ready to go home.

His fingers hovered over the indicator at the side of the steering wheel but he didn't get chance to flick it on.

One fleeting, chancing look in his rear-view mirror drew his attention to a car that was flying up behind him, swerving between two lanes. The car was out of control. The driver wasn't breaking. He was going to slam into the back of Jonah's car. They were going to crash.

Jonah did the only thing he could think of. Without looking in his side mirrors or really thinking it through at all, he slammed his brakes on and swerved into the hard shoulder to his left. It was a small, grit covered lane for emergencies and this was definitely an emergency. Jonah would be crushed or run off the road if he didn't swerve into the safe lane on his left and it was all he could do. The front of his car spun towards the left, bumping into the barrier as he came to a sudden, jerking stop.

Every muscle in his body tensed, curse words flew past his lips and everything started to shake as ragged breaths passed his lips.

"No-"

Jonah jumped back in his seat as he watched the car speed past him in the lane he was just in. His eyes widened in terror when he watched the out of control car slam into the car that had been in front of Jonah.

The cherry coloured car propelled forward a few feet before swerving and spinning into the hard shoulder lane. The back end of the cheery car hit the metal barrier so harsh and fast that it smashed through and slanted the car part-way down the hill. It was by sheer luck that the car didn't roll off the hard shoulder and go down the ditch. It was wedged between the metal that was saving that poor driver from going into the water at the bottom of the ditch.

Was that Jonah's fault?

Would he of had time to flash his hazard lights to let that car in front know something was wrong? Should he have tried to warn them somehow? Shouldn't that of been Jonah who was almost falling down into the ditch?

He couldn't see where the out of control car had ended up. It seemed to be a mile ahead on the motorway but Jonah could see half the people were stopping and others were hurriedly shooting up the exit Jonah should have been on by now.

He didn’t know if someone had called the police or an ambulance or if the drivers needed any help. He guessed the people in the cherry car needed help, no one had made a move to get out yet and they needed to move. If the car jolted an inch, it would be in the ditch.

There was no way Jonah could try and drive home now. He had seen the accident. He would need to give a statement to the police, if he drove off now it would make him a bad person, just as bad as the people who weren't stopping to help.

When Jonah unsteadily climbed out of the car, his legs had gone to jelly and he had to lean heavily on the door and take a few seconds to catch his breath and calm down. He had never been in a car accident before. He was a good driver- not that he had done anything wrong tonight that had caused this crash, not really. He had never witnessed a crash like this before. What could he do to help?

He locked the car, stuffed the keys into his pocket along with his phone and jogged on numb legs down towards the cherry coloured Fiesta.

People further ahead on the road were starting to stop and check on the driver who had caused this mess but no one was coming Jonah's way.

Jonah rounded to the driver’s side. It took him a few moments to jiggle the door handle so the door finally opened, almost swinging off the hinges when it swung open with a creak that made him shiver. He bent the door as far open as it would manage and weaved behind it so he could lean over and see if the person needed any assistance.

Whoever was in here, Jonah wanted to tell them to get out. He didn't like how close the car was to the edge of the ditch. One wrong move and the car would be gone.

Turning her head slowly to the right, (Y/n) let out a shuddering breath at the stranger who managed to open the door. Her mind was coming back under her control now. As soon as something hit her car and it started to swerve, her mind blacked out and she couldn't see a thing. A sob burned against the back of her throat that felt like sandpaper and pain bolted through almost every nerve in her body.

Her eyes tried to focus on the mop of raven black curls that swished in front of her eyes as the stranger who had seemingly come to her rescue bent down on his knees. He had one hand holding onto her car door and the other was clamped around the roof of the car like he was trying to hold himself up.

He had a calming, somewhat sugary sweet smile and for a second or two, it distracted (Y/n) from why she was panicking.

"Hi there, love. I’m Jonah, can you tell me your name?" Jonah paced his words to let (Y/n) have a moment to process them and hear how calm and collected he was trying to be.

"(Y/n)… out, p-please get me out!" Her throat burned, her words came out croaked and weak but with an air of urgency that stunned Jonah.

(Y/n) didn’t know which area of pain to focus on or where exactly the pain was coming from because it was circulating everywhere. But she knew that she didn’t want to be in the car anymore. She could feel the smoke drifting around the car, seeping into her lungs and making it harder to breathe. She could feel that the right side of the car next to her legs was dented and the bonnet had been crushed and the metal was pushing towards her. She felt like she was becoming boxed into her car and she wanted out.

The seatbelt was cutting rather harshly into her exposed neck and chest near her collar bone and it was grating like a sharp knife slowly tearing through her skin. She wanted to be out of the car to feel a bit more at ease and safer. Sitting in a car wasn’t the best if it was stationary and still on the motorway which was dangerous as it was without her being in a car which was now a hazard.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. I don’t know what injuries you have, it’s best to wait for the paramedics, I think I saw someone calling them up ahead."

Jonah could see she was obviously distressed and didn’t want to stay where she was but now he had glanced at her injuries, all thoughts of telling her to get out vanished from his mind. He didn't want to be the one to move her. She could have damaged her spine or her neck or even her head and skull, moving her could disrupt any injuries and cause permanent damage. He didn't want to be the cause of any paralysis and he wasn't trained to get her out of a car with those sorts of injuries.

Basic medical first aid was the only thing Jonah could offer, along with a calming presence and a promise he wouldn't leave her in here alone until proper help arrived.

"Please,"

Her sob burned into Jonah's ears and he cringed, rolling his lips together at how desperate she sounded. He couldn't risk hurting her or making her injuries worse unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Not yet, let's wait for an ambulance to get you out safely, hm? But I won't leave you here alone, that's a promise."

"Okay," If he wasn't going to get her out, him staying beside her was at least a relief and his smile was as calming as it was charming.

"Let’s get that belt off you." Pushing himself up so he was leaning over her instead of on his knees at her side, Jonah tried his best not to touch her in case he hurt her. He didn't know if she had any internal injuries. All he could see were the external ones such as the cuts to her face from the inside of the windscreen shattering.

He rolled his lips into a thin smile and reached over (Y/n), trying to hold up his own weight. The belt came undone surprisingly easy and Jonah carefully pulled it back but it made him queasy to see the belt peel off her skin like a layer of skin ripping away. It revealed a slanted cut along her collar bone like it had burned into her skin, but thankfully it didn't look too deep.

Pulling back a little, Jonah started looking over (Y/n) to see what other injuries she had and how bad they were. He saw small cuts on her cheeks, one on her neck, her hands looked a bit scraped but when he looked closer he saw her right wrist looked damaged.

"I think you’ve broken your wrist, try not to move it for me." The complicated joint seemed to jut out on the left and it was beginning to swell too.

Pushing the almost deflated airbag out of the way, Jonah looked over (Y/n)’s other arm which seemed to have no damage. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment and he smiled to show her she was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t see any blood on her shirt which was a good sign but with the airbag now moved out of the way, he noticed a new problem.

There was a thin chunk of metal puncturing into her thigh, causing blood to pool around her navy blue leggings.

"Can I?" He questioned, referring to her leg. He didn’t really want to leave her bleeding out when he didn’t know how long the paramedics were going to take to arrive and the least he could do was take a look and see if he could help in any way.

"Hm,"

There was a tear in the material so Jonah slowly pulled at the thin cotton and ripped it further so he could see the damage. He held his breath in his lungs to calm himself down; the metal looked like it was rather deep into her leg and Jonah knew better than to even attempt to pull it out. If he moved the metal an inch he could worsen the bleeding or rip a muscle and if he took it out all the way, the blood flow would be a lot worse. The blood was seeping from the deep cut like a tap that was continuously spluttering the liquid everywhere. It was soaking into her leggings and creating a mass dampness around the wounded area.

"Okay… sweetheart, I need to stop the bleeding. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you were up to today or something about you while I fix this."

Jonah needed to stop the bleeding and the best way he could think to do that was to remove his belt and tie it around her leg above the wound. That way the blood would be restricted to her leg because even though the metal was stopping the blood loss from becoming worse it was still pouring out. He knew (Y/n) might become lightheaded and it would hurt so he thought talking might distract her and it would show him she wasn’t suddenly going to faint or fall unconscious.

"What's wrong with my-" (Y/n) cut herself off with a choked moan mixed with a cry when she saw the metal poking out of her thigh a little higher up from her knee. She pressed her head back into the headrest, feeling the urge to scream or try and move because she didn’t even realise that had happened. She didn’t feel the metal puncture through her leg, she simply thought it had gotten bashed and bruised like everywhere else on her body.

"Ssh, hey it’s alright. I’m gonna stop the bleeding and then the paramedics will sort this out for you, don’t worry. Come on, tell me about yourself or your day." Jonah’s voice was oddly soothing to (Y/n), he had one of those deep yet rhythmic voices that you could listen to about anything. It was a voice that you would constantly listen to without registering what was being said.

"I don't, um… I like t-to sing." (Y/n) licked her dry lips, trying to speak clearly though her throat and lips were both dry and felt tight.

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Something soft flooded Jonah's eyes while he stood up and snapped his belt free from the loops of his jeans. He prayed his jeans would stay where they were and wouldn't fall down now they were a bit loose on him without the belt.

He crouched back down beside (Y/n) whilst hoping some form of help would arrive soon to help them.

"I bet you have a beautiful voice. I quite like to sing too," Jonah pushed his knees into the bottom of the car while he carefully lifted up (Y/n)'s thigh, just an inch, so he could thread the end of his belt under her leg. He did his best not to disturb the metal. He made sure the belt was close to the wound but not touching it in any way.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she looked down to see what Jonah was doing. It took her mind a few seconds longer than usual to process what he was doing and understand he was going to cut off her circulation to her leg.

When Jonah lifted his head to look at her, he winked in a way that sent (Y/n)'s stomach flooding with butterflies and his smile made her want to squirm and blush. She noticed his smile morph a little when he bit down on his lower lip and threaded the belt through the buckle. Then he yanked it as tight as he could manage. When the belt indented down into (Y/n)'s skin, he heard her ungodly scream as if the belt was around her chest, not her leg.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He hushed quietly. "It won’t hurt for long, sweetheart." Jonah pressed the pin into the belt to create a new pinhole to make sure the belt didn’t loosen any more than that before he let go. Her leg would turn numb soon enough and it would stop both the pain from the tightness and the pain from the wound.

Jonah ran his fingertips over (Y/n)’s legs to make sure she had no other cuts or injuries, stopping when she choked on a cry as soon as his hands found her left ankle. He pulled up the end of her leggings and moved her sock out of the way before trying to be gentle when grazing his fingers over the swelling skin. Relief bolted through him when he saw that the bone wasn't poking out and it didn't exactly feel broken, it felt in tact. She might have just sprained it.

"It’s not broken, probably sprained… hey, you gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, open your eyes."

Reaching his hand up, Jonah gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to get her to talk to him when her eyes closed. He didn’t want her passing out on him in case it was a sign that she was still having bloodloss or that there was something else wrong.

She managed to open her eyes and move her left hand, barely remembering that Jonah said not to move her right wrist which was broken.

"It hurts." (Y/n) didn’t exactly know what she was referring to, whether it was her broken wrist, her bleeding leg, her damaged ankle or her head that was pounding, but she felt the need to express how everything hurt. Jonah didn’t seem to care what she was referring to, he understood what she was going through. He moved his right hand and gently took her left hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

"I know it does, but it won’t be for long. Squeeze my hand, help will be here soon."

Jonah couldn’t give her anything for the pain and he couldn’t take it away, all he could do was be moral support and to try and help her in any way that he could. He darted his eyes down to her leg which was fading in colour meaning that the blood wasn't getting past the belt so that was a good thing at least.

He felt slight relief when (Y/n) held his hand tightly to show she wasn’t asleep just yet. She didn’t know what she would have done if Jonah hadn’t turned up, she wouldn’t have known her leg was bleeding or how to stop it, she would have tried to get herself out if she had the energy. Her panic died down immensely when he turned up because he seemed to know what he was doing. It wasn’t as scary with someone else here with her.

"P-please don’t leave me."

"Now why would I leave you?" Jonah could hear the worry in her voice as if she thought he was just going to vanish and head home. He wouldn't do that even if he wanted to because it wasn’t fair. He had come over to help and he wasn’t finished helping yet because he couldn’t leave her alone and afraid.

Jonah rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as (Y/n) continued to squeeze his hand every now and then to show she was still awake. She pushed her chest out to let her spine click into place before settling back against the seat that felt incredibly uncomfy right now.

Something akin to fondness bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and pooled in her eyes when she looked over at Jonah. He wasn't looking at her but he was squeezing her hand incredibly tight. He was swaying on his heels, shifting his weight back and forth and his left hand had moved to rub his chin and brush across his lips while he watched for any signs of an ambulance or even the police.

She could see how focused he was on watching for help and how intent he was on staying right by her side. It felt like they had known each other for years, not minutes and his presence was calming and soothing.

The car moved.

A burning scream left (Y/n)'s lips and her body tensed up and pushed back into the seat when she felt the car jolt backwards. The horrid sound of metal scraping on metal sent her body shivering and burned her ears.

She was going to fall. The car was going to do down the ditch and crash. She was going to die here.

Jonah's weight unbalanced and he fell backwards on his bum, one hand scraping against the gravel to steady himself while his other hand clenched as tight as possible around (Y/n)'s hand. As if he was Superman with the power to pull her back and stop the car from falling any further.

"No, no no!"

"Oh God!"

Jonah scrambled to get up and his free hand instinctively pressed out on the roof of the car until it stopped moving and once again got wedged between the broken metal barrier. As soon as it stopped, Jonah breathed shakily in relief and moved round again. He let go of the car, he didn't want to touch or lean on it in any way in case any little touch made it move more towards the ditch again.

He leaned his head down into the car and his hand let go of (Y/n)'s hand so his hands could hold her neck. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his thumbs brushed over her jaw and he tilted her head up so she was looking at him. He could see the panic in her watering eyes and hear it in each shuddering, shallow breath she took. Panicking wasn't going to do them any favours.

Reaching up, (Y/n) clamped down hands down around Jonah's wrists, even her broken wrist that was now pulsing and throbbing from the movement. She was shaking so badly she was causing Jonah's arms to tremble but neither of them cared.

"Jonah p-please get me out!" (Y/n)'s fingers dug bruisingly into his wrists but it was her eyes that made his stomach flip and sent his knees buckling.

"I could hurt you-"

"Please,"

His eyes slammed closed and his body jolted on the spot when (Y/n) slammed her foot down against the footwell as she let out a sharp cry. She wanted out, she wanted to feel and be safe on the roadside. She didn't want to be in a car that was about to be in the ditch.

She was moving all of her body except for the leg Jonah had tied his belt to, surely that had to mean she didn't have any nerve damage or paralysis? Wouldn't it be safer for him to get her out and move her now than to risk waiting for paramedics to do the exact same thing he could just do right now?

"Alright, alright sweetheart let's get you out of here."

Reaching down, Jonah let go of her neck and trailed his hands down to hold her arms and loop them around the back of his neck. He could see the metal that was punctured into her thigh wasn't still connected to the car so he could move her without ripping it from her skin.

He gently held her lower legs and turned them until her body was shifted so she was facing him and her legs were now hanging over the side of the seat out of the car.

Jonah bent his knees and circled his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to hold her firmly but also be gentle because he didn't want to cause her further pain. He could feel her nails scratching into his shoulders as he carefully started to lift her up from the car. When (Y/n) reached her hand out to hold the door so she could keep her weight on her good leg, Jonah grabbed her hand and looped her arm back around his neck instead.

"Don't lean on the car in case it moves. Lean on me, I've got you."

He could feel the car start to slide again the moment (Y/n)'s weight was lifted from the seat. Jonah moved as quick as he could without hurting her and shuffled backwards with (Y/n) in his arms until they were a safe distance from the car that was four feet away from going down the ditch.

"Are you okay?"

His nose brushed against her hair and her breath tickled his skin when she took rapid breaths but managed to nod against his neck.

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) was sure she heard him whisper 'You're alright' into her hair before he carefully turned to help her sit down. His hands moved under her arms and he lowered her down until she was sat on the gravel with her legs stretched out in front of her as straight as rulers.

Her head felt like it was about to explode and for a brief moment, everything started to spin and her mind went dizzy. She thought she was about to flop down against the floor until a strangely familiar pair of hands grabbed her upper arms. Jonah reeled her into his side and let her weight fall onto his chest as (Y/n) suddenly realised he had sat down on the ground next to her.

His hand rubbed up and down her arm and in her slightly delirious state, (Y/n) was sure he kissed the top of her head, although she couldn't be sure.

"Cavalry’s here, love." As soon as the words passed through his lips, (Y/n) could faintly hear the blaring sirens that sounded very distant but she didn’t know if they were actually far away or if it was her ears distorting the sounds around her.

Two ambulances and a road traffic car pulled up and Jonah suspected they were going to block off this whole side of the motorway for a few hours.

Two paramedics hurried over with a stretcher to where Jonah was sat down beside (Y/n). He could see she was close to falling asleep now but it was alright if she did because the paramedics were here, they would know what to do.

"Jonah…" (Y/n) managed to open her eyes but soon closed them when all she could see was a rotating picture that was blurring too much to make anything out. A flurry of panic bubbled up in her chest when she felt strange hands on her arms pulling her forward to try and check her over and her head shook when she felt her eyelid being held open and a light cross in front of her pupil.

She didn't want Jonah to leave, as selfish as that made her. She barely knew him but she wanted to keep holding his hand and lean on his shoulder and hear his melodic voice telling her she was going to be alright.

"Jonah-"

"I’m still here sweetheart." He responded, feeling his heart pang at how she was beginning to panic again.

He shook his head when one of the paramedics asked if he was injured and his arms folded over his chest as he bit his lip, watching them assess her and talk about the best way to move her. They couldn’t afford to move the metal in her leg but it was easier now she was out the car. They didn’t have to cut her free which was the most important thing.

Jonah felt all the sirens and car horns and voices drift away and blur into silence as he watched the paramedics very slowly ease (Y/n) onto the stretcher. Both making sure her right leg was moved as little as possible as they laid her down. All three of them winced when (Y/n) suddenly made a choking sound. Her chest moving like it was convulsing and she moved her left hand to press to her lower chest before blood started to coat her lips.

One of the medics moved the stretcher so (Y/n) was sitting up instead of lying down so she didn’t choke. Her eyes closed tight and her face contorted into a look of either pain or disgust, Jonah couldn't be sure, and she tossed her head forward to spit the blood from her lips.

"Can I go with her?"

Jonah didn’t even think before the words were rushed from his lips and he felt relieved when one of them nodded. He didn’t even know her and yet he found himself wondering what her fate would be. If she would need surgery and what for, if she would be okay, who needed to be contacted. If her parents needed to be told, if she even had parents or maybe siblings or even a partner he had to contact. All the questions he could possibly have about her and her life rushed through his head as he jogged to keep up with them.

He stopped for a second to tell an officer which car was his because he would undoubtedly get clamped or have a ticket for leaving his car there if he didn't tell someone first that he was involved in this mess. He was too shaken to drive and he needed to make sure (Y/n) would be okay.

When they were in the ambulance, one of the paramedics held a white plastic bowl in front of (Y/n) so she could cough up the blood which tainted the crystal white colour of the tub into a rather dark crimson. Jonah wasn’t very well advanced with medical knowledge but he guessed by the way she was spitting blood like she was throwing up that it was something to do with her stomach. She was breathing well so it wasn’t her lungs at least.

"I’m still here," He mumbled quietly as he reached to take her hand, watching how her features seemed to relax at his voice. Her hand pulled his closer to her chest as she continued to throw up the sticky substance coating her throat and lips.

Jonah brushed her slightly knotted hair behind her ear, keeping it from her face as he felt the ambulance begin to move.

"I won’t leave you."

[thelargefrye]

Jongho + 🙊 <3

[ PLEASE IGNORE US MONTAGE ] — you and jongho share a moment that gets quickly interrupted

pairing : jongho x f!reader genre : idol au, dad!ateez, fluff, new relationship, secret relationship warnings : makeout, jongho gets a little handsy, yn has a few tattoos

jongho’s eyes bored into the back of your head as he waited for his hyungs to finish recording their lines. he knew the faster they finished and left, the faster he could spend time with you. alone.

“that’s a good job, yunho! why don’t we wrap up for today and i’ll let you know if we need to re-record anything tomorrow!” you said, voice cheery as you spoke to the vocalist.

yunho returned your smile before he walked out of the recording booth, grabbed his things and nodded both you and jongho goodbye.

finally, jongho thinks as he watches you turn around to face him. it’s been about three months since the two of you started dating. both of you agreed to keep it between the two of you for right now. jongho knew that he would receive nonstop teasing from the members once they found out, and you had no problem with keeping a secret for a little while anyways.

“come here,” jongho beckons you over as he pats the seat next to him. you smile as you get up to join him on the small couch in your studio. you let out a small giggle as you stand up and plop yourself next to him. “i thought he would never leave,” jongho groans before he’s pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“don’t be so impatient, bear,” you say as you playfully boop his nose before kissing him on the lips this time.

“can’t help it when you look so beautiful, cherry,” he says and you roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you in reference to your tattoo of the fruit you had gotten when you were drunk.

he leans closer as his lips press into yours as he body comes to lean over yours. you wrap your arms around his neck as his own trail up your body and under your shirt. his hands are warm on your skin as he rubs small circles into your skin.

the two of you find yourselves lost in the moment of each other that you don’t hear the several knocks on your studio door. nor do you hear it opening; however, you hear the rather oddly high pitched scream that separates you both rather quickly.

jongho is the first to pull away and looks to see yunho standing in the doorway with a shocked face.

“i-i-i, um, forgot something,” yunho says, eyes still wide like a deer in headlights which ironically mirrors yours and jongho’s faces.

“then get it and out,” jongho says with an awkward cough as he moves away from you and sit up, fixing your shirt and hair to look less wild.

“are you guys—”

“shut up, hyung, please just get what you need and leave. we don’t need to talk about it,” jongho says cutting off his member as a deep red overtakes his face, ears, and neck.

“hey now, there’s no need to be embarrassed. y/n is a pretty girl. i’m happy for you,” yunho says giving you a playful wink as he finally grabs what he came back for. “and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he adds giving his maknae a wink this time before he’s leaving, the door closing behind him.

you and jongho sit in silence that is neither comfortable nor awkward. it’s just silence. and neither of you want to say anything just yet. finally, you turn towards your boyfriend and bite your lip at how cute he looked.

“jongho—” he puts a hand up to stop you from talking.

“we never speak of this moment again.”

send an emoji + member for a walk down memory lane.

[albatris]

Wait wait I'm new here (this blog), what's rentalcar?

hi!! :D

rentalcar is my current writing project! it's a campy queer horror trilogy about a freshly-turned body-horror vampire and an equally monstrous human bastard on their quest to murder the giant vampire hivemind god known as "the Garble" :3c

book one is called "A Rental Car Takes a Left Down Rake Street and Disappears" and book two is called "There Is Nothing to See in Lot 17, Foxtrail Lane". book three has no name yet ahaha

a little description is as follows:

schizotypal hermit Nat Finch leaves work one afternoon, and the next thing he knows he's waking up on the side of the road in his rental car, covered in mud with no memory of the last nine days. all attempts to return to regular life are quickly thwarted - whatever happened during his blackout has left him morphing into something distinctly inhuman. when his new condition reaches a bloody, ravenous breaking point, a human stranger steps in: Quinn Cooper, powerful and dazzling manipulator with a cruel streak, here to mitigate the damage and offer Nat safety under their wing... as long as Nat does exactly what he's told and doesn't ask questions

the story in book one is mostly Nat trying to solve his little mystery (What Happened During His Blackout And Why He Got Vampired) while slowly uncovering the grim secrets Quinn is hiding. book one mostly lays the groundwork and foreshadowing for my "vampirism as a condition is just one giant hivemind" worldbuilding, while books two and three rip it open and explore it properly :3

other MCs include Alexis Anders, rigidly moral vampire lawyer having ten existential crises at once, Yvonne Tozier, cheery video game fanatic full of barely-contained simmering fury (she works customer service, you get it), and Zeke Cunningham-Warwick-Lâm, romance novelist by day and vampire hunter by night, who desperately needs to stop burning herself out every other week and practice some self-care

and that's about it!