#HE WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE THE GUY INSPIRED FROM ROCK CANDY

[thatonegayspacerock]

let it be noted though that on rare occasions vice versa can occur, although usually the world will right itself very quickly

if you make an OC that you are genuinely insane over, like you are obsessed with this freak and can't stop thinking about them, then it will rub off on other people. the virus spreads

[weneverlearn]

Candy Darling - Dreamer, Icon, Superstar by Cynthia Carr

Review by Eric Davidson

It's a boon time for biographies of underground characters from across the end-of-20th Century New York City. Hell, there's even a Ned Hayden autobiography out there.

For me personally, I ingest these books as proof or dissolution of myths of which I've always been suspicious. I've never been one to say "Don't meet your heroes," because I dispensed with the notion of heroes by the time I turned teen.

I have a vivid memory of watching the "Disco Demolition Night" at Comiskey Park on the TV news when I was 12 and knew right away that even supposed lovers of rock'n'roll could do stupid-ass shit that completely missed the point of rock'n'roll. Or there were the rumors of the beloved Jimmy Carter and Jesse Jackson wanting to shut down punk rock. Most of the Bolshevik's were extremely sexist. Ditto Jackson Pollack and many of my fave modernist painters.

I knew from an early age that unassailable humans are extremely rare. So the term "hero" went out of my vocabulary quickly. I usually keep it to "People I admire for their work." Like any good leftie, I am tied to detailed and busy terminology that probably invites distraction instead of quickie comradery, but c'est la fuckin' vie.

To wit, this excellent new biography of Warhol superstar and drag icon, Candy Darling. Well, not so new -- I've been meaning to post a review of this since it came out last summer, and hey, today, November 24, is Candy Darling's birthday!

This is a wonderfully written book that gives an honest, well-researched biographical picture of Candy, a solid surrounding milieu description, and more reasons to chip away at whatever positive opinions you had left about Andy Warhol.

Don't get me wrong, I am one of those who do believe that the art someone makes survives long past us feeble humans; no artist creates alone in a vacuum; and hence it is possible to appreciate the art while noting the foibles or downright shitty things about an artist. They lived when they did; 7 outta 10 times had crap parents; usually could not foresee future societal changes; and they never worked completely alone, so why toss out the hard work of co-creators with the bathwater of the possibly shitty main name artiste?

Who could realistically argue that Warhol is not one of the four or five most important visual artists of the 20th century -- for debatably good and bad reasons and outcomes (debate being something else good art inspires). In this book, Warhol comes across variously as cheap as hell and/or a monied aesthetic savior to the coterie of kooks he kept around him (until he grew tired of them). Discussing the malleable moralities of Pop Art and its creation is another topic for another day, and not the main one of this book.

That topic is Candy Darling as one of the most famous drag queens, and all that entails and supposes. Like, she didn't really consider herself a drag queen, or did she? This book takes a late '60s Long Island misfit and zooms her right into our evolving 21st Century conceptions of gender, while allowing for the fact that Candy is no longer around to enter the debate, and most likely wouldn't want to.

With this bio you get to learn that, like a lot of the Warhol crew, Candy was a relatively conservative person -- though you can't blame that on a rich family that raised her conservatively, like most of the Warhol crew. She grew up middle class, which seemed yet another thing that set her askance from the Factory scene.

For the most part, Candy relished the 1940s Hollywood concepts of female empowerment, not the burgeoning Women's Lib concepts. In fact overall, author Cynthia Carr's extrapolation of Candy's life shows people like her didn't just struggle to fit into the straight world, they didn't have much luck with the burgeoning women or gay liberation movements either.

Incredible amount and quality of images throughout the book too!

I'm a straight white guy who thinks he's listened to a lot of Jobriath and saw The Queen on a big screen (with a Q&A after, no less!), but it was a revelation to me to find out from this book how gay bars of NYC in the 1960s would kick out drag queens because their presence invited vice cops and their truncheons. And in fact, some in gay liberation groups considered drag queens a, uh, drag on the movement by supporting gender stereotypes; and some in the women's movement thought they were making fun of women.

To help navigate such travails -- and her fraught attempts to become a movie star via her connections in the new underground film world -- Candy continually searched for a belief system that primarily focused around Christianity, though she delved into Scientology and other vague, hippie interpretations of spirituality too. I have always been of the mind of why would anyone of fluid gender want to join any well-known established religion in America, since they all seem to start with a complete disrespect for that idea? Candy Darling is another example of how it took brave souls like her to investigate this stuff so us later questioning types could argue from a more solid, smug foundation.

Candy cooking; swiped from a Tumblr

In the face of that morality search, Candy was a constant, inventive filcher of money and goods from pals, re-user of used clothing, and generally comes across as much a glamorous version of a crusty punk as a wannabe Marilyn Monroe. Her fractious friendship with Holly Woodlawn and Jackie Curtis -- the triumvirate of Lou Reed's legendary song -- was a kind of metaphor for that whole NYC underground arts era: one (Woodlawn), an updated vaudevillian; one (Candy), a near cartoon of classic Hollywood; and a one (Jackie Curtis), the future of the shakeout of gender identity. And if my reading here is correct, Curtis might've invented punk rock's fashion and contrarian attitude.

And like Curtis, this book created for me possible reasons to revive the word hero in my vocabulary. To imagine the amount of energy Candy Darling must've had actually makes you more energetic as you read this. Her story is oddly inspiring, considering the poverty, self-defeat, and slow death that followed Candy like a Greek chorus.

No matter the fucked up family she had, the broke existence, the often thin "friendships," and the defiantly fringe arts community her high hopes were tied to, Candy Darling continued to walk in high heels through the most garbage-strewn era of NYC, all the while looking up at the stars with a hope and strength most of us couldn't muster. I admire her work.

[faegoddessog]

Daily Meal

 Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, sex in public places, , unprotected PiV, (Play safe ya'll!) Light Dom/Sub, Oral sex (m &f).

Summary: Austin and gf have temporarily moved to New York, work is stressful for her. He has a tried and true solution.

A/N: Thank you to @slowsweetlove for the inspiration on this lil' one shot! I hope it lives up to expectation.

Please let me know if you see anything that needs attention (other than the fucking hot pic of Austin in a backstage setting that perfectly goes with this story that I wrote way before those pics came out.. magic!!)

She was sitting on the couch in their apartment, back to the door. It was bad Feng Shui, but it was the only place the robust piece of furniture would fit in the narrow New York apartment. They had rented it furnished and would only be here for about 9 months anyway.  

She loved going with Austin to his film locations when she could. She adored travel and exploration, but she adored Austin exponentially more. He was the most kind person she had ever met. The fact that he was beyond handsome and famous didn't even matter to her. He had amazed her from their first meeting. A meeting after which, he began to pursue her diligently. 

They had been in the City for just over two weeks now, under the guise of 'getting settled’. Really, they had come early because Austin had an addiction, theater. He had drug her out to shows nearly every night for the past two weeks before he started work on his new job. It's not like she hated going, she liked theater too. Just… whoa. She was at the point where she couldn't remember which scene belonged to which play. 

All that would slow down as today was the first table read of the new play Austin was starring in. Austin was so excited to be working on Broadway again. When he left that morning he was like a kid in a candy shop: smiling, nervous and buzzing. 

Tonight though, he promised her something different. He was going to take her to his favorite little hole in the wall place, they had live music every night and 'the best cocktails in town'.  

It was weird for him to want to be out so much, usually he was more of a ‘let’s stay in’ kind of guy. She supposed this was what theater did to him. 

Right now though, she had her headphones on trying to finish her remote work before he got home. There had been problems all day at the home office, deadlines had gotten moved up and her boss had put a lot of pressure on her to get them done. She had been frantically working all afternoon and felt like she was getting nowhere. Stumbling blocks and obstacles just kept popping up right and left. She felt like the project was slipping through her fingers. 

Austin traipsed down the hallway to their apartment. His day had been so good, the table read went amazing and the meeting after showed a ton of excitement built up about his new show. He was riding a high when he opened the door and saw her sitting on the couch, back to the door. 

He took a minute to look at her toeing off his shoes as per the rental agreement.  Her hair was up in a bun, the noise canceling headphones that she preferred to earbuds when working cradling her head. The wide neck of her shirt had slipped down, showing off her shoulders. The thin gold necklace that he had given her draped over the back of her neck gave him warm fuzzies.  

Damn he loved her. He was so happy that he got to bring his best girl with him on this project and share with her his love for theater. 

The fact that she could do her job anywhere was amazing. He loved when she joined him on location, though she only ever visited the set occasionally during filming. She said it was important that they had their own bits of life, she didn't want him to feel smothered or like she had to check up on him on set. In fact, she could never make him feel that way. In the past two years, she had become his rock, his solid base to cling to as he jumped into projects that scared him, that pushed him. 

He closes the door. She doesn’t turn, clearly sucked in. 

"Well shit!" she exclaims loudly, banging on her keyboard a little too vehemently,  obviously trying to make something work that was not working. 

Austin's eyes narrow in concern. She is usually quite collected, but the move and work had been stressful on her. 

He slips into the bedroom, then out again unnoticed, pushing something into his jeans pocket. Austin walks up behind her and lightly touches her bare shoulders. She jumps a bit, startled, and looks up. 

"Oh hey babe," she pulls her headphones off her ears, "how did it go?"

"It went well, I think it's gonna be a really good show," he says, "sounds like your day wasn't as great." 

"That's an understatement," she says rubbing the bridge of her nose, "the whole system just went down, again. So frustrating. I feel like I can't get a foothold on this project." 

He leans over the couch and closes the laptop, setting it aside. His lips brush her sensitive spot behind her ear. She closes her eyes, raises her hands to wrap around him and leans into his soft attentions. 

"Feeling out of control are you?" he rumbles in her ear, "I have something that might help." 

Before she can ask what, he slips his bracelets over her wrists. The ones that mean she doesn't get to make decisions until they come off.  The ones that signify he is in charge. The ones that mean she belongs to him. 

Two beautiful Italian-made leather cuff bracelets he had made in lieu of a collar. She did not like things tight around her neck, they had discovered. 

The cuffs could dangle comfortably loose, or they could be tightened with small decorative looking buckles if he needed them tighter. They had beautiful intertwining loops of leather with a couple rings of metal that Austin could slip his fingers into to control her or restrain her. Or he could clip them together with a carabiner. He was quite proud of his little invention, really.  She can stop it all with the murmur of their safe word, of course. But she was loath to use it unless completely necessary.  

She sighs as he slips them on,  pussy clenching, almost Pavlovian in response at this point.  God she loves him, he always knows exactly what she needs. Right now, she needs to not be in charge for a while. He must have had a really good day. He only got them out  when he was in a really good mood.  

"You know I wanted to take you out tonight, Doll," his hands slide down the front of her shirt, teasing her nipples, "but you aren't dressed yet. Oh hunny, what are we gonna do about that?" 

"Out? Aren't we staying in?" she frowned a little, shaking her wrists a little. She had never worn the cuffs out in public before.

"Oh no, we are going, and those are going to stay on. It's New York, after all. No one will think twice," he says, stepping to the chair opposite the couch.

"Yes, Austin," she says looking up at him, grateful to not have to make the decision. 

God he is beautiful. His tall frame is both lean and muscular, she knew he was stronger than he looked. Whether he had a little bit of scruff or he was clean shaven, his face was the very definition of handsome. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones and the most adorable little corner mouth dimple on his left side. He was dotted with a unique constellation of freckles that she had been known to trace with her fingertips over his cheek and with her tongue as they dipped down his neck and onto his chest. His lips, oh lord, his lips were always soft and kissable. The sharp bow of his upper lip in opposition with the full roundness of the bottom one. He could do things with that mouth, things the mere thought of which had her wet. His newly darkened hair accentuated his piercing blue eyes. His new character was raven haired and he was nothing if not thorough in his preparation. His dedication to his craft was something she adored about him. 

"Now, you are going to peel down right here,” he places himself deliberately in the chair,  leaning back, long legs crossed, "then you will wear what I pick out." 

His thumb and long fore-finger outline his mouth, pulling his bottom lip out. Something he did when he was nervous or when he was looking at something that turned him on. Right now that something was her. He waved his other hand in a 'well get on with it' gesture.  

"Yes Austin," she said, standing up, "what first?" 

"Hmm, top," he said simply. 

They had played this game before. She knew he liked her to undress slowly and to touch herself when she did it. Her hand started at her waist, fingertips dragging the bottom edge of her shirt up, exposing the natural roundness of her belly. 

She was no impossibly thin supermodel, she was curvy, strong, healthy. He liked that about her, liked that she didn't conform to the California/Fashion/Hollywood standards he had grown up with. She marched to the beat of her own drum. She was hot as fuck doing it. He had noticed that since she was thrust into the public eye by dating him, she was starting to lead the pack in promoting body positivity, just by being herself. 

The hem of her shirt got caught momentarily on her naturally large breasts as she slowly stripped off her top. She hated wearing bras when at home. Her breasts bounced just a little as the shirt broke free. It was tantalizing to him. 

"Turn around," he said, "pull those bottoms down, both of them."

Her thumbs hooked onto the waistband of her joggers and panties. Pulling first one side down over her luscious hips, then the other to just under her ass. 

"Stop," he said quickly," mmm, pull those cheeks apart for me."

She grasped the roundness of her ass. The spreading sparking little sensations to her asshole and consequently to her pussy. She breathes out the tiniest of moans. She loves when he orders her to touch herself. 

"Down to your ankles now," he says. 

She steps back from the couch, more in the middle of the space and, bending at the waist, pushes her panties and joggers to the floor.

"Yes, show me that pussy, Doll," his deep voice starting to sound husky.

She steps her feet out of her clothes and then apart, pushing her hips back to him. Reaching back, she pulls her ass cheeks apart. 

"Oh my, baby, you look like you are wet, touch yourself and check," he directs. He has uncrossed his legs, manspreading in the most delicious way, giving himself room to grow. 

Reaching between her legs with one hand, she dips a finger into her seeping wetness, pulling away a string of moisture. 

"Oh yes you are," he breaths, "do you like being all bent over in front of me, Doll? Showing me that wet, needy pussy?" The sound of a zipper reaches her ears. 

"Yes Austin," her only reply. 

Austin's hands are on her hips, guiding her to his now fully erect, fully exposed lap. "Sit that pretty pussy down on my big cock." 

It was big; long fingers and hands do not lie, at least when it came to Austin. 

She nestles down onto him with a pleasure filled moan. The first taste of his cock in her pussy was always perfection for them both, and it only got better from there.

"Oh yes, baby doll, , such a good girl, so wet for me” he praises her, “clean that finger off sweetheart," he pushes her hand to her mouth. 

She turns her head to the side so he can watch her lick her juices. She moans around her finger as he slowly slides in and out of her. 

"Hands," his gruff voice says. 

She knows what he wants. She wants it too. She presents her wrists behind her. He laces the two fingers of one hand into the straps on both wrists. Pulling them tight behind her.

"Make me cum in that pussy baby, ride me," he leans back. 

Clenching his ass and pushing himself further upward, he gives her his whole shaft to ride. His thumb strokes the soft skin of her inner wrist. 

"Yes Austin,” she loves not having to think about what to do next. Getting her feet under her, she slowly rises and falls, savoring every centimeter of him.  The stress of the day forgotten as warmth percolates in her lower belly. 

"Fuck yes, god I love your wet cunt wrapped around my dick," he groans out. "Does it feel good doll?"

"Yes Austin," she moans through clenched teeth. Her hips gyrate in slow, wide circles as she slides him further into her. His head brushes past the singular delicious point on the front of her vagina. 

“Ohmigod!” falls from her lips as a shudder runs through her.  

"Don't you cum unless I say so," he struggles not to fuck her back, to let her do all the work. 

"Oh fuck, yes Austin," she moans. 

She had almost forgotten that part, it had been too long since he had taken the weight of the world from her shoulders. 

As she settles into a slow rhythm, Austin’s free hand slips around her ribcage, his long fingers pressing just under her breast. He steers her towards the pace he wants. 

“Yes baby doll, just like that,” his voice sonorous and deep. 

The exquisite ache starts to pour down his cock and coalesce deep in his groin. He takes a second to watch this gorgeous creature impaling herself on him. The muscles of her triceps popping  as he holds her arms. He can just see the sides of her tits, pressed out and bouncing.  He makes a mental note to have  a mirror to hang on the wall opposite so he can watch her fully. The idea makes his pelvic floor clench and his arousal heighten. 

“Oh god, oh fuck!” she cries out, his cock bouncing just a little inside her. It’s a small movement but it pings the nerves just right. It forces her muscles to contract deliciously around him, compelling her right up to her edge. The edge, she knew, that was not allowed to her, not yet. 

His chuckle came from deep in his chest. He knows she is getting close. He knows her cues, he made a study of her when they first got together, and he was nothing if not thorough. He fucking loves making her cum. 

Her clamping down on his cock makes him gasp.  Austin can’t help himself now, his glutes flexing and thighs straining, thrusting into her. The course of their movement falls naturally into him holding her still so he can fuck her.  He loves fucking her. The anticipation builds in him, the glorious pressure seeps into his lower stomach.

Her head is thrown back, her legs are shaking. His thrusts are perfection, pumping in and out of her, hitting her inside in a way that she just can’t emulate.   She loves it when he fucks her. Warmth rises to heat, swelling inside her seeking a crack from which to release. 

“Please, can I come, please,” she whines, toes curling, muscles tense trying to control the  pleasure wanting to burst out of her.  Wetness trickles down the base of his shaft and onto his balls, 

“NO!” his rasping reply through gritted teeth. He fucks her.

Her eyebrows draw together in a grimace, but the corner of her lips curl into a smile. Yeah, she loves this. This teetering on the edge, praying he will let her drench his cock. 

And he fucks her. 

“Ungh,” he groans out, “Fuck. Yes!” 

Even through the haze of pleasure she is attempting to override, she can tell when he is close. She knows every sound he makes, the groan in his throat when he is so turned on there is no stopping him. She knows the cadence of his thrusts, when his balls cling tightly to his body in preparation. She fucking loves making him so hot that he can’t help but chase his orgasm single mindedly. 

And he fucks her.

“Can I cum, can I cum, can I cum,” she starts to beg, moaning over and over. 

He knows she is practically cumming already. 

But he can’t answer. 

His thrusts start to stutter, he can feel the pressure building in his balls to the point of no return. Guttural animal noises are all that he can make as the release overtakes him, his body tense. His energy focused on the single point of pulsing and surging of his cum into her frantic pussy.

Finally, he manages to sputter out “Yes.” 

Her orgasm rockets from her as she fucks herself hard on his cock. Clenching him. Drenching him. 

“YES!  YES!  YES!” she is screaming. Spine writhing like a snake.

“Oh my fucking god!” Austin’s eyes roll back, he head lolling on the back of the chair, his now sensitive cock getting a pounding of its own. 

Finally she stills. Both of them shaking, twitching. He lets go of her wrists. She turns with ragged breath to curl up in his waiting arms. 

>>>><<<<

Austin held her hand, forefinger looped through the bracelet on her hand. They had somehow managed to avoid most paparazzi, though by now they just always assumed there would be photos of them. 

 They walked down the alleyway, towards the blue neon feline over a paint-splattered black door with a stenciled white outline of a cat. It looked grungy and unkept. She looked at Austin as though he was crazy. He just smiled at her, pulled at the door handle without a scrap of hesitation. 

She was wearing the outfit he picked out for her. A dark brown wraparound cocktail dress with capped sleeves and plunging neckline. The curved hemline of the wrap meeting in the front, forming an inverted V. Her legs flashed as she walked. He picked it because he could have easy and full access to her bare pussy. Of course he wouldn’t let her have panties.   She wore leather heeled sandals with straps that criss-crossed and matched the cuffs dangling from her wrists. 

The second they walk down the stairs and into the speakeasy, she knows why he loves it here. It’s like they were instantly transported backstage. Props and set pieces make up the decor, it’s dark and intimate. There is exposed brick and  ductwork and even a steel support beam bolted to its  concrete footing.  She half expects to see a rack of costumes roll by and actors with overly emphasized rouged cheeks hurrying to make their entrance, stage left. 

There is a stage in fact, a tiny one. There is a band playing and the place is pleasantly filled with patrons. 

The bartender greets him like an old friend. They exchange a few sentences and he introduces her. Austin never lets go of her hand. Almost as if she is an anchor for his introverted self in the metaphorical sea of people. 

They are shown to the most dark secluded round table with round couch seating in the back corner next to an egress that says ‘STAGE’ in grungy, scuffed lettering. He motions for her to take a seat.

“Peel that skirt slit back as you sit,” he whispers as he strips off his elegant black jacket revealing his basic white t-shirt underneath and the stitching detail on his black trousers. As he sits, he lays the jacket partially over her lap as though she was cold. It’s just a little extra insurance, the table hides most of her lap. 

He snuggles her in tight to him, his long legs crossed towards her. Her hand rests lightly on his thigh One arm languidly around her shoulders, the other resting high on her now bare thigh under his jacket.  He looks her up and down while they sit and enjoy the music for a minute, his fingers making little circles on her inner thigh. 

“You know Doll,” he leans in, lips close to her ear, “you look good enough to eat, I might just make you my daily meal.” 

Her arm curls her hand to play in his dark hair. The moment is  so intimate. She looks demurely down, pressing her lips together as his fingers graze her other ones under the table. 

The waitress walks over. They both smile up at her like he doesn't have his hand up her dress. 

“Hi, what can I get you two lovebirds,” she says, “Oh wow, I love your bracelet. Where did you get it.” 

“He had them specially made for me,” she grins at Austin. He just nods, not offering any more information. 

The waitress doesn’t note the plural. Austin orders  a lemon sour and the grilled maitake for her and decides on the fried quail and a green toki highball for himself. 

When the drinks are delivered, Austin removes his hand from her thigh and then replaces it with the one draped over her shoulders. 

“Wider,” he says smiling while handing her the lemon sour. Her legs part just enough so his hand can slip between them. As he sips, he pulses two fingers against her labia in time to the music.  

She  watches the  little stage, trying not to show her arousal on her face as she drinks. His pulsing becomes pushing as her wetness creeps onto his digits. Slowly sinking his long dextrous fingers over her clit and to the second knuckle inside her warm wet pussy over and over. It’s getting harder for her to keep her composure. 

Food arrives. He retracts his fingers, wiping them cursorily between her thighs. She notes that they still glisten as he pulls a piece of quail off with his hands. Looking her in the eyes, he licks his fingers off before putting the bite in his mouth. 

She knows what that beautiful tongue can do and hopefully will do later, if she’s good.

When they are done with their meal, she excuses herself to the bathroom, slickness lubricating her inner thighs.   She makes her way through the rabbit warren that is the underground of this building to find the restroom. She tries her best to wipe away her arousal, not that she is embarrassed, she loves being this wet for Austin. It’s just that she came dangerously close to leaving a wet spot  on the back of her dress. 

When she steps out, hair, pussy and makeup refreshed, Austin is there, coat over his arm,  in the tight hallway. He smiles and takes her by the hand, fingers looping into the leather at her wrist. He leads her, she is sure, in the wrong direction, away from the speakeasy. 

“Austin, I think it’s that way,” she says, pointing over her shoulder, forgetting the rules of their game. 

He stops near a door and looks at her with one eyebrow cocked. “Are you questioning me?” 

“I just don’t want them to think we aren’t paying… or … some…thing.” she says, her words falling off.

“Hmm,” is all he says. 

He pushes the door open staring at her, then nods his head toward the dark entrance.   He had been here before, and was hoping not much had changed. 

The door led into another darkened narrow hallway, then opened onto the backstage wing of this old theater.  There was a concrete ledge and exposed brick, even some graffiti. The leg curtains still hang, dusty, masking this little used space. 

The stage itself and the old seating area are clearly in the process of some kind of remodeling job. The lights are still on, blazing. Someone may still be at work here at this late hour. 

Austin walks a little, checking out the stage. She can tell the place is speaking to his theater blood. He places his jacket on the stone ledge.  He strides two steps toward her and leans against the stone to brick wall. With narrowed eyes, he looks her up and down. 

"Damn baby doll," the fingers of his right hand, glide across his bottom lip and chin as if trying to decide what to do with her, “about that daily meal.”

He reaches for her, pulling her against him. He flips her hair over her shoulder with the back of his hand, sliding it behind her neck and up to the back of her head. He presses her back to the wall. 

"Spread your legs baby doll," his lips brush her ears as he grasps her hair in a loose fist. 

The sensation on her head makes her shudder, the growl of his voice sends deep vibrations to her core. She steps her feet gingerly apart. 

"Lift your skirt, like a good girl," he kisses her cheek sweetly. 

Her fingers gather the front of her skirt into her palms. The cool air of the space feels good on her hot cunt. 

"Mmm, such a pretty pussy," he croons in her ear. Austin's long fingers brush the length of her outer lips.

"This is pretty dry baby,  do you not like our little game anymore?" he asks with almost a pout, patting her mons, "do you want me to stop?" He lets his hand drop to his side. 

"No, no, I love it," she says quickly. She grabs his hand and pulls it back to her, “please don't stop." She was too far into the scene now, he had built her up too much all night to just stop. She needed him, needed whatever he decided to give her tonight. 

"Tch, tch, tch,” his tongue clicks on the roof of his mouth, “oh Doll, did I say you could let go of your skirt?" He looks at her reprovingly, one eyebrow lifted, "questioning me, making up your own directions… oh no.” 

Whoops. 

"I'm sorry…Sir," she quickly gathered her skirt up again, bottom lip catching in her teeth. 

"Oh sugar, it's ok, or it will be in a minute," a devilish smile curls his lips.

Slap! His hand met her pussy with a sharp smack. The jolt sent electricity through her. She fucking loved when he slapped her pussy, liked it even when her bracelets weren't on. 

"Say it," his voice was stern as he pets her, his eyes locked onto hers in the dim light. 

"Austin," she breathes.

Slap! Her mouth curves slightly upwards as she jolts, chin tilting up. 

"Is," the word comes out more defiant than she meant. 

The hand in her hair tightens hard and pulls her head back, towering over her, his jawline set.  Moisture springs immediately to the waterline of her eyes. 

SLAP! Harder. Her leg shakes with the pain and pleasure of it. 

"Hnngh, In," more of a moan than a spoken word. 

Austin's lips brush hers. His tongue flickers out to wet her lips, then his own push gently against them. His lips leave, but his eyes remain close to hers. She can see her desire reflected in his eyes. 

SLAP! Hardest. 

"Charge!" the word squeals from her throat.

"Mmm hmmm, that's right Doll," he croons, staring at her eyes, "now, are you gonna be good and do as I say?”"

She would nod if she could, but his grip on her hair was just tight enough to restrict her movement.

“Yes Sir,” she breathes out. 

“That’s my girl,” he releases her hair and kisses her softly, lovingly, his hand rubbing soothingly on her tingly,  dry lips. 

“Hmm, maybe this little pussy  just needs some encouragement?” he rubs a deep circle over her mons. Zings of pleasure tighten in her. 

“Oh fuck,” slips from her mouth.

“Oh my, what a dirty mouth you have, Doll. Do I need to give it something else to do?” he asks, stepping back from her, fingers tapping the clasp at his waist. 

She stands there, looking down at his tapping hand, breath shallow. She is still holding her dress up, still exposed to him, for him. Gods she is beautiful, he was so smitten with her.  

She is trying so hard to be good.  All she really wants is to leap on him, make him fuck her until she fills the thearter with the cacophony of her screaming orgasm. It was easier to cum when she was loud. 

“Hmm?” he waits. 

Slowly, she raises her eyes to his, chin still pointed down, a little hungry smile on her lips. She just nods. She loves his cock in her mouth. 

His eyebrow twitches and a little moan sounds deep in his throat. If he wasn’t fully hard before, the look on her face made him so now. He pulls open the clasp quicker than he meant to. 

Fuck she made him want her so badly. He thought about just sinking his cock into her. Fucking her until she begged him to stop, then doing it a little longer. She would be loud in this cavernous place and probably alert everyone in a half mile radius. 

He took a breath, calming himself just a little.  Not trusting himself to talk just yet, he indicates the floor with his eyes and a little nod of his head.

She slowly gets down on her knees in front of him licking her lips in preparation.

“Open” he commands as he pulls himself out.  

He places his velvety head on her outstretched tongue. 

Her eyes look up at him, she knows he likes that. The tip of her tongue laps up and down on his frenulum, her mouth still wide open. His breath leaves him in a low moan as she gradually drags his cock further and further into her mouth. When his tip hits her soft palette, her lips close engulfing him. Her wet lips dragging along his dry shaft. 

Her hands are still on the hem of her dress, holding it up, exposing herself.  Afterall, he didn’t tell her to let go and she is trying so hard to be good for him.  

He holds himself at the base as she glides her head back and forth over his length. Her tongue rippling along his underside.  He hadn’t planned on fucking her mouth, he hadn’t planned on cumming until they got home. But the thrill of maybe being caught was exhilarating and she was so fucking good at this. He found himself holding her head still and thrusting into her. He tried not to make her gag too much, but when it happened it was so hot. 

She fucking loves this, loves his movement in her mouth, loves it when he gags her just a bit, bringing up that thick spit from the back of her throat. She is surprised when his hands go to her hair to hold her still. She didn’t think he’d go for it here. It’s hot, the way he loses control. She presses her lips over her teeth. Breath is seething through his teeth, she can tell he is close. 

Her tongue feels like some kind of wizardry along the underside of his shaft. Her eyes are closed, and he watches himself sink between her pretty pink lips. 

She is his good girl, his naughty girl. 

His.

“I’m gonna cum, I don’t want to see any of it leave your mouth,” he whispers to her. His head tilts back, as she sucks him long and hard. 

Muttered curses come from him in his last few thrusts. He surges into her mouth, hot and sticky.  She greedily swallows everything he gives her. As he pulls out, her tongue presses up on the bottom of his cock, milking the dregs of his cum onto her tongue. He groans.  She leaves her tongue out to show him. 

“Let me see that dirty mouth. What a good girl you are,” he pants, “Swallow it hunny.” 

She does, licking her lips. Fuck she is hot.

He pulls her up to standing. Wiping his thumb along her wet chin. Then kissing her mouth deeply.  Her hips are rocking back and forth lewdly, hands still holding her dress up. It is clear she is too far gone to just leave. 

He deliberately tucks his spent cock back into his pants. She lets out a little whine. 

“Such a good girl, swallowing all my cum. I think you earned a little reward, don’t you?” his fingers lightly play at the collar of her dress. 

She is practically seething with desire, if she didn’t have the bracelets on, she would have shoved him up against the wall and had her way with him. But all she can do right now is nod. 

“Use your words,” he admonishes, fingers tracing down the curves of her waist. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” she pants, ”I need...” 

“What do you need, baby doll, tell me…” he urges her on.

“I need… I need to cum.” the last word exhaled out, barely audible. 

“Oh but baby Doll,” his pinky and thumb splayed to either side, he draws a long, slow line up her inner thighs. She shudders as his touch sends electricity up her spine. He stops just short. “You forgot to say please.” 

SLAP! 

Her pussy stings in the most glorious way. 

“Start over,” he says low in her ear. 

SLAP! 

“I need..” she moans SLAP!

“to cum…” she is shaking

SLAP! 

“Please!” her voice a whine.

SLAP! 

“SIR!” The last impact is like stinging rapture.

“Shhhh, that’s better, my good girl,” he says quietly in her ear. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you have to be quiet. Understand?”

Her eyes go big for a second, she is terrible at being quiet, but she is shaking with the wanting of him, she won’t make it home in this state. She just nods, biting her lip,  hoping she can. 

He backs her up to the stone ledge, grasping her inner thigh, he lifts her leg so that her foot is on the ledge. She is more exposed than ever, wide open for him. 

“Keep your hands on the ledge,” he whispers in her ear. 

He falls to his knees in front of her. 

“Well that did it baby doll, you are dripping now. You must like me in your mouth, yes?”

“Oh yes sir,” she whispers. 

“Do you like it when I punish this pretty pussy” he asks, looking up at her. 

She just whines and nods, not trusting herself to speak.

“I’m gonna clean this up now, you stay quiet.” 

He licks long strokes up her pussy, strings of moisture sticking to his tongue. With one hand, he spreads her labia wide. He can see her glisten, even in the dim light. Knowing he doesn’t need to gently warm her up, he dives right in. He presses his mouth to her, his nose buried against her mons. The middle of his tongue rolling wide just below her clit. God he loves the taste of her pussy. He could lick her all night. 

The instant his tongue hits her, her supporting leg nearly gives out. Thankfully the ledge is there to hold her up. 

His tongue reaches back, pushing into her as far as he can go. He laps up toward her clit, bringing her juices along.

God he is good at this. She is lost in the motions of his tongue against her. Her lips pressed tight together, trying not to moan. She could let him tongue fuck her into oblivion. 

He traces a circle around her clit. Then two fingers push their way into her wet slit. Her spine curls over him as thrilling tension fills her. He flicks her clit with the tip of his tongue, then rubs with a wide tongue, fucking her slowly with his fingers.  

Her head is tucked forward, body clenched tight, the heat behind her clit collapsing in on itself. 

“Please can I come? Please?” she barely whispers. 

“Mmmhmm,” he nods, looking up at her. Holy shit, his blue eyes against that black hair looking up at her from between her legs? Divine.

Little outpourings of her juices start to soak his hand. He sucks her clit into the vacuum of his mouth, licking, licking, licking. Fingering her faster. 

He can hear a quiet, high pitched nasal whine, her teeth clamping down on the meaty pad of her thumb. Suddenly she is jerking against his mouth, exploding, thrusting her gushing cunt onto his fingers. It’s all he can do to keep contact with her wild gyrations. 

Eventually, she slows, as does he. He stands up, adjusting his now once again hardening cock. He puts his arms around her, holding her close as little aftershocks yank at her core. 

“There’s my good baby Doll.” he whispers lovingly in her ear.

She curls into him, panting quietly. 

Then he hears voices float down from the back of the theater. 

“Yes sir and as you can see we have already started renovations here.. Let me take you down and show you what we plan to do with the stage area.” 

“Very good, how much longer will all this take?”

His eyes go huge. She is still oblivious, coming down off her high. 

“Shh, we have to go,” he whispers to her. He grabs his coat and drags her quietly with his wet hand to the cramped, dark  hallway where they came in.  As they reach the door, they can hear the voices. 

“What are these water drips on the floor?” 

“Oh, um… I don't know we’ll have to check if there are any pipes up there”

“I was told this building was sound…”

Austin opens the door back near the bathrooms of the speakeasy, lips pressed together. Once the door shuts behind them he breaks out in giggles, dragging her away from the door. 

“Holy crap, that was close,” he says. 

“I didn’t see any water on the floor?” she is still slightly befuddled. 

“Oh baby, that was you all over the floor,” he tells her with a knowing smile. 

Her mouth drops open. She stops and  down at her splattered legs and covers her laughter with her hands. 

“Whoops” she says, still giggling, leaning on the wall. 

“Whoops is right,” he pulls a strand of hair away from her face. Holding her hand, he unbuckles one, then both bracelets from her wrists. They slip into his pockets. 

“I think I’d like to take you home and take my time to make love to you, if you are ok with that.” 

“Mmm more than ok,” her smile is huge and warm, “thank you Austin, I really needed that.”

“You are welcome, I’m sorry it’s been so long sweetheart,” his hand comes to her face, “and in case I haven’t said it, I am so thankful you are here with me, enduring the chaos that is sometimes my life. I love you so much.” 

“It’s our life, Austin,” she says with soft eyes, “and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you too.”  

Their lips press together in a soft, sweet kiss. 

[marshmallowprotection]

Hmm what do you think the favorite candies of the RFA + the minor trio are?

Oh. That's a fun question! Let's think about this, shall we?

Jaehee isn't huge on sweets that she doesn't make herself. So, I'm torn. I don't see her as someone who enjoys any candy. I think she's more likely to consume a treat when it's something she baked for her cafe. But, I suppose, if pressed, you may be able to get her to admit a small memory from her childhood. Her parents used to buy her some Pepero, that's a Korean take on Pocky.

I went over this when someone asked me about what kind of treat Zen likes before and I think my answer stands. Hotteok! You can't go wrong with street pancakes... and you can't go wrong with a center filled with caramel or nuts. His parents wouldn't let him have candy as a kid and as an adult, he doesn't bother with candy, not because he remembers what his parents said, but because he doesn't want to break out!

Yoosung eats star candy like Tic-Tacs. He is Shooting Star Yoosung! He loves to eat candy that invokes his sense of self, and it's cute. He loves to be cute, despite whining about people calling him cute, he's determined to be the cutest. Imagine if you asked him for candy and he just hands you these. That feels right, doesn't it?

Jumin isn't a candy guy. But, do you know what I think he enjoys if he wants to indulge in a treat? I think he likes Oreos. I don't know why, it feels right. The way he was looking at those sugar-coated strawberry in the most recent photo from Cheritz told me that he's not big on pure sugar as a snack. But, an Oreo? It's a cookie with the sweetest center that has people debate by and large the right way to eat one. He'd enjoy that conversation! Does it dunk it or pull it apart first? I'm not sure!

I just know Saeyoung loves sour candy. I don't know why I feel that way but considering that he loves the combination of Honey Butter chips and Dr. Pepper, I know he's down to mix different flavors for a good time. Sour and sweet? He is a risk-taker, he is willing to try any food that comes his way, and that exploration lets him find out new combinations you might never dream of. I also think he'd love a dirt cup, that's pudding, oreos, and gummy worms.

I don't know what it is about Jihyun, but I get the sense he loves to see art in his candy. You can do a lot of cool stuff with rock candy, I saw someone make an entire geode out of chocolate and sugar for an experiment. He wants his candy to inspire him and what's more of a kick to a guy like him if not a candy that can be shaped in to be all kinds of stuff?

Saeran consumes Strawberry Bon Bons. I know if you're American like me, you've seen someone in your life with these candies before. They're the candy you might see your grandma eat! They were old in the twentieth century and they're even older now! My man is coded to be a cozy grandpa style these days, and it makes sense he would eat these up once you handed them to him. It's only a matter of time until he gets called old!

Controversial opinion. I think Vanderwood likes candy corn and I don't know why I feel this way but I do. Someone has to like this candy and the only person I can think of who would never want to admit that is Vanderwood. Good luck getting that out of him if you can, guys.

If you give Rika some dark chocolate Kit-Kats, I think she'd be set for life. Something about breaking them apart brings her some joy. I like to imagine she shared some with Mika that night in the hospital and it was one of the best days of her life, even if it was bittersweet. Life was cruel to her in that moment, and a small joy made a difference.

[compo67]

4,5,6,21 and 47 for Back Pocket 1 and 2, please!

Hellooooo anon!

*rubs hands together* ahaha Back Pocket! Let's do this!

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of?

Ahh, that's so hard to choose! Hmm. Okay, two things. First one is Jensen's weight. I'm so proud to have written a fat character who rocks. He's a musical genius, great with kids, looks after his own, and generous with his time and anything else he can offer. And he's fat. He just is and he's fine with it. Second one is the language native to the island. I am so proud of it. I think by incorporating it into the fic, I really pulled off a sense of place. It ties everything together. :)

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

I've always wanted to be asked: Where did you get the inspiration to write a fat character?

I just saw there was a lack of fat characters in fandom overall, even as side characters or OCs. Body representation was lacking. So I wanted to write what I wanted to read--a bad ass fat character. I decided to make it one of the Js because why not? Go big (heh) or go home! I drew a bunch of inspiration from John Candy, whom I love and grew up watching, specifically his role in Uncle Buck. I also really wanted to explore the fact that Jensen expects Jared to body shame him, and baits him a couple of times, but Jared never really does. :)

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Hmm. Hmmmm. Let's see. I think... I didn't really get to go deep into the history of the island itself and why people make it a point to move there out of all the places in the world they could have. I want to address that more in the next piece.

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be?

I really wanted to insert one more song into BP2. Probably "Iko Iko" by The Belle Stars. I picture it sung around a bonfire at night, with lots of people in attendance. And this snippet... "See that guy all dressed in green, he's not a man, he's a lover machine..." everyone points to Jensen, who rolls with it and grabs Jared to make him dance along. I suppose it will just have to wait until I can either make a timestamp or slip it into the sequel. :)

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.

They'd be sandals. Black Birkenstocks so they'll last forever in all kinds of weather and trail. Practical and comfortable. So Jared, of course, would hate them and for Jensen it's his main choice of sandal. XD

Thank you again, anon! I love revisiting BP verse with y'all. <3

[yanawildstar]

It's all about ME, ME, ME!

My fave music

Well for those who still haven't know me, obviously Avril Lavigne is my ultimate no 1 Favourite! I've love her as long as i can remember. She's my IDOL. And I've learned a lot from her.  Im damn proud and happy for her huge comeback this year. She's AMAZING. Let them know she still Rock N Roll!!!  I also do love Taylor Swift. Can't believe She's rules the music world era for years, and she the same age as me. The other music I listen to and really enjoy include Pink, Simple Plan, Billie Ellis, Justin Timberlake, Eminem, the Black Eyed Peas, Jason Derulo, Shawn Mendes. 

My fave book

I  really love Bloom by Estee Lalonde. Been rereading her book so often. Such an inspiring book for me. Always sth that motivate me to do better in life. I also do book from Tanya Burr, Love Tanya, Girl Online by Zoe Sugg, La Candy a novel, series by Lauren Conrad, and also anything by Rainbow Rowell and Sophie Kinsella. Basically, I simply love anything girly, chic flick novels.

My fave two makeup product

Well Honestly I actually only wear this two makeup whenever I'm going out. Simply cant be bothered with the others. First my fave lipgloss,the Fenty Beauty Gloss Bomb Universal Lip Luminizer. Its super cute, and I love the shiny light pink shade. It have shea butter enriches from within. Wearing it sure makes my lips look instantly fuller, with a non-sticky formula that’s super shiny and has an addictive peach-vanilla scent I just can’t get enough of. I loves smoky eye and light lip look. One can never forget my fave signature smoky, kohl-rimmed eyes.So yeah my second fave makeup will be my black eyeliner esp MAC Eye Kohl Eyeliner. Been using this since my early teens! I'd always LOVES those black eyes when I was younger, in fact, I still do now too actually. I still will use whatever I could get my hands on. It was so hard to find a black eyeliner that had pigment. Everything i put on was gray. So It was a lot of smudging with eyeliner. 

My List of The World Hottest Guys:

My HUSBAND! of coz, dhuh!

My Dad!

Adam Levine

Andrew Garfield

Ryan Reynolds

Eminem

The Yana Diet on how to maintain my body figure!

Lol! Firstly, damn. Im not afraid to eat fast food as often as I can. From McDonald to KFC, to Dominos I always order the largest portion of Fries or Pizza.otherwise, I tend to just want more. Hehe. 

I eat pasta as often as I can too. I cook the best tuna mayo fussili pasta at home. Fast and easy recipe that I come up with one rainy day! My own creations! So telll me again, who says I can't and dunno how to cook? Just because I don't post about my cooking that often over on the internet doesn't mean I can't surprise my hubby by cooking dinner once awhile. Alhamdulliah, my hubby LOVES it. not because he suppose to, but because he genuinely think it really taste marvellous. He often request me to make dem!

I loves eating sushi, esp salmon sashimi. Yums!The combination of fresh fish, rice and seasonings makes sushi a perfect healthy meal, at least for me! 

I do eat as much chocolate as I can. For me, chocolate seems sinful, and therefore they never fails to makes me happy. My favourite will always be Kinder Buneo!

One thing for sure,I NEVER take any diet/Vitamin pills ever. Simply said I don't do drugs.

Generally,I do what I want, eat what I want, whenever I want. Life too short not to enjoy it. 

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 3 - aka. Front Row Seats to the Gun Show

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour | Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour

Start Here - Last - Next

“Alicia Cooper? Really?” 

You raised a teasing eyebrow at Dean as he dropped your cover’s details in your lap where you were lounging on the couch nursing a much needed beer after having to deal with Crowley. The damned Scotsman had nearly insisted on being wined and dined until your group had managed to force him out the door to let you start prepping for the heist. 

“Shut up (Y/N), it beats some of your cover name ideas,” Dean scoffed, though you could see a tiny bit of pride in his smile from how you’d managed to guess the chosen cover name was one of the ones he’d put in the system. Though it wasn’t all that hard to guess. Most of his naming ideas came from classic rock or pop culture references. 

“I think ‘The Artist Formerly Known as Thief’ was an absolutely brilliant cover name thank-you-very-much,” You threw back with a laugh that only grew brighter as Dean dropped down onto the couch next to you and bumped your shoulder. A beer in his own big hand, and a similar folder hiding his own cover identity resting against one of his big thighs. Though his was… Suspiciously thicker than yours. 

The folder, not the thighs… Though he did have some deliciously thick thighs.

“Maybe, if you were supposed to be some sort of actual artist, and not a French art dealer,” He retorted with a boyish grin and a wink. Easily teasing more laughter out of you with memories of your evening spent at the Met gala, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous and pretending you knew your oils from your watercolors. 

“Alright… So Alicia is passable. Who is she?” You conceded as you flipped open the cover and picked up the fake driver’s license. A small crease in your brow as your eyes went to the details on the paper under it. 

Great… 

You were a damned Bond girl again. And not one of the kick ass ones either. Just one of the empty, two dimensional characters added for ‘sex appeal’. Standing around in skimpy dresses and batting fake lashes at the hero of the story with no story of their own to tell. Or at least none they were allowed to tell.

Whenever you were dealing with the mob you normally only got to play the secretary, cocktail waitress or the ‘side piece’ to one of the guys. Which was usually Sammy or Castiel, since they’d handle intel while you scouted for infiltration, and Dean was just too much for your little heart to handle. Spending most of your recons hanging off of one of their arms and pretending you couldn’t kick the ass of everyone in the room, in heels. 

“Sorry sweetheart, you know how these mafia types are… They can be kinda misogynistic. I promise, next heist you’ll get the kick ass cover and I’ll be the arm candy,” Dean winked, with a grin that looked anything but sorry. 

“Alright, so I’m Alicia Cooper, young heiress and unwitting accomplice who’s just out spending daddy’s money… Got a degree in psychology from KU, but haven’t put it to good use yet. Languages: English, barely. Hobbies: Fashion week appearances, festivals and… That’s it?” 

You looked up from the mess of IDs with your smiling face on them and pinched the laughably short list of information about your character between two fingers before glaring at Dean’s much more sturdy background history in his lap.

“As I said, sorry (Y/N). The mob shouldn’t go digging too deep in Charlie’s or your background; we need you guys to be invisible. You’re the aces up our sleeve after all,” 

The words left him with a smile against the lip of his bottle. And damn it… 

When he pulled that smile, lips a little damp from the beer, the damned gorgeous bastard could get away with anything. Even giving you the cover story of a freaking extra. Your fake cover father’s backstory was more detailed than your own for god’s sake.

“Since there's not much to go on, you can build the character traits however you want, within reason. Don’t go making up any more dark pasts of parents shot in an alley and a lifelong promise of hunting down their killer. Alicia Cooper’s family is all alive and she ain’t no Batman,” He added with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile. Teasing a chuckle out of you, though you were trying your damned hardest to pout.

“Maybe there’s an uncle…”

“She’s also no Spiderman (Y/N),” Dean gave you an exaggerated eye roll and a fake sigh as his eyes crinkled into that smile that always made you melt.

“Alright, I’ll be Alicia. What about you? Will you be the Mr. Nice Guy to my Cooper?” 

Turning in your seat you leaned in to sneak a peak at the folder in his lap. Leaning against Dean’s shoulder, you pretended little shots of electricity weren’t going straight through your arm and into your heart from the small touch as you tried to focus on the words. Pretending you hadn’t just taken the chance to get closer to him. The same way you always did. Finding little, innocent moments to just revel in the closeness of your crush. 

Whenever Dean was close, you just felt safer, and more real than you’d ever had the chance to feel in your former life on the run. And you’d noticed a few times that he seemed to be doing the same. Like how his clenched fist had brushed up against your arm when Crowley was busy making an ass out of himself. Using touch and human body heat to ground himself. Though for you, only Dean’s touch would do. Anyone else and it just made you skittish… 

Jumpy.

“Not exactly a nice guy, no. I’m Mal Young... Jackpot, AC/DC! I’m the School Days to your School’s Out. Former US military turned arms trader. Should be an easy enough sell for me,” Dean said, eyes skimming the information as he lifted the already empty beer bottle to his lips. Frowning when nothing but droplets hit his lips.

“You always get the cool roles,” You mumbled, sinking back in your seat and frowning at the size of information your combat specialist, hitter and all around heist muscle had to go through while you could already basically burn yours, past glancing over your father’s details and family tree.

“Next time sweetheart, pinky promise,” He hummed, putting his folder to one side as he stood up to go fetch himself a new beer. Stretching his arms over his head, his black t-shirt rode up just a tiny bit, teasing a hint of his perfectly toned stomach and that mouth watering v-shape that you’d love to trace with your tongue. Nearly leaving you too breathless to even notice him walking away without offering you a new bottle as well.

“I don’t need your empty promises Dean, just bring me back a beer!” You called out after him, hoping the combat specialist couldn’t hear how your breath stuck in your throat and your pulse rose from just seeing that small teasing flash of his skin. 

Damn him. 

Damn his cool roles. Damn his adorable cover name style. And, most of all, damn that fucking perfect body. While all you got was…. 

Alicia. 

---

Since you didn’t really need to waste much time trying to learn your laughably weak cover, you’d quickly gotten antsy watching Dean prep for his. Since him concentrating on his role made it very easy for you to get away with watching him. His jaw clenching as he got into character, getting angry at some past wrong in his background story.

After nursing your second beer and casting not-so-hidden glances at him for nearly thirty minutes, your poor body craved some kinda release. And hell, it was the middle of the day, with thin as fuck walls between each of your ragtag group’s private rooms. Meaning any form of more intimate release would have to wait until the cover of night. So, you’d hit the gym instead. 

Rushing to your room, you’d changed into your workout gear quickly before practically skipping towards the large, fully customized gym. Larger than most commercial gyms and featuring every little toy a thief could dream of. Though you weren’t planning on using the climbing wall or even hone your skills against the laser system Charlie had designed for you this time. 

No, you needed to tire your body out and make your muscles ache. Which meant it had to be reps and weights. Heavy weights that could stop the butterflies in your stomach from making you take off and float away.

Luckily for you, Sam was already in the gym. Weight training was always more fun with a friend. Especially when said friend was normally your spotter on days where you wanted to work on your strength and endurance.

“Samwich! Just the man I was looking for. Hope you don’t mind the company. Need to burn some energy,” Your voice echoed in the windowless room, nearly making Sam slip from where he was doing salmon ladder pull ups on the other side of it. Teasing a loud laugh from you as you bounced on the balls of your feet, ready to train away your dirty mind and refocus your body. 

Pre-heist waiting games were hard enough without your filthy daydreams piled on top of it. 

“Really? I thought you were having fun acting like a love sick teen… Alicia,” Sam smirked, easily composing himself and dropping back down to the ground with a soft thud. Damn it. Of course he’d caught you gawking at his older brother. 

It was just your kinda luck. Which meant no luck at all. Ever.

You were definitely cursed in some way, though you couldn’t for the life of you think of who’d want to curse little ol’ you. You were a freaking angel… Past the thieving, infiltration, ass kicking, identity scams and other slightly illegal things you got up to that was.

Sam was grinning, he enjoyed teasing you a little too much. Which meant you wouldn’t get to work out until you could shut him up. Never an easy task with the tall-as-a-skyscraper man. It wasn’t like you could just slap your hand over his mouth to stop him from speaking. Not without climbing him like some kinda jungle gym. 

He was the little brother you never had, even if he towered over you, and you loved annoying him. But sibling love went both ways, and you knew he saw you as his sister too. Which meant he’d take any chance he got to make fun of you, just as readily as you’d take even the slightest opportunity presented to you to annoy him.  Unfortunately, he’d had way more practice at being the infuriating younger sibling than you’d ever had at being the troublesome older sister.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sam,” You huffed, pulling your (Y/H/C) hair out of your face as you walked across the room. Shooting a quick glance towards the door you just walked through. Just in case Dean had somehow materialized out of thin air and caught his brother’s words. 

“What? So you weren’t crossing your fingers, hoping Dean would be your… What was it? ‘Mr. Nice Guy’?” 

Rolling your eyes at him, you glared in his direction as you got ready to warm up. However, the scowl you threw at him wasn’t exactly very threatening when paired with how you kept glancing towards the door, worried that Dean would walk in. 

Especially not when you bent over at the waist to stretch your body and loosen up to be ready for the work out. You’d yet to find someone who could look threathening while warming up pre-workout.

Sam knew exactly how you felt about his brother. And he never let you forget it. Maybe it was the fact that Dean was just a flirty guy, and you always reacted like a damned teenager whenever he turned on the charm, or maybe how you always found some excuse to stay close to your resident hitter when off the clock, joking around and just enjoying his presence. Either way, Sam was just too smart for his own fucking good and had easily picked up on your feelings. 

Luckily those same smarts also meant he knew better than to go tattling to the rest of your crew. 

Just because your job entailed sneaking around in the shadows, it didn’t mean you couldn’t kick some serious ass when you needed to. Hell, you’d been in the game since childhood, and since you turned 15 you’d been in it alone, while running from the mafia organization who’d raised you. You could kick his ass any day of the week, and Sam knew it. 

Not that you’d guess it from seeing how you fidgeted in place, casting nervous glances towards the door between scowls in Sam’s direction and weak attempts at limbering up. He’d clearly found his calling in trying to be your cupid, and you really didn’t want him to be. 

You needed a spotter, not a wingman.

“Why don’t you just tell him? Instead of batting those (Y/E/C) doe eyes at him and hoping he’ll get it? Dean can be a bit blind to the obvious,” Sam continued, clearly not ready to drop it, even as he reached a hand out to help you stretch out your back. The teasing glint was still fully visible in his hazel eyes, but you also saw genuine affection there. He really did care, even if he was annoyingly persistent about it. 

“I can’t just tell him Sammy, and don’t you dare say a thing either,” You shot back as soon as you straightened back up, eyes once more glancing at the thankfully empty doorway. 

“It’s not hard. C’mon, say it with me (Y/N) ‘I love you D...” 

Damn him, he really had the irritating brother act down to a pat. And yeah, you loved him like a brother. Which meant half the time you wanted to strangle him with a jump rope. Which the gym had plenty of.

“Shhh! Shut up and spot me. Your brother is right down the hall and I swear, if he hears you…” You grumbled, making sure to shoulder check him as you walked past him towards the weight bench. Though, at your height, you basically just bumped into his lower bicep, which didn’t even move him a tiny bit. 

Thankfully, Sam was smart. Which meant he knew when he’d pushed a joke just far enough to annoy, but not so far as to get an elbow to the diaphragm. So instead, he simply laughed, as he followed you over to the weights section of the home gym.

Sliding down on the weight bench, you took a few steadying breaths as he readied your weights for the bench presses. Needing no further indication on what you were there to do, since your weight reps were on a more or less set schedule and endurance focused rather than just straight up strength. 

“Hey Sammy, I need a bit extra weight today, either that or more reps. I have too much energy to burn,” You spoke the words to the ceiling, as you listened to the weights falling into place on the bar, stretching your arms above your head and shivering slightly when the cold plastic of the bench hit your bare midriff, since you’d opted for a shorter workout tank top for the day. Given how your body was already uncomfortably hot from just being around Dean.

“More reps then. You’re not tearing up your muscles right before a case (Y/N),” Sam shot back from somewhere to the right of you. 

The Winchester brothers shared the responsibility of being the workout coaches for the rest of your team. Well, mainly for you. Since you tended to push your body too far if you were left to your own devices. So, any change to your rep plan was run through them.

“Soooo… 30?” You tried, hoping ¨he’d let you double your normal reps, though you knew the chances of that were slim to none-existent. 

“20, and not one more, remember you do three to five rounds of these reps, plus barbell squats, leg curls, dumbbell…” 

“Yeah, yeah… I know my routine,” You pouted, rolling your shoulders and sticking your tongue out at him as he came into view behind you once you pushed your head back. Your hands lifted to curl around the cool bar, flexing your fingers to ensure your grip on it was secure.

“Count ‘em,” 

Lifting the bar off the rack, you focused on your breathing. Letting your mind drift away with the pleasant burn in your muscles from the repetitive motions. Until the reps all flowed into each other and you put all that useless energy and downright filthy adrenaline to good use. 

--- 

“I’ll take over Sammy,” 

You were on your final runthrough of your reps, having decided to finish after four sets. And just in the middle of the fifteenth bench press, when Dean’s voice pulled you out of the zone. Nearly making you lose your grip on the bar. Luckily, Sam was there to help you steady it as you placed it back on the rack and sat up, reaching for your water bottle.

“Damn it Dean, you nearly killed me,” You gasped, trying to even out your breathing and throwing a grateful smile to Sam as he handed you your towel. Your body was spent, and your muscles were screaming. Clearly Sammy had been right to stop you from doubling your rep amount. You doubted you’d even make it through the last one without needing to stop. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I’ll knock next time,” Dean grinned, giving his brother an affectionate pat on the shoulder as he tagged himself in and let Sam go wash up. 

Luckily you’d already burned most of your energy, but the sight of Dean in his workout wear still somehow got the embers of fire in your veins to act up again as you dropped back down against the bench. Lifting slightly shaky arms up and stretching them to dull the ache that was already starting to build. 

“How many have you done?” He asked, wiping down the bar for you as he leaned over it to look down at you. Green eyes bright and focused as he filled your vision with only him, framed against the concrete ceiling. 

“I’m on the final interval, only four today. Rep 15 out of 20,” You smiled back, forcing your mind to stay on your workout and not on the way his t-shirt clung to him. Or on how his arms across the steel bar tensed and looked absolutely mouthwatering. 

“Twenty? You’re on fifteen reps (Y/N), not twenty,” He frowned, looking not at all pleased with your additional five reps per exercise. Though there was no way in hell you could tell him you needed the additional physical punishment just to deal with the dirty little daydreams of him in your mind. 

“Extra energy to burn. You know I get antsy when we’re left playing the waiting game before a new case,” 

The white lie slipped easily past your lips as you tried to refocus your attention on a blank spot of ceiling above you. Raising your arms up, you curled your fingers around the bar, just as Dean leaned back and spread those stupidly perfect bow legs to ground himself, getting ready to spot you. 

“... Right, final round, then you spot me,” He grumbled, knowing better than to keep arguing and letting your body cool down too much from the workout. 

Training with Dean was like a fucking double, if not tripple, workout. It always was. Past the physical strain of your muscles and the endurance needed to push your body to the limit, you were also left trying to control your poor heart. The overexcited muscle getting an aerobics exercise like no other just from the proximity of the damned greek god of a man. 

The way he’d brush against you, your hot skin heating up even more from every barely there touch. Big hands and calloused fingers, always lingering against your slightly flush skin. His voice in your ear when he stepped behind you and placed a big palm on your lower back to help correct your form. The direct touch against your bare lower back sending shots of pure unadulterated electricity through you, which only grew in intensity as he pushed his body against yours to further shape and correct your stance.

Damn it, this was not the release you’d hoped for it to be. And by the time you finished the last set, you were just as worked up as you’d been before you even got started. It would have to be yet another cold shower for you. Damn him and his… Shit. 

Where was your snarky quick wittedness when you needed it?

“Thirty reps?” You questioned, slightly breathlessly, as you patted the towel against your neck and reached out for your water bottle. Stretching your body and shaking away that pleasant tremble from a good workout while you followed Dean back to the bench. Stopping just a few steps behind him to watch as he bent over to wipe down the bench, giving you a front row seat to a view of that damned perfect ass in his loose workout sweats.

Mentally tongue-tied, cotton mouthed and filthy minded, you nearly missed his cocky grin and raised eyebrow. A clear indication that he’d caught you checking him out. Though you’d of course still pretend you didn’t. You were an innocent sweet summer child; your mind was unicorns and rainbows, not hot skin, teeth and tongue. 

“Yeah… Actually, let’s do 35. I think I have some extra energy to burn too,” He finally said as he fell back against the bench. Groaning as he stretched his body and rewarded you with a glimpse of that perfectly toned stomach below his t-shirt. 

Walking around the bench, you somehow managed to keep your fingers from brushing over his taut body on the bench. Which, considering your profession was all sticky fingers and an attraction to anything shiny or gorgeous, was a damned miracle. 

—

Spotting Dean was always harder than the toughest case to crack. Not because you needed to actually do much. The man was a damned perfect specimen, lifting the weights easily and barely even breaking a sweat. It was, however, yet another hellish workout for your poor frustrated libido and heart. Standing there, ready to spot him, you had the perfect chance to ogle him indiscriminately. 

Watching as those perfectly muscular arms strained against the weights, lips slightly parted around sharp breaths and brow furrowed in concentration, showing just the slightest sheen of sweat from the physical exertion. He was damned near too much for you to handle. 

Just the sight of those muscles moving like liquid under his shirt, adding extra layers to your dirty daydreams of how that same hard body would feel if you were to run your fingers down his muscular back, with his body towering over yours on the bed. Pupils' wide and sharp breaths replaced by groaned moans… 

Yeah, you definitely needed a cold shower. 

Fucking arctic; ice cubes instead of water if possible.

Luckily for you, or unluckily, depending on how you viewed it, Dean only got two sets into his workout. Before he was pulled out of it, and you were pulled out of your absolutely downright dirty mind, by Charlie popping her head in through the door. 

“Operations room in fifteen!” She called out, barely stopping to raise a knowing eyebrow at your clearly hot and bothered state before she raced off to find the rest of your group. Apparently the plan for the party infiltration had been coming together while you were busy trying to work up a sweat, and not the fun kind.

Throwing a bottle of water towards Dean, you shot him a wink and a shaky smile, before you hurried out of the room. Rushing to hide your breathless, mentally tongue-tied state from the stupidly handsome hitter. For once thankful for the possibility of more manila folders and pre-heist planning.

Still before you got ready to pull off the heist, you’d have to pull off the quickest cold shower ever. Unless you wanted to sit through hours of planning in Charlie’s intelligence HQ all sweaty, hot and bothered. Hopefully your cold shower could at least help with one of those three things. And unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be your filthy mind that followed the water down the drain. 

---

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Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70 @roseblue373 @djs8891

Forever tags will be added as a reblog

[biromanticbooknook]

My Most Ambitious Crossover

I got bored by posting only my second gen Amazon AU, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow, but enjoy this one-shot about Chloe and Marinette creating their own trip instead of their class trip in the meantime. Can’t have you all thinking I’m a one-trick pony, can I?

“-and that’s why we think you shouldn’t go on the trip this year.” Mlle. Bustier tried to look apologetic, but it was as much her idea as the students. Between Marinette refusing to set an example and Chloe associating with her, neither of them deserved to go.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to get my daddy to donate 30% of the funds like he does every year.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to take 60% of the trip funds out of my commission profits. That will give me a much bigger budget for fabric and accessories.” Everyone blanched at the statements of the 2 girls. They were saying that they paid for 90% of the trip every year, but that couldn’t be right. They worked so hard on fundraisers every year, they must be lying about how much they contribute.

Marinette just ignored them, turning to her seatmate. “Do you think that our other friends would want to go on a trip with us? Most classes take their trips during May, so we could leave at the beginning of June and take the entire summer.”

“Nice thinking, Maribug. With fewer people, prices go down and we can afford more bang for our buck.” They walk out of the classroom, discussing who to ask and when.

The class just made a big mistake.

-----

By the time the weekend rolled around, Marinette and Chloe had their group list finalized. The people going on their trip were themselves, Luka, Kagami, Aurore, Mireille, and Marc. They got together and started brainstorming fundraisers.

Marinette started. “There are the given examples; you know, car wash, bake sale, raffle. What else?”

“We could host a show.” Luka suggested.

“Like an exhibition?” Marinette asked. “We could have you perform, Kagami do a fencing demonstration, and I could do a small fashion show, using Chloe and Marc as models. Aurore and Mireille could be our MCs.”

“To capitalize on money-making, we could sell tickets, food and drink, and merch for Luka’s solo career as well as commission spots for our resident designer.”

“That’s good.” Marinette starts scribbling in the shared notebook.

“At Le Grande Paris, we could host parties. I know days when the grand ballroom is open. We could host an auction, sell lessons and creations and stuff. We could also host a masquerade ball that we sell tickets for. We could charge for food and drink. The pools are open for private reservation quite often, we could have parties there too.” Chloe takes the notebook and starts writing down her ideas, mapping out all the resources needed while muttering.

“We could also host a carnival or a gaming tournament in the ballroom.” Kagami looked thoughtful. “I’ve never actually been to one.”

Chloe added that to the list. “Should we do anything else?”

“We could start a go-fund-me. Artists and writers do it all the time to get their creations off the ground.” Marc murmured.

“That would be great. What’s our goal for this entire endeavor?”

“Our goal, Maribug, is €45,000. That should cover travel, boarding, tours, food, and souvenirs. Whatever we don’t spend gets redistributed to the group.” Chloe supplies.

“Then that should be it. Nice job, guys!”

“My, what a whirlwind of a planning session. I hope nothing rains on our parade. I wonder weather Mlle. Bustier’s class is doing this well.” Aurore beams at them.

“Mm-hmm.” Mireille agrees with Aurore.

“Probably not. Our classmates couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. They’ll just listen to Lila that the boot will empty by itself through the toe because ‘I worked on patenting this boot’, then they’ll get mad at the boot for not doing it.” Chloe chuckles dryly.

“Be nice.” Marinette reprimands half-heartedly.

-----

Chloe immediately filed the paperwork with the school board so they could go on their trip with no safety or legal concerns. She recruited Mme. Mendeleiev and M. D'Argencourt to be their chaperones, who were more than happy to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, New York City, and Tokyo.

They had their first fundraiser at the end of September, a pool party at Le Grande Paris. Even Mlle. Bustier’s class attended, though they didn’t know who had set it up, only that Luka was performing. They hadn’t even started their planning  yet. The group made €3,041.

The next was a car wash in the middle of October. It was cool enough for a car wash to be pleasant while being warm enough that everyone was still out and about. They earned €2,632. Bustier's class was getting ice cream and listening to Lila brag.

They then had an All Hallow’s Eve bake sale, complete with candy decoration reminiscent of the American holiday. They earned €1,800.

During November, they held a carnival, with a full fall theme. It was wildly popular with families from all over Paris, earning them €6,483. It was around this time that Mlle. Bustier’s class held a bake sale, and earned €1,594. They celebrated.

Throughout the holiday season, they took advantage of peoples’ spirit. They held a raffle throughout the 12 Days of Christmas, while also holding a bake sale the day before winter break. Overall, they earned €10,749.

Over winter break, Chloe bought plane tickets and reserved tours and hotels, so all that was left was to get money for the tours and food. They were over halfway to their goal.

During January, they rented a theater, and held their exhibition. They had a crowd of fencing enthusiasts, rock music lovers, and fashion followers. They made €5,830.

They held a date auction and a masquerade to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was amazing, and they earned €7,284.

They had checked their go-fund-me, and had found that €10,000 was there, putting them €2,819 over their goal. They were ecstatic!

They still held the gaming tournament at the end of April, but let it be free for everyone to enjoy as their celebration of reaching their goal.

-----

Mlle. Butsier’s class had made €7,000 over their 3 fundraisers, and they were pretty proud of themselves. No doubt they would be going somewhere much better than whatever Maribrat and Chloe have planned. Once the girls walked into the classroom, the class started to brag.

“We’ve finished fundraising!”

Marinette smiled and decided to be nice to them. “Cool. Where are you going?”

“We are going to New York City.”

Chloe was not as kind. “Oh, so are we! It was so hard to raise the €45,000 needed for our trip, but we did it. It was so euphoric to meet our goal. How much did you guys raise?”

“We made €7,000.” The smiles slowly slipped off the faces of the class. “What do you mean the €45,000 needed?”

“Well, we needed to cover food, travel, boarding, and tours, and that was just for the 7 of us. I can’t imagine what the budget would’ve been like for an entire class.” Her smile got an edge, like a lioness who knew she had cornered her prey.

Her classmates blanched. “What was our budget, Alya?” Rose looked towards their new class representative, hoping that she had an answer.

“We never had one.”

“Well, at least you filed the paperwork right?”

“What paperwork?”

Marinette responded this time. “The paperwork needed to go on a trip. You were supposed to submit it to the school board for approval of safety and legality. It was on page 17 of the packet I gave you at the beginning of the year. Didn’t you read it, Alya?”

“I-I-no. Lila said that was just extra work that you had given me to throw me off my game. She said you didn’t actually need to do all of that.”

“I didn’t know that Lila had more experience being a class representative than me and Marinette, the only 2 people who have ever been class representative here.” Chloe’s voice became as sharp and sweet as her smile. “Well, have fun with your trip. Marinette and I have to do last-minute checks on our arrangements.”

The class looked at the people that had carried them the previous years, and realized how much they relied on the girls. Lila was cursing herself for pushing away the only people who actually did anything in this class.

-----

The class ended up going to Disneyland Paris, and tried their best to look as upbeat as possible on their social medias. Meanwhile, The group was having the time of their lives.

They stayed in LA for 2 weeks, visiting movie sets and meeting actors. They spent another week just going on everything at Disneyland and California Adventure.

They then spent a week in Star City, touring Queen Industries and having a meet and greet with Oliver Queen and his ward, Roy Harper, who seemed to enjoy Aurore’s outgoing personality. They even saw the vigilantes.

They spent another 2 weeks in Central City, touring STAR Labs and watching the rogues try to fight the Flash family. It was the most meta-filled city in the world, and They toured a forensics lab with Bart Allen. Chloe seemed grimly pleased with seeing the bodies. She might’ve been projecting certain people onto them, not that she would ever admit it.

2 weeks in Metropolis was really fun. They toured the Daily Planet with Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Mireille was amazed by what you could do to report without having to be in front of a screen. They made a scavenger hunt of how many Supers they could find, and they found 2 different superboys. Lex Corp also gave them a tour, although it was more professional than the tour of the Daily Planet.

They spent 1 week in Gotham. They toured Wayne Enterprises and stayed out of the Bats’ way. Luka got the phone number of Tim Drake. Marinette enjoyed the inspiration that the gothic architecture brought her. There wasn’t much of a nightlife scene, considering only fools stay out after dark in Gotham.

Their 1 week in New York City was hectic. The Avengers were all at the tower when they were touring with Pepper Potts by Chloe’s request. Chloe might’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark when she stood up to them and made them ‘cease their bullshit’. The Black Widow also took a liking to the girl. They also ran into these weird teens muttering about monsters when they were waiting for the elevator at the Empire State Building.

2 weeks in Tokyo. Their last stop. They visited the prestigious Ouran Academy, the host club getting Marc to come out of their shell by constantly helping boost his self-esteem. Chloe enjoyed talking business and finances with Kyoya Ootori. Kagami led them all in a traditional tea ceremony, before they all stormed the streets to try the unfamiliar street food.

Marinette ended up being unofficially adopted by 3 heroes, 2 rogues, and 5 billionaires. She was happy getting to spend 7 weeks on the road with only her closest friends.

The class was incredibly jealous of the trip their classmates took. They hoped next year they could go on a trip like that as well, but they had missed their shot.

[ressyfaerie]

I would love love love to see something along the lines of a Tyka mer au?? Especially if Kai is the merman!! I do love them ever so. Any age rating/idea I am so down for, pretty please!! 🥺🙏❤

Keep up with the great Tyka content it makes my day!

I know who you are and you always give me the best fic inspiration! I read your Tyka mer comics and I am INSPIRED. This might be longer than expected! But here I gooooo

So now that I finished it, I’ll be putting it in a readmore since it’s VERY LONG!!

It’s very rare that I write in first person! But this story definitely called for it, and I AM COMPLETELY IN LOVE. You’re going to want to ask for more, I can already tell.

So here it is:

When I was young, I was saved by a merman.

I remember how the cold seeped into my veins. My head was pounding from the force of hitting the water.

I was too young to know how to swim.

I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.

My body was numb, I descended into the dark blue sea, I saw the light glimmer from the surface, and felt water invade my lungs.

That’s when I saw him.

A flash of blue and milky skin. I felt the smooth scales wrap around my body. I saw his face, clear as day. His purple eyes, silver hair, and blue face markings. His face looked panicked, bubbles erupted from his mouth forming inaudible words. His face turned blurry, and my vision grew dark.

I woke up on the beach. No one believed me when I told them. Just a child’s fantasy gone overboard.

I always wondered how I made it back to shore without knowing how to swim, or how I missed all the rocks.

Someone must have saved me.

The more I visited the beach and saw no sign of a blue finned merman my belief started to dwindle.

Growing up I drew pictures, I even based my imaginary friend off my hero.

In my teens, my best friend Max reminded me of him.

“Tyson! I was just telling my friend about that mer-boy that saved you when you were a kid!”

I laughed it off, “it was a fairytale, Max. Nothing more.”

Years before, Kenny and Hilary sat with me on the beach one day after training.

“Could he still be out there?”

I cleaned my surfboard, looking off into the mysterious ocean.

Hilary passed me a bottle of wax for my board, “you know, I read at least eighty percent of the ocean remains undiscovered.”

Kenny looked up from his laptop, “every mermaid sighting has been proved fake. I still think what you saw was due to a lack of oxygen.”

I gave him an angry look, I didn’t mean to.

“Uh… but miracles have happened.” Kenny tried to reassure me.

I knew the truth.

Mermaids and mermen weren’t real.

After my Mom died, and my Dad left with my brother to explore the world, I had two things, my Grandpa, and my imagination.

Thinking of that boy was my playground. I’d bring sandwiches to the beach, and pretend to talk to him.

I made friends. And became a surfing champion. With my success my imagination drifted away.

I guess I really wasn’t ready for what came next huh?

“Tyson!”

Hilary and Kenny made their way towards my desk, I slammed my textbook closed, I was done with studying anyways.

“There’s a carnival in town! It’s close to your house, you want to come with us tonight?” Her eyes were bright.

I felt a pat on my shoulder, I looked to my right, Max’s blonde hair caught my eye.

“Carnival? Count me in!”

“I’m going too…” Kenny mentioned awkwardly, “Tyson?”

I rolled my eyes, carnivals were for kids. Besides I was planning on catching some waves tonight, but the weather was supposed to be really calm. I guess I could spare the time.

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

I was right. Carnivals were for kids.

Doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun though.

We rode ride after ride. Kenny had to sit on a bench after he got sick, Hilary rubbed his back.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, partner!” Max slapped my back, “let's get some more snacks!”

Max pulled me towards another booth. I love food, but after a dozen different snacks, and a dozen different rides, I had to admit, I wasn’t feeling too well.

Max handed me a candy apple, I took a bite and felt my stomach turn.

“Bluh,” my lip turned in disgust.

“Wanna take a break from the rides?”

I nodded.

We lost Kenny and Hilary ages ago. Walking through the parts of the carnival with fewer people, we came across a mirror maze.

“Tyson, let’s go in!”

“Sounds fun!”

It was no surprise when I lost Max right away.

I could hear his excited giggles and him shouting my name, I tried to go in his direction, but eventually his voice faded out, and I found my way to the exit.

“Max!” I shouted into the maze, but there was no reply back.

He might have gotten out already…

I walked through the carnival looking for my blonde haired friend. No luck. There was a fortune teller, I made a mental note, Hilary would have liked to go back there.

Then something caught my eye.

ANASTASIA’S HOUSE OF WONDERS

It looked like a cardboard standee, with dark tents behind it. It couldn’t have been that big. I saw some people leave out the exit. There was someone in front of it. They were dressed in a creepy joker costume.

“Hey man,” I got his attention.

“Do you dare enter the house of wonders!”

“Uh, maybe? Is it cool? Like… what’s in there?”

“Things that will make your blood boil—”

“Things?”

“And creatures unknown to this world!—”

“Creatures!?”

“And above all—”

“Oooo what else!?”

“Look kid.” The grey haired joker lowered his arms and sighed, “can you just let me finish my speech?”

“Oh, yeah sorry.”

“I’m Bryan the sharpshooting joker! For only a few bucks—find yourself immersed in a new world!—”

“Okay,” I raised my hand, “that’s enough.”

“Oh thank god” Bryan’s voice dropped a few octaves.

The guy seemed kinda chill, so I leveled with him.

“So dude, is it actually worth my time in there?”

Bryan nodded, “yeah, it’s actually really cool.”

“Alright, sign me up.” I handed him a couple bills.

“Enjoy.” He counted the money.

Before I left I looked under his costume hat, “wait, don’t I know you?”

“Maybe?” He grumbled, accidentally revealing his true persona.

“Yeah! You were in the last surfing championship! You’re that crazy intense guy Bryan! What the heck are you doing here?”

“Uh, sidegig.” He lowered his mask, “have fun in there, kid.”

“Okay…”

I brushed off the awkward encounter and turned to the entrance. It was covered in two extravagant curtains. I pushed the fabric to the side and walked into the darkness.

Wait, is this a haunted house? Damn I shouldn’t have gone without Max!

The first thing I noticed was there was a lack of… people. Tesla coils and odd gimmicks littered the floor of the first hallway. I rolled my eyes, remembering carnivals were for kids.

The next room was bigger than expected, it was a dome with a button in the middle. I pressed it, who could resist a big red button after all?

Suddenly a snow storm picked up. I covered my face, “ah!”

It stopped before I could figure it out, I stared at the sleeve of my red jacket, where snowflakes started melting.

“Alright, that was definitely real snow! I’ll admit I have no idea how you did that one!”

I shouted to no one, but it still helped my nerves.

I—couldn’t figure out where the exit was.

I walked to the edge of the dome, it looked like a carnival tent, I tapped the edge, it rang back with a metallic sound.

“Uh.” I grew worried, “an exit would be nice?!”

I heard a sound from the other side of the room, and some fabric fell from nowhere, revealing another dark room, “thank you!”

Cautiously I made my way to the dark room.

I wish I hadn’t.

Inside were weird animals in green jars.

“Oof, these can’t be real.”

I tapped one, the baby bird inside moved.

“I assure you, they are all real.”

I turned to the corner. A.. man? He had a raven masquerade mask, and when Tyson locked eyes with him, he screamed and revealed massive black wings from his back.

“What the!?—”

I fell backwards, falling on my rear.

The bird boy made his way towards me.

“What are you?!”

“I’m Ian, the birdman.” He sounded tired.

“And in there,” he pointed to the next room with a black talon, “you’ll find my wolf friend.”

“You’re what!?”

I sat up, “naw, I’m done with this place. Your costumes are a bit too real for me.”

He shrugged, “that’s what they all say.” he sat on a crate with a loud thud, “enjoy the rest of the tour.”

I went to the next room because that guy was freaking me out. I really wanted to head back the way I came, but I couldn’t seem to find it.

Also, that guy seemed kind of familiar.

The next room felt colder than the rest. My heart raced when I saw a cage.

“Uh, hello? This haunted house is getting a little weird…”

I heard the clanking of chains, and a flash of red. On the floor of the cage was a boy, a bit older than myself.

“Are you okay?” I asked knowing it was an actor.

I heard a deep growl, and he lifted himself off the floor. I gasped when I saw his face.

A white wolf with a red mane bared his teeth at me.

I took a step back.

I felt the room grow cold, as the wolf tensed and growled.

It lunged forward and snapped it’s jaw, it hit the bars of the cage with a strength that boy shouldn’t possess, I turned and ran.

I ran through a wall tearing down fabric sprinting through tents.

It was dark, I couldn't see anything and didn’t know where I was going.

“Ah!” My foot got caught on a stone and I fell forward.

“How is this place so big! It did not look like this from the outside!”

In front of me was a curtain, it just barely touched the floor, I could see light shining from under it.

If I can’t find my way out… I might as well head for the light.

I lifted the curtain up and shielded my eyes from the bright white light.

In front of me I could just make out the wheels of a traveling train car. The front of it wasn’t metal, it was glass. Bright fluorescent lights hung over it. There was a sign next to me, I rubbed my eyes and could just make out the writing.

Newest exhibit! A rarity of its kind! Stay back, he splashes.

“What?”

Then I saw it.

The flash of blue, silver, and purple.

A merman threw himself against the glass repeatedly, tossing his fists against it. His wrists were in chains, and his constant assault against the glass only amounted to hollow thumps echoing through the tent.

I felt my body freeze.

It was the merman from my childhood.

Is this real?

I slowly made my way to the sealed aquarium.

The boy must have seen me enter the ring of light, because he stopped, he started floating, and stared at me.

“Hello?”

The merman didn’t move, he simply floated in place, I could see his chest move up and down.

“Do you recognize me?”

I made my way to the glass, getting a good look at the boy for the first time.

I placed my hand on the glass. I saw how red his wrists were from the chains.

He put his hand against the glass, only a thin separation between us. I smiled, and looked into his purple eyes.

I think he smiled at me. He opened his mouth slightly and a few bubbles popped out. I chuckled, and he looked back at me.

I stared up at the top of the tank, the lid was thick glass. A massive padlock kept it down. He saw me look at it, and he shook his head frantically.

I nodded, and placed my head against the glass, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

I jumped and hit the lock with my hand gauging how tough it was.

The merman waved his hand and mouthed words shaking his head.

“I’m gonna get you out of here!”

I looked around the room for a tool to use to break the lock. The only thing I could find was the sign I had seen previously.

I grabbed it, and tossed it to the ground, ripping it off its base.

The merman kept throwing his fist against the tank to get my attention, I ignored him knowing I had to help him.

I climbed the edge of the train cart so I was standing on top of the glass looking down at the silver haired boy. He floated on his back and kept banging on the glass with both hands.

It seemed like he was mouthing the words ‘get out get out!’

I used the stick tool I had made and bashed the lock, making loud sounds through the room. I kept doing it, but it didn’t budge.

The merman was banging on the glass mouthing the same words.

“I’m trying!”

I jumped down, knowing I would have to find a different tool, but I bashed it again in frustration.

The merman was frantically pointing now.

“What? What is it?” I watched his lips.

‘Behind you!’

I felt someone grab my shoulder, before I could scream they grasped my shirt and yanked me to the floor, dragging me away.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to touch people in a haunted house!”

I kicked and screamed while watching my merman frantically swim in circles and hit the glass with his tail. He was trying to get to me, but I knew it wasn’t going to work.

The man threw me into another room. I couldn’t see anything in the dark, I was tossed on a chair and sat up. He turned on a light with a click, and an old fluorescent bulb hung from the ceiling. I blinked a few times trying to find my way in the new surroundings.

A silhouette of a man sat on the opposite end of a table.

“You think you can try to take one of my treasures?”

“He is not yours!”

“Months ago I captured him. He’s rightfully mine.”

“Who do you think you are?!” I screamed at him, knowing full well this full grown man could cause me serious harm.

“He’s a rarity, I won’t let him fall into the hands of some snot nosed teenager with a superiority complex.”

I spat, “do you own this crazy place?”

“I do.”

“Don’t think I didn’t recognize your workers. I surfed with most of them in last year's competition.”

The man simply laughed, I finally got to make out some of his facial features. He was an older man.

“And why does the world champion desire my merman?”

“I don’t desire him, he needs to be free!”

“Ha!” The man’s voice bellowed.

I frantically searched for answers, for a way out—for the both of us.

“I’ll buy him from you!”

“Like you could afford him.”

“If I win the next competition—”

“You won’t.”

I grinned smugly, “you don’t know that.”

“You won by luck, my team is far superior.”

“Your team of monsters? Isn’t that cheating?”

“And you think being a descendant of a storm dragon is fair?”

“I’m a—what?”

The man shook his head.

“I know who you are, Tyson.”

“You gonna tell me who you are?”

The man chuckled in response to my anger, making me even more furious.

“The name is Boris. I take care of these boys—”

“By imprisoning them? Leave my merman alone!”

“Excuse me? Yours? Did you not just meet this creature?”

“Let’s say I’m feeling friendly.” I crossed my arms.

“He seemed to react to your presence, what did you do?”

I panicked, “how long were you watching for!?”

“Long enough. I’ve had him here for a few months, yet I can’t seem to break him.”

“Break him?” I was in disbelief, my childhood hero was not some horse at a stable!

“Yes, perhaps you could help—”

“No.” I grimaced.

Boris tapped his fist on the table, “well, it seems we are at an impasse.”

“You’ll never have my help.”

“I think I can live without it.” He stood up, he was much taller than me. “Please leave my circus, and don’t come back.”

“I’m not leaving without the merman.” I stood my ground.

“That’s a shame.”

I felt something heavy hit my temple—

I woke up on a grassy hill. I rubbed my head.

When I managed to sit up I overlooked the carnival from across a field. The lights were all out. It had to have been late for it to be completely closed.

Boris…

Now that I knew my merman was real, and that he was captured by such an evil man I had to find a way to get him back.

I’ll steal him. I’ll figure something out…

You better watch your back Boris.

I stared in the direction I thought my blue finned saviour would be in.

Hold on, I’m coming for you.

[joon-ipersgirl]

“inked heart” - jjk oneshot

genre: friends to lovers!au, fluff, a teensy dash of angst

pairing: tattoo artist!guk x tattoo artist!reader (f)

summary: jeon jungkook, a rising star in the tattoing world, is looking to take home best large black and white piece at the 25th annual milano tattoo convention. already one to watch from his previous wins as a young artist, pressures rise when his model for the competition cancels half an hour before the show. 

always there when he needs you, you offer to be his model but jungkook is reluctant, especially when the piece is in a more... intimate place. and the fact that he’s been in love with you for the better part of two years. jungkook isn’t too sure how he’s going to survive the next three hours, not when you ask him if he thinks you’re attractive. 

caught between a rock and a hard place, does he lie to you and himself when the prize is on the line? it’s go big or go home...

word count: 5.9k

warnings: some guk pining, cursing, mentions of heartbreaker jimin, the smallest dash of angst about not winning, tattoo artist yoongi

a/n: my first guk piece! thank you guys so much for the love on the preview, especially your comments. they honestly make my day. i hope this lives up to your expectations and you enjoy it just as much. this was a random idea i had and i love tattooed guk so here we are. i tried my best to make sure all the tattoo things were accurate so if they aren’t sorry in advance 😭 this was a lot of fun to write and i’m actually debating on writing some other things for this couple (especially for guk’s birthday), but i’m not sure yet. let me know if y’all are interested though and i’ll see what i can come up with. as always, thank you vi for supporting my shenanigans and reading this like four times lmao. feedback is always welcomed and highly appreciated. enjoy everyone! 

full masterlist // drabbles

Jungkook’s body buzzed with excitement as he squeezed past the bustling bodies at the 25th annual Milano Tattoo Convention. His fourth year at the world’s largest tattooing competition with a chance to take home the prize for “Best Large Black & White” piece against four hundred incredible artists had Jungkook amped up and ready to go. Some of his inspirations - legends in the game - were mere feet away from him as he browsed the almost endless stations filled with merchandise, displays of new tattoo designs, and occupied benches with models. There was almost nothing he enjoyed more than being around the sound of buzzing guns and filling sheets of half-filled paper with sketches his brain had no issues conjuring up but sometimes struggled to complete. Well, except food. And video games. And you. Not really the point though.

He’d been tattooing for almost six years now, from the moment he’d been able to convince Yoongi to let him be his apprentice. Jungkook had wasted no time in starting his own personal tattoo collection, quickly filling in a full sleeve on his right arm going across his right pectoral and another upper half sleeve on his left. Now, he was making his own name in the art world, commissioning pieces solely off his ability to execute various styles well with very little practice. Jungkook was a jack of all trades and very nearly a master of all. He was a risk-taker and it had paid off for him during his time at Milano, taking home “Best Small Black & White” his second year at the ripe age of twenty, and then “Best Medium Black & White” the following year. Yoongi could barely believe it when the judges called his name and announced him the winner but Jungkook knew his mentor’s chest was swollen with pride. This time, though, there were bigger fish to fry - “Best Large Black & White” in a style Jungkook had just begun feeling comfortable with: fine line tattoos.

He paused at the Killer Ink booth where Hori Kashi was working on a beautiful traditional koi fish upper half sleeve design as his phone buzzed. An Instagram notification.

_petuniablooms: hey jungkook! im so sorry this is last minute but i won’t be able to make the convention to be your model. I got a bad case of food poisoning from dinner last night. i hope this doesn’t cost you the comp. but when you’re back in the country, maybe i can schedule an appt? sorry again!

Jungkook blinked slowly. She couldn’t make it? This was not part of his plan. She was supposed to be here in the next half an hour so he would have enough time to complete his piece for judging in four hours. As one of the younger artists at the convention and with immense amounts of talent, people wondered how long Jungkook would be able to sustain his efforts, especially after taking home prizes in one of the major categories two years in a row. Most of them thought he would burn out after his second year or third year, but here he was. Competitive by nature, Jungkook wanted to prove them wrong - that he really did have what it took to be one of the best in the game. A legend in his own right. He shoved his phone back into his black cargo pants pocket and tugged on his curling brown locks. What was he going to do now?

“Guk! Hey, Guk!” He could barely make out your petite frame as you shoved and elbowed your way through the throngs of folk gathered around booths. You were set on getting to him though, your smaller form not holding you back from covering the distance, your brow set in determination whenever he did get glimpses of your face in the crowd.

That was something Jungkook admired about you: your no-nonsense-get-it-done attitude. Friends for almost three years now, he’d seen the way you’d taken charge of almost every opportunity that came your way. You didn’t take no as the final answer and if you couldn’t find a way to make it happen, you created your own. Either way, you got it done. As the first lead female tattoo artist at your shop, Sin City, you’d also made a name for yourself in the tattooing world as a specialist in black and white shading. Your signature though was the three-color-combination color style you developed for your color tattoos. That’s how the two of you had met - the year he’d won “Best Small Black & White”, you’d taken home “Best Medium Color” - and the two of you hadn’t looked back since.

“Gosh, there’s so many people here. It was so hard to find you. I knew I should have checked the Kashi booth first,” you said after finding a pocket of space next to him and hugging his torso.

“Y/N, it’s a convention. Of course there’s going to be a lot of people here,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you, subconsciously looking for comfort in your touch.

Though the two of you mostly had conflicting schedules due to the demand for your work, you did your best to make time for one another. Jungkook had grown accustomed to seeing you every few weeks for lunch or on Friday nights with beer and chicken for Marvel movie marathon weekends. He didn’t dwell on it too much - how ridiculously domestic a lot of your traditions were - not wanting to shake the table and send the precariously perched house of cards pyramid the two of you had created crashing to the ground, upsetting the balance of your friendship. No, Jungkook would leave those thoughts right where they were.

He more felt than saw you roll your eyes as you said, “Yes, Guk. Conventions have lots of people. This just seems like a health and safety hazard though.” Jungkook squeezed you as you pressed closer to him, slightly uncomfortable as more people gathered in the area.

“Alright, let’s go,” he replied, reminding himself to search for the finished koi design afterward as the two of you walked away. “How’d your piece go?”

“So fucking good!” you beamed and turned your face towards him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Though I don’t know if it’ll win this year, the guy seemed to be really pleased and that’s all that matters. Plus, t-shirt sales have gone up. Like way up! Speaking of which, you should buy one. My t-shirt design on your body?” you did the chef’s kiss, “Impeccable!” you exclaimed and grinned.

Your smile was another thing Jungkook admired about you. The faintest dimples appeared when you did and there was almost never a moment when he couldn’t not smile with you. It was a smile that reached your twinkling eyes and illuminated your face with a glow. Like right now, as you’re striking poses and modeling your black and white cityscape background covered with your shop’s name in a candy red color, a tattoo gun positioned to finish the last line of the last letter on the white tee in the middle of the crowded aisle in some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen you wear in public. When did you get those?

“You know what would look good on my body?” you asked as the pair of you carried on walking. Me, he thought, but knew where this conversation was really going. “One of your tattoo designs!”

Jungkook sighed. “Y/N, we’ve already talked about this -”

“I know, Guk, but you literally have no reason to not tattoo me,” you whined. “You’ve tattooed every single one of your other friends! Hell, even Yoongi has a tattoo by you.”

“Yoongi has what?” the older man asked as he bumped into you two as you passed the registration booth.

“A tattoo by Jungkook,” you pouted, arms crossed.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t want to tattoo you. He just didn’t want to fuck up a design that would be permanently etched into your skin for the rest of your life. He wanted to create something that was beautiful for you, something that really conveyed the importance of your presence in his life, but every time he sat down to do so, nothing seemed good enough. You’d been seriously begging him for the better part of a year to do something - anything - but he’d refused saying that he didn’t have the time. Secretly, he just didn’t want to fail and let you down.

“Ah, that age-old debate. It’ll happen one day, kid,” Yoongi said as he patted your shoulder gently. “What time are you setting up, Jeon? Your model’s supposed to be here soon, right?” Yoongi asked.

“Fuck!” Jungkook shouted, tugging on his hair and startling a few people around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have one. She can’t make it. I have to find someone else,” he yelled as he took off, no destination really in mind.

“Wait! Guk -” you called after him but he didn’t stop.

Sometimes, being around you was dangerous as Jungkook could quite literally forget what it was he needed to be doing. There was just something about you that made him lose focus, just a little bit. He couldn’t have that right now. Jungkook needed to be on his A-game, scouting a model that would give him consent in - he checked his phone - twelve minutes.

The one time Jungkook needed someone to be interested in his work, there wasn’t a single soul around. Where had all the people who were begging him to schedule them in for a quick session disappeared to? None of the people passing by were interested in getting a random, floral design done by Jeon Jungkook today, unfortunately. It was as though the devil of the tattoo underworld had cursed him the one time he could have used some luck for the sole purpose of being entertained. Circling back to the D-Town Tattoos booth, Jungkook was running out of options. Shit.

“There you are!” you wheezed as you came to a halt and rested your hands on the table in front of you. “Fuck, I forgot how fast you are.”

“Y/N, I don’t have time. I have to find a model -”

“Why don’t you just use Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he calmly took a seat next to his bench, a tall young man following behind him.

“I couldn’t -” Jungkook spluttered, eyes wide.

“Like you said, Jeon, you don’t have time,” Yoongi reminded him, setting up his work station for his client.

Jungkook looked over at you, still slightly hunched over and trying to catch your breath. This was not how he’d wanted to do this. “Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t know if -”

“Fuck yeah, dude!” you said interrupting him. “100%. Let’s do this!”

Jungkook watched as you made yourself comfortable on his workbench, waiting for him to get started. The fact that you weren’t nervous only added to his apprehension, the fear of potentially disappointing you resurfacing and rising in his gut. It felt like he was taking a risk with stakes much higher than he was willing to bet on, but the trust you had in him had him saying, “Okay. Fill out the consent forms and I’ll pull up the design.”

“What are we working with?” you asked curiously, handing the clipboard back over to him, not really reading it and only signing your name in the designated spots.

“Thigh piece,” he murmured, concentrating on finding the correct sketch on his iPad.

“Sounds fun. I know it’s going to be amazing, Guk. Don’t worry,” you reassured him. He smiled warily as you gave his shoulder a tender squeeze.

Nodding more to himself than you, he showed you the design. @_petuninablooms, like her name suggested, loved flowers. So much so, she’d wanted a full piece dedicated to that specific flower as well as whatever other floral arrangements she thought Jungkook could make look pretty against her skin. She’d won his Instagram contest to be his model for free at the convention because of her sentimental design and background as a botanist, something that piqued Jungkook’s interest. Though he was proud of the design, it didn’t seem to fit you.

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know if it’ll fit your style,” he said, gesturing to your upper half sleeve. The three faces of Frida Khalo, Nefertiti, and Tomoe Gozen were beautifully designed and organized by you as a symbol of feminine unity - embodying passion, leadership, and grace. A much edgier piece than what currently sat on the screen of his iPad designed for his winner, he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the softer image.

“I told you, Guk. You could tattoo anything on me and I’d be happy. Maybe even more happy than if you’d let me tattoo you. I just want to have something of yours on me - support your craft, you know? Besides,” you said zooming in on the flowers, your gold rings shining in the light, “I like petunias.” Jungkook wasn’t sure if you were only saying this to make him feel better, but he was grateful for your encouragement anyway.

“Uh, I’m going to need you to take your shorts off,” he said hesitantly. “Yoongi, this isn’t against the rules, right? Like having another artist sit for you?” Jungkook asked, turning to give you some privacy though anyone walking past would be able to see you shimmy out of them as there was no curtain or door to shield you.

“Nope. Not that I’ve read,” Yoongi replied, concentrating on his design. Jungkook nodded, steeling himself to focus and get the job done. What he wasn’t expecting was to see you adjusting the band of some very high-waisted, very skimpy, black panties. He nearly choked.

“Does this need to be further up? If not, I can take them off for you. I don’t -”

“No!” Jungkook cried out as he tore his eyes away from the curve of your ass. “I can just move the stencil. It’ll be fine,” he continued after clearing his throat.

“Okay,” you said awkwardly. Jungkook apologized for his outburst as he wheeled himself over to sit in front of you on his little stool. He was making a much bigger deal of this entire situation that it needed to be. He’d seen you in a bikini before, but something about seeing you in your underwear sitting before him was different.

“Relax, Jeon. It’s only a thigh!” Yoongi teased, his head down but his shit-eating grin very much present as he worked on the shading on his client’s forearm. Though Yoongi would never say anything to you out of respect for Jungkook, Jungkook knew Yoongi enjoyed putting him through the wringer whenever you were around.

“Not just a thigh! It belongs to me. My thigh is prime real estate, Min Yoongi. There’s a lot of artists that have been wanting to get in on this,” you joked. Jungkook laughed as he prepped your skin for placing the stencil with rubbing alcohol, hating the fact that he couldn’t feel your skin through the latex gloves but also grateful for the sensory blocker. He knew you were right though - lots of artists did want to work on you and have you walk around with their work as free endorsement of their skill. Honestly, this was a prime opportunity and he should make the most of it.

“Would you be okay with me changing this larger petunia into a mandala? I know you like those,” Jungkook suggested.

“Guk, this is your piece. I told you, I’m good with whatever,” you said cheerfully.

“Keep talking like that I’ll tattoo my name on your ass,” he quipped as he adjusted the design before placing it.

“Make it your face and we just may have a deal,” you shot back and Yoongi gagged from his corner. Jungkook did not want to think about the potential implication of those words.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive the next three and a half hours with you making suggestive comments while standing in your barely-there underwear, but he was going to have to. Of course, as friends, you’d always had the occasional flirty banter but the “Best Large Black & White” prize was calling his name and God did he want to win. He double-checked the placement of the design as it stretched from just above your hip bone to finish in the middle of your thigh. His adjustments were so precise, it covered the expanse of your thigh damn near perfectly. Jungkook grinned.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up a mirror as you checked out the placement, twisting from side to side.

“Yeah, looks great. How do you want me?”

Jungkook paused as he set up his rolling tray filled with his ink caps and laid out his sterilized needles. There were more than a few ways he could answer that but he settled on, “However you’re most comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You laughed and climbed onto the bench, giving Jungkook a perfect view of your ass, before you settled against the leather on your left side. Jungkook adjusted the height of his seat so he could position on your thigh with your bent knee resting against the bench and angled towards him. Confirming you were indeed comfortable, Jungkook gently rubbed the A&D ointment across the first section of the design, taking slightly longer than necessary, and got to work. There was a little over three hours to get it done.

He worked diligently as he traced the fine lines of the flower petals, slipping into his professional mode. A small crowd had gathered around the booth, intrigued to see him work on you. Most of the folks there knew about your friendship from social media and mutual community-work settings, how the two of you had bonded over your shared love of tattoos, but seeing the two of you together like this was a real treat. He didn’t feel any pressure as the cameras fought to get a glimpse of him working though. Jungkook did well under pressure but there was a lot riding on this one piece. For him and for you. He wouldn’t disappoint you though. He couldn’t. Not when you looked so peaceful as he worked on the tattoo. Jungkook would win and make you proud.

“Guk, I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Would you fuck me?” Jungkook was thankful he’d removed the needle from your skin to wipe off the extra ointment as there was no doubt in his mind he would have fucked up had it been there.

“What?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“Okay, maybe that was a bit vulgar. I guess what I mean is do you think I’m attractive? Like -” you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, “- a woman you’d spend the night with. Date long-term. That sort of thing,” you finished. Jungkook swallowed before he spoke.

“Uh, yeah. You’re an attractive person.” Jungkook replied, avoiding eye contact with you as he went back to tracing the lines and tried not to think of you under him, around him, on top of - “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a relationship - since anyone has even asked me on a date. Seokjin never called me back after we went for drinks that one time and Jimin - nevermind actually,” you sighed and Jungkook re-lived the memory of Park Jimin with you - the second man to break your heart in a matter of months. His face soured as he remembered how inconsolable you were the first few months after the breakup and how badly he’d wanted to take a baseball bat to Jimin’s very nice, very expensive car. “Maybe I’m unapproachable. Yoongi, am I unapproachable?” you called over to him.

“Yes,” he said dryly, not bothering to look at you. You scoffed in response.

“You’re never the best person to ask, you old man! People barely talk to you,” you murmured.

“Y/N, you’re great,” Jungkook said in response. “You’re more than great actually, but maybe now isn’t the time to get into a relationship?”

“Why not? I have a stable job, I’m cool -”

“Barely!” Yoongi called over. Jungkook watched you shoot Yoongi the finger before you began speaking again.

“- and I’m charming. It would be nice if someone could appreciate that too, someone that wasn’t only me.”

“Hey! I appreciate you!” Jungkook blurted out, slightly offended.

“Yeah, like a friend. Guk, you know you don’t -”

“Don’t say it. Don’t tell me I don’t count, Y/N.”

“But Jungkook -”

Jungkook paused and set his gun down. “No. No ‘but Guk’, Y/N. I appreciate you, more than you know or understand. I get that we’re friends and I know you value our friendship, but you don’t get to tell me I don’t count because you think you know how I feel about you. Please don’t let your perception of my words and actions let you label them “friendly” when they’re something else.” Jungkook picked his gun back up, avoiding your gaze again, slightly alarmed by his unplanned confession.

“What? What do you mean ‘something different’?” you asked, confused. “Was I supposed to read this any differently after you said -”

“You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to find out - not like this at least,” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Just don’t count me out okay, Y/N? Not this time. Can we talk about this later though? I just -”

Before he could finish, Jungkook’s alarm went off, signaling only an hour and a half left before he needed to be taking you for judgement. “Okay, Guk. I won’t count you out. Finish,” you said softly as you nodded to your tattoo and chewed your lip in thought.

With time against him, you and Jungkook no longer conversed, though the conversation rattled in his brain like loose change in a tin can. He would need much more than a penny for his thoughts if he wanted to get out of this situation. The hasty confession had Jungkook wondering if he’s said too much too soon. Had he finally sent the house of cards tumbling down? It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to say anything, but the fear of you not meaning what you’d said frightened him. Memories of the two of you curled up on his aging leather sofa flickered across his mind’s eye and he wondered if this fuck up was worse than the time he’d quickly denied having any romantic feelings for you the morning after a drunk confession and you’d reciprocated the feelings. It had taken a few months for things to return back to any type of normal, an uneasy tension having over you both whenever you’d met up. Every few seconds his eyes flitted to your face, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever you were thinking sprawled across your forehead in your big, looping handwriting but your eyes were closed and your face fairly serene as you let him work in silence.

And work he did, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, finishing the last lines of the final petunia and filling in the mandala with various degrees of shading. He admired the delicacy of his work against your smooth skin, deciding it did suit you, much more than he could have hoped. Jungkook was actually slightly disappointed he was close to finishing, already missing the intimacy of working on you, but also eager to get you on stage so people could see his work. He’d gotten lost in the act like he usually did, concentration never breaking as the rest of the Milano Convention continued in full effect around him. Why had he waited so long to do this? You were a dream to work on, never flinching even as he finished up the minute shading of your tattoo, the worst part for many people. A true tattoo veteran with a hell of a pain tolerance. Roughly ten minutes left in the session, Jungkook wrapped up the piece.

“All done,” he said softly, wiping away the excess ointment and admiring his work briefly.

He heard you gasp as you propped yourself up to get a better view of it. “Holy fuck, Jungkook! It’s perfect. I love it!” you whispered in amazement and Jungkook smiled, relieved to not have disappointed you.

“Let me get some pictures, yeah?” You nodded and Jungkook snapped a few shots, promising to send them to you after the convention ended.

“Looks good, Jeon. And you got it done in time. You learned well,” Yoongi chuckled as Jungkook weakly punched his shoulder. “Are you happy, Y/N?” Yoongi asked as he packed up his spare equipment while his client waited patiently to be escorted to judging.

“Happy?” you scoffed, checking the tattoo out again in the mirror. “How about fucking ecstatic? I’m absolutely in love. Seriously Guk, thank you,” you beamed and launched yourself at him for a hug. Jungkook made eye contact with Yoongi as he held you tight in his arms, the older man relaying a silent message to his younger apprentice through raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

“Alright, alright. You can stare at it more later. We have to get to the judges and make it through all these people so,” Jungkook trailed off, letting you go while simultaneously ushering you out of their designated little space. Agreeing, you grabbed your teeny shorts and shoved your feet back into your sneakers. Jungkook stayed close behind you in an effort to cover your very visible, very exposed ass from peering eyes as you moved through the crowd. As much as he hated to admit it, he was really protective of you.

The trek to the judging station wasn’t as official as the name made it sound. It was really just a small stage raised a few inches above the ground with a table and enough chairs to seat the three judges as artists and their models were scored based on design, complexity, and overall execution. This year’s judges were Jung Hoseok of J’s Tailored Tattoos, Kim Namjoon of Mono & Moon, and Kim Taehyung of Vintage Vante. The three of them were rightfully deemed the gods of the tattoo world and Jungkook looked up to them immensely, each of them having numerous titles on the world stage in countries like Brasil, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Nerves rolled in Jungkook’s belly as he waited in the crowd with you for the host to call his name. A win with these guys as the judges would really put some of those naysayers in their place and Jungkook shuffled in place behind you, antsy.

“What’s wrong, Guk?’ you whispered to him as another artist and model headed on stage.

“What if they don’t like it?” he murmured anxiously.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook nodded. “Then that’s all that really matters. You’re insanely talented and I know they’re some of your role models, but they’re fucked if they don’t see how incredible you are. You’ve got this, Guk,” you said in a hushed tone as Yoongi took the stage with his model from earlier. Jungkook smiled into the back of your head as you stood in front of him and gave his hand a squeeze. Jungkook could always count on you.

It was now his turn. Standing with one hand tucked into his pocket and the other firmly gripping your shorts, Jungkook watched as the judges made their notes on their scoring sheets. You turned graciously to give all three of them the best view of the tattoo. And while he knows that there are probably a few people who’d be overjoyed at the challenges he faced to get to this moment, Jungkook didn’t care. Not when your uplifting words still wrapped around him, affirming his skill and talents. He was proud of what he’d accomplished today and while winning was the ultimate goal, he was also at ease because he’d succeeded in fulfilling one of your wishes and you were happy. Jungkook could only smile as you showered him with praise and tried to convince him to tattoo you again as the judging continued.

The two of you stood with Yoongi, chatting as the judges tallied up the scores. He tried to stay still as he watched the host organize the names of the winning artists, losing interest in the conversation as the judges confirmed the final results. One by one, the host read the categories and its corresponding champion. “For Best Medium Color,” the host paused for dramatic effect, “Min Yoongi!” Jungkook cheered loudly with you as his mentor took the stage with his model showing off the antique pocket watch and a royal flush poker hand on top of a wispy background.

Jungkook’s heart hammered in his chest, the sensation almost worse than his first year at the convention as Best Large Black & White was read out. Though he wanted to look calm and collected on the outside, Jungkook was sure he looked anything but. The audience created their own drumroll as the anticipation built - “Jeon Jungkook!”

Your squeal kickstarted Jungkook’s brain as he processed his win. He’d really done it? A few people around him clapped him on the shoulders in congratulations as he was pushed towards the stage to collect his prize and take his place beside the host. “Congratulations, Jungkook! One of the few artists to take home all three wins in one category,” the host announced. If only they knew what it took to get there. Jungkook felt like he was on cloud nine as he shook hands with the judges and took his picture with you and them, prize in hand. He knew he was positively glowing with pride.

“Guk, you did it! I told you that you could!” you cheered as you bounced up and down in happiness and excitement as they moved onto Best Large Color. He smiled down at you and unable to help himself any longer, he scooped you up into his arms, burying his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/N!” He repeated the phrase earnestly as if saying it over and over again would finally let you understand just how grateful he was but all it really did was make you giggle as his breath tickled your skin. “Seriously, I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I know,” you joked and flipped your hair. You both laughed and you pulled him in for another hug as you said, “Of course, Guk. I’m always here for you. Always,” you punctuated with a squeeze and a smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “You are always here for me,” he said vaguely as he stared down at you in his arms.

“Guk?” you queried as he stared off into the distance.

“This isn’t happening because I won. I don’t want you to think that I only do things like this when I’m any sort of intoxicated, okay?” Jungkook clarified as his confidence grew.

“Things like what?”

“Like confess and kiss you,” he stated.

“Kiss me? You’ve never-”

“Yes, I know I’ve never kissed you. But I want to. Is that okay?” Jungkook asked seriously.

“Yes. More than okay,” you whispered.

It was all Jungkook needed to hear. He was finally kissing you. A soft kiss that grew the longer you stood pressed together in the middle of the convention floor. Jungkook had had his fair share of first kisses, but yours was the one he’d remember for the rest of his life. Maybe because it was you. Maybe that’s why it would always be his favorite. He’d always refrained from putting himself in any situation where he’d be even the slightest bit tempted but now, after having you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let you go. The overwhelming sensation that it was actually happening was quickly quelled by the insurmountable joy he felt as you kissed because it was actually happening.

Jungkook may have ascended into another plane as your fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck and you pulled him further into you. Though he really didn’t want you to think he was only doing this because he’d won, the courage it gave him really did help. The feeling of winning nearly paled in comparison from the brief, sweet taste that was you. Even if he’d never won tonight, he would have considered himself a winner regardless from the kiss alone. Jungkook sighed into you as he savored the moment. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could vaguely make out the hoots and hollers of passerbyers as he held you close. Lost in you once again, Jungkook forced himself to remember your earlier conversation.

“Did you really mean it though?” he asked, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and the other holding onto his golden plaque.

“Mean what?”

“Not counting me out.”

“Did you mean what you said?” you countered. “Even if I wasn’t supposed to find out this way.”

“Yes, and all the times before then,” he answered truthfully. “So, does this mean you’ll have me?”

“Absolutely. Totally. With my entire hea-” He pressed repeated kisses against your mouth, your teeth clashing as you both smiled, neither of you willing to break apart until a familiar voice cleared its throat.

“I leave for five minutes and this is how I find you. Took you long enough though. Be that as it may, are you done?” Yoongi asked, expression wry and his own prize peeking out of his duffle bag. “I could use some food before we head back to the hotel and Y/N is going to need that tattoo bandaged.”

“Right, right,” Jungkook answered and let you go albeit reluctantly. “We’ll meet you at the car?” Yoongi nodded.

“Don’t take forever. I will leave you. Both of you,” Yoongi warned as he headed off to the exit without any further questions.

Back at the booth, Jungkook applied a generous amount of ointment to the piece before securing it with a bandage and double-checking the tape. Helping you step into your shorts, he smiled at the tattoo. Not only would it be a great reminder of a great win, it would also signify the milestone in your friendship - relationship? - was taking. “Told you that you should’ve tattooed me sooner,” you quipped as you gingerly pulled up your shorts.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked, playing along as he quickly packed up his things.

“You would have won much sooner,” you murmured, standing before him.

“Really? What would have been my prize instead? Because that plaque is pretty great.” Jungkook sat his bag on the ground and rested his hands on your hips.

“Better than me?” you grinned and he pressed his lips to yours again.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with another design then,” he hummed.

“Or you can let me and I can tattoo you,” you suggested with a devilish grin.

“And what do you propose?”

“My name. Right here,” you pointed to the empty space on the left side of his chest.

“Only if you let me tattoo my face on your ass,” he joked and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Deal,” you laughed.

Jungkook said nothing further, only smiled as he laced his fingers between yours and tugged you in the direction of the exit. “Great. I’ll have everything arranged,” he replied. Laughing with you in these moments meant so much to him and while he wasn’t sure what would happen between you after you left the convention and headed home, he would take pleasure in these moments for as long as you’d let him. As the two of you exited the building and hustled across the busy street to the parking garage so Yoongi wouldn’t have an excuse to leave you, Jungkook wondered if you’d known that your name had been inked over his heart a long, long time ago.

full masterlist // drabbles

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[lostonehero]

It's frightening dealing with an unhappy pokemon

Guzma is showing Cyrus around Alola and they finally make it to the island where he has his own town full of skull grunts. Cyrus didn't mind the fact that he basically ran a home for wayward teens and kids, but he didn't know if he could handle all that noise.

Cyrus is pulled out of his thoughts when Guzma freezes and he pulls Cyrus back seeing the lone pokemon in front of them.

"Guzma what do you think you're doing? It's just a pokemon." Cyrus huffs with that annoyed look on his face. "Aren't we just suppose to head to the police station to see Nanu like you said a hundred times on the way here."

Guzma steps back. "There are a few things that terrify me Cyrus and Mimikyu is high on that list."

Cyrus rolls his eyes. "A mimikyu? Guzma is this just a superstition you have like the rest of your locals?" He approaches the mimikyu pulling out of Guzma grasp. "It seems to be a different color then you described."

The shiny mimikyu in question was hissing and threatening to pull off its cloak.

"Cyrus get back." Guzma shouted

"You can't-" Cyrus passes out from seeing a glimpse under the mimikyu cloak

Guzma rushes to his side and kisses him which makes Cyrus shoot up in shock.

Cyrus now red in the face. "What the... Guzma what was that for?"

"Its a good thing you don't remember what you saw." Guzma sighs in relief pulling the smaller man away from the annoyed mimikyu. "They are normally docile and never this angry well that's what Accerola tells me."

Cyrus goes to pull away from Guzma when a large flygon with spiderweb cracks along its whole body interrupts as it grabs the mimikyu in its mouth and wags its tail like a happy rock ruff.

The two spot its trainer knuckles white quickly going back under the oversized sleeves of her hoodie that matches the mimikyu. The hood covers her face but they can easily tell she was not having a good time.

"No more fast rides Bing." She says under her breath.

Guzma scowling "is that your pokemon you shouldn't let it loose they are dangerous and can cause death."

The woman shakes her head and takes a breath "I know I know I'm so sorry we got separated it was an accident, she just gets very aggressive when she can't find me I'm sorry "

Guzma stops amd sighs "sorry didn't mean to get so angry I get it my guys do the same thing when I'm not there with them... "

"Oh I'm Hero by the way and OH I heard of you from the weird town that always rains right." She smiles letting her mimikyu climb onto her shoulder. "You like bug types right."

Cyrus raises a brow at the mood shift.

Guzma nods skeptically as she calls out a pokemon named Kai then immeditally goes full Bug maniac. "A FROSTMOTH IVE NEVER SEEN ONE BEFORE." He immeditally goes over to study her and gets blasted with snow

"Kai that's mean what did I tell you about interacting with strangers." Hero sighs "sorry she is a bit fiesty"

"She's beautiful is it ok to touch her?" Guzma looks like a kid who was told that they can have any candy they want.

"Of course she isn't fragile, just watch out for her antenna alright " she smiles watching Guzma take notes

Cyrus frowns "your flygon... Bing was it. Why is he scarred?"

Hero sighs as Bing approaches them amd licks Cyrus in the face making the man scowl and wipe off his face in annoyance. "Uh he's a rescue he was forced in a small cage to die on a breeding site when he was a baby trapinch I rescued him.... and uh he's just like a big growlithe honestly a sweetheart."

"Rescue?" Cyrus pauses in deep thought. "You did a good thing."

Hero nods "he's my second ever pokemon couldn't just leave him because he was scarred and from a terrible situation."

"How did you rehabilitate him?" Cyrus asks now curious thinking of his own pokemon.

"Oh well it wasn't easy the damage to his exoskeleton was extensive and took a year to finally be strong enough to battle. And the behavior training was difficult bit it helped having flicker as a bridge to show that I was ok then my siblings and strangers were kind to him and now he is a dragon who thinks he is a puppy but one of my strongest mons"

"I see so you use positive Reinforcement, did he get unhealthy attached?"

"Uh yeah when he first evolved into a vibrava but after a lot of training and discipline which took effort he is a happy boy and you can only tell he was ever abused by his scars." Hero gives Bing some scritches and he automatically growls like a purr. "He is a bit dumb though but he makes up for it with his love and enthusiasm."

Cyrus nods. "I see I shall have to try that." He smiles softly watching Guzma play around with Kai. "That pokemon, you've been to Galar."

Hero nods. "I found her as a snom impaled by a stick took her to the pokemon center to get help she is a brat and a fighter but I don't regret saving her.... but seriously she will pick a fight with everything I'm surprised Guzma hasn't uh yielded from all the snow she is spitting at him."

Cyrus smiles softly. "He is quite stubborn when it comes to bugs."

"I can tell." Hero smiles returning Bing to his ball.

Guzma giggling "hey why don't you come to Nanu's with us " a thinly excuse to be nice to spend more time with the bug.

Hero chuckles. "Sure uh just be careful she can and will bite you."

@idonthaveacleverquip for the contest also CT inspired

Aka cave troll inspired

[liberty-barnes]

Tom being in love with your baby niece

Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Prompt: You meet Tom at a hospital and he’s immediately infatuated with the little girl in your lap (inspired by this video I found on tiktok)

Warnings: F L U F F, Tom being amazing with kids, mentions of alcoholic/drug addict mother, mentions of child abandonment, but overall fluff and feel good story

Word Count: 2379 words (this was supposed to be short but oh well)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: me, sweating profusely: calm down, just finish writing this, you are stronger than your baby fever, you are too young to have a child CALM TF DOWN

Masterlist

So, funny story, you met at the hospital

Tom had dislocated his shoulder while doing a backflip *dejected sigh*

And you were just trying to keep your baby niece calm while waiting for the nurse to come get you

You were sitting on the bed, Tom was right next to you, only a curtain separating you

But there was a tiny crack near the end from where it was pulled too far

And when you pressed Olivia closer to your chest, her head resting on your shoulder, she made eye contact with him

He saw her tear-filled eyes

(broke his heart)

So he started to make funny faces at her

Which made her start to giggle and coo and make grabby hands towards him

You turned around, visibly confused because hellooo she was just crying a second ago and now she’s???laughing???

And then you saw him

oh shit he’s hot

He smiled at you

You smiled back, cause what else are you supposed to do?

He got up and pushed the curtains back 

And sat on the chair instead

Still on his side of the curtain

But looking at you straight in the eye now

“So... what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a nasty place like this?”

Poor boy thought he was smooth

But he rested his weight on his injured arm

(that idiot) 

And it lead to him hissing in pain and cradling his shoulder with a pout while you laughed

“Fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle. You?”

“Dislocated my shoulder while doing a backflip.”

Meanwhile Liv was now resting on your lap

Looking at him with a smile on her face

And clapping while he smiled at made funny faces at her again

But then he noticed you were watching

And he was kinda making a fool of himself in front of you

(cue the blushing)

(so cute)

So you decided to help him out a little

"Thanks for putting her in a good mood again."

"No problem... is she yours?"

He didn't want to seem rude so he kept the judgment out of his voice, but you seemed a bit young to have a kid already.

"Nah, she's my niece"

"Oh, okay... Why'd you bring her to the hospital with you? It must be hard having to take care of a kid and get your ankle checked."

You looked a bit sad for a while.

"My sister left her with me as soon as I turned eighteen. My parents were never in the picture so it's been me and her for almost a year now."

"I'm sorry..."

"'S okay. Besides, at least I'm not alone all the time you now? I mean, it's hard to take care of a 13 month-old, but at least I know she won't grow up like I did... afraid... wondering if her mom was gonna come home drunk or half-dressed with another guy on her tail, wishing her sister would let her sleep on the bed instead of locking herself up with her boyfriend there."

He watched you smile as you looked down at the little girl in your arms that seemed to be a perfect reflection of you.

That was the moment he fell in love with you

Dark circles under your eyes and all

He got your number (yay!!) and had to work (read: pester you) for two weeks before you agreed to go out on a date with him.

Liv stayed with Harrison (after you checked that he was a good babysitter)

He took you to a nice little restaurant near the beach

They served giant burgers

Which you liked at lot

Conversation was easy 

He asked you what you were currently doing

"I'm working as a waitress in a little diner downtown."

He also found out you were doing online college to get your creative writing degree.

You told him about your family life. 

How your dad died in a car accident when you were three. 

How your mom was an alcoholic junkie and OD'd when you were fifteen.

How your nineteen-year-old sister had to take care of you for there on out. 

How she left soon after you graduated high school and left you with a three-month-old baby to take care of.

In turn, he told you all about his life

How he became an actor and got his big break as Spider-Man

He told you about his family and how much he misses them

How thankful he is to have Haz with him

You excused yourself to the bathroom just before dessert

And that bastard took advantage of that tiny window to pay the bill

You scolded him for that obviously

And tried to pay him back

He laughed and said no

Then he bought you a giant cotton candy

"Tom, seriously I can pay for my own stuff."

"I know but I like spoiling you."

You finished the cotton candy together while strolling down the beach

Then once it was done he threw out the cone and took your hand

The sun was just setting so it was like a picture-perfect moment

So he took advantage of that and kissed you

(so cliche)

You tasted like strawberry from your chapstick

The cotton candy you just had

You tasted like sweetness

And comfort

And home

You started dating officially not long after that

And that's when it all really started

You knew he was good with kids

That first day at the hospital told you as much

But you didn't expect him to be this good

Olivia was very much in love with him

They were practically glued at the hip

She constantly wanted hugs from him

He took her to the park and threw her up in the air while she squealed in delight

He picked her up and carried her while you were making dinner so she didn't feel left out

She sat on his back while he did push-ups

He'd kiss her nose every time he did a sit-up

They would have kissing contests

He kissed her cheek

She kissed his back 

Then he kissed hers again

And so on

Her first word was Tommy

You'd never seen him so happy

You, on the other hand, were not

"I raised you on my own ever since you were three months old and this is the thanks I get?"

They'd often fall asleep together on the couch

Your camera roll was full of photos of them sleeping

Her favorite thing to do was grab him by the sides of his head and kiss his curls

(a d o r a b l e)

He helped you plan the perfect birthday party for her

"Only the best for my best girl"

"I thought I was your best girl"

"Only the best for either of my best girls but in this case the youngest one"

She loved it

You're pretty sure he loved it more

But who can say for sure?

On your six month anniversary, he told you he loved you and that he had no plans on ever leaving you two.

He forced you to quit your job at the diner

"You're overworking yourself. I have more than enough money to take care of all of us and that way you'll be able to focus on your studies and travel with me since you do online college. Everybody wins."

So you went wherever he went

Including filming for Infinity War/Endgame

He took you to set one day

Everybody loved you

But as always, Olivia stole the show

They passed her around like a little doll

She loved the attention

It was quite funny seeing such a tiny baby being held by the mountain of a man that is Chris Hemsworth

She only referred to Chris Evans as 'Cap'

And Robert would forever be 'Tony'

But they didn't mind one single bit

"She just looks so cute when she says it, I can't be mad at her."

You met his family when the filming ended and he went back to London

Dom was ecstatic to finally have a little girl to take care of

"At least she laughs at my jokes, not like those idiots"

"You can leave her with us whenever you want"

Nikki was very happy to have one more girl in her corner

"I swear, if I hear one more second of golf talk, I'll go nuts"

Harry loved taking pictures of Liv

"She's just so photogenic, it's so easy"

You learned a lot of recipes from Sam

"Finally someone that won't wreck my kitchen and taint my food's good name"

Paddy liked playing with Liv and Tessa in the backyard

"It's nice to take care of someone for a change, I'm always the one being babied"

You made your relationship public while you were in London, a year and a half after you started dating

The public loved you

Because he just couldn't help but brag

And Tom with kids is the content the fans live for

tomhotland: omgggg they're so cuteee

spideysbae: the heart eyes thoooo

peterpprotectionsquad: i hereby declare that Olivia is the cutest baby to have ever existed and she must be protected at all costs

He took you to the Far From Home premiere

Your dress matched his suit

The fans went crazy

Olivia was living her best life in her little red and black dress

She'd gotten used to the flashes after Harry's numerous photoshoots

So she was just smiling and clapping a lot

The paparazzi loved her

The interviewers kept asking about you two

"(Y/N)'s the love of my life and Olivia's the sweetest baby I've ever known, I couldn't love her more if she was my own"

"So, do I hear wedding bells ringing?"

"Well, you never know"

That caught your attention for a second but you let it go in favor of posing with Liv after the paps all but begged you to

"Livvy say bye-bye"

She sent a kiss a said bye-bye in all her baby glory

They awed so much

His Instagram was filled with pictures of the three of you

Zendaya took a bunch of selfies with her as well

"Our dresses match, I have no choice"

She kept pretty quiet during the movie

But hugged Tom especially hard when she saw him cry on the big screen

The next morning, you were all over the headlines

"The sweetest little family in Hollywood"

On your third anniversary, he took you on a week-long trip to Bora Bora

Liv stayed with his parents

He took you on a walk to the beach

(déjà vu much?)

And proposed

Clumsily, but he proposed

How can a proposal be clumsy, you ask?

Well, he kneeled on a rock at first

"Ow! Fuck my knee, hold on a second"

Then he kept stuttering because he was so nervous

And in the end (after you said yes and he checked about five times cause "Wait seriously?") he started freaking out cause the ring didn't fit

But she wears the ring I used as a reference all the time!

"Um, Tom?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"The ring's supposed to go on my other hand..."

Ah, that explains it

The wedding was simple but beautiful

Livvy was the flower girl cause she wanted to throw petals in the air

Tessa brought the rings

His heart almost stopped when he saw you walk down the aisle

He was convinced you'd never looked more beautiful than that day at the premiere when your clothes matched 

But right now, looking at your smile and how gorgeous you looked in that dress, he realized he was wrong

He sniffled, trying to hold his tears, but Haz just handed him a tissue

"I came prepared"

You two adopted Liv

She was your daughter anyway, you just made it official

She started calling you 'mommy' and 'daddy'

"She called me 'daddy'."

Oh, the tears

To Tom's great delight, she started picking up a British accent, as she grew

It didn't help that she stayed at Nikki and Dom's all the time when you started teaching at a university in London

So they dialed they're British-ness up to eleven so she'd pick up on the accent

"Mummy, what's for pudding?"

Good Lord

After two years of trying, you found out Tom was unable to have kids

He cried a lot, and felt like he failed

You shut him up with a kiss and immediately mentioned adoption

"There are hundreds of children begging for a home and parents to love them."

You adopted an eight-year-old boy named Lucas and his five-year-old sister Cleo

Olivia loved having another girl her age

They had tea parties

And played dress-up

And forced Lucas to play the prince

You taught them to bake so they could have cookies for their tea party

And Tom found himself often ambushed in one of their games

"No, daddy, you gotta pretend that the big bad dragon took you so we can save you."

They rolled around on the floor and made 'pew pew' noises to imitate guns

Lucas was always quieter

He was your little angel

You two were very close

He shared your love for writing and literature

As well as cooking, to Uncle Sam's greatest delight

You often sat down on the couch, the five of you (and Tessa, obviously) and someone read a book out loud, while the others just laid back and listened

Cleo became very interested in Uncle Harry's camera and took a bunch of photos of her sister and her dad with the polaroid camera she got for her seventh birthday

Olivia still loved the attention and remained the bright and photogenic child she'd always been

She became a model, to no one's surprise

Cleo became a freelance photographer, which allowed her to fulfill her dream of traveling the world while taking pictures and earning good money

Lucas became one of Hollywood's best and brightest screenwriters

But everyone still made time for each other

Attending every single one of Liv's fashion shows

Every time Cleo showcased her pictures in a gallery, they were the first ones there

All of Lucas' films

Going to all of Tom's premieres and wearing matching clothes, per Liv and Cleo's request

"It's for the aesthetic"

Everyone was happy

And life was good

i’m pretty happy now, ngl

i need a Tom in my life

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Sunset Swerve - Part 8

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: some light swearing

A/N: For some reason I really want to say ‘We’re in the endgame now” about this chapter but its not true? We’re in like the mid-game lol. Anyway, shoutout to @meangirlsx who unknowingly inspired some of the dialog between Luke and Jordan in this chapter with her tags on a previous chapter. Send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist and, as always, let me know what you think!

Part 7  Masterlist

___

When they arrived back in the studio, they had not expected it to be filled with music.

Julie grinned at them from behind her keyboard and everyone else stopped playing at their arrival.

“Grab your guitars, we’ve got work to do.” Even without saying it, it was obvious that the girl had forgiven Luke and Jordan wondered what Alex and Reggie had said to her.

Jordan did as she said, heading to her stand and slinging the strap of her electric across her body while Luke headed straight toward Julie.

“What made you come back?” He asked the question Jordan had been wondering herself.

“I realized how much music meant to all of us, and we’ve lost so much already.” The way Julie said it made it seem like she knew more than Jordan would’ve expected and she wondered again what the boys had told her. “We can’t lose this too.”

“Thanks,” Luke nodded thoughtfully, slipping the strap of his guitar across his body. “Alright boss, where we at?”

Julie smiled, settling into her place at the keyboard before leaning forward again. “Oh, and by the way, happy birthday.”

The genuine smile that drew from Luke sent a pang through her chest and she frowned, wondering if it was another one of those jolts. However, as she looked around she noticed none of the boys felt it. Oh hell, she cursed herself silently. She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly missed Julie’s instructions to start at the pre-chorus.

Jordan was grateful for the distraction of the music, all her focus going into singing and playing, no room for stupid thoughts about stupid boys. Practice ended too quickly for Jordan’s taste but she knew realistically that Julie needed time to get ready and travel to the venue while they could just poof around. She just needed Luke to do something stupid so that she could remember why she hated him because her stupid smooth brain (Julie taught her that) had forgotten it.

Instead, he turned and directed his dopey smile at her and she swore she nearly swooned.

“We are gonna rock those managers’ faces off!” He exclaimed as they put their instruments away.

Jordan grinned back at him, silently blaming it on the rush of playing well and having a performance soon. She was always more agreeable around music. Out of the corner of her eye though she thought she saw Reggie and Alex share a knowing look and she glared at them suspiciously.

“Yeah man, it’s gonna be awesome,” Alex responded to Luke and the rest of the ghosts nodded in agreement as they shuffled around the studio getting ready for the performance.

Jordan decided to keep the outfit she’d been wearing all day, fishnets and her old black Madonna t-shirt under a pair of overall shorts and her Docs. With her outfit and hair already taken care of thanks to Past Jordan, she was just left to slap on some makeup, thankful that she hadn’t done it before she’d spent the afternoon crying. Luke sat down on the couch next to her, watching curiously as she worked.

“Do you mind?” She asked, looking away from the small mirror Julie had lent her to stare blankly at the boy.

“Nope!” He responded cheekily and she groaned, turning back to her mirror and her eyeliner.

She’d finally managed to get the wings down again, making only one mistake this time, so the process went by fairly quickly.

“Do you need me to do yours?” She deadpanned, turning to stare at Luke who was still watching her.

“Nah,” he breathed, smiling cheekily at her as he flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m naturally gorgeous, I don’t need makeup.”

Jordan gasped.

“Asshole!” She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder but laughing anyway. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday or it would be on sight for that.”

“‘On sight’?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“Some twenty-first-century lingo Julie taught me,” Jordan explained superiorly. “Basically means I’d fight you as soon as I saw you.”

Luke nodded lightly, eyes going wide at the threat but slowly a mischievous look began to take over his face.

“Hey Alex, Reg, who would win in a fight? Me or Jordan?” Luke called out and Jordan rolled her eyes, putting away her makeup stash.

“Jordan,” they both answered at the same time and Jordan laughed, giving them both high fives as she returned her makeup to her designated cubby in the back of the studio (they’d had to create an official organization system because the boys tended to just take anything they found and claim it as their own).

Luke pouted, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed like a petulant child as he glared at his bandmates.

“Sorry, man,” Alex shrugged, “Have you seen her boots? She’d absolutely curb stomp you without a second thought.”

Reggie nodded and Luke huffed, standing up from the couch and making his way to the door.

“You guys are mean,” he whined. “I’m gonna tell Julie.”

He’d meant it to be a threat but the other three ghosts weren’t fulling listening, only hearing Julie’s name.

“Oooh, I wanna see Julie!” Reggie exclaimed and Alex and Jordan responded with a chorus of ‘Me too!’s and ’Same!’s as they began clamoring around the furniture in the studio in a race to the door.

Luke rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he followed after them.

When they arrived at Julie’s door, Reggie held his arms out dramatically, effectively halting the movement of the three ghosts behind him. Once he felt sure they weren’t just going to barge in he stuck his arm through the door, knocking three times while the other ghosts rolled their eyes or laughed.

“What are you guys doing?” They heard Julie ask through the door and Reggie stuck his whole torso through.

“We’re being classy,” Jordan snorted at that and Luke huffed, pulling Reggie back through by his belt loops.

With Reggie out of the way, Luke stepped through the door but at the sight of the girl sitting on her bed, all thoughts of tattling left his mind.

“What’re you doing? We go on in twenty minutes,” he asked as the rest of the ghosts stepped through.

Julie was sitting on the bed doodling on her mic, still in her clothes from earlier.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“I lied to my dad,” Julie explained forlornly, “So now I’m stuck in my room all night.”

“Yeah but like, the venue is packed with VIPs and managers,” Alex protested and Joran hit his arm.

“She’s grounded, the presence of VIPs and managers isn’t going to change that,” she huffed and Julie gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“What’re we gonna do about my aunt? She’s right downstairs.”

“Your aunt,” Luke repeated, chuckling as he crossed the room, throwing open her bedroom window. “You’re not taking the stairs.”

Jordan opened her mouth to defend the girl, never having been as big a fan of going around her parents’ backs as the guys had been, but before she could say anything Julie grinned at the group of ghosts.

“Okay. Let me get dressed, I’ll meet you guys there,” she said and the guys all grinned while Jordan looked at her nervously.

“Are you sure, Julie?” She asked warily and Luke whacked her arm with the back of his hand.

“Moss, don’t change her mind!” He hissed and Julie laughed.

“Thanks for the concern Jo,” she said, giving the girl a kind smile and Jordan felt her heart warm at the new nickname. “But it’s fine. We have managers to impress.”

She nodded and the ghosts prepared to poof out to the venue when Jordan stopped them again.

“Wait!”

“What now, Moss?” Luke groaned.

“I wanna grab my flannel.”

“Why?”

“It’s chilly.”

“You’re a ghost you can’t-“

“Shut up.” She said, ending their back and forth by poofing into the studio and grabbing one of her flannels from her cubby.

When she poofed back to Julie’s room the boys were gone and Julie was sifting through the trunk in her room.

“The guys went ahead to the venue,” Julie explained and Jordan nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then,” Jordan nodded. “By the way, that vest is super cool.”

Julie smiled in thanks before Jordan poofed away to meet the guys at the venue.

___

The announcer had just called Dirty Candy to the stage when Julie arrived.

“Am I too late?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

“Too early,” Flynn huffed, gesturing up to where Carrie was taking the stage.

Jordan couldn’t figure out how she felt about Dirty Candy. On one hand, Carrie was the spawn of a fraud who she’d always hated and Carrie was mean to Julie and Flynn but on the other hand, the group was really talented and she loved their sound. She supposed it was like her feelings towards Sunset Curve, she loved the music but hated the musicians.

“Wait, did she just make a big show of putting on sunglasses just to throw them away in the first verse?” Jordan laughed, furrowing her brow in confusion at the choreography.

“Shhhh,” Alex hushed her, staring enthralled at the performance.

Before they knew what was happening he was on the stage, dancing with the group.

Jordan whooped excitedly, cheering him on while the rest of the group exchanged looks of surprise.

“You having fun out there?” Julie questioned when Alex poofed back to the group.

“It’s not my fault. It’s my, um… it’s my feet.” Alex gulped.

“Yeah,” Julie said, clearly not believing.

“Put me back in coach,” Alex breathed, poofing back to the stage.

“Why have we been keeping him behind the drums?” Jordan joked as they watched him dance out the rest of the song. “He’s got moves.”

Reggie nodded enthusiastically in agreement, their eyes never leaving the stage.

“I was just doing that for you guys,” Alex said when he returned and everyone expressed varying forms of disbelief.

“Mhmm,” Julie hummed while Luke and Jordan rolled their eyes.

“Yeah, you can’t stop smiling now,” Reggie smirked knowingly and Alex blushed.

“That was, actually kinda good,” Julie admitted, looking as though she’d rather cut her tongue off than admit it. Jordan knew what that was like.

“Yeah, I forgot why I hate her so much,” Flynn agreed.

“Hi girls,” Carrie said in her overly-perky voice as she made her way over with her entourage in tow. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Now I remember,” Flynn pursed her lips, glaring at Carrie and Jordan snorted.

“If you’re looking for nick, he didn’t come,” Carrie addressed Julie coldly.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Julie scoffed, squaring up to the pink-haired girl.

“Okay, we have one more act tonight,” The announcer called, reading off the list on stage. “Julie and the Fat Ones?”

Dirty Candy snickered while the rest of them turned to glare at Luke.

“Yeah man, my handwriting sucks,” he admitted and Julie shook her head, making her way onto the stage while Carrie and her group stomped off.

“Hey. It’s actually Julie and the Phantoms,” Julie greeted the audience, quickly realizing they didn’t seem to care. “Okay.”

Jordan rocked back and forth on her heels excitedly as Julie placed her hands on the keyboard, beginning the song.

“Hearts on fire. We’re no liars, so we say what we wanna say,” she sang, the apathetic audience starting to pay attention. “I’m awakened, no more faking. So we push all our fears away.”

“Don’t know if I’ll make it cause I’m falling under. Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder.”

Jordan took a deep breath, steadying herself as their time to join in approached. She reached out, grabbing Alex and Reggie’s hands on either side of her repeating the small ritual Apollo 81 had always done before going on stage.

“I wanna fly, come alive, watch me shine,” As Julie sang the refrain Jordan squeezed the boys’ hands comfortingly, letting go just in time for them to poof onstage.

“I got a spark in me. Hands up if you can see and you’re apart of me. Hands up if you’re with me,” Luke joined Julie for the chorus as she made her way out from the piano to center stage. Jordan immediately made her way over to Reggie, the two ghosts rocking out together in front of Alex’s drum set. The mood in the venue had become electric, everyone’s interests piqued by their sudden appearance. “Now till eternity. Hands up if you believe. Been so long and now we’re finally free.”

Luke joined her and Reggie on Alex’s platform, giving Julie the stage as she sang the second verse. As arranged, Jordan hopped down, joining Julie for the pre-chorus.

“We know we can make it, we’re not falling down under,” they sang together, Jordan taking the lower harmonies. They’d bonded a lot after the dance, they could see it in each other’s smiles. It felt good to be performing together. “Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder.”

“I wanna fly, come alive,” Jordan started the refrain with her before backing off to give her the final line. Rejoining Luke and Reggie in the back. “Watch me shine.”

The three guitarists jumped down from the platform as the chorus hit, Luke immediately taking up the mic next to Julie as he joined her in the chorus again, Reggie and Jordan singing the background vocals on either side of them and Alex in the back. At one point in the chorus, Reggie made his way over to Jordan’s mic, the two singing together briefly before he bounced over to Luke, finally returning to his own mic as they hit the bridge.

Luke and Julie took up center stage as they shared a mic, singing through the call and response bridge. The two had obvious chemistry and as Jordan watched she felt a pit forming in her stomach. She passed it off as just nerves, she was about to pick up the chorus after all, and exchanged smiles with Alex and Reggie, the two boys calming her down.

The crowd roared as they hit the chorus for the final time, Reggie and Jordan leaning into their mics as they joined the chorus.

“I got a spark in me. Hands up if you can see, and you’re a part of me. Hands up if you’re with me…” They sang through the chorus, Jordan taking up Julie’s part so that she could riff off the vocals. They’d decided the final run-through of the chorus was the perfect place to really show off Julie’s pipes.

As the song wound down, the three guitarists backed off again, leaving Julie to sing the last “Finally free” on her own.

The crowd erupted into cheers when the song ended. Jordan sung her guitar to the side as they all took a bow, the four ghosts disappearing. They reappeared at the back of the venue, sitting on the countertop of the bar and giving Julie huge thumbs-ups as she finished out their performance.

“Thank you. We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” she said into the mic, soaking up the applause before adding with a wink to her ghost band, “Tell your friends.”

The four phantoms nearly lost their minds at that, all of them whacking each other’s limbs as they yelled excitedly. They were only starting to calm down when Julie bounded over to where they were sitting behind Flynn, giving her best friend a hug before grinning at the ghosts.

“You were incredible!” Flynn gushed to her friend.

“Yeah, we were!” Reggie exclaimed and Julie rolled her eyes slightly with a grin.

Just when Jordan thought the night couldn’t get any better, a woman in a power suit started making her way over to them, gracefully dodging Dirty Candy on her way.

“She looks all business,” Alex whispered and Jordan nodded.

“Wait! Who should do the talking?” Reggie panicked before looking around at the group, all of them giving him looks that said ‘really?’ “Oh, right, Julie.” He nodded.

“You’ve got this,” Luke whispered as the woman approached, sticking out her hand in introduction.

“Hi I’m Andi Parker and I would love to-“ she began but was cut off.

“Julie,” Ray called sternly from behind and everyone’s eyes widened.

“It’s time to go.” He said and Julie gulped, dropping Andi’s hand.

Oh shit.

Part 9

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx

Sunset Swerve Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx @brooke0297 

[sodalitefully]

Hi!! For the soulmate au event, can I request a sluff story where soulmates occasionally experience the other persons senses until they meet each other? For example, one soulmate likes to eat spicy food, and the other will experience that sensation when they do? Or one person plays guitar and the other can hear it? I hope that makes sense! 💕

(Thanks for the request! This was in part inspired by some things Duff said in this interview (~30 minutes in) about Slash and his first impressions of Slash’s playing.)

Ever since he got his first flash of his soulmate’s life at 16, Duff has been doing his best to piece the sensations together into a person.

He treasured even the smallest details: the bite of sour candy, the smell of incense, the unmistakable burn of pot in the back of his throat...  All of them were insights to his soulmate's personality, hints that might come in handy when they finally met.

But the most important of all were the sounds.  Duff's soulmate had a record collection full of old-school rock n roll, they went to a ton of concerts, and best of all, they were a guitarist.

And they didn't just play, they were good.  At first Duff thought he was hearing a recording, but no, his soulmate would practice riffs for what seemed like hours every day until Duff was sure he knew his soulmate’s style like the back of his hand.

It was fast, melodic, bluesy and soulful, – the very essence of rock n roll, but the more Duff played with bands in his hometown, the more he realized that his soulmate’s sound was unique.  No one he knew played like that, definitely not the punks and probably not anyone else his age either.  Could his soulmate be older than him?  What kind of music scene did they come from?  Were they a professional, did they play in a band?

These were the questions on Duff’s mind as he set out to finally find his soulmate.  The warm sunshine that bathed his shoulders on cold, drizzly Seattle days told Duff that his soulmate would not be found in the Northwest, so he followed his gut and moved south to Los Angeles, the sunshine and music capitol of the world.

He played around a little, with whoever was willing to jam, but he knew that L.A. punks were not going to lead him to his soulmate.  How the hell was he supposed to find one guy in a city of 10 million people?  He loitered around guitar stores, snuck into shows on the Strip, and scoured the local music magazines, but all to no avail.  

Calling a number he found in the Recycler was a career move, because Duff was also here to make it big after all.  The goal was to play with his soulmate, of course, but what if they were already in a band?  Or they weren't interested in performing?  What if it took him years to find them?  There were too many uncertainties for Duff to put his ambitions on hold. 

So he met up with a couple potential bandmates: Steven, a friendly and boisterous blond drummer, and Slash, the more reserved lead guitarist.  After a couple hours getting to know each other at the diner, Slash took Duff back to his place to jam, and that's when it happened.

Duff didn't even need to hear a full minute of Slash's playing to make the connection.  The emotion, the timelessness, the complexity... That was his soulmate’s sound, coming from an unexperienced kid on a beat-up unplugged guitar in his mom’s basement.  Not exactly the veteran guitar hero Duff had imagined, but fuck that – Slash was talented as hell and and he was Duff’s soulmate, he was perfect.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 39- Periapts

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

How many hermits does it take to find protection amulets? And not bring home even more junk like a target run? And what do they do when the Guild of Gedeon discovers them?

_________________________________________

“Grian, those shoes are worthless for you- you already have wings!” Iskall waves his arms, exasperated by his shopping buddies. In the midst of the Redland bazaar, the hermits have separated out to find supplies they both need and could use. Iskall tones himself down as two Gedeons walk by, the entire area going quiet and watching as the council guildmembers march on. What are they doing in Redland?

“Yeah, but you don’t. You guys could use it though!” Grian buys the sandals without second thought, and without haggling for the price. Mumbo groans. They have yet to even purchase a protection or repelling item- or any amulet. He’s not sure if Grian understands saving money, and can only look away, across the busy, bustling bazaar to see who else is having better luck. 

Hypno can’t help but play with the dowsing rods in his hands, only for xB to grab one rod before the two pieces can cross paths. “Those aren’t a toy, give me those things. Do you want to summon a storm?”

“It could be useful! A big storm to battle off a husk storm!”  Hypno grins, before patting his hands against his friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright, man, we can grab some talismans right after this. But this is too cool to pass up!” 

Together, with xB’s innate kipling knowledge of enchantments, they pick out a few talismans. Wards against harm and unfortunate thoughts. Removing the law of attraction, or at least easing it. Two of the talismans were mass produced, before xB advised Hypno that unique amulets were likely stronger, picking through boxes and glass cases full of strange, vibrant pieces. 

But it doesn’t take long for xB to get distracted on his own. Reeling back when he sees it. “Whoa, I didn’t know these still existed! I thought the last of the moodium ores have died out!”

“But xB, we’re supposed to be looking for amulets.” Hypno mimics xB, but he’s grinning. “What even is it?” 

“It’s a mood ring!” xB’s voice rises and falls to make it sound mysterious. 

Hypno isn’t much impressed. “You mean the trinkets you get from the candy store as a kid?” 

“No! Those were inspired by real mood rings. Watch this.”  xB slips the ring on, and covers the pink, round cut gem and closes his eyes. Hypno snickers, watching for the stone to change color just because of xB’s body heat. His snicker fades, lip quivering as he feels globs of hot tears fall from his eyes. What the hell, why is he crying? Why does he feel so sad? 

“You…” xB’s grin and a wiggle of his bejeweled finger is all he needs to see to know what’s happened. “Asshole! You changed my emotions!” 

“No, I didn’t. You were already sad about something, I just amplified that. I also can smell that you didn’t brush your teeth this morning.” xB covers his nose, pulling off the ring before taking a deep, relieving breath. 

Hypno isn’t sure what he’s sad about, but it was obviously there. He wipes away the tears, large droplets and streams down his cheeks. Ruining his cool guy attitude, just crying in some random shop in the middle of a bazaar. He looks around for something to raise his epic points, but becomes distracted when he sees three Gedeons roughing up a shopkeep, demanding some kind of council tax he never heard of. In fact, all of the bazaar is quieter than other times he’s been to Redland. As if a nightmare patrols with Sidero’s henchmen. Perhaps that’s what saddens him. Even here, the Council’s influence is felt. 

Further down, nestled in an arcade offshoot, Ren, Jevin, and Cleo are in the middle of an intense battle. Not with swords or magic, but words. 

“300 rupees.” Cleo declares, holding up the protection talisman. The sigilized stone dangles in the air, twisting and casting it’s armoring gaze out on the bazaar.

“800, little lady.” The portly merchant reaches out, threading his fingers around the cord and starts to pull it back.

“350, and you get to keep your fingers for calling me a lady.” Cleo lays her other hand on the hilt of her sword, smiling a demure grin, her sickly green skin stretching for him to see. 

“Fine.” The merchant untangles himself from the fight and the amulet, grumbling under his breath as he takes the money from Jevin’s outstretched hand. “I dunno why people are suddenly buyin’ up all the protection amulets. There some kinda guild war about to break out?” 

“Not exactly.” Ren snickers, before trodding out of the tent and back into the sunlight. If he were on Eremita, he’d stretch out and sunbathe, sunglasses perched just so that he can see the clouds make their own creations in the sky. His daydream is ruined, however, when he feels a rap against his rear, tail tucking between his legs. 

“Hey boy, wanna get the stick?” Jevin teases, waving a snarled old staff for Ren. 

The mixed-up mage isn’t amused- though, the werewolf in him does make his heart beat in excitement to chase a stick. “My dude, I’m not even a real werewolf. I just know I rock a tail and ears.” 

Cleo shakes her head. “This is ridiculous. Who would waste 2000 rupees on some stick? These merchants are out of their mind. Now I see why Scar left his home.” 

“That’s not just ‘some stick’ li-” The merchant stops when a flash of metal glints against the sun, backing up until Cleo sheathes her sword again. “I- it’s a shift stick. It’s a one time use, takes the holder back in time a minute. A do over, a chance to fix a mistake. Perhaps even more useful than any stone necklace. One of a kind, and for such… unique customers like you, I’ll lower the price to 1500 rupees.” 

Jevin pulls out 5 gold rupees, before Ren and Cleo can say anything, and clutches the stick. “Totally worth it.” 

“How do we even know if it works?” Ren isn’t sure if it does exactly what it claims to do. They may have bought the most expensive branch in the world, but Jevin refuses to let it go. 

“We can ask Xisuma. He can check or something, he’s a smart guy.” Jevin shrugs. They have enough money, especially with how well Cleo’s haggling has gone. They could buy three shift sticks with the money they’ve been given, and still have enough to buy even more talismans. 

The three wander along the bazaar, meeting with other hermits on their way. BDubs and Keralis show off an entire chest of shielding stones, while Scar is laden with more golden amulets than anyone. When Cleo presses him on how he managed to find so many unique and powerful charms, he only smiles. “I know a thing or two about the trade business.” 

“Those are the dragon spirits on them.” Cub points out the twisting, dancing dragon. Without wings and the white pearl accents, it’s easy to identify which of the spirits is depicted. Ashtios, the Northern Wind Dragon. Another depicts winged dragons, finned dragons, sheared dragons. Fire, water, and earth. The spirits and sages that aided the gods to create the earth, and who provide median between the two realms. Nothing is more protective than a dragon, and they can feel the strength in the spell of each amulet. 

Down the bazaar, the hermits jump at the sound of metal clashing and magic being cast. Followed by yelling, Keralis and Doc are chased from a shop. The shopkeep waves her broom at the two. “What kind of freak eats a bug in the middle of my store! Get back here you cretins!” 

Doc’s gruff snicker is only matched by Keralis’s whimper. “But it was gonna help us. It was just a noisy locust.” 

The two escape from the bazaar, disappearing into the crowds of Redland. BDubs points in the direction his friends just escaped, blinking away confusion. “Should we be concerned about them?” 

“Keralis is with Doc, he’ll be fine.” Xisuma waves. “Besides, their grown men.” 

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones who got distracted by other goods.” Cleo nods her head at the books in X’s arms. 

Xisuma looks offended by the statement, and stutters over his breath to explain himself. ‘The-these are ancient works! They could have important information about dark magic!” He looks at the stick Jevin’s holding. “What kinda crap are we bringing home now?” 

“We have flying shoes.” Iskall holds them aloft, Grian preening the white feathers flat against the golden laces. 

“Dowsing rods and a mood ring.” xB keeps the metal rods far away from Hypno, who seems all too keen on starting up a hurricane in the city.

“And what we hope is a stick that can turn back time.” Jevin holds it up. “Otherwise I’m going to use this stick to beat that merchant for lying.” 

Lucky for Jevin and the merchant, Xisuma can feel the magic in the whorls of the wood. “I’ll say, these are all pretty impressive. Useless for our cause but… temporal magic is difficult. Were all our rupees wasted on things we didn’t intend to buy?” 

“Not the Convex!” Cub grins, hefting the smaller of the duo over his head, blue embers gleaming from their eyes. “We have enough protection amulets to destroy whatever Dolios got!” 

Xisuma opens his mouth to answer, but another voice cuts through the air, his own faltering and fading against his mask. “Now what reason could you have to go against Magistrate Dolios?” All of the hermits turn, seeing a squadron of members from the Guild of Gedeon, red tassels that mimic the Council’s golden ones fluttering in the wind. Behind them, the broom wielding merchant sticking her tongue out at the hermits. “Wait a minute- I think I’ve seen these scum before.” The center mage points at Mumbo. “You beat me in the duel!” 

Xisuma meets his gaze with TFC, both with their eyes wide. Behind him, Iskall rolls up his sleeves and snaps his gloves tight, ready for a fight. Mumbo’s fraught voice whispers out from beneath his mustache. “No one bought any smoke bombs, did they? Anyone?”

The guildmembers hear his words, and three magic circles rise. Mumbo shrieks and hides behind Grian. “Why did we have to send our two best fighters to Alphasgard?” 

Wind blusters against the hermits, tearing flags against their poles and sending the bazaar into chaos. Grian’s wings open, flight feathers brushing against the stone walls on both sides of the bazaar. He beats his wings down, and a gale force wind sends the bucket-headed goons of the Council knocking into one another, rolling down and into the mudcaked gutter. “Alright, I think the shopping spree is over guys. Time to bounce!” 

One second, the head mage is on his feet, the next he’s collapsed on the floor, snoring. Hypno’s wild purple magic circle twists in his hand, eyes blank and full of sleep while he searches his own mind. Digging through his dreams. The other two wizards slip their way out from the gutter, sharp spines of one’s spell driving forward like horns of a bull. But a dense fog appears in the midday sun. 

It’s also bright blue. Beef turns, taking the sudden cover as his chance to escape. All of the hermits follow suit, though Joe remains a few paces behind to follow Hypno. “Blue fog that smells faintly of cotton candy...I would love to study your psyche and dreams one day, my dear friend Hypno.”

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter One

Notes: This story is for a Halloween challenge put on by @sdavid09​

The challenge was to create a story inspired by a horror movie, and a song and I chose the movie “Halloween” which, at its heart, is a story about a woman having a psycho stalker, and the song “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. The month got away from me so I’m still writing it. It’ll probably be about four or five chapters or thereabouts so not super long. You can follow along on here, or on AO3 where I’ll be posting! :D

Rating: T Warnings: Intense Horror Elements (honestly not sure how to explain it other than that. It’s nothing that I graphically detail or anything, but it does get pretty intense at times so I wanted to put a warning for that) If you have read my writing then you probably have a pretty good idea of how far I’ll go, and also that I always provide a guaranteed happy ending. SO, you can rest assured that, no matter how scary or intense it gets, it’s going to be all right in the end for the protagonist. Anyhoo, just be aware, this is for a Halloween Challenge, and is meant to be scary and IS scary. If you are not a person who can handle horror (and that’s perfectly fine, I’m actually not a person who can handle horror so I literally just scared myself writing a story :P) then this may not be the story for you. Fortunately, I have PLENTY of other stories you can read on my AO3 account with no horror elements at all so I will shamelessly plug them and invite you to check them out! :D

Summary: Bilba Baggins is on the run from a stalker who’s supposed to be dead. He hunts her from city to city in an exhausting cat and mouse chase whose ending can only ever be tragic.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought before she moved to Erebor.

PROLOGUE

“There, now was that so bad?”

Bilba gave Priscilla a look that suggested her best friend had taken leave of her senses, and gestured outside the car’s window. “You’re joking, right?”

As if summoned, a large group of children rushed across the street, breaking around the car like waves around a rock as they rushed from house to house in search of candy. 

Priscilla laughed and shut the car off. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt it,” Bilba muttered. She’d only had her license a few months, and was still getting comfortable driving at night. She’d driven them both to the movies, when the sun was still nice and up, but had refused to drive anywhere in the midst of thousands of children running about. 

Priscilla frowned. “Shoot, I just realized.” She gave Bilba an apologetic grin. “I drove to my house instead of yours.”

She didn’t look sorry, Bilba thought crossly. 

“I guess,” Priscilla said innocently, drawing out the word, “you’ll have to drive the rest of the way yourself.”

Bilba gave her a flat look and then, without breaking eye contact, grabbed her purse and coat and got out of the car. 

Immediately, she was assailed by the shrieks of children dressed in bright costumes as dozens of tiny bodies dashed from house to house in search of sugary treats to fill plastic buckets and pillowcases. A crisp autumn air wrapped around her and she set her purse on the car’s roof to pull her coat on. 

Priscilla scrambled out of the car, dodging a handful of ghosts and ghouls and their harried parents. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Bilba pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her friend. “What does it look like? Walking home.”

“You can’t walk home,” Priscilla said, rounding the car to where Bilba stood on the sidewalk. “It’s dark!”

Bilba turned in an exaggerated circle to take in the streetlights and the veritable hoard of trick-or-treaters and their parents. “It’s like two blocks. I think I’ll be fine.”

Priscilla scowled. “I’ll walk with you then.” She crossed her arms triumphantly, clearly convinced Bilba would now capitulate and agree to drive. 

Instead, Bilba merely smiled. “How will you get home?”

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “I’ll wal---” she trailed off, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. Bilba grinned. 

“Oh, so you don’t think it’s too dangerous to walk.” She waved at her friend and took a few steps away, quickly before Priscilla could come up with another argument. “I’ll come pick up my car tomorrow.”

Priscilla’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to find a way out of the box she’d neatly trapped herself into. Finally, she scowled and said, “call me when you get home, all right?”

“I will!” Bilba gave a final wave as she headed toward her home. She reached the corner and looked over her shoulder to see Priscilla standing near her front gate, watching to make sure she didn’t get kidnapped in public. Bilba waved and the other girl returned the gesture before raising her phone and pointing to the screen. Bilba gave an exaggerated nod to show she understood and then rounded the corner. Priscilla worried too much. The streets were overflowing with people trick-or-treating or driving to and from parties. It was probably the safest night of the entire year. 

As the thought passed through her mind, it occurred to her that the street she’d just confidently strode onto was decidedly darker than the one she’d just left. Unease settled over her and she hesitated. Maybe she should double back and take another route? There was a house a block or two away that threw a Halloween party every year and she knew it’d be teeming with people. 

She looked back, for just a second, and then shook her head. Going that route would double the amount of time it would take her to get home, and for what? Because a street she’d been on a thousand times was a little dark? She was letting Priscilla’s paranoia get to her. It wasn’t that dark, and it wasn’t entirely empty either. Several small group were running between houses, bags and pails in hand. 

 It was fine. 

She’d be fine. 

It was like a block. 

Nothing bad could happen in a block. 

Bilba squared her shoulders and started walking again, this time with what she hoped was a particularly confident air. Priscilla always insisted that no one messed with you if you acted like you knew what you were doing. The other girl was nineteen, three whole years older than Bilba, and that much closer to official adulthood. If she said something was so, then it was so. 

Unless it involved convincing Bilba to drive in the dark on Halloween night. Then she was simply being...overconfident. 

It was a fine line. 

An especially cold gust of wind hit her, freezing her nylon clad legs and whipping her skirt about her thighs. Priscialla had invited a couple of her college guy friends to come along, not as an official double date but just a “meet and greet” as she’d described it. Bilba had gone along with it, but almost decided almost immediately she was nowhere near ready for that sort of thing again.

She shivered, for reasons more than just the cold, and paused to zip her jacket all the way up to her chin. She adjusted the strap of her purse as it threatened to slide off her arm, and wrapped her arms around herself in a futile effort to add an extra modicum of warmth. 

Perhaps she should have accepted Priscilla’s offer of a ride after all. She could have just let the other girl keep the car until the morning, or asked one of her parents for help.  

“Way to think of practical solutions now,” she grumbled to herself. 

Something niggled in the back of her mind, a subtle but insistent feeling like some sixth sense tapping on the door of her consciousness. Bilba’s footsteps slowed until she’d come to a complete stop on the sidewalk. While she’d been lost in her thoughts the street had mostly emptied. Even as she watched, the last group vanished around the corner, laughter and shrieks of excitement fading as quickly as they did. 

Bilba swallowed down a dry throat as, around her, the now silent street seemed to grow darker, and shifted from a familiar, and comforting place to one utterly alien and unknown. 

Don’t be ridiculous, she tried to convince herself. It was still the same street, the one she’d walked down more times than she could count, on her way to school with Priscilla or the park or some other grand adventure. The only difference now was that it was dark whereas, before, she’d always walked it in the bright light of day. 

She’d never realized before just what a difference the dark could make. 

She started moving again, faster this time, short heels clicking on the sidewalk as if to alert the shadows to her passing. It was just a street, but the sooner she was off it the better. She wanted to be in her bedroom, light and warmth surrounding her and walls holding back the night. She’d change as soon as she got in, she decided. Put on her most comfortable pajamas and the thick robe she’d just gotten for her sweet sixteen. Maybe she’d make herself a mug of hot chocolate, and then go and curl up in her bed with a good book.  

The feeling returned. 

It was stronger this time, more aggressive as if something primal inside of her was trying to warn her. Screaming at her in a language she couldn’t speak, but still understood. 

Something was wrong, and it was more than her simply being out on a cold and lonely night. 

She focused, trying to understand what it was that was causing her heart to suddenly beat so fast in her chest. 

And then she heard it. As her feet hit the pavement there was the slightest echo, the barest hint of a footstep just out of sync with her own. 

As if someone were walking behind her, and taking care to almost match her steps. 

Her stomach clenched, and a sick feeling washed over her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she whispered under her breath. It was Halloween. Of course there was someone behind her. She tensed and then, before she could talk herself out of it, whirled around. 

The street was empty, nothing but moonlight and fallen leaves skittering across the street in the cold October breeze.  

“Hello?” Bilba called. Mentally, she kicked herself. The very last thing she wanted was for someone to answer, so why in the world was she inviting a response?

The street stayed silent. 

Slowly, Bilba’s heart rate began to slow and her breathing evened. This was all Priscilla’s fault. She’d acted all paranoid, and now Bilba was letting her imagination run away with her. Thinking she heard footsteps and whatnot when, in reality, it had just been her mind playing tricks on her. 

She let out a small laugh at her own foolishness, spun back around, and promptly screamed. 

There was a person standing behind her, less than a foot away. He wore a basic white sheet with black circles painted on for the eyes, and holes cut out for the sleeves. His arms and hands were covered in a black shirt and gloves, and she could see black pants and sneakers peeking out from the bottom of the sheet. 

He raised his arms, and Bilba sucked in a sharp breath, only to let it out in a rush as she saw that he was holding an orange, pumpkin shaped trick-or-treat bucket in his hands. He was short, she realized, his head probably only coming up to her shoulder and that was saying something as she was short. 

A kid, her mind supplied in near hysterical relief. He was just a kid. 

“Sorry,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. Her heart thudded under her fingers, so hard she wondered that it didn’t burst out of her chest. “You scared me.” She frowned. “Are you lost?”

The ghost said nothing. Instead, he simply lifted the bucket higher. It was empty. 

“I’m sorry,” Bilba said again, wondering why he would ask a random stranger on the street for candy. Then again, wasn’t that what Halloween was all about? Getting candy from complete strangers? What was the difference, really, between asking for it from a person in a house or someone on the street? “I don’t have any candy.”

The ghost tilted his head to the side, as if studying her. There must have been small holes cut in the black holes painted on the sheet, but they weren’t large enough for Bilba to see his eyes. It was disconcerting, his strange silence combined with the inability to really see him. “Are you lost?” she tried again. “Do you need help?” She fumbled in her purse for her phone. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Still, there was no response. With the costume on, Bilba had no idea how old the child was. He was small, but it was hard to judge if he was too small to be out on his own. He didn’t seem scared or upset, so that was a good sign? Probably?

Her hand brushed against a bit of paper that crinkled under her fingers. She’d completely forgotten that Priscilla had presented her with a candy bar after the movie, calling it her Halloween present. 

“Here.” She pulled the candy bar out and held it out to the young boy. No child should have to go without a single piece of candy on Halloween. “I forgot I had this.”

The ghost held his bucket up a little higher, and Bilba dropped the candy in. It hit the bottom with a clunk, and the boy pulled it back to look in and study it. After a few seconds, he lowered the bucket, gave her a slight nod and started to walk away. 

“Happy Halloween!” Bilba called after him. She looked down at her purse, making sure she’d zipped it up securely. Maybe she’d follow him, she thought, just to make sure -- she raised her head, and froze. 

The child was gone. 

“What in the world?” She stepped into the street, trying to see if he’d gone up the walkway of a nearby house, or stepped behind a parked car. She saw no sign of him. Perhaps he actually lived in one of the homes, and had simply gone home? It would explain what he’d been doing out by himself in the first place. Hopefully his parents would have leftover candy to fill his bucket with so he wouldn’t get through Halloween with only a single candy bar. 

Even so, a shiver ran down her spine at the odd encounter, and she quickened her pace toward home, good mood gone. 

When she finally made it to her own street, and spotted her home in the distance it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The area was better lit here, and filled once more with children and parents running from house to house. Most of her neighbors loved Halloween and had loads of candy at hand to give out. 

Her parents were no different. They would decorate like it was Christmas, with jack-o-lanterns, spooky lighting and ghosts strung up in the limbs of the tree out front. As she drew near, Bilba expected to see her parents out on the porch, sitting back in their matching, rocking chairs with a giant bowl of candy on the table between them as they waited for each new group of excited children. 

It was oddly dark as she approached, and it took her a few seconds to realize all the lights were off. Even the Halloween lights strung along the eaves and up in the trees were off, casting the entire yard and front of the house in thick darkness. 

Her footsteps slowed as she neared the porch, confusion putting her nerves on edge. She’d talked to her parents before leaving for the movies and they’d told her to be ready to hand out candy when she got home. She’d expected to arrive to find a crowd of children on the porch, her parents front and center in the midst of them. 

Instead the porch was empty, and eerily quiet. The worn wood of the steps creaked beneath her feet, sounding far louder than they should in the quiet. 

Bilba hesitated. Behind her, she could hear the shouts and shrieks of excited children, but it felt like they were in another world, one far removed from where she had gone. 

She’d never realized just how dark the porch could be without the light on. 

She retrieved her phone, and pulled up the flashlight app. Immediately the porch jumped into stark relief, revealing her parents empty chairs, and a full bowl of candy sitting on the low table between them. 

The popcorn she’d had at the movie began to churn in Bilba’s gut. Her gaze shifted toward the front door, and caught on a large box sitting on the doormat. Someone had written on it in black Sharpie and she took a step forward to read it. 

Happy Halloween, Whore. 

Around the words were dark splotches, with several resembling finger marks or palm prints. The box itself had been taped shut but, on the sides, she could see more of the dark...whatever it was, that seemed to actually be leaking from whatever was inside the box, saturating the cardboard around it. 

Her eyes went to the writing again, traveling over the small, tight lettering, and jagged edges. The word whore had clearly originally been misspelled as “hor” before the W had been squeezed in after the fact. 

She knew that writing. 

Bilba felt lightheaded. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her throat burned as she struggled to pull in air. 

She couldn’t seem to move. It was as if an invisible wall had sprung up in front of her, blocking her off from the front door, and what lay before it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to move forward, she physically couldn’t. 

A child shrieked in excitement somewhere behind her, and Bilba jumped. Some deep and primal feeling that she couldn’t fully define began to spread through her. She could feel herself starting to sweat, but was ice cold at the same time. Her legs started to tremble and threatened to buckle under her.

She turned and stumbled back down the steps. Her eyes focused on the house across the street, bright lights shining from the window and porch. The Lundleys lived there. Mr. Lundley was a police officer, and his wife had just been promoted to detective. There’d been a huge celebration with balloons and cake and everything. Bilba had gone with her parents and could easily call to mind her father’s jovial voice and her mother’s bright smile as they’d celebrated Mrs. Lundley’s promotion. 

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and the bridge of her nose began to burn. She didn’t know why. What reason was there to cry? Everything was fine. It was just another horrid prank. Another way to get back at her for having the audacity to speak her own mind. 

The sense of dread pressing down on her didn’t lift, and the hollow pit in her stomach showed no signs of filling. 

A group of children were just leaving the Lundley’s front door, passing by her in a rush of bright colors, buckets and bags crashing into their legs and each other as they fled. 

To Bilba, it was as if she were watching them from the other side of a thick pane of glass. Their movements were almost unnaturally slow to her, voices strangely distorted and indiscernible. 

“Bilba? Are you okay, Honey?”

The world snapped back into focus in a rush of sound and light. Bilba was standing on the porch, Mrs. Lundley in front of her, framed in the warm light of her home. Warmth from the house escaped outside, along with the smell of gingerbread wafting from the direction of the kitchen. 

“My parents,” Bilba managed to blurt out. She pointed back toward her home. “They should be out, but all the lights are out, and there’s a box on the porch….” her voice cracked on the last and the tears began to squeeze out of her eyes against her will. Why was she crying? It was fine. Everything was fine. 

Please, let everything be fine. 

“Come on inside, Dear.” Mrs. Lundley put an arm around her shoulders, and then she was inside and sitting on the couch. A body sat next to her that she vaguely recognized as Angeline Lundley. She was fourteen, two years younger than Bilba, and was one of her closest friends. The other girl took her hand, and might have said something, but Bilba couldn’t hear it. 

Her eyes were fixed on the front door, through which Mr. and Mrs. Lundley had vanished. As if transfixed, she got to her feet and began to slowly walk to the door. She didn’t want to go out there, but it was as if she had no choice. As if some unseen force were dragging her. 

She reached the open door in time to see Mr. and Mrs. Lundley crossing the street back toward her and the look on their faces as they met her eyes…

No....

No, she didn’t want to hear it. 

NO.

And as the darkness rushed in, and her world shattered about her, Bilba’s last conscious thought was the inescapable fact that everything that had happened was entirely her fault.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635