#I also hope you like this for I had a lot of fun writing it 💛

[chrissv4mp]

MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[bvidzsoo]

OH MY GOODNESS 3.5k THATS SO AWESOME YOU SHOULD BE PROUD 🫶🫶 can i ask for prompts 3 and 9 with pirate au wooyo 😁 but also possibly mix it with royal au …. maybe ….

Neverland's treasure

Pairing: pirate!Jung Wooyoung x princess!female reader

५ TW: mentions of: violence, murder, human trafficking, slavery, death, and weapons (not graphic) ५ Word count: 6k ५ Genre: fluffy, slightly angsty; pirate and royal au; rivals alluding to more; inspired by 'Pirated of the Caribbean' if you squint hehe; @cromernet ५ Rating: pg-13 ५ Prompt(s): 3: Aw, you're blushing like a rose. / 9: You're staring again.

A/N: Aaack, anonie!! I literally kicked my feet so hard when I saw your request! This was so much fun to write, I really loved your request lol. The premise with those prompts was just too good...I hope you'll like this, I certainly did write both worlds into this (royal x pirate? hell yeah, anonie!) I hope you'll like this ^^ You can find the prompts here, request are open until the 8th! This drabble also made me reminiscent of my pirate/prince!woo oneshot called Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Let me know what you think of this drabble, enjoy! ^^ divider

Some believed that if you wanted to be a pirate, you just had to be born as one. Your Captain, however, believed that if one was determined enough, one could become a pirate without issues. Sure, you’d have to let go of previous inhibitions and beliefs, but when you grew up in a corrupted kingdom, it wasn’t hard to turn a blind eye to crime. You knew that sounded awful, but when life gave you no choice, you had to adapt whether you liked it or not. And somehow you realised you liked it like this. Being a pirate was a lot more fun than being a princess, forced to rot away in your castle while your evil stepmother plotted to conquer your kingdom, forcing you to marry a man you had never met, who could be twice your age or barely born. The thought made you shudder even now, it made you grateful that you ran away when you had. It wasn’t easy to navigate the big world on your own for the first three months. You couldn’t stay in your kingdom where everyone recognised your face, and you also couldn’t sail to one that was affiliated with yours. And that left you with few options, too few ones.

But Aurora was a faraway land, the land of no man, the land of the wicked, the land of those who never sleep. And whoever has said that was right. Every sound made you jump at first when you had just freshly arrived, and the lock on the room you were renting at the Inn didn’t make you feel safe even in the least. It was terrible, you thought about giving up and going back to your kingdom, but then you remembered your harpy of a stepmother and your deceased father who’s been an angel his whole life, who has raised a warrior and not a princess. So, gulping down your fear, you braved through the streets of Aurora and tried to make yourself less visible when it wasn’t necessary, tried to act like you hadn’t been brought up between silk sheets and maidens that catered to your every wish. You were afraid that the outlaws could smell your royal blood, but when you ran into them at the seamstress you were working along with, they didn’t bat an eyelash in your direction, too busy barking out orders to the poor woman who seemed to quiver under their gazes.

And in that boutique is how you found yourself running into the nefarious Barbarossa, a rip off of the one and only fearsome pirate that has long since perished. You laughed when the man introduced himself, then snorted when he glared at you with his sharp eyes. It was hilarious. He looked too young to be the Captain of a ship, and he certainly did not look like he’d been born to be a pirate. He reminded you of yourself back then—when you hadn’t yet known his princess-like character—sharp gaze trying to mask his fear, his rigid back nothing but a façade of a boy trying to navigate the big scary world.

“Well, will you sow the costume for me?” The pirate with his raspy voice asked, sighing like he was already tired of you. You grinned before you looked around, making sure the madam wasn’t there as you leaned over the counter, motioning for the Captain to come closer. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked, handsome, but you weren’t here to flirt.

“Let’s make a deal, Barbarossa.” You said low, your expression turning serious, “I saw the costume for you, and in exchange, you make me part of your crew.”

The pirate frowned, tilting his head, “Now why would I do that? A woman is of no use on my ship to me—unless you want to be my whore?”

Your jaw clenched as you glared at the Captain, but you weren’t giving up just yet. You wanted out of Aurora, and most importantly, you wanted revenge on your stepmother. The kingdom was rightfully yours, and if this pirate helped you conquer it, you’d pay him back heftily.

“A woman is of much use, but it seems like men haven’t realised that yet,” You chuckled, reaching out to grab his necklace, twirling the black pearl between your fingers, “Let me tell you a secret, Captain Barbarossa. If you help me out, half of Wonderland’s treasure will be yours. We can shake on it right now; I hate people who don’t keep their promises.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, his expression shifting from disinterest and amusement to curiosity, “And how could you give me Wonderland’s treasure, you pure maiden who works in a seamstress boutique?”

“Did you hear that Wonderland’s one and only princess disappeared?” Your lips slowly pulled into a smirk as you stared the pirate down, his expression now morphing into that of confusion.

“I have, but what does it have to—” The Captain gasped as his eyes rounded, watching you more attentively now. You chuckled as you placed your chin in your palms, humming.

“Say, handsome, want to help me take down my evil stepmother?” You bated your eyelashes at the bewildered Captain, whose eyes now sparked with excitement as if he had gotten his hands on a forbidden and long-lost treasure. You chuckled when he leaned in so close that your noses almost touched, his wicked smirk matching yours.

“Oh my, Princess Song, did you know we are last-name relatives?” You tilted your head as the man giggled to himself, his demeanour had completely shifted from the wannabe intimidating pirate into someone…younger and boyish, “Wonderland hasn’t wronged just you, princess, it has ruined my life, too. I say we have a deal.”

“Good.” You grinned, extending your hand to shake on it with the Captain, but he stepped back and spit in his palm, extending it towards you. You grimaced, but realising it was a pirate way to seal a promise, with a sigh, you spit in your hand too.

“Ah!” The man pulled his hand slightly back as your fingers touched, “I get half of Wonderland’s treasure and a handsome young lad…or maiden, I suppose.”

You chuckled, giving the man an amused look, “You can take whomever you’d like as long as you respect them.”

“A pirate respects only one person,” Your spit-laden palms finally touched as you shook on your deal, “The Captain.”

You snorted, walking around the counter and wiping your hand in your dress, “A bit self-centred, aren’t you?”

You didn’t flinch when the much taller pirate slung his arm around your shoulders, leaning his heavy body into your side, “A self-accomplished man always loves himself first and foremost, you should try loving me, too. Perhaps I won’t have to find someone in Wonderland—”

“Not happening,” You scoffed, walking towards the exit with the pirate you knew nothing about. This could’ve been your biggest mistake or your biggest accomplishment. And you’d find out very soon.

“Fine,” The pirate scoffed and glared at you for a second, then he opened the door for you as he called out loudly, “Sorry Madam Füller, I’ll be stealing your lovely princess for now.”

“Shut up!” You hissed, elbowing the Captain in the ribs, “Nobody here knows I’m a princess.”

“No?” The man frowned, his plush lips pouty, “But everyone knows I am a prince, though.”

You froze mid-step, your eyebrows furrowing as the pirate was halted to a stop, his expression questioning. You stared up at him as the clogs started turning in your head, and your mouth dropped open when you realised who this man was, “You’re Song Mingi?!”

The pirate just giggled without giving you an answer, pulling you along, down the dirty cobbled paths of Aurora as his arm tightened around your shoulders whenever a man looked at you too long. You couldn’t believe you landed yourself on a fake pirate’s ship, a self-proclaimed Captain, done on a whim out of boredom by the richest prince in the Seven Seas and Kingdoms. Oh, you had either signed up for doom or the biggest journey of your life.

Dear reader, don’t be misled by prejudice, as the princess was. Song Mingi, despite his posh accent and naïve attitude, was anything but that. He was cunning and strategic, he knew how to charm the pants off anyone, and he wasn’t afraid to dirty his hands with blood. He was a fearsome pirate out on the seas, respected by other crews. It hadn’t taken you long to realise that he was not only respected but feared by his own crew, too. They didn’t cross the captain and they did everything they were told without questioning him much. It was only you who wasn’t afraid of the prince, and his Quartermaster, who looked bored as Mingi paced up and down in his quarters. You had docked down two days ago, preparing for a hit never heard or seen before. It was risky, but Mingi was ballsy, and greedier for gold than his own Quartermaster who grew up having nothing.

“We have to set someone up for a lookout.” Mingi repeated as his eyebrows furrowed, his lips downturned, “We are compromising ourselves if all three of us are going in tonight.”

“Nothing will happen,” You groaned, adding some pearls to your dress as a finishing touch-up. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as you were hunched over Mingi’s desk, your dress’ fabric had been an expensive import from Madam Füller, “You are being a bloody pussy again. Our last hit was a success, wasn’t it?”

Mingi halted at your words, whirling around with a slightly hysterical expression on his face, “A hit?!”

The Quartermaster sighed as he came to sit down across from you, giving you an annoyed expression now that you’ve set Mingi off again. The Captain stormed up to you and slammed his hand down on the table, but nobody even so much as flinched. He was throwing a tantrum, three years on this ship had desensitised you to his tantrums.

“Our ship was on fire for almost two hours, princess!” Mingi snapped, making you roll your eyes at him. He always called you a princess when he tried to remind you that you were inferior to him on this ship, acting as if he wasn’t of the same blue blood as you, “The carpenters needed a month to rebuild what we lost! We couldn’t sail for two months, princess! That bloody rat-infested pirate crew stole our treasure—”

“No, Mingi, they just got to it before us.” You huffed, looking up at him with a bored expression, “It’s not stolen if it wasn’t owned by anyone.”

“And Hongjoong’s ship isn’t rat-infested.” The Quartermaster added with a mutter, setting Mingi off again as he gripped his long hair, screeching like a girl. You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from laughing, but when you made eye contact with the Quartermaster, he was already looking at you and grinning in amusement.

“Of course, you’d say that!” Mingi snapped, “You’re only here because you argued with the man! You don’t even like me!”

“I never said that,” The Quartermaster sighed, his expression slightly falling, “I left Hongjoong because what he was doing did not align with my morals anymore.”

“But pampering Mingi all day does, huh, Seonghwa?” The man was glaring at you when you looked at him again, and you giggled as you got back to sewing the last three pearls on the collar of your dress.

“Enough!” Mingi screamed, rounding his table to shake Seonghwa out of his chair, “I cannot think if you two keep on making fun of me! We must be smart tonight. There will be too many important people at the ball—including royal blood who know me and probably the princess too, and—Hongjoong’s bloody crew will be there, too. If they get to the treasure before us—”

“How are we sure that the Neverland’s treasure will be there, though?” You pipped up as the cabin went silent. Seonghwa gulped as he looked at Mingi, who closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The crew were shouting something above deck, their loud thumps echoing through the wooden structure as you glanced up. They were probably drunk already and it wasn’t even the afternoon yet.

“I spoke to…someone,” Mingi mumbled, not meeting your eyes. Seonghwa narrowed his at Mingi and placed his hands on the table as he leaned forward.

“Was it that seer again?” Mingi avoided Seonghwa’s eyes, so you both knew Seonghwa was right, “Kang Yeosang?”

“I trust him, alright!” Mingi exclaimed, looking at you with round eyes, “He’s always helped me…”

“And you still trust him after he joined Hongjoong’s crew?” Seonghwa was asking the important and logical questions here, you, however, were here just for the fun of it.

“Exactly, I’m surprised you like him still.” You chuckled, shrugging when Seonghwa gave you a look. Mingi didn’t say anything as his jaw clenched.

“Listen, I don’t care what you two think about me, but Yeosang has led me closer to finding…him.” Right, him, the man whose name no crew member dared speak—yourself included, “As for tonight, I think the princess should stay on the ship—”

“No!” You exclaimed, your eyes widening. Your grip on the dress tightened as both men looked at you, “The chances of my stepmother being there are high, I cannot miss it. Please.”

“And what will you do if you see her?” Seonghwa asked, eyebrows rising.

“You’ll know once I’m done with her.” You muttered lowly, making Mingi shudder before he sighed loudly, going lax in his chair. Seonghwa glanced at him before he walked to the closet and opened it, their fancy costumes stored away for safety issues.

“Alright, we better start getting ready if we want to get to our carriage in time.”

“How did you even get us a carriage, Seonghwa?”

“A jester never tells his tricks.”

“You’re not a jester, you’re just an idiot.”

“Prince Song, mighty of you to call your right-hand man an idiot.”

“Don’t call me Prince Song.”

“Then stop calling me a princess, you idiot.”

“Silence, both of you!”

You had forgotten how these royal balls could get. Your skin crawled as you watched another old nobleman trying to flirt with maidens, and if it wasn’t for Seonghwa dragging you away, they would’ve certainly noticed you. You got here a little past the time when the ball started, on purpose, as you hoped to be less noticeable. This was hard to achieve as Mingi was as handsome as any other prince in the room—which was to be expected, honestly—and Seonghwa could’ve been mistaken anytime for a young master in his expensive clothing, designed and sewn by you. The three of you were candy to the sore eyes, and despite never having enjoyed the attention, you revelled in it now as you realised some people did recognise you. You had even spotted the royal guard from your court, steering clear from their paths as it would compromise your mission way too early into the night.

For starters, you were supposed to scoop out the place, to socialise and consume whatever fancy champagne they handed you with gilded flakes in the bottom. Expensive and fancy drinks for the wealthiest people from all kingdoms. Seonghwa stared at it like it was poisonous before he drank it, eyeing Mingi for a reaction which never came. For someone who had run away at eighteen only, Mingi sure still carried himself like a prince, oftentimes still acting like one too. You, on the other hand, struggled to hold your spine straight and tense, thankful for Seonghwa who had tightened your corset so much you wondered how much time you had before you’d pass out. Hopefully, it only happened by the time you got back on the ship. And as for the plan…you weren’t doing too well, your attentive eyes searched the crowd, scowling at anything you didn’t like. The two men had left you on your own, meddling with the crowd and laughing as Mingi accepted a dance from a princess you hadn’t met before. You saw the shadow first before someone managed to sneak up on you, and you whirled around ready for a fight, only for you to drop the empty bottle of champagne you’d been nursing. It never hit the floor as the man caught it, smiling at you almost hesitantly.

“Yunho?” You whispered in shock, the wind knocked from your lungs, “Yunho!”

If there was one person you missed and regretted not taking with you from your kingdom, it was Jeong Yunho. You felt the tears in your eyes as you threw yourself into the arms of the much taller man, uncaring what the onlookers thought. You had to fight the sobs that tried to rip through your body as Yunho held you back just as tightly, burying his nose in the top of your head.

“I cannot believe I found you, my princess.” Your chuckle felt hollow as you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the tears out which had been brimming your eyes. Yunho and you had known each other for most of your lives. Nobody dared say it, but he had been kidnapped by smugglers from a different kingdom and enslaved in yours. His one chance at having a relatively better life than all the other slaves lay in his beauty, in his gentle and soft-spoken nature. That’s how he eventually ended up in your court as a palace keeper, keeping your chamber dust-free and always aired. He was barely a few years older than you, and because your father felt bad for him, he had allowed the two of you to bond, to play, to spend time together once Yunho had taken care of his duties. But once your father died, the evil queen wanted to separate you from everyone in order to make you disappear from the court, Yunho included. You had no idea where he was or what he was up to until this moment, and you gripped his dress shirt tighter when he tried to pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered into your closest friend’s chest, heartbroken all over again, “I never meant to leave you behind, but I had no—”

“It’s alright, my princess.” Of course, Yunho was smiling when you pulled apart. He didn’t have one mean bone in his giant body; he couldn’t even hurt a fly. You sniffed and allowed Yunho to wheel you around so your body was shielded by the crowd by his larger build, “I knew you had to go, if you hadn’t…you might not be alive anymore. That queen is so wicked, she started killing our people. Everyone is terrified in Wonderland of her.”

You gulped, frowning when you heard that. You had to step up, you couldn’t let your people suffer anymore, they needed their true ruler, the one who cherished and loved them. Yunho recognised the anger in your eyes, the determination on your features, and he smiled as he petted your head, leaning down to be at eye level with you, “I always knew you’d be an amazing queen, my princess. Your people are waiting for you.”

“When I get rid of her,” You gulped, grabbing Yunho’s hand as your jaw clenched, “I will set you free, you’ll be allowed to go home, Yunho.”

An ashen look crossed Yunho’s features, something sad falling upon it, “My home now is wherever you are, my princess. You must be here with a purpose; how may I help?”

And that’s how you found out that Neverland’s treasure was a gilded necklace filled with the most expensive jewellery from all kingdoms, crafted with care by the best jewellers from Aurora—because despite its reputation, Aurora housed the best craftsmen from the Seven Seas and Kingdoms. And the treasure that Mingi and Hongjoong wanted was in no other’s possession but in your stepmother, glinting blindly around her neck. You jaw tensed as you watched her from the shadows play the coy and grieving queen, laughing with men who were way too young for her. But it was working, because as you watched her shoot Yunho an annoyed look, everyone around her was blinded by her charming and manipulative personality, completely missing the wicked glint in her eyes. Mingi tsked next to you, leaning closer.

“You’re one hundred percent sure it’s Neverland’s treasure, right?” He muttered, watching the queen’s every move as she accepted a glass of wine from her consultant. You nodded as you glared at her, noticing a man slowly approach her. His gait was familiar, and so was his blonde hair.

“Yes, Mingi, I know for sure it’s the necklace.” You muttered, your eyes widening when you realised who the man creeping up to the queen was, “Bloody hell, Jung Wooyoung!”

Mingi groaned, closing his eyes, “Hongjoong sent the most annoying person ever, great. Princess, whatever you do, don’t—”

But you were already walking closer, your glare set on the back of Wooyoung’s head. The two of you had a history. Even before you had left your kingdom to become a pirate and avenge your father and his legacy, you and Wooyoung had met, understandably under inconvenient circumstances. He was young and dumb—even though he got older, he was still the dumbest pirate you had met—so he tried to kidnap you straight from your chambers. He would’ve succeeded if Yunho and you wouldn’t have planned to have a secret sleepover that night, so the boy was able to fight Wooyoung off. That didn’t mean that you ever forgot the pirate’s face, forever engraved in your mind. Meeting him once would’ve been enough for a lifetime, but the seas’ gods had other plans for the two of you. Being part of Mingi’s crew meant coming across enemies, and since Wooyoung was part of Hongjoong’s crew, he posed a big threat.

When he whisked the queen away for a dance, you knew the treasure would be in his possession in no time, and you couldn’t allow that. So, you stepped into the crowd and grabbed a random man, leading the two of you closer to where Wooyoung and the queen danced. You made sure to keep your back to your stepmother as well as ignore the grinning man in front of you, sharp eyes set on Wooyoung’s every move. He was giggling as he spoke to the queen, but not for long.

The violins screeched as you were twirled around, and knowing that this was your only chance to catch Wooyoung, you tumbled forward into him. The man gasped as he grabbed you frantically, making sure you didn’t fall. You grinned to yourself and grabbed his arms, head hanging low, and then you pushed him away from the queen and the dense part of the crowd before he could realise it was you.

“My, my,” He chuckled, helping you stand up straight, “What a klutzy girl.”

“I know, right,” You chuckled, circling your arms around Wooyoung’s neck as he stiffened, “How convenient I stumbled into a gentleman like yourself.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened as you started swaying your bodies to the melody, making sure you kept away from people who could recognise the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” Wooyoung snapped, his eyebrows furrowing.

“The same thing as you,” You chuckled, eyes running down his body, appreciating his tight suit, “Searching for a companion to lay tonight with.”

Wooyoung spluttered, clearly taken off guard and you laughed, entertained when his cheeks flushed red. It wasn’t often you managed to take the man off guard, but it was always satisfying when you did, “Aw, you're blushing like a rose.”

Wooyoung scoffed and averted his eyes, scowling at you before he recovered from the embarrassment, “And have you found anyone suitable?”

You chuckled, shrugging as you looked around the room. You weren’t leaving without Yunho tonight, even if you had to frame it as a savage kidnapping. Seonghwa already knew about it and he was working on it. You didn’t want to update Mingi on the slight change of plans, you knew he’d have a mental breakdown neither one of you could afford right now. Mingi hated collecting strays and people who were of no use to him on his ship, but Yunho was worth more to you than Mingi’s rules.

“He’s holding me right now,” This time Wooyoung didn’t blush, he just smirked, pulling you closer until your bodies were flushed together.

“I always knew you liked me,” Wooyoung giggled, smoothing back your hair from your face, “All that fighting was just to create tension, huh?”

You let the knife slip into your palm from the sleeve of your dress, “If that’s what you’d like to believe, then certainly. Now, tell me, Wooyoung. How much longer until the queen notices that her necklace is missing?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer you as you smirked, pressing the sharp edge of your knife into his stomach, “We’ll walk outside without causing a scene, alright?”

The defiance on Wooyoung’s face was clear as day, but he didn’t say anything as he slowly nodded, twisting around in your hold as you leaned in and pressed a teasing kiss to his cheek. His skin was soft for a pirate, and he smelled of pine and salt, “I love it when you are a good boy, Wooyoung.”

The man hissed as his cheeks flamed again, and you chuckled as the two of you slowly slipped out of the room, looking around for Seonghwa. He was just behind Yunho, his eyes narrowed as you spotted the handgun in his hand. You knew Yunho was in safe hands as long as he didn’t try to be the bigger man, so you left the room without worrying about the Quartermaster or your closest friend any further. Mingi was still cruising the room, seemingly lost, and you almost laughed. For a Captain, he sure was lost more often than not when treasure hunting. You couldn’t wait to brag to him about capturing both Wooyoung and the necklace.

The hallways were empty despite the many people in the building, and you were glad they were desperate enough to socialise as this left you and Wooyoung alone. It didn’t take long for him to try and fight back, though, and you tsked when he tried elbowing you in the ribs, “Honey, you’ll have to be more creative than that.”

“Why am I being dragged away from the ball in the first place, honey?!” Wooyoung exclaimed like the prince he wasn’t, whiney and confused, and you chuckled in amusement.

“Don’t act coy with me now, pirate boy,” You leaned closer, your lips brushing against Wooyoung’s ear as he shuddered, “The queen’s necklace was gone after she danced with you.”

Wooyoung didn’t say anything for a second before he groaned, “Maybe it slipped off! Maybe someone found it on the floor! I don’t know why you’d think I have it!”

You laughed and pushed Wooyoung against the wall, his cheek mushed against the cold tile, “Now, Wooyoung…don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Neverland’s treasure. I know your Captain wants it, so he sent you, a little rat—”

“I prefer calling myself a fox, but whatever,” Wooyoung grumbled as he pushed you off, turning around so he was face to face with you. You raised an eyebrow, pressing the knife into his neck unthreateningly. For now.

“Empty your pockets for me, pirate boy.”

“If you stop calling me a boy.” Wooyoung shrugged, looking at you with mischief in his eyes, “But you won’t find anything on me—not the treasure or whatever. Why don’t we go to a room, and you’ll find out what I’m hiding—”

A crash came from a room close to the two of you, and you both stiffened as you looked to the side. You waited for a few moments with bated breaths, but nothing happened, so you looked back at Wooyoung with a glare. Your patience was running thin rather quickly, “Fine, little pirate, I won’t call you a boy anymore. Where is the treasure?”

You heard footsteps running down the hallway and you hissed, convinced that the queen realised by now that her necklace was stolen. The royal guard was coming after Wooyoung—and you, now that you were roped up with him. Whatever happened, though, you would not let them get their hands on Wooyoung…but he didn’t have to know that.

“Why don’t you feel me up, Princess Song?” You froze as you opened your mouth, taken off guard by his words, “Did you think we didn’t know? It’s only right someone like you associates themselves with Captain Barbarossa—what a joke.”

You huffed. You’d been nice so far, but you didn’t accept any disrespect to Mingi’s name, “You should watch your tongue, rat, one more comment about my Captain and I’ll cut your tongue off.”

“That would be a loss,” Wooyoung smirked as your jaw clenched, “I know quite the tricks with my tongue—”

“Hey! Those two there!” A deep voice shouted from the end of the hallway. Great, you had allowed yourself to be distracted by Wooyoung’s blabbering mouth again. Mingi will have your head if you let yourself be captured, “Catch those pirates!”

“At least they got that right,” Wooyoung remarked with a chuckle as you grabbed his arm and took off running instead of fighting the guards. You were outnumbered; it was of no use. What you had to do next was leave the palace in one piece and get Wooyoung on your ship. He was your prisoner; no royal guard could take him from you. But to get to the exit, you’d have to descend many flights of stairs, avoid the influx of other guards that were running towards you, and also come up with an escape plan which looked harder to come up with by the moment. You weren’t the best under pressure, and you yelped when Wooyoung suddenly pulled you inside a dark room, pressing you against the wall and muffling your mouth. Your breathing was ragged from running around, your chest heaving as Wooyoung’s sturdy body pressed into yours, keeping you from moving. The both of you stayed put as the guards ran past the room, their footsteps thundering. You grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist and pulled his hand off your mouth, searching his face.

“What?” He shrugged, his face so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath. He might’ve had one too many glasses of champagne, “A pirate looks out for a pirate, even if it’s the enemy.”

“Right.” You chuckled, then grabbed his arm and switched positions with him, “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Where did you put the necklace?”

“I’m starting to think you love pinning me against a wall. Does a submissive man turn you on?” Your eyes widened as Wooyoung cackled, the sound too loud in the dark room, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that guy.”

“Stop changing the subject, you rat.” You hissed, no malice in your tone whatsoever. Before Wooyoung could retort back, light flooded the room, making you jump. The room you had stumbled inside was someone’s room, an elderly lady’s who looked quite confused. Before you could say anything, Wooyoung pushed you off and walked towards her, smiling charmingly.

“My lady, we had no idea this was your chamber,” Wooyoung bowed, and you watched with narrowed eyes as he grabbed the woman’s hand, leading her back to bed, “How rude of us not to check first. Will you forgive us?”

The lady chuckled as she let herself be tucked back into bed by Wooyoung, her eyes droopy, “The room next to mine is unoccupied. I won’t say anything if you slip out quickly, pirates.”

You gulped as Wooyoung chuckled, pressing a kiss to the woman’s forehead, “Thank you, my lady. We’ll be letting you sleep now.”

When Wooyoung faced you again, you couldn’t help but stare at him. He wasn’t a violent man, but you’d never seen this gentle side of his. It made your heart race as Wooyoung grinned, walking up to you to open the door, “You're staring again.”

“I’m not.” You scoffed and left the room once you made sure the hallway was empty, “There’s nothing to stare at.”

But there was. Wooyoung was a stupidly handsome man, his nose curving prettily, his uneven eyes sharp, and his moles endearing. You gulped as he carefully pulled the door shut behind himself, then braced yourself for what you were about to do.

“Sorry, but you gave me no choice.” And before he could turn around, you whacked him hard in the back of his head, catching his limp body before it could fall to the floor. He was heavy and you groaned as you laid him down, wondering how you’d drag a man down the stairs whose weight you couldn’t even uphold yourself. By a miracle, none other than Mingi seemed to show up, and you quickly waved at him, “Mingi! Get over here right now!”

You made sure you were whisper shouting as Mingi hurried over to you, his eyebrows furrowed, “What the hell are you doing with Wooyoung?!”

“I have the necklace,” You grinned, then looked at Mingi, “And Wooyoung.”

“I don’t want that monkey,” Mingi scoffed as he crouched down, “But I do want the necklace.”

You both grinned at each other as you crouched down next to him, “If we take him hostage now, not only will we piss off Hongjoong and Wooyoung, but you’ll be able to bargain gold and gems in exchange for his life.”

Mingi’s eyes instantly lit up at your words, and he pressed a wet kiss against your cheek as you groaned, flinching away, “You’re brilliant, princess!”

“And you said a woman was of no asset to you,” You scoffed as you both stood, growing stiff when footsteps echoed down the hallway. You looked past Mingi to prepare to fight whoever was coming, but you relaxed when you saw it was just Seonghwa with Yunho.

“Let me—my princess?” Yunho asked confused as he looked between you and Mingi, his eyes growing wide. Mingi froze, his jaw going lax as his body started trembling. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He muttered something as Yunho’s expression mirrored Mingi’s, and Seonghwa and you shared a confused look.

“Yun—Jeong Yunho?” Mingi whispered, his voice shaky.

“Song Mingi, it’s you,” Yunho whispered as his eyes grew teary, and he fought against Seonghwa’s grip, which released him easily. You watched shocked as Yunho ran until he reached Mingi, throwing himself into the Captain’s embrace. They held onto each other tightly as Seonghwa slowly walked closer, looking at you as if you had the answer to what this was.

“I found you, my love,” Mingi whispered, gripping Yunho tightly.

“It took you too long.” Yunho tried to smile, but he looked sad, “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingi gulped, looking down, “You disappeared without a trace.”

“I know, I don’t resent you.” Yunho then smiled, closing his eyes, “I love you, still.”

Someone groaned on the floor, making you hiss.

“Uh, guys…I’m sorry to ruin this emotional moment, but Wooyoung is kind of waking up,” More shouts down the hallway, heavy boots hitting the floor, “We have to go, now.”

“Mingi, grab his arm!” Seonghwa barked out as the two men went to hold Wooyoung up, his head lolling to the side as his eyebrows furrowed. You grabbed Yunho’s hand and looked at him, offering him a small smile.

“Let’s go, Yunho, things will be alright. You’ll see.” So, Yunho followed you as you escaped from the castle, not only with Neverland’s treasure in your possession but Wooyoung as well.

Oh, you were going to have so much fun with him before you’d hand him back to Hongjoong.

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[drsheperd-bartley18]

Can you write something small about Paige sleeping on the couch and all the UConn players are in Paige’s apartment as well but Paige is busy sleeping in Azzi lap. While Paige is sleeping she like puts her face more into Azzi stomach and falls asleep while her teammates make fun of her for it?

Golden Retriever

Hope you like it! The end is questionable I couldn’t figure how to end it naturally.

Fluff

————————————————————————

 It was finally Friday after a week of early morning practices, boring lectures, and most devastatingly no Azzi.

 Okay, that might be a little dramatic.

Technically, Paige had seen Azzi, but it was just quick glances and light touches during drills. If they timed it right, Paige could steal a few quick kisses when everyone else left the locker room and text lots of non-super important texts, mostly Paige dramatically begging for attention, and Azzi always giving it to her.

                                Monday

P💗

GOOD MORNINGGGG

I LOVE YOUUU

I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU AT PRACTICE

                                                      My PRINCESS💗

                                                           Morning baby.

                                                           I love you too.

                                                           See you later.

                                Wednesday 

P💗

Baby do u still love me????????

                                                      My PRINCESS💗

                                                                Yes, Paige.

                                  Friday 

P💗

P💗 sent 20 dollars

                                                      My PRINCESS💗

                 Why are you sending me money at 4 am?

P💗

Get urself that nasty green smoothie u like for some reason 

AND u should be sleeping rn Ma

I swear one week without me and u forgot how to function smh

                                                      My PRINCESS💗

1. Thank you paigey you didn’t need to do that.

2. You are actively also awake right now and 

3. You’re only sorta right about that.

P💗

Awwwwww 

U miss meeeee

So here they were finally able to spend some quality time together and Paige was free to do what she was made to do. 

Be in Azzi’s skin.

Like a 6’0 tall basketball player trying to curl into her 5’11 girlfriend’s lap like a golden retriever. Azzi's shirt pulled up so the blonde could rest her head on her abs. Azzi's fingers lightly massaged her hairline then carding through her hair.

Truly at peace. Paige gets a little too comfortable.

She makes a sound.

A mix of a groan, a moan, or something real close to a purr.

Neither of them even realize.

“ Oh my God, You’re literally a dog” Nika.

“Girl boo a few days without her owner and she can’t control herself,” KK says.

Sarah doesn’t say anything but hysterically laughs as she pulls out her phone to document the look of sheer horror of Paige’s face.

“Yo, somebody get a leash,” Ice says.

Paige groans in embarrassment trying to pull the blanket they were sharing higher up while burying herself under Azzi’s shirt trying to hide from her so-called sisters.

Unfortunately, this movement only causes the team to tease her even more.

Finally having enough Azzi rolled her eyes “Okay, Okay, leave her alone, you guys are so annoying sometimes”, there was no real bite to the statement but when Paige gripped her waist a little tighter Azzi’s face softened. “If you guys have a problem you turn around and finish watching the movie”. She says rubbing her hands down the blonde’s back lightly scratching.

The teasing stopped after that.

Because while they might tease and joke about it, they knew that Azzi was Paige’s safe space. They should be used to this by now anyway.

————————————————————————

Have a good day

[goorgeousz]

hi hi baby♥️how are you?

so...i was thinking maybe the reader likes to leave kiss marks on hotch's shirts either near the heart or on the collar of his shirt, maybe the reader is not a member of the bau or maybe works in another unit but in the same building and does not know that jokes are their love language and when they start making jokes about their relationship, calling it 'childish love,' she gets a little embarrassed and stops doing it, and when hotch asks her She tells him she wishes she had been born earlier and tells him she heard about the jokes and he says 'that's why you stopped doing it?🤨' and she tells him that she stopped doing it so that they wouldn't make fun of him, and he takes the time to explain that that's the team dynamic.

and the next morning he arrives with a kiss on the cheek or chin, very proud of it, holding her hand🥹🥹 and when they say goodbye, he takes her face in his big hands and kisses her all over and she just laughs silly and cute.🥹🥹🥹🤍🤍🤍 and hotch is kind of like 'please kiss me forever🥺'

congratulations on 400 followers, love, you deserve many more!🥹🎉♥️♥️

also, as always, only write this if you're comfortable, and if you think you need to change anything about this, pls do, i'm happy to read anything you write, i hope this has the same meaning written as i imagined it.🥲♥️

i hope you have a great week, sending you lots of love!✨✨

xoxoxo

lipstick stain | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader summary: you stop kissing your boyfriend because his friends were making fun of him. aaron was having none of it. content/tw: reader wears lipstick, established relationship, age gap, height difference, very silly, fluff, mentions of them having sex (not descriptive), suggestive ending word count: 2.9k a/n: hey my love!!!! i’m great, currently on finals week so a little bit stressed out, but overall fine!! how ab you?? i truly hope you’re okay!! thank you so much, i’m so happy! also, thank you for this request, you already now i’m the biggest fan of whatever you suggest me! it’s so on character of him (in my opinion) and i always have the best time writing them!!! again, thank you so much for everything!!!! sending you much much love, have a great one!!! xxxxx dividers by @uzmacchiato masterlist <3

Standing next to Aaron, even on high heels, you face his chest. Which was very convenient in moments like this, in which you helped him adjust his tie, trying not to blush while he stared you down with that much attention. 

Softening the fabric of his dress shirt – already perfectly smooth – in a delicate caress, your hand stopped at his chest, right above his heart. Even with the layers of clothing, you felt the strong and steady beat of his heart, like it was claiming for your attention. Impulsively, feeling a rush of affection, you leaned forward and kissed the spot, feeling his torno vibrate under your lips.

As soon as you stepped back, your eyes widened. In the middle of the blindingly white fabric, a kiss stain stood out, its shade between pink and maroon, exactly like the lipstick you’d just applied a few minutes before.

“Oh my god, Aaron, I’m sorry. Take it off, I’ll wash it in a minute.” you urged, trying to tug his shirt out of his pants.

“There’s no need.” he said, gently stopping your hands and moving them out of his shirt.

“There’s no… Are you crazy? Are you going to use a stained shirt?”

“Customized” he corrected, smirking as he looked at himself in the mirror, his expression somehow… proud? “Besides, you can’t even see it under the suit.” to prove his explanation, he dressed up the suit, buttoning up and smiling cheekily at you, as if saying ‘Told you so’.

He was right, it wasn’t visible. You frowned, still embarrassed for staining his expensive shirt. He just grabbed your face between his palms, leaving a kiss on the wrinkles on your nose.

“It’ll be our secret. Like Clark Kent.” he joked, his face mockingly serious.

“That’s my 12 old self’s dream.”

“Superman was your childhood crush?” his tone was a mix of mockery and amusement.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve always had a thing for tall brunettes with a savior complex.”

Aaron laughed loudly at that, his head threw back. All the embarrassment you felt before simply vanished.

And just like that, a ritual started. Every day you drove to work together (almost every day), just before you parted ways, you left a hidden kiss on him. On his shoulder, on his arms, his wrist, his chest. Sometimes, when you were feeling specially bold, you kissed just below his tie. And whenever he was free (which was rarer than you liked), he sent you a picture of the stain with a message (many of those, if ever caught, would send you both to a week-long seminar on inappropriate behavior at work) about how he missed you.

It was silly. A ridiculous habit, even. But it was so good, so fun. And it was yours. You loved every second.

That’s it, until one day where you’d been particularly careless. To your defense, you’d spent days apart because of one of those complex cases. So it wasn’t your fault that you wanted to spend every free moment making out with each other. And that morning he was – for a lack of better word – irresistible, with his hair messy and still dump from the shower, the mix of his soap, after shave and cologne invading your nostrils and clouding your senses, his perfectly smoothened white shirt and tie still undone – one could argue that that was his looks every single day, but there was something in the air, you swore.

So, yes, you may have pushed him back to bed. And you might have suggested – begged , with wide glistening eyes and a whine – that he kept his suit on while he trusted in and out of you. And you definitely grabbed him by the lapels of his suit, leaving a kiss stain right on the collar of his shirt, where he couldn’t be able to hide it, and whispered how he was all yours while an earth-shattering orgasm washed over you.

Although he was the one to blame, in his opinion. And he didn’t complain in the slightest, puffing his chest proudly as he finished getting dressed, zipping his pants back on and admiring the red stain contrasting with the white of his shirt. 

On that very same day, not having yet made up for the time apart, as soon as you were out of the clock, you got into the elevator, leaving your floor and  going straight up to your boyfriend’s. Knowing the workaholic you so lovingly called yours, you knew he would stay late, drawing himself on paperwork. It was only fair to order take-out, have dinner with him and lay on his office’s comfortable couch, enjoying his presence (in silence) (it was never silent for long, but that was the condition to be there so you had to pretend). Some of the many perks of dating a unit chief.

You were seated, your shoes long forgotten somewhere on the corner of the room, your legs crossed under you as you waited for Aaron to grab napkins and cups from the shared kitchen when you heard it. His office’s door had stayed open since your relationship stopped being a secret long ago.

“Next thing we’ll see is Hotch wearing a leash” Morgan’s voice echoed through the bullpen.

“Morgan, please.” you heard Aaron’s exasperated tone, muffled by the collective laughter.

“Don’t listen to him, Hotch” Emily defended “It’s very common nowadays between the seventh graders.” another wave of laughter filled the room.

“It’s adorable, actually.” JJ added, amused.

“Didn’t Henry get home with a similar stain on his cheek last week?” Spencer asked, even him joining the teasing

“Enough. I can still fire all of you.” your boyfriend threatened, receiving more laughs and jokes in return.

And that’s the last thing you heard before he walked back into the office, rolling his eyes in annoyance and closing the door with a bit more force than usual. 

Not knowing how to react, you just pretended you didn’t hear it, offering him a smile and throwing a random comment about the food.

The rest of the dinner went pleasantly, but half of you wasn’t there. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his team said. Wasn’t it actually childish? You and Aaron had an age gap, indeed. Visually undeniable. But that’s never been a thing between you.

All the horrors you dealt with on a daily basis made you seem older than others your age, and even though you were considerably younger than him, it wasn’t noticeable in your conversations and not once you had a problem because of immaturity or anything of the sort. But it was something you thought about, sometimes. Being with someone older and, specially, as responsible and stable as Aaron, there’s no way you wouldn’t second guess yourself, at least once. Luckily, he was too good of a person to ever make you feel insecure about it, which led you with only your anxious mind to blame.

The relationship you built was so solid and healthy that you usually found yourself forgetting to worry about the outside world, about what others may think, too wrapped up on your own little happy bubble. But, obviously, his friends would question the fact that he ended up with someone that younger than him. You just didn’t know it would affect you that much.

You didn’t want to embarrass Aaron. So, although you pretend everything were fine,  that thought stayed in the back of your mind.

On the next day, you ended up getting late — for a very good reason. three good reasons, actually — and on the elevator, ready to part ways, Hotch leaned closer to you, angling his torso in a move that was more of a muscular memory than a conscious decision, and waited for the kiss.

Needless to say, you panicked. You definitely weren’t ready to have that discussion, so just turning your head and denying him his kiss was not an option. And you were still feeling too anxious to be able to ignore it all and stain his shirt again and risk his dignity.

So, since you still hadn’t had time — again, for great reasons —  to think about how to handle the situation, you simply did the best you could: yanked him by the neck and locked your lips to his.

Caught by surprise, Aaron stayed still for a second. But nothing more than that, because the very next moment he relaxed, smiling into the kiss and squeezing your hip with his free hand. Before he could ask you anything, the elevator came to a stop, reaching your floor first, and you stepped out hurriedly, mumbling a “i love you” and giving him a smile that you hoped looked mischievous but probably just seemed phony.

The next few days went just as smoothly (not at all). You realized he won’t stop doing it, reaching for your kisses, so you come up with the best solution available: stop wearing lipstick.

As expected, he noticed it and questioned you instantly. To which you replied with another question “Why? Didn’t like it?” resorting to the most basic avoiding method.

“Of course I did.” he answered without missing a beat, his eyes falling down to your lips covered with a clear gloss, and having to force his gaze away back to your eyes after in order to continue the conversation “But I don’t think I’ve ever see you leaving the house without it”

You scoffed, turning around and checking yourself in the mirror. Being, yet again, completely obvious in your try to avoid the subject. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t catch on. “That’s probably not true.”

Before he could press you any further, you turned back to face him and joined your lips together in a slow and deep kiss. Any point he could possibly have made died just then, swallowed on pleasure sounds and the dance of your tongues.

And later, when he leaned towards you waiting for the kiss, you didn’t hesitate to graze your lips on the fabric of his shirt, happy to have found a solution that didn’t involve embarrassing him in front of his friends or explaining the reason behind your change of behavior.

Everything was fine, for now.

A few days have passed, and your guard is finally already down. On that specific morning, Aaron was ready to work, impeccable in his expansive suit, leaning against the bathroom door, watching you do your makeup, with your products layed on the counter.

He was explaining a discussion he had with the director a few days before, and you were so focused on his words you barely registered your own movements, counting on your muscular memory to repeat your daily routine.

Maybe because of that, you didn’t realize your hand subconsciously reached for the lipstick right by the sink. Your fingers hovered over it for a second, grazing the small tube, until you recovered your senses and put it to the side, quickly grabbing the closest product and secretly hoped for Aaron to be so lost on his story that he misses it.

As the attentive boyfriend – and profiler – that he was, of course he noticed it. So much that he stopped mid sentence, his eyes sharp on yours.

“What was that?” he asked slowly, arching an eyebrow.

“What was what?”

He tilted his head to the side, in a silent warning that it was not going to work.

“I got distracted.”

“Why did you stop wearing lipstick?” that was it. Point blank. There was no avoiding it now.

Nonetheless, you rolled your eyes, feeling embarrassed that this was even a topic. “No reason.”

“Honey” he coached, his voice gentle and nudging. In a span of five seconds you rolled your eyes again, sighing and deciding to just get this over with.

“I didn’t want to stain your shirt.”

He frowned, his forehead wrinkling in confusion “It’s not a stain, it’s a kiss.”

“A kiss stain. Anyway, it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not… Where did this come from?” “Aaron,” you whined, blushing. “Not everything has to be a conversation.”

“I disagree.” he interrupted, but you didn’t even listen.

“I just don’t want you to have a meeting with the director board wearing a stained shirt. It’s not professional.”

“Since when do we care about that?” he tried, exasperated.

“We’re functional adults, government employees. Of course that…” but you had already lost his attention, his eyes narrowed in your direction through the mirror, like he was trying to read your mind.

“Adults?” you hated your choice of words “What is this really about?” you took a deep breath in resignation, letting your head drop down. Soon after, you felt his hands holding your waist, turning you to face him and gently touching your chin, tilting your face up towards his “Hey, you can tell me anything.”

“I just want to be more serious, you know? More mature.”

“You’re one of the most emotionally intelligent people I’ve known. Including me.”

“But I’m immature.”

“Not at  all. And you know it.” he asserted, serious. Then, his voice went softer again “What don’t you explain what’s going on, hm? Please, let me understand you.”

You completely melted at that “I wish I was born sooner. Be more like you guys.”

“‘You guys’ who?”

“Your team. I overheard them talking that night in your office, and I know they think our relationship is childish. And it’s obviously because of me.” 

He smiled, slowly and reverently, looking at you like you alone held the moon and the stars on your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you’re completely misreading the situation.” he said, his voice and his smile softening the blow “Listen, I know we haven’t really had that conversation yet, but you know my childhood was… hard. I was forced to mature much younger than I should've. I ended up missing many of the youths' average experiences. I buried myself into work as soon as I could, and even though it brought me where I am today, I know it cost me a lot.” he paused, taking a deep breath and staring deep into you, as if to make sure you were understanding everything “Ever since I’ve met you, I started to feel young again. In the best way possible. Not because of your age, but because of your heart. You’re kind, smart, funny and so incredibly sweet. You encourage me to be better every day, and everytime I see you I feel like a teenager experiencing my first love.”

With your heart nearly exploding with love, you tugged him closer, kissing him so deeply and tenderly, hoping that he would feel everything you could never manage to put into words.

“We don’t have to keep doing it if it makes you feel bad. But I thought you liked our little joke.” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. You felt your face blushing, the proximity and his voice so close and treating you with so much reverence.

“I love it. But I don’t want to be the reason why your friends make fun of you.”

Hotch stopped for a second, as if he didn’t hear what you’ve said. Then, he stepped back, with an exasperated smile. “Don’t worry about that, honey. We’re very close, the team. We tease each other all the time, it’s how we demonstrate affection. We already deal with too much darkness in our lives, that’s the way we found to keep things lighter and a little more bearable.

“Really?” you bit your lip, your eyes widening in hope. His smile grew even more.

“Mhm. They’re crazy about you. Some of them say, and I quote, that I ‘became bearable after you. Sometimes even pleasant to be around. Much less tyrant.’”

You giggled, lacing your arms around his neck “You are kind of a tyrant, indeed.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing, but visibly happier to have solved the problem than actually annoyed at your teasing.

“Nothing you ever feel makes you immature. I want to know all of your thoughts and anguish. Next time just talk to me, okay?”

You nodded “Okay.” he stared at you a little longer, just making sure you really were fine and every doubt about your relationship and yourself left entirely your mind, before he hugged you again, sneaking his arms around your waist and tugging you flush across his chest.

“And promise me, you’ll never punish me like that ever again. Depriving me of your kisses.” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You chuckle.

“I wasn’t punishing you.”

“It felt like it. Promise.” he insisted, his hands squeezing your hips. You leaned back just so he could see the found and honest glint in your eyes, looking at his with nothing but love, and the smirk on your lips as you extended your right hand to him, lifting your pinky in his direction.

“I promise.”

Later, when the two of you arrived at the fbi building, you had your dark and shiny lipstick tinting your lips. And in the very same color and shape of your mouth, Hotch had a mark on his jaw, showing it off like a badge.

Besides that, he also had three kiss stains distributed on his clothes: one just above the heart, another one on his lower stomach.

As for the third…

taglist: all hotch @winyourheartemma all cm @s0urw00lf @deeninadream

[kwanspace]

hey hey love ur work, just wondering if you would be willing to write a fic abt idol!san and idol!reader? like where they get shipped continuously after one little interaction at some award show then they start like getting invited to reality shows and stuff together and working together for music and stuff? then they fall in love? thank u so much for reading this - love u and ur work

Trending: Us

pairing: idol!san x gn idol!reader

theme: fluff

a/n: anon, thank you so much for your sweet words! i tried my best, i really hope you enjoy it, i had a lot of fun writing this, actually! (also, i'm sorry for taking so long to write it) love u too <3

asks are open! feel free to send anything

pls let me know what you think by commenting, reblogging or through the asks 💗

Ever since your group began its rise, you'd found yourself in rooms you used to only dream about. Music shows, brand deals, chart placements — each step forward felt surreal. But this moment? This one topped everything. 

You and your group had been chosen to announce the winner for Best Performance at the MAMA Awards.

Your heart pounded under the stage lights as you held the envelope in trembling hands. You took a breath.

“And the winner is... ATEEZ! Congratulations!!”

The crowd exploded in cheers. The venue pulsed with energy as the guys made their way to the stage. You applauded genuinely, pride tugging at your chest. You straightened your shoulders, keeping a camera-friendly expression.

At the end of their speech, just as the members were about to leave the stage, your eyes found him. It was only a glance — barely two seconds — but it changed everything when he leaned in and whispered, “You were amazing tonight.”

You blinked, completely caught off guard, and the only thing you managed to say was, “You too.”

Nobody could hear your small talk, of course, but the cameras caught it — the look, the gentle nod, the way he leaned in to hear you through the crowd noise. That tiny moment set fire to the internet within the hour.

On your way to the dorm, your phone buzzed nonstop. Your heart raced, thinking maybe you'd done something wrong. But when you opened Twitter…

“Did you see THAT look? I’m shipping them so hard rn.”

“I hope they appear in a variety show together soon.”

“I really want to see them together again!!”

You blushed, never imagining that a tiny interaction with a guy could blow up like this. Still, knowing how the internet works, you pushed it aside and moved on with your life — though you couldn’t deny the way your heart had pounded.

It didn’t take long before the invites started rolling in — variety shows, music stages, YouTube content. It made you happy, of course. So when you arrived on set for the first shoot, you were buzzing with excitement.

What you hadn’t expected was to see him again so soon — let alone standing across from you behind a counter filled with eggs, flour, and far too many cameras.

The PD clapped his hands. “Today’s challenge: cooking in pairs! San and Y/N, you’ll be making pancakes. Go!”

You glanced at him, completely lost and unsure where to start. He looked over and grinned. “You don’t look that confident.”

“I’m not,” you admitted honestly. “I’ve never cooked anything in my life.”

He laughed. “Then follow me.”

Everything flowed more easily than you expected. You and San clicked quickly. When you handed him the flour, some spilled onto his shirt by accident.

“Yah! You’re sabotaging me!” he exclaimed.

You laughed, hands raised in apology. “You’re the one who didn’t grab it properly!”

“You did that on purpose!”

The cameras loved every second of it — and honestly, so did you. Your heart beat faster every time your hands brushed or when he gently told you to be careful with the knife.

Not long after, the pancakes — and the shoot — were finished.

Everything after that became a whirlwind. Your companies noticed the effect you two had online, and suddenly, you were seeing San almost every week. The content felt more like an excuse to put you together on camera — silly mini-games, telepathy tests (which you surprisingly nailed), and random selfies.

You two were well bonded by now. You could confidently say you were good friends.

Then came the collab.

It was a normal day. You walked into the studio and spotted San already there — hoodie on, earbuds in, humming to a track you didn’t recognize.

He looked up when you entered. “Oh — hey.” He stood quickly. “Didn’t know you were coming this early.”

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, setting your bag down. “Did they tell you anything?”

He shook his head. “Just that we’d be working on something... together.”

The silence stretched, just long enough to make your stomach flutter.

Your producer poked his head in. “Hey! Great timing. You two are the leads for this collab track. It’s a soft R&B concept — intimate and kind of romantic. We immediately thought of you two.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Romantic?”

San smirked and looked at you. “Sounds fun.”

It started somewhere between the second verse and the bridge.

Maybe it was the way his soothing voice melted into yours, like puzzle pieces waiting to be found. Maybe it was the way he pouted when he couldn’t get a line right, completely unaware of how stupidly cute he looked.

You didn’t mean for it to happen.

But it did.

And now here you were, on the last day of recording, heart aching at the thought of it ending. You felt the sting of tears, but blinked them away — crying over this would be too ridiculous.

The track was finalized. There were no more excuses to see him late at night. No more surprise texts midweek.

San was packing up his things slowly, like he didn’t want to leave.

“This turned out better than I expected,” he said. “Our voices... Us.”

You looked down, too shy to meet his eyes. “It did. It doesn’t feel like just a song anymore.”

He chuckled. “Yeah... I think I got a bit addicted to you.”

You finally looked up, only to find him already watching you.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“Let’s not let this be the last thing,” he said, voice soft and full of hope.

“No, let’s not,” you answered.

And then, he leaned in — so close you could feel his warm breath — and his lips slowly found yours, soft and certain, signaling the start of something very, very beautiful.

[bewitched-hours]

Aherm. Just found this wondrous account. And I'm in love (I say cartoonishly dropping to one knee ring in hand/p)

MAY I BE 🪽 ANON???

And secondly... Hear me out on ex two time bsf + azure friend reader who had the fattest one sided crush on them during the gang's early days (+ if it started when timey and them were kiddos and they henceforth have known timey for a LONGGGG time) and was a part of the cult before they ran away after two time sacrificed azure and they meet again as reader becomes a new survivor.

Make it as angsty or as fluffy as you want,,, I leave how it goes into your creative hands despite the prompt being more angst leaning ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

Also,,, oneshot please and thank you !!! (Hcs are fine if that's what you're most comfy w lol)

Afraid your emoji didn't work so I guess you're now Block Anon- (/j) Anyways, it's a pretty cool concept so I'll have fun writing it, no doubt! I wasn't entirely sure about wether you wanted Azuretime or not but I kinda hope you did for this (ﾟヮﾟ)

For this, Reader's pronouns will be She/Her!

You were never brave enough.

It used to be a childhood crush that you never dared to voice. Your mother taught you to be sweet, soft and gentle. She wanted you to be ladylike and thought when you made friends with Azure and Two Time that you would make her proud one day by getting your chaotic energy out early and growing into a 'proper lady'.

All that to say, she failed. The two only made your chaotic energy worse and she HATED it. Not like you'd care though, she might've tried to be a mom but you saw Azure and Two Time as better 'family', in a way.

And that childhood crush only worsened as time went on, though you were scared to break the bond you three had and ultimately watched as they got together when you were all in a cult to worship the Spawn.

You were obviously supportive, not wanting to get between them and figuring you could talk to them about it at some point.

... So you thought... Until you found out Two Time had sacrificed Azure for a second life and the shock and horror of the situation made you run for the hills. You managed to escape the cult and had hoped to never see Two Time again whilst grieving for Azure, blaming yourself.

Maybe you could've done something? Maybe you should've kept a closer eye on them and warned Azure of anything odd?

You made sure to visit his grave a lot. And you always had something to decorate it with. Things you remembered he liked.

But the guilt kept eating at you, especially since you never told anyone what you saw that day. You never told anyone it was because of one of your childhood best friends that the other died...

Why? Was it some form of affection still left for them? Maybe a feeling of loyalty?

Even your therapist was unaware, only being told it was someone who was close to you at the time but you refused to speak their name.

It was like their name was laced with a poison so strong you'd die for even saying it...

So it was obviously a strange and less than welcome surprise when you suddenly found yourself in this hellish realm back with the murderer.

You were noticeably passive aggressive towards them, even if they got their second life and you were a healer among the group.

You resented them for what they did. And part of you even wished you had listened to your mother when she had tried to get you to not join the cult back then.

But what was better? Being traumatized by your best friend and building yourself a more free life from the ground up or being traumatized by your mother into basically acting like a 1950's housewife only to be handed off to the first man who shows interest in you?

Either way, Two Time tried to mend things... In their own way...

And it at least got you to be more neutral towards them! That was already a good start!

But imagine the shock when you suddenly stood in front of Azure and didn't even realize it.

You first thought it was just similarities and that your mind was simply being delusional but he recognized you again... And he did go gentle with you.

At first it was just you being spared until the very end, all whilst talking with him about how your life had been after... Well- you know-

He was actually glad when he heard all the things you'd bring to his grave. It made you both a little emotional and he had to shut up his hat more than once to let you talk.

But a certain sentinel was just a little jealous.

They didn't understand why at first but even so, they were desperately trying to mend things which all led to you getting stuck between your own best friends once more.

Just that this time, you were in the middle except of on the side. A position you'd think impossible growing up.

It was already a dream to think about one person interested in you but two? If only you knew how lucky you had gotten... In a way-

It even came to a point where you'd team up with Two Time more regularly and have your meetups with Azure when you weren't chosen for a round.

Both would try to act neutral whenever you brought the other up in a sad attempt to have them reconcile. Instead, they got jealous over each other.

And this round would be where the truth was spilled.

As you moved to heal your teammates and Two Time was fighting off Azure for them, you caught glimpses of them actually somewhat talking before attacking each other... Odd...

Eventually, you and Two Time were the last two standing and as you anxiously waited for the cooldown on your healing ability, you noticed you were being grabbed by the arms by a tentacle and... Two Time's tail...

Although confused, you had little time to ask questions before they almost perfectly synced up to ask you which of them you liked more...

eh?? EH????

It was only about 30 seconds left and they were asking you to choose between them?! WHAT-

You quickly panicked, only able to blurt out "Both!" before you were back at the survivor cabin with a face as red as a tomato and the other survivors staring at you in pure shock. Except Two Time, who seemed oddly happy with your answer.

You were quick to just grab them though and rush to the meetup spot where you'd find Azure. This would be when you could finally explain, surely!

Although your heart was nearly threatening to break your ribcage, you knew not to let this linger anymore. You didn't want history to repeat itself in cruel irony.

Azure was already there, chuckling but demanding answers for what you meant.

Inhaling sharply, you decided to explain as quickly as possible. "I had a silly childhood crush on you both that never really died and I was scared of losing my two closest friends and it somehow returned and I feel stupid an-" You shortly had a tentacle covering your mouth to get you you calm down. It smelled like flowers, oddly enough...

All the while, Two Time and Azure couldn't help but giggle, getting you even more embarrassed and soon flustered as they came to your sides for a quick hug before the tentacle moved back away for them to take turns stealing a kiss from you... Oh boy, you were definitely red now...

Seems they weren't so against the idea of a polycule...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[chunkitakii]

Fluffy headcannon when female reader is in a Jessica Rabbit like red dress and in Lux’s cartoon logic, falls head over heels in love with her and asks her to dance to Frank Sinatra music.

Head over heels in love with this idea!

WARNINGS: There are no warnings except that the reader is fem and uses the women restroom. ALSO, i did go wild on this one so expect it to be longggg. (I was waiting to do something like this request, sorry if this is a lil too long)

I DIDNT PROOF READ THIS SO HAVE FUN YALL

FLUFF UNDER CUT

Im just going to make this as a “first meet with Lux” scenario because i find it best fitting. (sorry if thats not what you are looking for!

ALSO, im basing this off of Jessica Rabbit’s song, Why don’t you do right. But if you want to replace it with a different song, feel free too! I find it weird for me to write the whole singing part out anyways.

You were an all-time singer, running around from clubs, bars, and now theaters. You had sung at many of the bars and clubs; it was a real cash grab. But you had started to get sick of it when drunk or naive men and women started to flirt with you. Telling you how good-looking you were while trying to grab at you like you were a piece of candy.

But there were times when they didn’t flirt with you. Instead, they told you how you could have done better or that you could do better if you started doing full-time shows.

You were flattered, really. But you knew that you couldn’t get that far up the podium. You knew you were good, but you also knew you weren’t that good.

But that all changed when you got a letter from a man you knew well stating that there was going to be a show based on different singers in the area. It wasn’t a contest, just a little show to raise money.

But you had also read in the letter that you would be paid handsomely just for singing. So, you had written a short letter stating that you wouldn’t miss the chance. This was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and like hell you would miss a wad of cash. You could always use a bit of money anyway.

Of course you had to ring up your band; you wouldn’t want to be stingy and do this on your own. After hanging up, you had packed your favorite sparkly dress and matching heels and headed out the door.

You weren’t expecting it to be filled to the brim. You were guessing a lot of folk and singers got invited to this ‘Palazzo’ theater. Cars and people filled the streets around it. You could already see a line forming from the front of it too.

You were just hoping the dressing rooms weren’t as packed.

After hopping out of a pal’s car, you had begun to head inside. You waited only a little for the front to let you in before everyone else, but it was so biggie. They then had given you a number that had the number of when you were performing.

And out of the 25 singers, you stood in the middle of the bunch.

Currently, only the singers and their bands were in the theater to get ready for their performance. You had seen singers of many kinds. You were left in amazement by how many you had seen. There were singers from jazz, a couple of country, a lot of blues, a rock and roll group, and a lot of R&B. You had fit into the blues category; consider what song you were singing.

Your band had to practically drag you away to stop ogling at everyone and get you dressed. They had brought you to the restroom, telling you they were going to warm up before they played alongside you, and parted ways.

You nodded and headed into the restroom. There, there were many beautiful singers. You had felt almost shy when walking in there. But you had come here to get ready, not to stare at many gorgeous women before you.

You put on your dress, storing your other clothes along with someone else’s before touching up your makeup next.

While you did that, many ladies had complimented you, and you had done the same as well. Soon, it was a room full of people complimenting each other. You had almost forgotten to do your makeup.

After finishing up, you headed out towards the stage area where others had waited also. Then, there came more when the clock almost hit performance time.

A lot of them were rushed to get into your groups , trying to get prepared and lined up in order of the performance.

All of you hushed up when the voice of the speaker had announced and had begun their little speech before introducing their first group of singers to the stage.

Many singers along with their bands had passed, and you and your band were the next in line. You would feel anxious, but you had done this many times before. So you had just swayed in the music of the band before you.

Many of the others had begun to quietly dance backstage with each other, while some hushly commented on their performances. However, your band had started to pick up another kind of conversation.

“Did ya’ hear about this place? I heard it was haunted.” “No, it’s not, ya’ big dummy. I heard it was just a little rumor. “ Both of you are wrong. there was a bunch of folk going missin’ in this exact theater—“

“What are you guys on about now?” You questioned them. You took your attention off of the music and onto their silly little conversation.

“You guys didn’t hear? A couple of days ago, 15 people had gone missing here. Police don’t know how they went missin’, and neither does the owner, apparently.” One of them states, trying to keep their voice down.

They then leaned in forward, beckoning you and the others to do the same. All of you had now moved forward, waiting for what he was about to say next.

“But, just like knucklehead over here said, there were sayings that a figure was spotted around the windows of the theater.” They finally stated it before backing up.

You couldn’t help but feel just a bit scared; ghosts weren’t your thing. One of your friends then jabbed up. “Now you’ve got me the heebie-jeebies. You even got our singer scared too, idiot.”

You looked back up to see them now chuckling quietly at him and your reaction to the news. “Oh hush, you. It is all fake news!” you scolded them in a hushed tone. “We are about to be next on the stage; now quit fooling around with your nonsense.” You continued jokingly, a smile cracking on your face while you and your band got ready as the song had begun to end.

After a few quiet moments, you and your band were introduced before closing the curtains. That had given you enough time to get on the stage and mentally prepare yourselves.

And as the red silk curtains began to open, it was now your turn in the spotlight.

(It gives me hardcore flashbacks of cringy Wattpad stories if i write out the whole scene, so let your mind run wild.)

At first, he didn’t know if he would like the little show that played in front of him as he sat in the projector booth. He had been told by Mr. Reginald Pye that today was a showcase for the best singers. At first, he thought that maybe he could immortalize everyone in film. With all of the people coming in, it would be his new high score. But dagnabbit, if the old guy hadn't pleaded for him not to do that, he would have just made you all a bunch of film strip décor by now.

So now, he had to sit in the booth with him and watch the singers and band perform. But besides being all prissy about the whole 'immortalized' bit, he actually quite liked the music. He sort of felt excited to see who was on next.

The curtains closed, and the announcer walked back on stage to tell some jokes. But this wasn't a comedy show, and he was getting impatient. But as quick as the announcer was on stage, the quicker he was to say the name of the new singer and run off.

That name he spoke, it had rolled off the tongue and had a nice ring to it. He couldn't help but repeat the name of it; it had felt nicer than hearing that man say it.

And soon enough, before the curtains began to open. The sound of a sweet, melodic voice was heard. It was angelic, and boy did it make the audience sit up in their chairs, waiting for the curtains to open. He couldn't help but do so too.

And to everyone's wishes, the red soft curtains had begun to open. That had seemed to give the singer the cue to continue. Now giving the audience a full glimpse of you.

Your voice was like silk, smooth and soft. Somber yet loud. Your soft movements as you sang were entrancing. Flowing through the theater air like a delicate feather.

The music that played behind had complimented you and your singing. Making the music seem more enhanced than it originally was. Many of the folk in the audience thought so too.

When you had made your entrance, many men from the audience wooped and wooed, including him. He gave out many whistles; they were similar to wolf whistles that had brought the men around him to do the same.

He didn't know what came over him. He didn't feel any different when the woman screamed and fainted over that one hot-shot, Elvis or something.

It was like he was possed or something, entranced with you. He would be embarrassed if he didn't realize that Reginald Pye was watching him the whole time.

His eyes were hearts, so was his intenea. He leaned forward towards the edge of the window. At first, Pye was worried that he was going to get caught by the people below. But seeing how many people kept of paying attention to the singer before them, it eased his nerves.

Lux couldn't help but see all of the audiences look down, wanting to see if he was the only fool acting like he was. And how he was wrong.

But he didn’t know if it amused him or angered him. Watching all of those men practically drool at you and the women ogle at you and your mesmerizing dress, sparkling against the lights above. And how your eyes sparkled like jewels under the moonlight.

And how he dreamed of catching you alone.

And he will get you; he is the god of light. And you are a shining star; of course he will.

After the whole performance, you had received many compliments about you and your voice. You had even gotten more offers to sing at other clubs around the area. And like what the letter said, you got paid handsomely, and so did many other singers and bands.

Everyone had begun to pack up and leave with their wad of cash stuffed in their pockets. The audience had left first so the bands could leave without a packed theater. Soon, the parking lot was only halfway full.

Your band was going to drive you back to your place; they didn't want to leave you walking home at night, so they offered. Plus, you still had your dress on. Chances are someone would rob you.

Getting your clothes in the restroom, you had begun to walk back to the parking lot along with everyone else. You gave a light stretch and put your clothes in the car as the others began to get it. Until one of them realized something.

"Hey, wait. Didn't you have your pocketook with ya' when you came in? Where is it?" "Oh, don't tell me someone already got their hands on it and robbed ya'..." Two of your band members spoke up. Reminding you that you had a purse beforehand. You could have sworn you put it up. Maybe it got knocked over and you had forgotten.

"No, I didn't get robbed." Hopefully. "I probably just misplaced it somewhere. Wait here a sec. I'm going back in to find it. You spoke as you began to head back in the theater.

"I'll come with; I don't want your pretty self getting snatched." One of the others piped in but got a slight shake of your head. "No, it is fine. Nobody but the cleaners and the projectionist are in there. I'll be fine!" You shouted as you went into the theater doors.

It was quiet in the place; you sort of missed the loud music that once played in here. You now could only hear your heels and the shuffling of your dress.

You had spotted a man, who you assumed was the projectionist, that stood right next to the door of the main theater. "Excuse me! Sorry to interrupt you, but did you see a purse lying around here somewhere?" You asked them, stopping him from doing whatever he was doing. You saw him look up to see who was talking to them; it sort of made you sad when you noticed that you gave him a bit of a fright. As he looked at you, you saw them give you a full head-to-toe look. It didn't seem judgmental, so you didn't pay any attention to it.

However, you did notice the man looking sort of worried. He looked at you inside the theater and then back to you. He was unsure what to say but conjured up a response before it became too awkward.

"Oh um, yes, yes I did see a purse. I had noticed it on the stage right over there.” He spoke, moving to the side to show you where it was. And lo and behold, there it was. But something felt off. You didn’t leave your purse on the stage; you originally thought you had left it stashed in the restroom somewhere. Not all the way out here. Now you were getting paranoid. Was someone playing a prank on you? Or are you going to get attacked in this theater right now?

“Thank you, kind sir.” You said to the man before walking into the theater. You were hoping for the man to follow you. But when you turned around, the man was nowhere to be seen.

Now you were getting scared.

You stepped down the steps, one after another. The stage in which your purse had gotten closer. And your anxiety had spiked. You were just having a good time; you weren't ready for this shit.

Your purse was within arm's length; you could feel the blood rushing through you. You were sort of waiting for a man to reach out and grab you behind the curtains.

But nothing came. Instead, the sounds of shoes tapping filled the room.

It had scared you; you let out a sharp gasp. You didn't even get to retrieve your bag before the sounds continued. They filled each part of the theater. Your head had quickly shot up to each end the sound came from, but you didn't see a thing in sight.

Maybe this was a prank by some people who are either jealous of your performance, or just want your money. You shouldn’t be surprised by the number of times this did happen to you. You did perform in bad parts of this area.

But something came to mind: what your pal had said before the performance, about the 15 people missing in this very theater. The very theater you are now standing in. Maybe your foolish friends were right; maybe this place is haunted. And you didn't have time to see a dead man walking around; you had people waiting outside for you. To hell with this place.

You took a deep breath and turned back around to grab your purse without a time to spare. But before you set your eyes upon your bag, something in front of you catches your gaze first. In fact, this blue thing was so close, it was the only thing you could see. "Oh me, oh my! Aren't ya’ just the prettiest thing I've ever set my eyes on!"

You heard the thing in front of you call out. You let out a shriek at it; it had caught you off guard at one of the worst times ever, of course you would. You stumbled back, trying to put some space between you and it. And now that you backed up, you finally got a good look at this thing.

It had seemed familiar, like you had seen this thing before. It was blue with antennas and a pig's nose. It had a yellow hat and a colorful suit. And the thing that spooked you even more was that it was 2D. The more you had looked at it, the more you had mentally put the pieces together. This was that famous cartoon, one of the first cartoons to even have color!

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you! I just couldn’t help but take a good look at you up close!” The toon spoke as it put a hand on its heart in an apologetic manner. But he couldn’t help but laugh at your shocked little face. Once so full of fear, now in a state of shock. Not a word came from you as you continued to stare; this was getting awkward for him.

Trying to keep his composure, he bent down and grabbed your purse from the stage. The toon then walked closer to the edge of the stage, bending over to hand you the bag. “It seems as if you had forgotten something. It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful bag for such a beautiful lady such as you.” He teased as he stretched his hand more outwards to you.

The toon’s response brought you out of your shocked daze. You quickly shut your gaping mouth and composed yourself as you muttered out a soft ‘thank you’ to it. You couldn’t help but feel your face warm up at his compliment. Which was weird because you had gotten them all the time from men. And never once did you feel this shy, maybe because you were talking to a literal toon.

Slowly, you had taken a step forward towards the toon, scared that he was going to pull something. However, he had just looked down at you with curious eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a scaredy-cat. I don’t bite, unless you want me too, that is…” The toon flirted. You would slap it, but you still felt weary about the whole thing.

And before you knew it, your hand grazed your purse, wrapping your hand fully around it. Along with it, you touched the tip of the toon's hand. It felt warm, warm like pure sunlight. It sort of made you fuzzy inside.

You instantly pulled your purse back and away from its hand. You had also felt the coon try and lean into your touch, a simple strategy men used to try and feel the ladies' hands before they pulled away. It was a flirtatious manner, something to make their ladies all flustered. You would be a liar if that toon's action didn't work.

This was one sly toon…

You had cleared your throat, trying to ease yourself. You had sort of wanted to get to know this ‘gentleman’ before you. Or, well, this toon before you.

“Uhm, thank you for your kind gesture… May I have your name?” You softly spoke out to the living toon. You had seen the toon smile even brighter than before, like it was glad you asked. To him, he found it adorable how you were once so confident on stage. But with him, you couldn’t even keep eye contact, and your voice was quiet and soft, unlike how it was beforehand.

But now, he had to introduce himself now that you asked for his ‘name.’ And before you knew it, the toon had sprung out and started singing by the lines of ‘I’m Mr. Ring-a-Ding!’ It was goofy, the way the toon sang and how he danced. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

Soon, he finished the song and looked down back at you. He felt a sort of pride when you had let out a giggle and applauded him. Hopefully by the end of this, he will have you wrapped around his 2D finger like how you did with him.

Standing upright again, he adjusted his coat and leaned down towards you once more. “And who might you be, sunshine?” He questioned, taking off his hat to give you his full attention. It was weird how you felt shy under his gaze, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it. He didn’t really need your name; he already knew it when the performer announced it. He just wanted to hear it from your pretty little mouth.

You had then given ‘Mr. Ring-a-Ding’ your name as you bowed your head down to him. You could hear him repeat your name; it rolled off his lips like a prayer. It was soft and airy; it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

The toon hopped off of the stage and strutted towards you. You could feel his three-fingered hand grab onto yours. He leaned forward, bringing it up to his face. “Well, it sure is a pleasure to meet a beautiful soul like you…” He rasped out before planting a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Both his lips and hand were warm; it made you all hot and flustered. His confident attitude made you feel like a teenage girl. You really shouldn’t feel this way considering you get this most of the time at clubs. And the fact that he is a pig/bug cartoon doesn’t help your case.

Mr. Ring then had to pry himself off of you but still held your hand. Not wanting to let you go, afraid you were going to evaporate into thin air. You tried to maintain eye contact, but that had failed miserably. “I-I have to get back. I have my pal’s waiting for me.” You stuttered; you needed to get back, but you were afraid of not seeing him again.

You saw Mr. Ring’s face falter; a now sad look appeared. “So soon? But we’ve just met!” He pried, trying to get you to try and change your mind. But he felt a sort of tug as you tried to pull your hand back, but he still had a grip on you. It wasn’t a possessive type of grip, but it was like a yearning type of grip. He had still wanted to talk to you, get to know you.

“I apologize, Mr. Ring-a-Ding. But I had informed my friends that I wouldn’t be gone for much longer.” “Ahh, to heck with your friends! It’s not like you get to see a living cartoon every day!” He nagged, now trying to figure out a way to get you to stay a little longer. He could trap you in film, but why would a gentleman like himself would do that? He had to come up with something.

And before he knew it, a light bulb had appeared over his head, which had momentarily shocked you seeing that. Mr. Ring’s hand softened around yours as he raised his other hand. A loud ‘Snap!’ was heard from him, it sort of made you curious what he was trying to do. You couldn’t think much of it when you heard soft, melodic music play from behind you. It was a classic, it was the famous Frank Sinaltra playing.

This toon had taste.

“Before you go, I would like this moment to last a lil’ while longer. Can’t a toon like me get at least one dance from a beautiful lady, such as yourself?” The toon asked. Moving his body to the side, his other arm folded behind him as the other raised your hand up. He was wanting to dance, and you weren’t sure if you could dance with a 2-3 foot toon.

But hey, it’s a first for everything. And you would be rude if you said no.

“Sure, I’ll give you a dance, Mr. Ring-a-Ding.”

Boy, how he mentally fan-girled when he say you walking up to his bait.

By bait, he means stealing the purse from where you had originally put it and lured you back into the theater. But he didn’t mean no harm by it!

Plus, Lux loves a good Frank Sinatra song to dance with!

[davrinsleftpectoral]

A Word With Thursday Bangers

Did I combine both games into one piece? Yes I did. It just worked out, okay? Thank you @hedwigoprah and @woundedsoul12 for such fun prompt games. I hope I made it fluffy enough to counter the angsty bangers. Longing is still fluff right? lol. 

Rules for a word with friends: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends. Happy writing! 

This Week's word is Avarice (noun)

Excessive or inordinate desire of gain; greed for wealth

Inordinate desire for some supposed good.

Rules for your Copy and Paste: Free form a blurb or drawing based on the weekly lyrics prompt. It doesn't have to include the prompt just whatever you're inspired to write, write it! Then tag some friends so they can play as well. It doesn't have to be finished on Thursday just post it whenever you can (you have a whole week between Thursdays). 

Baby I'm so into you

Darling, if you only knew

All the things that flow through my mind - Fantasy Mariah Carey

I knew this song and I remember listening to it a lot on the radio back in the day. I was 12 when it came out 😭😂 

Also making an appearance is Xiqaa, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai rook. I hope I did them justice, it was fun to have them show up. 

Just under 1400 words under the cut. Only posted here for now but it’s the start of chapter 3 of Welcome to Nug E Cheese.

==

Turvi was putting his breakfast dishes into the sink as Taash walked into the kitchen.

“You ate? You gonna come work out with me?” They asked. 

“Sorry not today. I was getting ready to head out,” he replied. 

“That’s the second time this week you missed the gym. Those arms are gonna shrivel up you know,” Taash said as they raised their eyebrows accusingly. 

“I know, I know,” he said, waving them off. “I’ll get back on track tomorrow. I just have some things I need to do before work. And I want to walk, clear my head. I’ll see you there.”

Taash tipped their chin up at him and went about making their typical pre workout drink.

Turvi tossed his sling bag over one shoulder, slipped on his favorite purple crocs, and headed out into the city. 

Once he was out of the apartment building, he was not greeted with a sunny day, but at least it was not a rainy one. A dry day in Dock Town was a good one. Turvi had left early because he wanted to go to the Starbeaks Coffee shop and they often had a line that could wind outside of the building if you got there too late. Starbeaks was a little too pricey, just another sign of the corporate avarice that was grinding the people of Dock Town into the ground. But it was the only shop he knew of that sold the kind of muffin he wanted. 

Turvi was pleased to find that the line was thankfully short when he entered the shop. He looked over the menu above the counter as he waited, and he felt a little sick when he saw the prices. Even though he wished he could come in to buy things regularly, this treat was going to have to be more rare than he’d originally hoped. He’d figure out where in his budget he’d take the money from later. 

When Turvi reached the front of the line he was surprised to see Xiqaa, an old friend from when they worked together at The Gull and Lantern pub before it closed down. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed happily. “I didn’t know you worked here now.” 

“Turvi!” She yelled, purple curls bouncing  as she reached across the counter looking like she was going in for a hug, but instead put him into a headlock and noogied him. “What the fuck are you doing in here? You can’t afford this shit,” she laughed good naturedly. 

Turvi laughed along with his friend. “You’re right I can’t. But it’s a gift for a friend, to celebrate a special occasion,” he explained. 

“Friend huh?” She asked, dragging out the word friend and raising her eyebrows suspiciously. They didn’t see each other often but she did know him well. 

“Yes, friend,” he replied, with extra emphasis on the d. He couldn’t stop grinning though, so he knew she wouldn’t believe him. 

“Right…” She leaned across the counter again and lowered her voice. “Well, since this is for your friend, I’m giving you the family discount. Just don’t tell anyone I did.”

“You’re the best Xiqaa.”

“You’re fucking right I am. Now what do you want?” 

==

Turvi carried the large black coffee and pastry bag as he continued down the street, humming along with the music he was listening to in his earbuds. He found the bench he wanted, and settled himself down to wait. Because of wanting to avoid the rush, he had ended up here exceptionally early. He sat back to people watch as they rushed off to work. Turvi cradled the warm pastry bag, and realized it felt heavier than he expected for a single muffin. He opened the bag to look inside and found a croissant tucked in with it. Good old Xiqaa, always looking out for him. He dug into the bread and waited.

He’d only barely finished the croissant when a bus pulled up to the stop. He wasn’t really paying much attention since it was still early when he heard the familiar clinking of Neve’s prosthetic as she exited the public transport. She walked up and stood in front of him, waiting for the rest of the crowd to disperse. 

“Well, look who is out and about early. What are you doing here Rook?” She asked affably.

“Hi Neve,” he smiled brightly up at her. “I was actually waiting for you.”

“Really? What for? The store doesn’t open for another couple of hours.” She cocked her head at him quizzically.

“I wanted to bring you this,” he said, holding up the coffee and pastry bag.

Neve’s face lit up as she said, “Really? It’s not even my birthday.” She sat down on the bench beside him and accepted the offering.

“I thought we should celebrate getting the regular booking from Doctor Hot Pants. It’s a big deal,” he said.

“It’s a bit early to celebrate, don’t you think? We’ve still got a long way to go to keep the store open,” she countered.

“No way. Every little bit helps, and you should celebrate the small stuff, give you something to be happy about. It’s still early, but we’ll keep this momentum going, and the store is sure to be kept open.”

“Well that’s some determined sunshine. And a bit of a fantasy, I’m afraid. This is Dock Town after all. Seems like this city is out to sabotage itself, sometimes.”

“No, none of that this morning. We’re celebrating, Neve. Now open the bag,” he encouraged.

“All right,” she acquiesced. She unfolded the top and peered inside. “A muffin?” She asked. Turvi nodded, not saying anything more. Neve drew her eyebrows together and pulled the muffin out. She lifted it to her face and inhaled deeply. “Gooseberry, my favorite?” Turvi stayed silent, simply smiling at her, basking in her surprise. “Where did you get his? Only Starbeaks makes them regularly and they sell out quickly. And how could you afford this? I can’t take this, it’s too much,” she said in a rush as she started to try to hand the muffin back to Turvi.

He wrapped his hands around both of hers and gently pushed the muffin back towards her, but didn’t move his hands away. “No Neve. You work so hard for your employees, the store, and for Dock Town. You deserve to be celebrated too,” he explained. She rolled her eyes and shook her head but gave in and pulled the muffin back to her lap. Turvi let her hands slip from his, missing their shared warmth immediately. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to be able to reach out and hold her hands whenever he wanted. He ached with it, deep in his soul. But for now, a moment shared over a muffin on a bench by the bus stop would have to do. 

==

Tossing out no pressure tags for @serensama @jenn2d2 @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @notyourmamasdeerbat @chaosherald @seaglassmelody @thedissonantverses @biowaredisasterbisexual

[spitking]

Ficbinding: CMJF collection

(long post, sorry for the bad pics, my phone sucks, the colors are butchered here)

First of all, a thank you to all the authors I've reached out to regarding this project. They've all been very nice to me and I hope they think this book looks good. I tried to make something on par with the amazing fics they wrote, and that was a high task.

The fanfictions collected here are (in no particular order):

The ties that bind, Radiate, recognize one silent call, And if you, my pets, learn to listen and You, me and the devil makes three by GodivaDevice

It's not fair. by CRUXSADO

Speaking of Rats and Kayfabe by Ungefug

In Love There Is Pain by Reeby10

Your body, a slaughterhouse by ConcreteCreature

The Softest Brick Wall and the Risky Fuel series by Eggshellseas

A Different Time, Thursday, Wednesday and The Fake by Hereforwords

You make me violent by Davidfincher

And I don't care, you've got your tongue against my neck by Raspberrypez

Mark On You by Wheat From Chaff

The altar is your hips by Peakvincent

Hating you at yesterday by Dogstigmatism

I couldn't get in touch with some of you, I hope that if you come across this, you don't mind my doing it.

The project: A year ago, I saw a gif of the CM Punk/MJF dog collar match on tumblr and I discovered wrestling. That's the first match I watched, and I fell in love with the wrestlers and their story. I went on to read many fics about them and the quality of writing in this fandom blew my mind. So I wanted to collect my favorite here for easier re-reading, and it was an occasion to work with a satiny fabric for the cover to mimick wrestling gear.

The bind: This was quite a complex project for me, I learned a lot and had to use my bookbinding skills (such as they are) to the max. For the cover, I replicated Punk and Max's gear during the dog collar match. See the inspo pics and the full cover:

Not too bad! A hurdle or two: the fabric has lines that couldn't be smoothed out completely, you can see them here. It's literally lines, this cloth has been ironed smooth. If I'd worked with real spandex it wouldn't have happened I think, but I'm not there yet, so I stuck to cheap satin. Also, when I added the burberry ribbon to the cover, I realized PVA glue wouldn't do the job, so I had to superglue them, and a little glue seeped through on the top there. What can you do. By the way, burberry ribbons?? I had to buy it from a small online shop that sells doll making supplies, it was hard to find.

While we're on the technical stuff, the massive new thing I tried here was chisel trimming the edges to get a smooth result. And it worked, after a lot of training and hours and hours of hand-destroying work. I'm really happy with how straight and smooth the edges turned out. Fun fact: I printed, folded, sewed and trimmed this book a first time, then because the result wasn't good enough, I used that textblock to train with the chisel, and then I started over and printed a second book, the one that you see here.

I chose green for the endpapers and endbands. I love me some green. Have some details:

Guys, believe me, this book is prettier in person and the colors are more vibrant. Damn phone camera.

Now something I find exciting: the typesetting!

The fun thing with wrestling is that it's very visual, so I can incorporate more pictures than I usually do in my books, and my new printer gives good results. There are pictures of the dog collar match and other pics of Punk and Max scattered throughout the book. I tried to put them in relevant places.

I made a little cover page for the Risky Fuel series. All individual fic have an intro page with all the info (author, rating, word count, tags, etc.) and a QR code to the fic on AO3.

Overall I kept it pretty simple, I didn't want to overcrowd it with decorations. This is for reading, after all. Here's what a normal text page looks like (the book has 460 pages btw):

I'm very satisfied with the evenness of the margins on all sides. The first word in Old English font is a callback to MJF's logo and Punk's "straight edge" tattoo.

Nitpicking: I think this is it with straight spines for me. Every time I try to do one, I have issues, it never turns out perfect, and it bugs me. The result here looks good, and the book lies flat as it should, but in person I see the imperfections and I hate them.

I'm a rounded spine guy and that's what I'm going to keep doing, even though they have their limitations (the only one I can think of right now is that you can't do a color split on a rounded spine because it will crease where the cloths meet, which I can live without).

In the end, I'm very happy I bound this book, because I'm going to be able to enjoy reading these fics cosy in bed for a long time. They're so good, guys, go read them!

Fonts: Cover page: Damage Plan and Old English. Text: Leelawadee. Fic titles: Built titling rg. All free with Windows or on Dafont.

Materials: Grey board 2mm thick, online-bought polyester "satin", Heat'n'Bond Ultra Hold, tissue paper, white copy paper 80gsm, synthethic ready-made bookmark and endbands, endpaper from Schmedt.

Feel free to ask me more about materials and fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, I just can’t think of anything else right now.

[sia-and-or-mia]

what’s one (or more, if you want) song(s) you stop everything you’re doing just to listen to?

oooooo!!! I like this question!!!! well anything Crane Wives related is a hit for me!! and also Fnaf songs— which is a lil embarrassing but I was a Fnaf kid oki??????? oh and also Shelter From the Storm and Ark and the Tinderbox by the Stupendium and uhhh probabaly Blood by Rustage. I don’t play either of the games thoses songs are for but I like them regardless!!

what’s your FAVORITE number?

that would have to be 3 for me!!!! I’m the third child (and last) of my family and I tumble-weeded down exactly three stairs when I was little and only bruised myself a lil (I hit those steps HARD)

how do you feel about coke/pepsi and adjacent sodas?

uhhhh, I mean we were always a bit of a pepsi household when I was younger but I really like Fanta and Sprite. oh and Crush (orange, I don’t know if they come in different flavors lol) is good. we had a lot of Crush at our school:)

do you collect anything? if so what?

uhhh I mean I don’t have anything I collect I don’t think? I mean unless you count plushies? you know what, yeah I collect plushies :)

what piece of art did you see/heard in person (or for a movie seen in theater) that you still think about/glad to have see ?

ooooo that’s a hard one! I’m kinda impacted by all the content I intersect with even in passing so although I’m sure there’s a better answer but ima just say everything :3

hardback, paperback, e-reader, or audio book?

oof, I gotta say hardcover although paperbacks are pretty good!

if you could go anywhere on the world where would you go?

that’s a tough question….probably head to Ithaca because I really like Epic the Musical and it sounds like lots of fun!!!

what’s your favorite pasta shape?

hands down macaroni!!!! I’m a big fan of macaroni!!! very yummy 10/10

what are you working on right now? (skill, art piece, craft, writing, etc)

currently I’m working in a ranchers fake dating au!!!! it’s still in its infancy and still being poked at with the content stick but I’ve got hopes for his one!!!!

thanks for tagging me Grem!!!! and now I’ll tag some others!!!!

@lostshulkerbox and @mellioops!!!! it’s into you two!!!! (no pressure ofc!!!) :>

m making their own tag game??? it's more likely than you think....

answer some super specific questions and get to know your moots better!! (i just thought this would be fun, summer is starting for me and it feels appropriate to do something to commemorate my newfound free time)

what's one (or more, if you want) song(s) you stop everything you're doing to listen to?

after the bombs by the decemberists, and also first day of my life by the bright eyes

what's your FAVORITE number?

three!!!!! 3 <<< look at it it's such a good number

how do you feel about coke/pepsi and adjacent sodas?

used to be vehemently opposed to drinking soda, i fear i'm starting to like it? pepsi over coke, but i will never drink either over a glass of sweet tea

do you collect anything? if so, what?

my biggest collection is quarters! my newest is dvds which is very very fun to go to secondhand stores to shop for

what's a piece of art that you've seen/heard in person (or for a movie, seen in theaters) that you still think about/are glad to have seen?

lucian freud's painting "girl in bed" (look here!) which i'm just. obsessed with. getting to see it was totally by chance but maybe also a little bit fate or something like that? i don't know, but it was a beautiful experience

hardcover, paperback, e-reader, or audio books?

harcoverrrrrr

you can go one place in the world, totally free. where are you going?

right now, i'd really like to go back to the shenandoah valley in virginia. it's such a beautiful area and i've only been once but i. miss it tbh

what's your favorite pasta shape?

linguine! and not just because of the rattatouille character

what are you working on right now? (skill, art piece, goal, task, etc.)

getting back into reading more! been really busy and tired lately but trying to remind myself that if i have an hour for tumblr, i have an hour for a book

literally zero pressure tags: @glitteredbubbles @good--merits-accumulated @damnitneilthenamesnuwanda @scriptscraps @littleprincefan @autumnbookworm81 @chameleon3 @abs-blabs @charlie-why-do-they-swoon @sadiesinkobsessedsstuff @theduckwithafroghat @prophecyhaunted and open!!!!!!!

side note that i stopped doing tag games for like a month because i don't even know but. i'm so back i just needed to stop guilting myself/making myself stressed over being busy. lol.

[starlight-dnd]

Cloudward Ho! to all who celebrate

Thoughts below

Is Siobhan gonna play a hot buff barbarian?

Emily flexing her Eastern European accent skills (Fia Boginya I miss you every day)

Montgomery LaMontgomery is a great name for a man with a mustache

MOOSE! A Moose named Clive! OCEAN MOOSE!

This is like… steampunk cowboy vibes

Zac is from the south and still does a fun stereotypical cowboy accent!

Old man benefactor, having Bertrand Bell flashbacks

Murph playing a precocious child is fucking hilarious. I hope he is a total shit heel

Oh….. my god…. Ally is playing an actual baby 😂😂😂😂 I’m fucking dying I bet this baby will be like the baby sister in A Series of Unfortunate Events

Oh? This is in the past 😂😂😂 The way I actually thought Murph was going play a 10 year old (like Ylfa) and Ally was going to play an actual baby.

So now are all of the adults from the beginning of this going to be old and crotchety?

I love these fuck ass names? Hatwell 😂

Ahahahhahaha even Murph agrees

It would be really funny to do a one shot or a campaign that is like heisting/repo’ing formerly rich assholes stuff

I may be learning from Brennan that I’m pronouncing Ouroboros wrong….

WOW Murph, rolled a Nat 20 as the first roll of the campaign?? Legendary

Emily hating his actual name is kind of hilarious

Wind Riders Cog Scout Club, someone make fan art please

WEALWELL 😂😂😂

I love their outfits

Well I was right about Murph being a little brat 😂 I love him

The Ministry of Deranged Science

Murph rolling well?! Can’t wait to see how long this lasts

A moment for the DM screen, it is beautiful

Ally playing a cutie little Rouge is gonna be so fun! I LOVE her character design

Brennan you are not helping your bird reputation

Olethra’s parents are Libertarians

I love that Wealwell is older than Max 😂 Wealwell should hang out with Gilear

Is Murph a barbarian??? I would like to Rowdy Rage? Actually his character sheet says Pugilist. Had to google that, apparently it’s a boxer.

TAKE THE SHOT 😂😂

Brennan doing the lead paint stare when playing Hutch and Artemisia is fucking sending me

ANOTHER NAT 20???

I am also interested in sideways 😂

Roasting Lou’s character’s fake writing

I know some of this is in post, but Brennan is SO good at making this recording sound real

Brennan who’s never done drugs or had a single drop of alcohol playing drunk and high people is supremely funny to me

What the ever loving fuck is “exquisite corpses” ?

Oh high we go, Cloudward ho! What a fun little mantra/poem thing

Dribble out a little piss 😂 Zac wtf

Another Nat 20! Getting them all out of the way now aren’t we crew?

Gets on his knees….. never mind 😂😂

Peepaw Zac

I love the captions “Lou laughing joyfully”

Long hair Murph from Starstruck was not my fav Murph look, no shade just not my fav, but I actually really like his long hair in this. Makes him look like A ROWDY

Makes me proud to be a Gotch, unlike eight or nine other people 😂 relatable

The limp handshake and the spit up gag 😂 Brennan don’t even lie. You love playing weird pathetic drag along beloved npc’s

Finally a Nat 1 lol

I like the nicknames, Pappy and Junker

GHOST DOG

I’ve been watching a lot of Critical Role and listening to Naddpod - Eldermourn. Ghost Dog reminds me of Lake the ancient wolf dog 😂

And Other Drivel to distract you from life’s tragedies: A Toy Store 😂😂😂

Oooooh Artificer! Tactical corset!

It wouldn’t be an Emily character without a little companion. Pawpaw, Bookvar, Baby the Imp, Cinnamon dragon, Aurora Nevins, I’m fairly sure Sophie Bikes had a little friend, and Callie had her serpent! And now Kočka the clockwork rat friend

Continuing to drag Lou/Monty’s writing

The under lighting makes Emily look intense and creepy, which is fun!

I’m really enjoying the background music as well

Dark and haunted Emily… yeeesssss

Revenggggggge Path

Take your salting!

An uppity gentrified millennial grey boat pub is hilarious especially run by a leather couch white lady with a mech arm…. Van is a cool ass name

Good for you for growing some balls 😂

Siobhan always serving with her outfits too! I LOVE her waistcoat vest thing

Brennan breaking into song 😂

I’m loyal to the Nut

Polyamorous relationship with your husband and the sky

Why do I want to eat at The Nut… sounds kinda good tbh

YAY BERT!

Siobhan sliding into being my favorite character? Gee who could have ever fucking guessed 😂

YES Siobhan! We love a prop! And a PERFORMANCE!!!

No bloody crying in the sky!

LAMO he’s a celeb and they spent the last hour and a half roasting him 😂😂

This is such a wild conversation to walk in on 😂

Evil politician Brennan voice and under lit facial expressions

So soft and absorbent 😂

Wealwell throwing up in the new Gilear shitting himself

I have no idea what Zood is supposed to be, I have a feeling whatever promised land it’s supposed to be, is going to be severely disappointing or scary

I love these four old farts. I think this is gonna be a fun campaign!

[erinwantstowrite]

what are your thoughts abot how Damian and Tim's relationship is portrayed in most fanfics?

personally, although I like the angst part of their relationship I wish there was more fanfics where they're closer and have real siblings dynamic (like u know they 'hate' eachother but they would destroy anyone who would want to hurt their brother)

oh, boy, do i have a lot to say about this one. buckle in, folks.

i feel like a lot of the time, if they're in a fic together and the fic author doesn't like one of them, the other is going to be mischaracterized to hell and back. sometimes... both are mischaracterized.

i'm all for a fanon interpretation of a character- obviously, because i have fanon interpretations in my fic too at least a wee bit- but sometimes it goes too far and it no longer feels like we're reading about the same character

let's talk about Tim.

Tim doesn't have a good view of himself or his standing in any emotional aspect. which is often misconstrued about him believing that he was Jason's replacement (neither he nor Bruce thought this, but it was Bruce's fear), or that his worth as Robin wasn't enough. that's not true at all. i'll say it again here: Jason didn't nearly kill Tim at Titan's Tower, nor did he go there to kill Tim. and Tim fought him back. he even told Jason to his face:

"you can't be that good" "I am."

he knows he's a damn good Robin! he trained with the best, he helps lead the YJ! he doesn't doubt that he was the best person for the job. but when it comes to the emotional aspect of Robin, i think this is where Tim stutters

this is because of how Tim's parents showed their affection.

i think canon neglects that aspect of his trauma, which is why so many people hang onto it. in the comics, Tim is shown to have a lot of friends both in and out of suit. he's abrasive and isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. but he is riddled with self worth issues. his parents were barely around him, they didn't know him well at all. and they loved him, but from a distance.

Tim now sees himself as someone that can receive love from a distance. he is incredibly self reliant, and has been from a young age. he sees all of his accomplishments as obligations. he does well at school because he had to. he takes care of himself because he had to. and in his mind, taking up Robin was partly another obligation. he does his job well because he has to, and he might doubt this sometimes like anyone else, but at the end of the day he is confident in his ability to get shit done.

now, the emotional part of Batman and Robin is where i believe i enjoy a fanon interpretation more. he actually does have a good relationship with Dick, but I'm not too sure about Bruce at this point. this topic is nuanced because Batman writers make him so diabolical at times to the point that i would consider it ooc. but other times they're very close and Bruce admits this. so i replace it in my head with a more stable and realistic version that i've seen written by fic authors very well.

Tim views himself as someone who is there for a job: help Batman. but there is a lot of wonder and awe there. his favorite Robin was Dick. (I'll say this again so everyone hears me: his favorite Robin was Dick. yes you are allowed to have nuance and put Jason in there as someone he looked up to as well, please do. but put some respect on Dick's name!) now that he's working with Dick Grayson, someone he admires so much, as well as getting the honor to wear the Robin suit, he feels more like himself than he has in years. he's good at this, and it's also fun. he meets so many people and he gets to make a difference in the world. yes, it's a job, but it's also very freeing

he never did this be Bruce's son, or to replace Jason. his relationship with Bruce started off extremely rocky, with Tim forcing himself into his life in some way because he believed that Batman was going to get himself killed or get someone else killed, or Batman would cross the line. and Gotham would lose the only person who had such unwavering optimism for them. he and Bruce come to an understanding of being partners but not father and son. Bruce doesn't want to open himself up to that hurt again. but we all know Bruce, and that's not what ended up happening. Bruce would never be the same person he was before, but he is not incapable of love.

Tim would not understand that change. I'd get more into this but i don't want this post too long and i wanna save it for when i'm not supposed to be sleeping and when i'm writing one of my Tim fics for once. all we really need to know is that Tim's emotional intelligence is dogshit, and him coming to see Bruce as a father, and Bruce seeing him as a son, would baffle him. because his parents love him... at a distance. and Bruce sees him every day. that's not how it's supposed to work, right?

so.

sometimes, Tim is treated like a porcelain doll who can do no wrong. many aspects of his canon has been altered by fanon to be "worse" than it is. his neglect by his parents did, indeed, happen, and it affects him deeply. but his parents weren't like. beating him, or leaving him without food or shelter or supervision. Tim was clever enough to get around that supervision all on his own. which is why they should have been there in the first place. (they should have been there regardless). and emotional neglect is still a very real issue??? no one has to make it "worse" by making the Drakes out to be monsters. i think Jack often emotionally manipulated Tim when he was around, and I don't know if Jack was even aware that he did so. (which is why i can see some people delving into that nonexistent relationship that DC gave us, and finally giving those implications more depth. there are a lot of good fics that go over this)

often it's hard to read a fic for Tim because they go too hard into making Tim an anxious shy ball of sunshine. Tim is weird, and he stalked the Bats, he stalked Nightwing, he broke into Titan's Tower before he even became Robin. he's a weirdo. he fits right in with the Bats for that reason. some people make him out to be the victim or some kind of damsel in distress, and sometimes we get to see a phenomena where other characters talk like a book about emotional intelligence that their therapist gave them. which is... fine, if you're just writing to write it, maybe helping yourself. but let's take a step back and see Tim is not like that. he is a very capable person, and his not some "uwu, woe is me, i'm so shitty at everything and if you even look at me wrong i'll cry." i honestly believe that Tim is the type of character to hate crying in front of someone and even if he was actively dying he'd be holding back those tears.

whereas Damian? gets the opposite treatment??

granted, i don't actually know too much about Damian, but i at least try to understand him and his background

he's the youngest of them, and i think many people forget that Damian isn't a reader of the comics like we are. he wasn't going into that family with the emotional connections to these characters and their backstories like we did. he was taught about these people, the idea of them. like how we could be taught in class about people from a long time ago. and i can ensure you that Damian was not taught proper emotional intelligence, nor would he have the best grasp of it himself when he was younger than 9 years old. imagine all of your teachers and also your mother told you about these people and their accomplishments, and then told you that the person all of them look up to is your father. the person that you want nothing more than to know, to see, because the people around you talk about him so highly. someone you haven't gotten to meet yet, because you aren't "worthy." can you imagine being told all your life that you are not worthy to see your father yet? and not knowing if he believes that too?

but one day, you are going to be by his side as his son. i don't want to get too into the culture of the Al Ghul family because i don't actually know that much (i'm sure someone would know more about this, feel free to add on if you want to), but this is important to Damian. it's important to his mom. it's important to his grandfather, the leader of an extensive organization that stretches hundreds of years.

then he gets dropped off in a different country, culture, language, and family and he finds that things are not as he had been told his entire life. his father has many flaws, they do not believe the same importance of a blood tie as his family back home does. they question his entire upbringing to his face many times, they question his mother who he loves deeply. he's nine years old. imagine yourself in that position. you don't know yet what role you're playing in an adult's life, but you want to. desperately. you want to know where you stand. you want a hug. not to mention that Damian actually is a very emotional kid. he was taught to shove that deep, deep down, and not let that out.

too many people write Damian as if he was a "feral" kid which is kind of not something to put on him? i don't like it both because he wasn't feral, he was an asshole. there's a difference. and because it feels like a microaggression?? at times?? because once again... the culture that he is from... is important.

they have been racially profiled for many many years... and yes, everything that you read is political whether you want it to be or not. the act of reading is political. you should definitely be aware of what a writer's goal is when they were giving something to you. you should be reading deeper. again, i'm not from his culture and i can't say if it is an insult/insensitive joke or not, nor am i saying everyone who's made the joke before is a bad person. i have made jokes about Tim being a feral kid before and whatnot. i'm saying that no matter who you are, it is your responsibility to think critically about your media and kindly about other people. it feels uncomfortable to me because i know how wrongly the Al Ghuls (specifically Talia) have been treated by writers in the past. and Damian is an extension of that bias. just look at how many times they try to push Ian Wayne on us. or how they'll pull back on Damian's character development when talking about the Al Ghul family.

this probably isn't my topic to write about, at least not before i learn more about it. but since i get a fair amount of viewership, maybe someone will listen to me that won't listen to someone of color that has already pointed this out many times. with the comics fandom, and Batman fandom specifically sometimes, people don't care to think further about why the characters of color are so often and conveniently left out or forced into an archetype. take that as you will

so! he has spent his entire life believing he had to live up to two great legacies, both of which are VERY different. the intricacies of the Al Ghul family are often boiled down to pure evil by both fanon and canon writers, which dulls Damian's resolve and reasoning for what he had done, or makes it hard to connect to him. he has since learned more about who he wants to be and has come to respect his family in many ways. excuse me if i'm wrong, but i think part of why Damian came so hard for Tim was because Tim had everything Damian wanted. he had a place by Batman's side as both his son and his partner, and was very well respected by Batman and Nightwing both. he's older, more mature, he has stature in both this society Damian now has to fit into and within the family dynamic. considering Damian grew up in an assassin cult that solved threats to their dynamics or positions in power by murder, it wasn't a far leap for a child from that environment to make. he was modelling what he had been taught his entire life.

think about the mistakes that you made as a kid. and i don't mean something silly or funny now, i'm talking something that makes you feel ashamed. embarrassed. hurt. something that perhaps now as an adult, you reflect on as being totally uncool. and i want you to think about if maybe your environment had a role to play in that. maybe you made an insensitive joke that your mom or dad would have found funny, and someone pointed it out and reasonably made you feel like a jerk. shit happens. but you hopefully grew from that.

now imagine that mistake was you hurting someone.

yes, he was annoying. he was bratty, at times. he could be a little calculating shit. he hurt people with both his words and his weapons. Tim obviously had many many many reasons to be upset about his treatment- but I fear that most of his anger ended up directed at the older people in their lives that were supposed to be the ones to do something about it!

and though i hate that Tim went back to being Robin (it feels redundant), i have seen panels that show that the two of them working side by side after Damian and Tim both went through some life and perspective altering events both together and alone, has made Tim see Damian as his little brother, and vice versa. Damian has grown so much and many people just... don't care. no matter their reasoning for hating Damian, it's unfair to not look further than those cutting words written decades ago, or to bring up his mistakes every time you want to be mad at him. and i think it does a disservice to Tim to make him a bleeding heart about this when he has clearly forgiven Damian and cares about him. he rags on Damian like any older brother would, and Damian makes remarks like a younger brother would. personally, i think the two of them are doing pretty good right now

the development of their characters is actually so interesting within the canon aspect, even if they can fumble the ball every now and then. and the mischaracterization takes away the value that their canon relationship has. i personally love reading fics that have Damian and Tim teaming up. in aus where one thing changes and Tim and Damian become brothers later, i think it's actually so silly and fun when Damian respects Tim or thinks he's cool. or even without the au aspect! just like, a fic where the two of them are working together and it's either silly or serious, Damian having a begrudging respect for Tim and Tim being protective over Damian, etc etc, is sooooo much fun

[iggyshippingcorner]

okay so the sickfic has spiraled wildly out of control. it's at 2k words right now and i think the final is going to be around 5k... (sigh)

in the meantime! 1k words of Stone cooking that I wrote after baking dessert for an event last weekend. features: domestic stobotnik, some named badniks, and food as love language. mostly canon compliant, takes place sometime in the crab era :3

working at the hardened mass of brown sugar with slightly damp palms. the cheesecake is in the oven, cyan watching it with rapt focus through the glass. he’s refilling the baking supplies in the crab’s kitchen while he waits for the timer to go off. the brown sugar solidified into a brick of molasses while it waited on the counter, and while there are quicker ways to soften the sugar, he’s always preferred this method. small crystals cling to the grooves of his fingers and palms as he kneads at the brick, humming quietly to the music oni plays from her vantage point. a large clump breaks off from the brick, and he rolls it between his palms until it begins to crumple, and he deposits his fresh handful in the waiting jar. 

he dusts his sugar-coated hands off over the sink. a quick rinse to make sure he isn’t leaving crumbs across the whole kitchen. the terracotta disc gets a quick rinse as well, the old clumps of brown sugar clinging to it sloughing off under the spray. he towels it dry, revealing the familiar sparrow with its forked tail and sparse plumage. it goes in the jar, pressed down into the sugar to tamp it flat. with its labelled lid screwed back on, it returns to its designated spot in the cabinet beyond the marzocco. after the brown sugar comes the flour, a hefty glass jar with a bail lid that came from his own apartment. nearly empty. he scrapes out the last two cups and sets them aside, rolling up his sleeves as he wrangles the new bag of flour. 

alpha’s bzzt-brrp! from his perch above the fridge heralds the doctor’s arrival. stone doesn’t turn around so much as he drifts to a more interruptible task and then allows the doctor to step comfortably into his personal space, arms winding around his middle. his chin digs into stone’s clavicle. they don’t speak, not yet, just stand swaying slightly as he sets the kettle to boil and begins perusing their steadily growing tea collection. as much as the doctor despises switching things up, he’s been surprisingly accepting of stone introducing some diversity to his caffeine intake.

there’s clementines in the bowl by the marzocco, and the doctor reaches past stone to snag one. he rewards the snack choice with a silent shift, his elbow squeezing robotnik’s forearm to his ribs more securely. there’s the gentlest rumble of a laugh against his shoulder-blades. he tips his head to one side, curious, but the doctor doesn’t offer any explanation. just leans in and bumps his cheek against stone’s ear, moustache tickling his jaw and lips. 

“back to the grind,” he says, a touch too loud for how close he is. stone squeezes him again just because he can, and then lets him disentangle himself. “ETA?”

stone flicks the oven light on, and they both crouch in front of the glass once cyan shuttles away with a dejected zzzrr. the cheesecake bubbles quietly. stone checks the egg timer. “another hour. hungry?”

“biding my time,” robotnik hums, and waves the orange at him. “curry tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” stone replies, like he wouldn’t carve the moon from the sky with his bare hands if the doctor asked him to. “what were you thinking?” 

“surprise me,” the doctor says, all magnanimous, which stone knows to mean reasonably spicy, and containing either lamb or pork. he graciously allows stone to steal the clementine from his hands, watching impassively as he quickly, efficiently peels it over the sink, and returns the exposed heart of it to his waiting hand. he pops one of the slices into his mouth and when the flesh splits between his teeth, stone has to take a slow, measured inhale. robotnik eyes him, but he just smiles, easy, agreeable. “I’ll send cyan to you when dinner’s ready.”

“sounds good,” the doctor nods, and leans in for an entirely unprompted kiss on the cheek that leaves stone blushing in the artificial sunlight of the crab’s kitchen windows. he shuffles out of the kitchen, peeled clementine in hand. stone watches him leave. cyan beeps eagerly from her post in front of the oven, and it breaks his reverie. 

“alright, alright. let me get in there,” he laughs, grabbing the oven mitts. 

the cheesecake comes out perfect. he has to swat multiple badniks and one robotnik away from it while it cools, and wrestles it into the fridge to chill properly despite more than a few protests (“this is a perfect time to test the liquid nitrogen chamber!”). 

dinner is a quiet affair crammed side by side at the island, legs tangled beneath the counter. the doctor steals more than a few pieces of lamb off his plate, and begrudgingly eats a few extra pieces of bell pepper in exchange. when they finally cut into the cheesecake, stone drinks in the sight of his doctor’s first bite-- the way his eyebrows raise a little, the way he assesses and catalogues consistency, texture, flavour. how his nose scrunches a little and he grins toothily down at his plate in appreciation. 

“excellent again, stone,” he says. such direct and genuine praise calls for a little preening, even if it causes robotnik to smack his arm and nearly send his own slice of cheesecake flying. the doctor snickers as he rights himself on his stool again, and accepts the retaliatory forehead kiss.

they drink tea on the couch afterwards, watching some telenovela while pretending (badly) to not notice the way they gravitate closer and closer, until robotnik’s head is in stone’s lap and both mugs are on the coffee table. stone is trained better than to fall asleep while the doctor provides running commentary on the anarrative arcs at play in the episode, but he would be a liar if he claimed his eyes never drifted shut listening to the familiar cadence of his doctor’s voice filling the warm space between them. his tangents ebb and lull like the waves overhead, their quiet domesticity concealed within the crab, far from the prying eyes of the world.

[stellewriites]

butch!141 moodboards? 👀

butch!141 moodboards 🙂‍↕️ - links to each fic attached

simon price

gaz johnny

inspired a little bit by the fics i’ve got planned for them and their characters overall,, i have a reason (though some are admittedly Dumb) for every item on these moodboards so PLEASE yap away with me about them

any extra 1fem1 fics can be found on my main masterlist

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that you behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

  “You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

  Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

✦Heat Signature (Vere Continuation) ->

[flaming-toads]

So what if I go back to s1e10 of 911 and I enjoy Bobby's little dating profile and think about silly cute ideas about it hmm?! HMMM?!