#IT FILLS ME WITH SO MANY EMOTIONS but it's so simple i wanna draw it

[misty-wisp]

would. would y'all mind if i drew something based on one of the artbook illustrations

[rafedaddy01]

Coconuts

Series Masterlist

A/n: I will make a part 5, just need to gather my thoughts. Have so many ideas don’t know which to pick.

Warnings: oral fem receiving.

“We’re gonna have so much fun baby” Rafes words lingered in her ears like they were the most beautiful thing she’d heard. She wanted more of him. She needed more of him. They shared a passionate kiss before he helped her get dressed and she slipped out of his room. A smile plastered on her face as she walked down the hallway, all thoughts about rafe. His eyes, his nose, his lips, his fingers. The way they danced on her- “hey y/n! I’ve been looking everywhere for you” Sarah’s voice echoed in her ears, drawing her away from her memories. “Oh my gosh, Sarah. Yeah I uh I kinda got lost in this big house.” She lied straight through her teeth. “Sorry I left so abruptly. topper needed uh help with something” her face a bit flushed. So while she was getting fingered by her brother, Sarah was getting fucked by topper. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that she was in the wrong too.

“No problem. Rafe was kind enough to direct me” she smiled at Sarah. “He didn’t do anything weird to you did he?” Sarah asked. “No not at all, he just lended me a hand” flashbacks of grinding down onto his fingers and having the most mind blowing orgasm ever, one that her own fingers could not give her, made her wet all over again. She sucked in a breath and pushed the thoughts aside. “Well I better get going, my parents are probably worried sick. I haven’t been home all night” and with that y/n left the Cameron residence. Meanwhile in Rafes room, he couldn’t get the thought of her body out of his mind. He was whipped. It was obvious. Hopefully not to obvious to y/n, he didn’t want her knowing his true feelings. He had a hard time expressing emotions, but with her it was simple. He just didn’t want to ruin anything before it even begins. He still had one issue, the growing pain in his sweats. He wasn’t upset that she didn’t take care of him, there would be time for that.

He slowly laid back against his pillow, pulling his cock out and getting to work. He didn’t need much, having the thought of his fingers curved inside her cunt was enough to get him over the edge. He stroked fast and hard until there was nothing left, only the image of her pleading eyes looking up at him through her lashes as his cum covered every inch of her face.

Time jump to the next day

Her phone ringer and she lays in bed watching a movie. “Rafe? How the hell did you get me number?” She answered. “I have my ways” his way were in fact going through Sarah’s phone until he found it. “What are you doing” his voice was low and it shouldn’t have been as hot as it was but it had her weak in the knees and flashbacks of the previous day flooded her brain. “Nothin. Just watching a movie” she casually said, when really her voice was a bit high pitched. “Wanna come outside?” He asked, you could hear the smirk he had on in his voice. He heard her shuffle around until she peeled the curtain in her room back to see his truck parked out front. “What the hell rafe! How did you find my house?” She laughed. “I told you I have my ways” he chuckled. “So. You coming down or do I have to come get you?”

She rolled her eyes and hung up as she raced down the stairs. Outside is when she realized she was only in her sports bra and booty shorts, shrugging she climbed into the passenger side of the car. Immediately Rafes lips snatching hers. “Rafe” she giggled as she pulled back. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.. I need to taste you again baby” his voice husky in her ear. Her cheeks growing hot, along with her cunt filling with juice. She wanted nothing more than to have him between her legs. “We can’t do this here.. my.. my parents are home” she said in between breaths as he sucked on her neck, taking in the scent of her hair, coconuts. His new favorite smell. He pulled back and kissed her before starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway.

He pulled up to a secluded area, shutting off the engine and turning to her. She pounced on him like he was a piece of meat and she hadn’t eaten all day. He gripped her hair as their tongues danced with each other. “I love kissing you” he admitted. She moaned into his mouth. They climbed into the back and Rafes hands roamed her body, removing her shorts and admiring the wet patch on them, he groaned as he saw her cunt up and close, it was drenched. Desperate to be filled, used, tasted. “Fuck baby.. so wet” he muttered as the pads of his fingers grazed down her clit and slit. She whined as the lack of pressure, bucking her hips to get some kind of friction. He was surprised as how reactive she was, he only used his fingers once and she was already addicted to his touch.

“Rafe.. please” she whimpered. He grinned as he brought his shirt over his head and disposed of her shorts somewhere on the ground. He lowered his head in between her legs, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs and spreading her further open. “Beg for me again baby” his hot breath warming her cunt up and making her shiver in anticipation. “Please!” She groaned. He complied as he stuck his tongue out and poked her clit with it, testing the waters before he devoured it. It took everything in him to hold back, he wanted to ruin her, corrupt her. But he controlled himself, knowing it would be worth it. One day she’s be a complete slut for him and he could not wait till that day. She lightly sucked on her bundle, engraving every moan she released in his mind, for later. He sucked a bit harder and her hands grasped his hair, pulling roughly and pushing his head against herself.

He moaned into her cunt, sending vibrations through her body and she was close, he slid his tongue down her folds, savoring the taste, he slipped it inside her and worked it around. He could feel her legs shake and threaten to close. He clamped them open, grunted as he worked his tongue further in her, his thumb coming up to rub circles on her clit” “fuck, fuck, fuck rafe!” Was the last thing she said before squirting all over his face. Her body going limp as he lick up her juices. Being careful not to overstimulate her. He grabbed his shirt and gently cleaned her off. Hovering over her and leaning down to kiss her. “Did you know you could squirt?” He taunted her. She covered her face in embarrassment “rafe- I’m so sorry” “don’t be. It was hot, I’ve never made anyone do that before” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her nose. A sweet gesture that somehow was more intimate than what just happened prior. He continued kissing her face, nose, cheeks, forehead and chin as she giggled as his actions. Finally leaving one on her lips. It was long and passionate.

He pulled himself up and gave her shorts to get dressed and he wrapped his arm around her when she finished and pulled her into him, cuddling in the back. “So when do I get to taste you” her comment caught him off guard, his jeans tightening at the thought. She looked up at him through her lashes, the same way he imagined when he jerked himself off yesterday to her. “Uh, when do you want to?” He asked, still in shock at how forward she had been. “Well, I’ve never done it before… but you can teach me right?” She sat on her knees as her eyes lit up. He reached over and pushed a strand of hair from her face. “Of course baby” she smiled. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me. I may be inexperienced but that doesn’t mean I want to be treated like a delicate flower Rafe” he words like music to his ears. This whole time he tried so hard to be gentle and all she wanted was to be treated like a slut. “Yeah baby” his hand snaked into her hair and pulled her head back. “Think you can handle it?” He admired her neck as he softly moaned. “You want me to be rougher with you? Huh?” He asked again. “Yes” she answered back.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what your asking for” his dark chuckle filling the atmosphere. He realized in that moment that maybe she was created for him, maybe they were made for each other. The way her eyes had no fear or terror in them when she was with him, just pure lust and a glint of love?

part 5

[sigynpenniman]

FELLOW AUTISMS: I have realized something and I must share. If you are routinely plagued by feelings of not belonging, not deserving, or not having a right to be in a certain place or do a certain thing, check to see if you are practicing rejection before it occurs in an attempt to reduce its potential pain!

Thoughts like “I don’t deserve to be here,” “I’m not good enough for this,” “Everyone thinks I’m silly,” “everyone is judging me,” “everyone is going to see this and wonder who I think I am,” and etc are all expectations of rejection. If someone looks are you and says “you are not good enough to be here,” this is a form of rejection. When we think “everyone is going to think I don’t deserve to be here,” we are expecting this rejection before it occurs.

But if this feeling is consuming and stops you from doing things, like, for example, being unable to draw or paint something because you think you are not talented enough to deserve doing it, you may be practicing rejection by invoking it in yourself in order to make the feeling familiar and therefore manageable.

We know that something common in NDs is being more bothered by the unknown and unexpected than by discomfort or pain as flat concepts. Many of us are not actually that bothered by pain or unpleasantness if it is familiar to us and we know exactly how it feels & how long it will last.

Here’s where the devil lies. Sometimes your brain does this with emotions by invoking them itself. It says “oh, we may get rejected,” and then deliberately invokes this emotion in itself in order to become familiar with it and learn to prepare for it. The problem is that this is so subconscious that you may not understand this is happening, and the supposed “productive” aspect of this exercise (preparing and becoming familiar with the pain) never even happens, because as soon as the emotion is produced, your brain completely forgets it was trying to do anything useful at all or invoking this emotion itself, and instead reacts exactly as it would if it had actually experienced real rejection in the real world, and then you get feelings of hopelessness and discouragement when, from your perspective, nothing has happened to evoke them - but they’re still real, and you don’t even wanna do the thing at all anymore. The brain may be attempting something with actual merit - becoming familiar with something and making a plan for handling it - but it’s going about it a completely useless and harmful way that never actually does anything other than stopping you from taking chances, making progress, and even doing simple things.

this is my breakthrough this week so I am imparting it on all of you. The next time you become filled with terror of not belonging or not deserving, ask yourself if you are trying to practice how to handle rejection by invoking it in yourself. the answer may very well be yes

[tacochippy]

Aight since you sent me some of the questions I'm sending you some!

1 and/or 2, 7, 10 and/or 11, 14, and 15

Feel free to pick and choose which ones you wanna answer if you don't wanna answer all of them ^^

What is/was your favorite subject in school and why?

I really lo ed math !! it was nice qhen i understoos the moethod and reasoning, because then i can just sit and do tbe same rhing over and over again. Oh, doing percentages? ik how to calculate that and why it is that way. Stats? oh yeah theres diff things for specifci reasons and you figure it out tjis way. FUXKING ALGEBRA AUAHGHGG. THERES THINGS YOU FILL IN ITA THE SAME FORMULA EACH TIME JUST SOUBLE CHECK AND YOURE GOOD <33

What's a subject you feel knowledgeable about (including fandom stuff!)? What're your favorite things/facts in that subject?

I feel pretty knowlegable about abuse and childcare/certain child psuch things! not very much, but ig uts the thing i could ramble the most abt aside from lego monkie kid and a few toehr fandoms i cant quiiiiteee rembemebr. My fzv fun fact is that threats of physical abuse can and mostly do have the same mental effects as if the person had followed through (ie/ getting told by your dad that hes gonna hit you, after enough time/consistently enough, you will react as though he had hit you all those times)

Do you have any projects going on right now? What's it about? What's your favorite thing about it?

I dont have any projects going on right now, but i just finished one so ill tell you about that !! This is my dnd character, Bramble Elodia! She was created by a man named Foth Eir Oak Elodia. He has a dream of creating a city full of just robots and mschinery and living artifical people, such as bramble who is based off of porcelain bjd's!! :3 my fav tbing abt her is her cute, friendly nature despite her tall (she is 7'2) stature and sense of looming. I also ADORE her camera apeture eye, she has a camera in her head. Funf act abt her !! she has water based mechanisms inside her, like little mills and such, so she always sounds like flowing water :}

What are some (movies/shows/books/video games/songs/other media) you'd recommend and why?

Movies - Tangled !! Its fun and lighthearted with some pretty epic emotional beats. very relateable.

Mirror Mirror (2012) !! IT IS A SUPER FUN SPIN ON SNOW WHITES STORY. REALLY GOOD EMOTIONAL BEATS. PHENOMENAL COSTUMING AND AET DESIGN. VERY FUN AND HAS ASILLY ANTICS AND THE MAIN CHARACTER (SNOW WHITE) GETS REVENGE IN A SUPER COOL WAY AND ITA NOTBPRESENTED AS WRONG THAT SHE WANTED REVENGE. GOOD COLOUR SYMBOLISM. SUPER FUN MAGIC SYSTEM. ITS GOOD ITS REALLY GOOD JUST TRUST ME PLEASE WATCH IT

Shows - LEGO MONKIE KID !! INSANE ATORYLINE, HAS FUN GOOFY GUYS, REALLY GOOD FEELINGS. VERYBFUN AND SUCH A COOL ART STYLE !!

Books - Percy Jackson. Need i say more?

Video Games - Deep Rock Galactic !! Go into the mines and kill aome bugs! Good customisation, none of the classes are useless, good for accesibility settings. Has subtitles. Rock and Stone !! Cute robots too (bosco and molly and bet-c and dottie etc) Good and fun lore. Angry Man Is Funny (mission cobtrol). If you get it i can play with you !! :D

Songs - Two of Many by The Happy Fits! very cute song <33. Cotards Solution by Will Wood and the Tapeworms! SO COOL !

Other Media - Satorun Devouring His Son by Goya! its a good painting.

What hobbies do you have? What's your favorite part? Your least favorite part?

I mostly do digital art, i write too, and kandi art as well! For digital art, my fav is definitely the colours and special effects i can do. I have the whole rainbow whene i need it, i can easily change and wdit the pallette, its so fun and good. Least favourite is comijg up with what to draw akdbfjbgf

For writing, id say my favourite part is using nice words and portraying things drawings cant express (at my skill level i mean) and how you can change the readers feelings with just a few simple word choices- its nice to cut through to your reader like that. Feels like im making a connection. Least favourite part is keeping the words in my head and the words in my word doc the same or similar. Im bad at keeping the words in my brain when i think up cool things to say, so i tend to get the vauge thoguht down but not what i wsnted

For kandi art, i LOVE how pretty it is! giving it away as gifts is fun too. The beads slot together so well, creating paths for the string js fun and so satisfying. Least favourite is when i ACCIDENTALLY DROP THE STRING AND THREE HOURS IF WORK GOES DOWN THE DRAIN T-T. its a little finnecky sometimes too, and i got big clumsy sausage fingers jsjfjgjf

Silliest thing you've ever done?

okag okay. no judging ne over this even though i was like 14 and passed the age i should have done stuff lsike. uh. thatm this. i suppose.

So. Im 14. im about to make a hot chocolate. the water has boiled.

I decide i want filtered water instead. I decide, in a moment if beautiful clarity, that the shirt ive been wearing for like three weeks straight without breaks (deppression) would make a good filter.

I put my shirt over the mug. i am standing on my tippy toes to reach the counter. there is cat hair on my shirt and it is deeply stained. I have not yet realised that my shirt will then be wet with BOILING HOT WATER ON MY STOMACH. nobody is home. i am safe in the ignorance and ignorance of all rules and laws.

The mug is halfway full.

I need to take a break from being on my tippy toes. i stand down on flat feet.

the mug tips.

i now have boiling water all over my stomach.

my wet and warm shirt is now on my now burnt stomach.

i go upstairs and douse myself with coldish water in the shower.

sopping wet and in pain. i cry

i do not come clean about this for a whole year and a half. i say i just spilled it on my stomach normally.

end scene

What was your dream job(s) as a kid? Why did you wanna do it? Is it still your dream job?

My first two dream jobs were fahsionista/fashipn designer and an author! I wanted to be a fahsion designer cause i lovelove clothes and being able to express myself really well. As for author? I just like dwriting, and telling kinda fucked up stories (at my age and reading and writing elvel i mean). Mostly wrote about lesbians. Didnt know what a lesbian was.

Id always loved story telling, i just thoguth and still think its really cool. When i was about 4, i think dad said, i would tell HIM bedtime stories ibstead of him telling me any. This more than once lead to me telling stories such as the one where a big monster went to this town and atr my entire family (i went into as much grotesque detail as my brain could muster) and sawed off peoples limbs to use as utensils like chopsticks and then ate those too and bit off peoples heads to trhow them at my other family members. the big momster had fun doing this. much fun. then at the edn i reveleaed that the monster was ME the wjole time and yeah dad said it was scary for me to do stuff like that.

Also do you KNOW how concerned my teacher was when 4th grade me wrote a story about two girls locked in this guys basment in tiny little capsules and they had to escape with the other girls that qere there? and how they had to kill the giy that trapped them ans the emotional aftermath of taking a human life, but knowing it was them or you and they saved all these women too? so concerned. dad said i wrote like if stephen king loved pink glitter and fairies that ate people. and was also 9 years old.

sorry these werent answered in roder i jsut copy apsted all of the questions so i wouldnt forgor skfbgngjgj

[mrs-march-ahs]

Hi! I have a request~ The Evans reactions to losing in any sort of game. Can be board games or video games 😅

The Evans Losing At Games

Headcannons for all, imagines for some!

Cute idea, thank you! I didn’t write much for Jimmy, I’m sorry Jimmy I love you<3

Enjoy:)

Tate

-Clearly a teenage boy who lets emotions build up a lot -Definitely cheats if he’s had enough -If he keeps losing in the same part of the video game and rage quits, it takes him forever to get back into the game - “Ohhhh… I forgot that’s where I let off… fuck it” (quits) -Much better and calmer at playing cards, and generally prefers games were the two of you can talk and he doesn’t have to focus too much

--

You laid on your bed, scrolling aimlessly through social media, and occasionally glancing at Tate playing a video game he hasn’t played in a while. When you started talking about games, and you told him you had it, he nostalgically reminisced how much he used to play it when he was alive, so you set it up for him. Every few minutes, when a red screen would pop up, Tate would sigh, and with every passing death, his sighs got louder and angrier.

After only maybe half an hour of playing, Tate clearly couldn’t take it anymore, and threw the control towards the floor, before stomping over to shut the console and TV off. The sound made you flinch, and you had never seen Tate angry before. Nor his body language nor face showed his emotions, just his actions, and when he flopped by your side, he looked fine. If somebody had come in right now, they would just see two teenagers laying next to each other.

“Uhhh… you okay?”, you ask, before rolling over to face him. You poke at his chubby cheek as he stares up at the ceiling and tease him. “Sore loser”.

“Shut up, it’s your fault. You reminded me why I wasn’t allowed to play this game for very long”.

“Wanna play something else? Together? We could play Dragon Ball Z?”, you ask quietly, before going back to your childish sing-song teasing. “Be nice, and I’ll even let you win a few times!”

Tate looks over at you and huffs, before sitting up and getting the controllers, “Good thing you’re used to begging me for mercy”

Kit

-Least sore loser out of them all -Always up for a rematch -He’s pleasant even when he does win - “Want a rematch sugar? So you can have another shot at beating me?” - “Ah you were close, you’re getting good” - “You’re a good rival” - “If I lose, you can drag me to that Rom Com you wanted to see” - “If I win, we make more babies” -Pretends to be competitive when he’s playing with the kids - “I would say Team Girls vs Team Boys… but that’s not fair, the two of you don’t even stand a chance, right Tommy?” -If one of the kids beat him, he’d act super dramatically to give them as much satisfaction of winning -Laser tag is 34 years before Kit’s time, but if he played something like that, he’d try to let the kids win

--

You ran around the garden and chased a giggling Julia. Because of current financial issues, the power was out, but not wanting to worry the children to much, and not wanting them to ask too many questions, you and Kit decided to make the most of the sun and tire them out before it got dark. Kit, being the big kid he is, suggested playing a tag-like game Thomas invented, where you each get three pebbles each, and try to get each other out by throwing them. Gently. Unless you were throwing them at Kit.

Julia started slowing down when she reached the corner of the house, hoping to hide from you, but you were right behind her, making her turn around and burst out in giggles. When the 5-year-old laughed, the only thing you could see was the missing tooth she donated to the tooth fairy last night. Once you circled all around the house, you come back in view of the garden, and see Julia hiding behind Kit.

“That’s cheating!”, he exclaims, trying to run away from her and toss a pebble in her direction, only for her to do it faster. The second Julia’s tiny rock hits Kit’s tummy and bounced, he put his hands over his stomach and held it like a gun wound. He dropped to the floor dramatically, leaving the two little kids to die of laughter, and you walk over to him, Kit peeping open one eye slightly to see if you were watching him, and then stuck his tongue out to play dead. You picked up a stick from the floor and poked at his chest, making Kit chuckle but quickly hide it.

“Is it dead?”, you ask.

Thomas leans in closer to look at his dad on the floor, before Kit opens his eyes and pulls Tommy to the floor with him, rolling over to be on top of him.

“I win!”, Kit announces, before kissing his son on the cheek.

Franken Kyle

-He doesn’t particularly play complicated games, but he isn’t too patient and gets frustrated with himself pretty easily -If on one of his educational games, he messes something up too many times in a row, he’ll shut off the game and throw the tablet on the bed -He’ll avoid even looking at it -If he loses a tickle fight he’ll sit and whine, straddle you and then tickle you until you beg him to stop -Whines even if he loses at rock paper scissors -He likes colouring and drawing, and because it’s good for his motor skills, the two of you made a really simple game together -You drew out a long snake shape on a big piece of paper and drew lines in between for the spaces -Kyle carefully coloured them in with pencil and with a marker you wrote occasional things like ‘Go back two spaces’ or ‘Go forward three spaces’ -Sweet little Ky would roll the dice, and take his time, pushing his little figurine, which was something like a pencil sharpener or a bottle cap, and counted out the spaces -Got super excited if he won, but wouldn’t mind losing -He would insist the two of you keep playing, and you’re only allowed to stop and go to bed if you end on him winning -Sometimes he would try to let you win so that you could keep playing -Whine and pout if you had to stop playing, and how are you meant to say no to him? -You would have to promise you’ll play tomorrow -You’d be able to slowly make more and more complicated games, until eventually he’d be able to play things like checkers or Ludo

Jimmy

-Lowkey a sore loser -If there were loads of different people playing, he would be a lot more friendly -If he lost, he would still be super annoyed, but just wouldn’t show it -But if it was the two of you, he’d be super competitive -The type of person to flip the board game if he was losing -But he’d apologise straight away and pout if you didn’t want to play with him again - “C’mon let’s play again, I’ll be nice this time” - “Loser gets spanked” -Loves playing games like beer pong

James

-Unpleasant loser but also not a pleasant winner -Bitter compliments if you win at cards - “Well done darling, who would have thought with your high school education you were such a poker master” -Only willing to play the same 5 card games, because if you teach him a new board game he is not familiar with and he loses, he’ll claim it’s only because he’s new to the game -Absolutely infuriated if he loses at Monopoly, since he built a hotel after all -Don’t even bother trying to teach him how to play a video game -And of course - “Only amateurs keep score”

--

“What are you doing, dear?”, James said, fascinated at your little character wandering around a shop, on the screen in front of both of you.

“I’m trying to buy this plant, but I don’t have enough money, I want to see if I can sell anything I have”, you explain, pointing at your backpack filled with items that you can exchange for spare coins.

“Nonsense, darling, why don’t you simply stab the storekeeper and steal what you desire?”

“Because this is Animal Crossing, James, there isn’t a stab button”

Kai

-Kai likes playing video games or board games with literally anybody apart from you -He likes playing with Ozzy because he’s a kid so most of the time Kai can beat him easily -Definitely not the type of person to let the kid win, even if Ozzy is sobbing and Ally asks him to let Ozzy win once in a while - “Winning fairly will feel so much better for him” - “He won’t appreciate success if he doesn’t first taste failure” -Sometimes instead of story time with his troops he’ll play some board games -At first, everybody will keep letting Kai win out of fear -But eventually someone will win, and everybody else will be fearful for them, scared Kai will be angry - “Finally somebody capable, somebody strong, not scared to show their true capabilities” -But if you ask him to play a game with you, he probably won’t -If you eventually beg enough that he will agree to play a game with you, he’ll tell you he’s only playing one -If you win, he’ll be like, “Okay, are you happy now?” - “Finally it’s over” - “I let you win, are you happy?” -But if he wins, he’ll try to get you to play a few more games - “Are you giving up already?” - “Don’t be a sore loser, rise up to the challenge” - “I assumed you wanted to win, not just to play”

- (Kai loses) “See… you have to give a humiliated man a chance to redeem himself in his own ey-”

[smileyoongle]

Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Seokjin

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2K

You bowed before the audience at your workplace, an empty smile tugging at your lips as you finally walked down the stage and made your way to the bar. This was the third consecutive day in a week where your boss had made you work overtime without paying you for it. You knew that as a singer who performed in a small but reputable lounge bar, you weren’t worth that much. In fact, the reality was that you could be replaced at any given time, the city not having any less talented singers than you and that made you insecure about your job all the time. But either way, you were just stuck here, trying to push your way through every single day just to clear all your debts.

Life was unfair. It had always been.

Sitting down on a bar stool, you leaned across the counter and rested your elbows on it, the cold surface feeling good against the warmth of your skin. The speakers in the lounge were now playing the latest radio hits, the beats making your head hurt as you were handed a glass of water by the bartender who looked at you with a pitiful smile. Thanking him, you sipped on the water before your manager made his way to you and placed a champagne coloured envelope before you. Frowning in confusion, you gave him a questioning look which he returned with a nervous but angry expression.

“Someone left a tip for you,” he sneered, clearly not liking the fact that you had received money which wasn’t given by him. An asshole is what he was, his intentions of seeing you worried sick becoming more and more obvious with every passing night.

Pursing your lips, you unsealed the envelope only to find a lot of money, money that was probably worth your salary of six months. Your eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as you tried to make sense of why someone would tip you off with so much cash. You weren't even that good and you could never be that good.

“Who?” you asked, following your manager’s gaze to the exit where a bunch of men were making their way out. Almost immediately, you were on your feet with the envelope tightly clutched between your fingers. You needed to know who this man was that was so generous to you. Needed to know what about you was worth so much.

Holding your dress with one hand, you made your way towards the exit, eyes worriedly fixated on the doorway which was now empty. The bouncers nodded at you in acknowledgement while you forced a smile upon your lips and exited the bar, a part of you thinking that he must have left. But just as you came in contact with the cold night outside, your eyes took in the sight of an expensive car with a man dressed in an equally expensive suit surrounded by, you were guessing, his bodyguards. You couldn’t see his face yet, only his back being your line of sight but judging by everything, he certainly was someone in power. But if that was the case, what was he doing in a place so...average?

Deciding to end your curiosity, you called out to him, not knowing that this man was going to turn your life around completely. In a good way or bad? That was for you to choose.

“Excuse me, Si-”

Right then, your heel decided to give away, your ankle twisting painfully before you tripped...except you didn’t. Instead, you felt two hands taking a hold of your waist to steady you, your hands immediately latching onto their shoulder in return. And that’s when you finally saw him.

Kim Seokjin.

The man who was known to be running the biggest drug cartel around the country.

Your breath hitched as your eyes widened in recognition, a shiver running down your spine upon the realisation that he was here and he was holding you. Your fingers involuntarily tightened around his bicep, his eyes intently taking in your face as if you were his prey and he, your predator.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” he asked, snapping you out of your daze. Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, too afraid to even move because what could you even do? If you had known that Kim Seokjin was the one who had tipped you off, you would have probably just handed the money to your manager without confronting him. But here you were, stuck in a situation that you didn’t know how to get out of.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a car door opening, your eyes darting towards the black vehicle that now mocked at you with its open door. Jin swiftly picked you up without a word, a small yelp escaping your lips as you stared at him with fear and panic.

Were you being kidnapped?

Before you could think any further, you were placed onto a cool leather seat, your legs dangling to the side where the door proceeded to stay open. You watched Jin kneel down before you, his hands gently taking off your heel to inspect your ankle as a frown made its way to your forehead. The sudden act of kindness was making you very confused and you didn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe he just treated people nicely before he got rid of them?

A sudden pressure to your ankle had you whimpering and pulling your foot away, your teary eyes meeting Jin’s as he looked up at you with a soft gaze only to have his heart ache upon seeing you in so much distress.

In all honesty, this wasn’t the first time Jin was seeing you and the fact that he had tipped you a fortune was no coincidence either. He had walked into this bar for a deal about a month ago when he saw you, your voice being the first thing that captivated him. You looked absolutely stunning in a satin dress with your lips stained red, your smile taking his breath away even though it was just for show. Ever since that night, he just knew he had to see you and know you even if it meant coming to this place.

When you went to the rooftop to cry your heart out, he was right there in the shadows, wondering just what he could do to take your worries away. When you were being yelled at by your landlord, he was right there holding himself back from ruining that man's life. In short, every single time you thought you were alone, you weren't. Jin was always there, slowly figuring out where he was going to fit himself in your life. This tip that he had given you was guaranteed to solve your problems but along with that, it also made sure that you would want to see him. And that's all he really needed.

“You’re hurt, sweetheart. I don’t think you can walk-”

“Are you going to kill me?” Jin frowned upon hearing your question, feeling a little hurt that the girl he was so insane about, thought that he'd lay a hand on her, let alone kill her. But he had only himself to blame for having an image that was tainted with the blood of many, innocents and devils alike.

"Why would you think that, Y/N?" He asked, placing his hand on the empty space beside you. Your lips trembled as you struggled to answer, your eyes taking in the number of guards around you two. As if reading your mind, Jin quickly dismissed them, your shoulders slightly relaxing as you watched them walk away to where you couldn't see them. Feeling a little hopeful, you wiped away a tear that fell down your cheek and held your head up.

"I know who you are and what you do," you answered, biting your lip as you watched a wave of disappointment wash over him. Jin had been left speechless and he knew that, his jaw clenching and unclenching out of habit. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he sighed, his hand gently taking yours into his as you tensed in your seat.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, sweetheart," he stated, drawing your attention to him and him only.

"I have been watching you for a while now," he confessed with apology filled eyes looking right into yours, "and hurting you, is the last thing I want."

Those words had you feeling breathless, too many emotions bubbling up your throat and making you wanna throw up. You had been the subject of a very dangerous man for quite some time and you had no idea. On top of it all, he said he didn't want to hurt you and you found yourself believing him. Maybe it was the way his eyes held so much adoration for you or the way he held onto you like you were a fragile little doll, you didn't know.

"Wh-what do you want then?"

"To love you," he answered without any hesitation, his hand coming up to brush away your hair from your cheek. His touch was warm, almost comforting, something you hadn't had in a very long time. Having been so lonely all this time, the idea of being cared for and loved seemed too tempting to let go. And knowing just how powerful Kim Seokjin was, it was very obvious that no one would ever dream of hurting you, be it mentally or physically.

But, were you really willing to choose comfort over the fact that he was a murderer?

"M-Mr. Kim, you don't even know me. I'm a normal girl who has a simple life and being roped into yours is the last thing I need."

You stated, noticing the way his eyes held a hint of sadness that seemed to be barely there. Swallowing thickly, you stood up with a pained expression, quickly taking your heels in your hand as you glanced at Jin one last time. This was the right decision, in your mind. Because there was nothing worse than having to live with a man, knowing he was cold and brutal. It was almost as if you'd be his partner in crime, something you just couldn't digest.

Limping towards the bar, you sighed in relief as a sudden silence surrounded you. Jin hadn't said a word to your rejection, making you think that he had understood what you were trying to say. The chilly air felt comforting now, your breath coming to you in waves of warmth. But before you could open the door to the bar, you heard a light click behind you.

Frowning, you turned around, your eyes growing wide upon coming face to face with the muzzle of a gun. Seokjin stood holding it firmly, his eyes red and angry. Your lips began to quiver immediately, your ears taking in the sound of his guards gathering around you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, did it sound like you had a choice?" He sneered, stepping forward and pressing the muzzle against your forehead. You slowly shook your head, a full stream of tears falling down your cheeks as you dropped your heels and joined your hands together.

"Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Shh sweetheart, shh," he whispered, sliding the gun down your cheek and pressing it against your jaw. You could feel his arm holding your waist firmly, a scared whimper making its way out of your lips.

"You have no idea just how crazy you've been driving me, Y/N. Ever since I've seen you, I haven't stopped thinking about you," he mumbled, staring into your eyes so intensely that if not for the present situation, you would've deemed it romantic.

"Every second I've been thinking of things I'd like to do to you. And I can't have you take that away from me now, can I?" You closed your eyes, your body shaking as you sobbed at his words. The proximity was starting to suffocate you, your hands desperately trying to push Jin away from you but he was too strong.

"Let me go, Jin. Please let me go," you begged, your eyes drooping shut as you grew tired, your head falling against his chest. His hand came up to the back of your head, caressing your hair as he pulled you flush against him.

"Not any time soon, sweetheart," he replied, suddenly pulling back and gesturing the guards to the car. Large hands came to grip your arms, a scream sounding through the night as you were pushed inside the car you were seated in before. Your palms pressed against the leather, the door closing shut behind you as you sat up and banged your fists against the window. Spotting Jin outside, you cried louder, hoping he'd take pity on you. Instead he leaned down to where your palms rested on the window, placing his exactly against yours.

"I promise you'll be happy, sweetheart. I promise."

A/N: Guess who's back! That's right! Me! A dumb bitch! Anyway, I'm so sorry for not posting for like more than a year but for some reason, my brain went on a break and it just didn't wanna come back. So much has happened in the time I was away and I wanna give y'all so many deets like, boy trouble- check, best friend turning out to be a bitch trouble- check, getting two surgeries within a span of two months- check. In short, my life is a mess and I'm loving it.

Also, this turned out really long for like all the members, which is why I'm gonna post them separately. I hope I give you guys the same vibes from my writing as before. Or I'd die from shame. Okay I'm off now! Tell me if you liked it.

[camslightstories]

Tolerate It - Part 12

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers. Female Reader. 

Notes: Hey guys! How are you all doing? Well its been a long time since I updated tolerate it and its because I haven't had much inspiration, I been in a literal block, a part from that everything i been writing lately I hate it but I didn't want to let you guys hanging. So thanks to @captain-josslett​ for checking and helping me in this part.

I love to hear your theories, opinions, suggestions and more so if you have any comments leave on my inbox or message me. I wanna hear what you guys think is going to happen or what you want to happen. But right now I'm not receiving any requests since my inbox is full of them and I don't wanna leave you guys hanging. I hope you guys enjoy, and have a great day!

Taglist: @multi-images​  @captain-josslett​  @aznblossom​  @venteen​   @coxmicbabygirl​  @lezzzbehonesthere​ 

Russian Translations:

Принцесса - Princess

The throbbing pain surges through your body as the cotton full of alcohol touches your wound softly, sending chills through your body. You laid on the white hospital bed in silence as your ex-girlfriend check the ripped wound on your torso.

With the myriad of thoughts and feelings running through your head only to fail, making you groan. Lena glances at you carefully and curiously as you kept quiet, her focus not leaving the ripped wound she was trying to mend. Noticing the different types of scars on your body some of them longer and worse looking.

“Can you tell me how does it feel?” She asks, gulping down when you made no move to speak. With her voice full of worry, she nods and takes her gloves off, only to stop when you spoke loud enough for her to hear.

“It’s fine” You state, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. In a monotone voice, as your heart almost bounced off your chest when she asked. 

Clenching your fists, you move to sit only to groan in full pain as the wound touches the shirt cotton. The green-eyed woman immediately runs to your side, with fear. You took a deep breath before helping yourself up ignoring her questioning expression. 

The Luthor woman out of desperation yells as tears fill her eyes. Throwing her hands into the air. “Can you at least look me in the eye?! Talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say, Ms. Luthor?” You answered rubbing your temples at the sound of her voice, a neutral tone and expression on your face as you looked at her. Her green eyes full of retained tears and her lip trembles as she looks at you. 

She cried, cleaning furiously her tears as you looked at her. The last word came out quieter than the rest, showing a hurting part of herself. “I don't know! Just… please.”

“Ms. Luthor, I don't know what to say to you, nor I know what you wanna hear and I'm sure you don't either.” You answer in a soft yet determined tone as you tried to walk away only for Lena to get in the way crossing her arms as she tried to keep control of her emotions.

“You are just going to walk away?” She remarked loudly, exasperated for an answer. You stopped as you heard the words coming out of her mouth, the obvious distress in them.

 “It seems to be the only thing you can do,” She added looking at you in the eye. You shifted uncomfortably before moving past her as fast as you could, ignoring her scoff.

She scoffed as you walked away from her, clenching your fits trying to find control as you felt the urge to yell at the black-haired woman. Now the free-flowing feelings in you have become stronger and harder to restrain.

You press your lips together and clench your jaw when the black-haired woman shouts loudly and desperately at you. “What about the ring?! What did I feel? What about everything?! Because you are here pretending nothing happen”

The smell of the alcohol invaded your nose, as the itching pain on your lower stomach kept throbbing, feelings run around your heart and head openly without any control. The white lights annoy your eyes as you try to focus on something else only to fail. The sneaky feeling tugging at your heart when you heard the break in her voice. 

The feeling of conflict as the two sides of yourselves began to fight on how to act, how to feel, how to be normal. One part of you asked you, begged specifically to go and wrap the green-eyed woman in a comforting embrace, protecting her from getting hurt. And the other remained you from all the pain, the anger, the sadness you had resorted to when you left and reminded you how easy life was when there was everything clear with a common goal. 

Lena shouted again this time, in an angrier and determinate tone. Stepping closer to you, in her CEO stance but the only difference was the fact that it looked forceful like she was trying so hard to hold it together, you heard her in her voice, in the way her feet hesitated to step closer. And as much as you hated it, it broke you inside. “Y/N! Just tell me something!”

You didn't know, how, when nor why, you turned around facing her with your heart clenching at the sight of her tears springing free. Her eyes looked tired and sorrowful, her cheeks were covered in tears and the ruined makeup, her hands were in a fist that you could tell where a base for self-control. You hated the pain she was revving, you hated the sadness in her eyes, and the tears that sprung freely but never even if you tried you could hate her. 

“Just fuck off, dammit!” Your mind seemed to be in automatic mode when the words came out of your mouth. The green-eyed took a step back in shock when you snapped, the now wide-eyed woman made you regret every decision in your life as her eyes restrained hardly the tears she desired to disappear. 

Against every fiber in your body, you shocked your head before starting again, glancing at your ex-girlfriend. Cutting the tension you took a deep breath before speaking, gaming Lena’s attention. “Look-”

You weren't even in the middle of what you were going to say when two well-known, familiar voices interrupted you. You tensed as you heard the voice of your sisters, the urge to just walk out and the urge to shout everything out were confronting each other as your mind running with all the different scenarios. “Y/N!” 

You kept quiet as your sisters got closer, without hesitation you started to walk away to the run you had been staying only for a familiar blur to stand in front of the door with her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. Hope, happiness, and regret radiated out of her, while Alex stood behind you with a determined look on her face as you turned around to walk the other way. 

A part of you wanted to yell at them until there wasn't anything left and the other wanted to walk away leaving everything behind to keep leaving the simple life you had been living for the past 3 years. Lena kept quiet as her mind kept doing rounds of possible explanations, while both of your sisters decided to stand in front of you with nothing but questions. But you remained silent as they did. 

Questions such as “Why do you have so many scars?” “What is the tattoo on your chest?” “What do you mean of the Bratva?” “Why were you with Roulette the other night?” were thrown at you by your older sisters as you tried to ignore each one, only for them to keep pressing. 

Lena had stayed in the same place, as they interrogated you. The black-haired woman somehow noticed the way your patience was getting closer to the end when you clenched your fit with so much force that the veins on your arms started to show slowly. 

“Don't you think we deserve an explanation?” Kara asked, taking a step closer, which made you clench your jaw, the feelings running around your body screamed at you as the pain and anger started to build by second. 

The feeling of anger and betrayal under all of those layers you tried to put up, under what you thought it would make you okay, it would make the pain go away, the memories, the feelings, everything... 

Your oldest sister yelled, getting frustrated by the minute. “Feel free to fill up the blanks, but it seems that you are not going to do that are you?”  The redhead asks sarcastically, covering somehow the relief of how you were but adding the worry of what had happened in the last few years. 

When you didn't respond, ignoring the redhead. Your sister hits the table with her fists showing her frustration. Kara looked back where Alex stood with both of her hands on the table as she looked at you angrily. You stared at her, challenging the redhead, making Lena furrow her eyes when she noticed Alex walking back where Kara stood in front of you letting out a scoff. 

“Don't you think we as your family don't deserve to know?” Kara asked with sorrow in her eyes and voice. Tears swelling up in her eyes as she searched in your eyes for any sign of her baby sister finding none but a challenging glare to the redhead and her now.

You felt everything come out, and you were seeing red. As you were about to snap, a strong familiar voice shouted in determination stopping you. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Your clenched jaw and fists kept the pressure making your vivid expression and reaction be acknowledged by all of them. 

Oliver had been standing with Anatoly catching sight of the interaction between you and your sisters. The blonde man remembers vividly how going back the emptiness, the feeling of just wanting the pain to get away, the angriness at the world, every single detail. Seeing the mark on your chest, oblivious to outsiders but obvious to him, a torturous feeling in your chest as you tried to keep yourself in the corner, in the darkness, where you knew not to expect anything. 

He saw the expression in your face, the way your eyebrows knitted together, the way your hands were converted into fists drawing blood at the pressure, the way you clenched your jaw, trying to keep control, the way your eyes were painted deep down with suffering but were void and incomprehensible on the outside, the way you tried to distance yourself into the darkness feeling the only calmness there, the way every time your fists hit something were not in act of defense or attack but in letting your hidden feelings out.  

The way you tried to keep control, of yourself, of your feelings, of the world around you, of the memories, of everything but you, felt powerless in the darkness. Feeling the need to yell and run away from everything, to isolate yourself from the world, believing and trusting in yourself and only trying to keep everything inside. 

“Принцесса, I see you finally decided to escort somebody” Your focus immediately went to the Russian man when he spoke, walking closer to you with a black garment suit bag in his right hand. Holding it up, as you make your way to grab it. His teasing voice made you roll your eyes while snatching the bag out of his hands. 

Smiling at Lena and your sisters, the man walked closer to them as he spoke. Making you sighed in annoyance, while Oliver suppressed a smile. Lena looked at the man in the suit and took his hand with a firm handshake, Kara and Alex following to do the same as he presented himself. “Anatoly Knyazev, at your service. Принцесса friend”

“Work partner, if you don't have vodka or I don't have the green light with your new friend and I'm not courting anyone” You corrected giving him an annoying look, he shook his head when you hissed irritated. 

The Russian man grinned at you before shaking his head as he spoke. “Roulette is not our business associate anymore, too ambitious and mercenary for her own good”

“Nice, then friend. I'm gonna go change, and I can solve a certain complication” You grinned sheepishly, which made Oliver sighed while your sisters and your ex-girlfriend looked at you curiously. 

The Queen man waited for you to be out of hearing sight to speak “This isn't helping”

Anatoly kept quiet as he sat on the sofa, while Oliver spoke. Lena and your sisters stood in front of him, each one of them with expressions of annoyance and worry. 

The blonde man took a step back, crossing his arms as he tried to reason with them before either of the three could respond. "I get it you guys want answers, but right now she needs to let herself be vulnerable again, she needs to feel safe, to feel she isn't in the darkness anymore and neither you nor I know what she went through and it's not going to help if you guys keep pressuring her”

The explanation had left the three feeling uneasy

“You do not get to tell me how to treat my sisters, Queen.” Alex spits at the vigilante. Lena and Kara try to calm the redhead down but your voice stops them. 

“Let’s go” You enter the room and sensing the tension between the two, but you ignore it and walk to where the Russian man sits. Catching the attention of the group of four turning around to see you grabbing the gun from the shelf putting it behind the jacket you carried. 

Alex didn't think twice before running up to you grabbing you by the upper arm, holding you back when you tried to get out of her grasp. Oliver sighed as you spoke, your eyes connected yours and hers in a glance, the staredown between the two created a visible tension. “Alexandra, let me go”

Tilting your head when Kara stepped in to put her hand on your oldest sister's shoulder, looking between the two before walking away with the Russian man by your side. 

----

Entering the car shop you notice the obvious and threatening silence. Letting out a sarcastic sigh when you heard the sudden movement behind the next wall, the sound of the gun clicking, and the pushing from the same source. You looked at the Russian man before shaking your head to the side, taking out your gun. 

Walking down the stairs you felt the end of the arm on the back of your head, and a hand topping your mouth. You kept in place for a second, raising your arms, before flipping the person down the stairs, keeping the gun in your hand before discharging it and throwing it away.

You walked down the stairs before shooting at the man on his thigh when the other two came out. You rolled your eyes when the two guys pulled their guns at you but were thrown to the side when an arrow hit them. Noticing the green arrow you sighed in annoyance before continuing.

“Leave it alone” Anatoly who sat on the chair waiting for you to be done, looked over to the group of four noticing your sisters and ex-girlfriend's expression of shock, while Oliver made his way to you. Noticing the man behind you, you spoke threateningly at him, before turning around. 

----

The tall brunette guy who was now with a black eye and a busted lip, as you kept your hold on his throat. You murmured when the guy kept silent. “Okay then it's the hard way”

Pushing him down before shooting him, you looked over to the black-haired man staring at you with wide eyes. You walked where he was before lowering to the floor having the same eye contact, you looked at him and recognized the immediate fear before speaking. “Taking a wild guess, I'm gonna say you don’t wanna end up like those two, do you?”

The man without thinking shook his head, which made you let out a sarcastic laugh tilting your head at him before helping him up. “Okay, then where is Roulette?”

“I don't know, I don't know” He kept sputtering and shaking his head.  

“She left this morning and left us here with the order to keep watch on someone” When you took a step closer to the guy, making him speak which made you look at him curiously before pushing him to the wall.

“On who?” You asked. 

“Her, Lena Luthor” He responded, whispering only for you to hear, looking over where your ex-girlfriend stood.

A switch had changed and in seconds you felt everything come out, the rage, the pain, and in seconds you were seeing red. The calm, determined dementor had changed to an angry, protective one. A sudden outburst was what you had. 

Moving your arm, pinning the man onto the wall with anger, you spoke eagerly and unease, threatening. Rage in your eyes, as you claimed to press harder into his chest, making the man cough in pain. “You tell Roulette that if she even thinks of breathing the same air in a 200 miles area as Ms. Luthor then I would make her life a living hell and everyone who is with her too”

Kara, who was listening in, smiled softly before looking down. The outburst had shown your care for her best friend, and that was a baby step that meant more than anything. The fact that you snapped at the moment your ex-girlfriend began mentioning showed that maybe it wasn't lost at all.

Your oldest sister looked at Kara curiously, before giving her a shoulder bump, giving her a questioning glance while your sister responded with a silent glance to you and a smile. 

You pulled away from the man, giving him a second to breathe before striking your fist right at his jaw. Immediately knocking him down, the sound of the body plumb into the floor made you realize what just had happened, the myriad of feelings flowing through your mind were taken out the moment an arrow grazed your cheek and the soreness of your knuckles were now bothering you.

Looking behind you, identifying the red arrow, you let out a laugh before taking it out of the wall, throwing it to the side before turning around, softly moving your hand trying to relieve the ache. Oliver seemed to have caught up with the situation as he grabbed the arrow letting out a sigh.

“Still doing the same?” You shouted turning around where Thea stood on the top of the car with her bow in hand and black leather jacket on. A smirk on her face as the brunette jumped landing on the floor perfectly before making her way to you.

“I see you hadn't left the throne, princess” She claimed, teasing the last word. The two of you sharing a silent glance, when she came down. The small spark in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by you and neither by Oliver. 

“And you are not so intimidating, princess” You flirted with the brunette, cleaning the small substance of blood coming out of the graze on your cheek with a teasing smile.

Lena knew the tone you were using, the smile you gave her, the little spark in your voice and eyes as you did. You were flirting with her, the jealousy feeling creeping inside her chest as she noticed. Drawing daggers in the brunettes back, she stood straight pulling out her CEO stand and expression, even if she felt her heart begin twisted remembering the once she was the one receiving the smile, the glance, the tone, everything. And she hoped that one day you would do it again. 

[bluemusickid]

𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓶𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Conwoman!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex (do not recommend, pls be wise) Ransom's hurt ego/pride.

A/N: I love Ransom so much. I'd probably let him get away with murder, which is probs wrong since I'm a law student. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Also the writing is crap and not at all intelligent, I just needed to let off some Ransom steam. ^_^

I post my stuff here and on AO3, nowhere else. 

You took a sip of your martini. Perfect. The one thing about these high end resto-bars was that they never went wrong with their martinis. Always the right balance of sweet and intoxication. If only you could always afford these places.

You didn't mean to sound bitter, oh no no. Life has worked out better than expected. Your way of life got lonely sometimes, but survival of the fittest was the way of life, right?

In your experience, doing what you did, you realised that men were very literal creatures, always thinking linearly. Most of them lacked any depth to their thoughts, their way of life. The rich ones? They were as deep as an above ground pool. Throwing money every chance they got, flaunting their first row seats at the operas, trips to their villas in the French Riviera and what not. Their wives had no idea, always doting after their perfect husbands, with their Himalayan Birkins.

Imagine the surprise these men felt when you took what was most precious to them; no, not their families or children, but their money. A woman, no less. A woman who they had considered a damsel, in need of pearls and diamonds, and their strong strapping arms and care. And they didn’t dare report this. How could they? As far as their wives were concerned, you didn’t exist. You snorted. Good riddance, and all that. 

That’s why you chose him.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

He wasn’t a different one, that's for sure. A pretty boy with arrogance dripping off of him like he had just stepped out of a swanky prep school. He screamed rich kid, with his perfectly coiffed hair, right to his buffed fingernails. 

This should be easy, you thought to yourself.

You walked passed him, swaying your hips ever so slightly. Your look for tonight was carefully calculated: bait for a good, prize catch. There were many men there, sure, ordering crates of champagne for their "business associates".

But this one was different. He didn't pay heed to you as you made your way towards him, placing yourself next to him at the bar, nor did he check you out like most men did. He simply took a swig of his drink, focusing hard at something in his phone. Weird. You chose to give him the benefit of the doubt, calculating his next move. Surely, he'd ask to buy you a drink. He was just playing hard to get, you were sure. His next move stunned you, however.

He got up, slid a 100 dollar bill on the counter, and walked away, his jacket slung over his arm. You blinked, not really understanding what had happened. You ordered a red wine, quite perplexed. This was perhaps the first time something like this had happened, and it quite perturbed you.

You didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts, however, as the bartender slid a coaster towards you.

“Mr. Drysdale sends his regards.”

You frowned. Drysdale? The famous real estate mogul? Man oh man, this was gonna be good.

You smirked as you read the scribbles on the coaster. To think you thought that he was gonna be different. Oh well. Room 537 it is, then.

You made your way to the room, checking your makeup and spritzing on a bit of perfume on the way. Standing outside his room, you knocked three times before the door swung open to reveal a treat.

Mr. Drysdale, sans shirt and his tight dress pants. Yum.

You composed yourself and entered the room, remembering the fact that you had a job to complete.

“So, that’s your game?” you asked, setting yourself down on the settee by the minibar.

“I don’t play games.” he said, pouring an amber liquid from the crystal cut decanter.

“Then why bother giving me your room number?” you drawled, accepting the glass.

“I know you wanted me to chase you. Knew it from the moment you entered. But that’s not how I work. I get what I want, and I wanted you.”

“A real charmer, aren’t ya?” you said dryly.

“Let’s cut to the chase sweetheart. You want me, I want you. Simple.”

“How can you be so sure that I want you? I could have just come up to confront you or something.”

“Yea, right. That dress says differently. You know what you want and you were going after it. I just skipped a few steps along the way. You’re welcome.” he smirked, raising his perfectly shaped eyebrow at you.

“So now that your plan has come into play, what do you suggest we do?”

He grinned and took a swig of his drink. Placing his drink on the counter, he took your hand in his and pulled you up, pulling you tightly to him.

Leaning towards your ear, he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

With that, Ransom didn’t waste any more time. He picked you up bridal style and tossed you on the bed, without any preamble.

“Last chance to leave, kitten. Whaddaya want?”

You gulped. You wanted this, you needed this. You didn’t bother answering him as you pulled him down by his tie, lips melding against his as you held onto his collar. He was surprised by your sudden attack, but reciprocated equally, if not with more ferocity.

Lowering you onto the bed, he yanked the thin straps of your dress down, sucking at your pulse point, his hands caressing your body. You moaned, feeling his actions go straight to your core, lighting you up from within. He pulled the dress down with urgency, freeing your breasts from their confines.

Taking a hardened nub in his mouth, he swirled it around his tongue as his hands wandered lower. He was about to pull your dress up, when you stopped his wandering hands, pushing him off you, as he looked at you, bewildered.

“What the-!” he began but you quickly silenced him with your lips, your hands working double time to undo the buttons of his shirt. You deepened the kiss pulling him by his tie, while grinding against him ever so slightly. He broke away from the kiss, panting; his eyes wide, an unknown emotion swirling in the midst.

“Oh sweetheart.”he growled, “You’ve awoken the beast, now.”

With that, you were lost in a frenzy of movements. He nearly ripped your dress off, throwing you on the bed, caging you underneath his body. Lowering himself, he nipped and sucked at your neck, your collarbone, your breastbone, his voracious tongue leaving fire in its wake. You gasped, fingers making their way to his messy locks. What had started off as a game, a new target, was quickly becoming something more, and that thought scared you.

Eyes on the prize, sugar. Let him lead.

His tongue was drawing circles on the tattoo at your abdomen, while his fingers were at your core, his thumb lightly nudging your clit. Jesus. Your hips moved of their own accord, tugging at his hair in silent plea. Looking up, he saw your need and whispered lasciviously, 

“I’m gonna make you scream till all the other floors know my name, sweetheart. Just need to get you nice and ready for me. Wouldn’t want to break my promise now, would I?”

With that, you felt your entire focus shift to your core, as his intrepid tongue drew patterns on your clit, his digits moving within your wet channel. You groaned, tugging on his hair, bringing him closer to where you wanted him. You felt your walls tightening, the coil in your belly ready to unwind. He withdrew his fingers, moving up swiftly, gazing into your indignant eyes.

“Only time you’re gonna come is on my cock, sweetheart.”

With that, he thrust himself inside you, your walls engulfing him. Luckily for you, Ransom didn’t do sweet, slow thrusts. He set up an unrelenting pace, spearing into you, his shaft reaching places which no man had been able to reach before. You groaned, closing your eyes, your head jerking to the side, unable to handle all the sensations he was invoking.

Grasping your chin, he turned you to face him. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. I wanna see how good you feel while I’m taking you apart.” he rasped.

Something in his voice made you break; making you almost feral. You pushed on his shoulders, catching him off-guard for a minute, enough to push him on his back and straddle him.

Leaning down and catching his lips for a kiss, you whispered, “You should have the best view for a show like that, then.”

You sunk down on him, moaning loudly as you engulfed him to the hilt. Holding onto his hands for support, you began riding him for all your worth. Ransom watched on with awe, his eyes mesmerised by the sight of you; your eyes closed, mouth slack with arousal and your breasts bouncing with each bob. 

You were quickly reaching your peak and Ransom could feel that too. He planted his feet down on the mattress, thrusting upward, meeting you thrust for thrust. Your thighs started quivering, an intense pressure building up with each thrust.

“Come on, come for me, kitten.” muttered Ransom, through gritted teeth.

You threw your head back, screaming as you reached your peak, raking your fingernails across Ransom’s chest. As your walls clenched around him tightly,  Ransom grasped your waist, holding onto you as he thrust upwards, chasing his end. 

Leaning down, you took one of his buds into your mouth, swirling your tongue around as you met his eyes.

“Come for me, tiger.” you said huskily, tugging on his lower lip.

Ransom grunted and cussed loudly as he poured himself into you, his grip on your waist tight as he held you in place till he filled you with every last drop. Rolling off him, you watched him catch his breath, slowly drifting off, his arm encircling your waist as he went deeper into slumber.

After a few minutes, you checked on him, just to be sure. He was out cold.

You smirked. Alright. 

Time to start Part 2 of the Plan.

--------

Ransom woke up, feeling satisfied and smug. Yet another conquest down. He didn’t understand why women played these games women loved to play with him. Smirking, he looked over to look at you, but was surprised to see your side empty.

He frowned. Getting up, he checked the bathroom. Empty. 

She left without even giving her name. Ahh, well, not the first time this had happened. Moving to check his phone, he noticed his wallet open, with all the cash missing.

Oh, so that’s why she left. Wow, what a surprise, he thought. Good thing she didn’t leave a name, for she was no more than a common whore, he thought, puling on his pants. 

He was sorely mistaken though.

As he walked past the attached common area, he saw something which made him stop in his tracks.

The safe was wide open, with all of its contents gone. Every last thing.

He stormed into the area, his anger surging with each passing second. He couldn’t give less of a fuck about the goddamn valuables that were missing. But she had taken something which had taken him 3 fucking years to get. 

She had stolen the documents; not just any documents, but the very ones which would have bought the Langleys’ silence and their company, making Ransom a very, very rich man. All gone, because of a quick fuck.

The bitch had stolen his ace of spades. And he would make sure that she would suffer. 

Ransom would make her pay. By hook or by crook.

-----

A/N: Eeeeek, I was too nervous to put this out ughhhhh. Also, I have a taglist now, if you’re into that sort of thing. 😅  (link is also available in my bio)

Tags: @donutloverxo​ @ozarkthedog​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @readermia​

[peoplecallmelucifer]

Every story ever written

“Attention passengers“ A pleasant voice echoed trough the hallways “We will be arriving to Nithra 5 in half an hour. Please prepare to disembark“ John Was excited and nervous. He was a part of the group representing Earth at the art festival of the Galactic Assembly. Considering it was Earths first Time sending representatives and hew as the one giving the speech his nervousness was justified. AS they disembarked the cruise ship they were greeted by a tall and slender “It’s my pleasure to extend the greetings in behalf of the Galactic assembly. I am Nithra Suenn and was assigned as your guide during your stay“

John  stood on his toes so he would be able to look Suenn in the eyes. “ Oh, thank you. I’m Jonathan grace, you can call me John, This here is Antonio Morena..” “Toni for short” the man replied “...And this is Maria Petova“ “I’m Just short” Maria replied baiting a chuckle out of their Guide May I ask something before we start though“ Sam said “Of course“ Suenn replied “Could you tell us where the envoys of the other two newcomer are.“ “Of course. If you wish I could notify their guides and see if they would be willing to arrange a meeting later today“ “That’d be lovely“ “Now If you would follow me to your quarters. I presume you would want some rest before we start the tour“ “Lead the way miss Nithra“ Sam said with a smile AS the trio followed their guide they took in the sights of the Spacedock, during the 10 minutes shuttle ride to the planet surface Toni and John were debating their upcoming speech while Maria quietly hummed a lullaby as she stared out of the window. “Miss Maria“ Suen said as she noticed the humming “oh, yes Suenn?“ “May I inquire about the melody you were... singing“ “Oh that, I was humming a lullaby I usually sing for my daughter. This is the longest I’ve been separated from her so I’m a bit Melancholic“ “Oh,  quite understandable. We Tlii also have a strong  bond with our family ... I’m nearly 40 and I still call my parents daily.“ The rest of the ride was marked by present small talk. When they landed The Group was given an hour to rest before they head out towards the “Palace of Art” The most famous gallery in the Explored part of the galaxy. “So folks“ John said “First impressions“ “Bit too formal for my taste but not bad. The Guide is cute too“ Maria replied “I’m hungry“ Toni replied “Well go grab something from the hotels restaurant. Suenn Said all the costs will be covered“ John said as Tonis eyes widened “So ... Free all you can eat buffet?“ “Yes“ “And we are staying here for a week“ “Yes“ “...Good bye my summer body“

“You’re a pig“ Maria said as Toni was closing the doors A few minutes later Suenn knocked on the doors “hello again. I have contacted the guides of the other two newcomers and their envoys said they would gladly meet you but they also requested we arrive fifteen minutes early so that you can have a proper meeting“ “Thank you very much Suenn. Tell them we agree“ Maria said Suenn nodded and left “Why do you wanna meet them anyway“ Maria asked John “Well they are new here, we are new here, none of  us actually knows what’s going on. It might be easier for all of us if we feel confused together“ “Fair point“ The human delegacy arrived 10 minutes earlier than agreed, mostly because of Johns insistence. “Why were you so adamant on arriving early Mister John “ “Well... I was too anxious for waiting in the hotel“ “And waiting here is... not causing anxiety?“ “No, because here I’m sure I won’t miss anything important“ “I can not say I fully comprehend that logic but if it lessens your anxiety I see no problem with waiting here.“ “Can I ask you something Suenn?“ “Of course?“ “I noticed your First name was the identical to the name of the planet. Is that Just a coincidence or something else?“ “It’s actually Tradition. Tlii name their children after  their Birthplace and a name chosen by their parents. I was born on this planet so My Birth Name is Nithra while my Given name is Suenn.“ “Huh. Interesting.“ After a few more  minutes of casual discussions the two delegations arrived. The D’Dret Delegacy consisted of twelve members all sporting their environment suits. “Greeting fellow children“ the leader of the delegation said as he reached out his hand

“Children?” Antonio asked quietly“ “The D’Dret word for artist is the same as their word for child“ Suenn replied “Kinda fits right“ John shook the delegates hand “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m JonathanGrace, leader of our delegation. You can call me John “ “I am afraid my name is quite impossible for the translator to handle so feel free to call me Otra, considering that’s the Star system I hail from“ From the other vehicle disembarked a delegation of twenty Beings of Yellow christening appearance. a leader of the group stepped forth and greeted the gathered “In behalf of Veq Hive I speak the words of greeting” the translator read “In be half of Humanity I accept the gritting and send my own“ John said and bowed, Otra mimicking his actions saying “ I do the same on behalf of D’Dret autonomy“ The Veq leader let out a low pitch pleasant click returning the bow “This one is called Ruea“ “My name Is Jonathan Grace“ “Call me Otra, shall we head inside“ “Certainly“ Ruea and John replied While there were no delegates yet there was a descent amount of visitors to the Gallery and the three delegations as well as their guides drew a number of looks. This seemed to make Johnnervous again, but also even more excited than ever. His companions seemed to share this attitude along with the D’Dret delegates. The Veq did not experience emotions, or at lest not in the way  Humans did. They didn’t know fear,Happiness or anger, but could be inquisitive,curious and mistrusting or frustrated. Although the latter was extremely rare and fairly mild. “How come Humans only sent 3 creators“ Ruea asked “Well Humanity is aware of its reputation. Lots of people in the assembly consider us borderline insane due to our contradictory nature. SO our Academy decided that the best course of action here would be to send a small delegation and not draw much attention on ourselves.“ “A reasonable approach Otra said“ “Yeah, but us three decided we have something else in plan for our speech“ “You would... defy your superior?“ Rue said in intrigued Disbelief “to a Veq that causes great pain.“ “Well If i am not wrong, you are biochemically connected, so acts of defiance are extremely rare since your communication is almost instant and complete” John said impressing Ruea “In our case that is not so. We are very Individual even though we are social beings, and sometimes people in authority refuse to listen to suggestions because they see themselves above others. In that case we become defiant“ “You are a weird people“ Said Otra with a little pause “but than again I’m the one in the EV suit“ The lengthy conversation about differences in cultures and approaches to art between all the members of the 3 delegations attracted a crowd of intrigued listeners even Suenn and the other guides were intrigued and occasionally asked a question or two.

After A an hour Suenn spoke up “Excuse me delegates, but the Ceremony is about to start. Would you please follow your respective guide to your seat“ “Oh certainly.“ John said “Ladi Ruea, Otra It has been a pleasure. Hopefully we can continue this discussion sometimes soon“

Suenn Lead her delegation to a circular room with many levels. filled to the brim with delegations from thousand of species. Humans were somewhere around the middle,Maria Noticed the Veq being almost at the bottom and one of their delegates apparently noticed her waving and looked curiously at her. she than put her opened palms on her troth imitating a traditional greeting they taught her. John noticed Otras suit about two levels above them sat juxtaposed to them and covered one eye with his hand greeting his new friend with their greeting to which Otra replied with a peace sign. “hello and welcome everyone to the annually art festival of the Galactic Assembly.” said a small alien “He looks like a plushy” Toni whispered and baited another chuckle out of Suenn. ” This year the assembly welcomed three new species The Pedantic Veq hive, The crafty D’Dret autonomy and ... Diverse Alliance of human worlds. As is tradition the newcomers will hold their speeches first. Starting with the Humans.“ John stood up “I think you for this opportunity but before I hold my speech I must ask, on behalf of our new friends of the Authonomy  and the Hive. would you allow them to speak before us, as they asked me if I would be willing to swap places with them“ “Well... no one ever turned down the offer of being first to speak before, A kind gesture indeed. I don’t see why not. Verry well. Who of you wants to speak first“ “The Authonomy children will gladly hear out our comrades of the Hive before we speak ourselves“ ”I thank our new friends for granting this request of mine.” Lady Ruea replied as she slowly walked to the podium. Suenn turned to John “What you just did was unprecedented. May I inquire why have you done this“ “As we were about to go our separate ways lady Ruea noticed that her translator was running out of battery and her spare was left in their hotel. considering she didn’t want to miss any of our speeches so she asked if I would let her talk first so she can switch her power cell after her speech. and considering I’m nervous as hell right now I decided to give myself a bit more time to relax and see other speeches before I step down there“ “Coward“ Maria teased him “and proud of it“ he replied

The speech of Ruea was simple it briefly described the way her people think and the way they approach art, or as they call it creation. How they prefer writing in strict form but are also constantly looking for new forms to write. how their statues are  trying to be symmetrical in every way and yet innovative. After her Otra came down doing the same talking about how Their culture sees artists as people who never lost their child imagination how every new creation is a new unexplored wonder, just like every next step is a new experience for a toddler. Than came John’s turn. He was still a bit nervous but he kept his cool. “As you know. lady Ruea asked me if I would do her a favour and let her speak first. I let my new friend Otra speak second because I was too nervous to do it myself“ a few chuckles were heard among the crowd “AS you know Humans have a reputation and  I was given a ready speech by the people who sent me here to read and stay out of trouble so that I can alleviate that reputation. But than again That’d be to deny human nature.“ Nick said as he ripped a sheet of paper with a written speech “Oh boy here we go“ Toni commented “What is he doing“ Suenn asked “Being true to himself ... and being a jackass“ maria replied “Our leaders only allowed us artists one speech, and a small delegation. I can live with that. But if they want me to speak I will speak however I see fit. And yes I will get in trouble for this if you were wondering“ A few more chuckles and murmurs started among the crowd “I am know that whatever stylistic figures, whatever topic I can think of, someone else in this room will think of as well. The  Ka’ran are called the masters of Romance and yet some of their poets wrote works of horror I find exquisite.  The Hevar are proud of their odes and marching songs and yet I find their lullabies to be incredibly soothing. So I don’t see a point in pretending that you are going to find something new in our works.“

This statement caused shock, intrigue and utter confusion. Are humans really so self destructive they would sabotage their own nation for an act of defiance? But the whispers and murmurs didn’t bother John

“In our statues, in our poetry, in our novels or paining ... all the motives we use I have seen with one quick stroll trough this gallery. So on this day I claim every story ever told has already been told. we just mixed up the words a bit differently.

A silence fell upon the room

I am looking forward, my fellow delegates, to read how you layed out the words we use.“

*Tink* a sound of two crystals hitting each other was heard from the lower levels *tink* as John walked off the podium and the Veq delegacy tried to imitate human clapping with their christaline limbs. *tink,tink,tink* Soon the D’Dred joined in, followed by the Ka’ran and Hevra that John Mentioned. after a few seconds most of the delegates gave a hearty applause.

“Well...“ the  alien small alien from before stepped back on the podium. “... I guess that a lot of rumours about the humans are true. They certainly are unpredictable and reckless... But If more of them are like their delegation I can only imagine how their artwork looks like. I suggest we take a half hour break before we continue“ The rest of the festival passed in a breeze. with the human delegation being followed by numerous new fans wherever they went. after a week and the conclusion of the festival several species decided to take the “scenic rout home“ as Humans said. and stopped on Cyrenca prime, Nueva Galizza, Earth and other human worlds, buying novels, visiting art museums and observing statues... Jonathan Grace was financially penalized for his “insubordination”, but considering he refused to return to earth, proffering to travel the Worlds of the assembly in search of new ideas to write about, that debt was never prayed. _ _

If you managed to get this far congrats, and thanks for reading.

I wrote this because I’ve noticed a lot of stories under these tags ... even the 2 I wrote are always going towards military and conflict situations. SO I turned it around to something I like much more

[daredevilexchange]

Want to be featured here? Head to this page and fill in the form!

See what this is about here, or if you’re using the app here.

What’s your fannish ID? Just Shelby! I like to use my actual name across all platforms so people can find me easily! 

What types of fanworks do you create? I make a lot of digital art! I really enjoy drawing fanart of characters! Most of the art I create gets turned into stickers and prints that I sell in my Etsy shop (theshelbylernershop)! I really love drawing expressions and looking at the small details in a persons face. It’s amazing how dramatically an expression can change with just a simple line stroke here or by moving the eyebrow up just a millimeter. And there’s something I call the “special move” that takes a portrait of someone going from “just some guy” to “oh it’s the character!” Which can sometimes be just moving or adding in the tiniest detail. I love that!! I have branched out a bit into making TikTok skits where I incorporate some comedy stuff and drawing stuff! It’s a lot of fun!

What are your favourite types of fanworks, when you’re not creating? Definitely art!! I LOVE the art that other people create! I have so many prints saved on my Etsy because there are just a ton of talented people out there! I also appreciate how there are very serious and beautiful pieces that look like they belong in the louvre and then like…spicy avengers pinup art….which also belongs in the louvre😤🤌 also TikTok because the people there are so funny!!

What do you like in particular about this fandom? You see what got me into DD wasn’t the post-NWH craze! About a week or two before the movie came out (I hadn’t heard any of the speculation of DD making a cameo), I decided “hey let’s watch that Marvel show with the blind guy in it…people say it’s really good!” And then when I saw NWH, I was halfway through the first season and was like 😳 Omg Matt??? From there it’s just been a downward spiral. I LOVED the series and symbolism of it. I’m really into “dark religion” (I blame Supernatural for that) and so the symbolism in the some of the shots and themes just *chefs kiss* I love it. The anachronistic feel of it is super satisfying to me as well. You have churches (which are classical, clean, holy etc.) as a backdrop for a bloodied and bruised vigilante. Sister Maggie cleaning Matt’s knuckles after a fight was something so perfect to watch. And of course after completing the series, the scenes in the church with her hit so much harder. I love the humanity above all in the series. And I love that people love that too. Matt is just a guy (“a really good looking guy” hehe) and showcasing the fact that he is first and foremost human with human thoughts, feelings and emotions is just so refreshing. I mean this series showed two grown men crying during an argument with each other, can’t say I’ve seen that in other marvel productions. I could go on and on about things that made me fall in love with this show and these characters but those main themes are my favorite. In terms of the people in the fandom, they’ve all been so creative and funny and welcoming and I love being a part of it!

Do you like participating in fan events? I like participating in group events because it brings likeminded people together! I ESPECIALLY love conventions because it gives you an excuse to leave the house in full costume and go talk with other enthusiasts. I think when you have something you like and have no one to talk to about it, it can feel a bit lonely! But when you have these events or online campaigns, it can make the experience a little more fun since you have other people who like the same thing!

What about your creating process? To get my creative ~juices~ flowing, I like to go through my “sh*t I wanna draw” album on my phone! I save pictures or poses to an album from Pinterest so when I want to draw, I have something for inspiration! I do like to listen to music and watch a TV show I’ve seen a bunch of times while I draw but sometimes I go for hours in silence because I’m so in the zone. Sometimes, especially when watching DD, I’ll find screenshots of particular scenes that I like or facial expressions I find to be particularly unique and draw those out! I don’t always finish them or clean them up but they’re fun to do!

Do you interact a lot with other fans? I don’t interact with a TON of other fans mostly because I’m so new to the fandom. Most of my interactions take place on TikTok just because people are more willing to comment and joke about things there. I find Instagram and Twitter to be more “silently enthusiastic” about fandom culture, at least on my account. I’d love for people to be more vocal about their thoughts and ideas! Like hey…come say hi!

Is there any particular piece you'd like to showcase for this post? I picked my “God’s Soldier” piece for the post because I spent a lot of time on it and it’s definitely my favorite piece I’ve created for DD!

Do you have other fandoms you’d like to talk about? It might not be a surprise to say that I started in the MCU as a Bucky Barnes simp. I’ve been a casual Marvel fan ever since I was a kid watching Spider-Man with my older brother. But when Wandavision came out, I did a little rewatch of some of the films and had my eye caught by a certain angry old man with one arm. I LOVE Bucky’s tragic history and story arc and just everything about him. So naturally I’d have the same love for another guilt-ridden, tragic guy. I keep seeing people call it the “Bucky to Matt pipeline” and how’s its a straight line. Also I think the two have some pretty funny similarities: -both are played by 39 year old, foreign-born, dark-haired actors whose first and last names start with the same letter (Sebastian Stan and Charlie Cox) -both characters signature look is only seeing half of their face (top half and bottom half) -both characters first and last names start with the same letter (Bucky Barnes and Matt Murdock) -both are filled to brim with guilt and blame themselves a lot -both have blonde and generally happy go lucky besties -both actors are literally the complete opposite of their characters Those are just some things I found to be funny, I certainly have a type when it comes to MCU characters! 

Is there anything else you want to tell us about yourself? Let’s see….I’m 22, a Cancer, she/her, I have a bachelors degree in traditional animation and am going to be graduating with my masters in entrepreneurship this spring. I love to draw and I have own an Etsy shop :)

Where can your fanworks be found? https://shelbylerner.tumblr.com/ https://instagram.com/shelby.lerner?r=nametag

Thank you, @shelbylerner​ !

banner by @context-is-for-kingpins !

[ID on a white background, four black triangles that look like spotlights from above. Each illuminates one of the Defenders silhouetted in white: Jessica, Luke, Danny, Matt. A hand on the left is holding a pen writing the words Content Creator Spotlight. There is a little Punisher skull on the pen. End ID]

[sneakerdoodle]

''Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.''

Hey guys!!! I've been working on a post-canon Wandersong fic! Come watch Bard have Issues :- )

The first chapter is a shorter one, sort of like a teaser/exposition! Check it out right freaking here or on ff.net (with non-ideal formatting) bc i don't really wanna post on AO3. The second chapter is in the works >: 3

PDF || FanFiction.Net

(Not) Alone

Rated: K

Chapter 1

(General warnings: inability to breathe; heights)

Your footsteps used to echo through sacred halls no human had walked before, accompanied by the eager beating in your chest. Heartbeat – footstep – echo. A heavy, impending rhythm.

The only thing you heard was the glorious cheer of the crowd. The anticipation of victory made every breath ring like brass, like the blaring trumpets that would surely welcome you home. You felt golden, and colossal, like the Sun. Both of you had no choice but to shine.

The edge of your blade vibrated with a song of its own, metallic and crackling with static electricity. And you let it sing.

Time after time, you would sound the sharp final note of this intoxicating symphony.

Each time, for a split second of silence in your speeding heartbeat, you would be left alone, in a dark without a sound. A moment of ultimate finality in a place that was no longer a place.

Time after time, you would be brought back into the light and air, reaping your rewards, letting the world's ecstatic cheer crash against you like waves, flood you, fill you.

Not this time.

This time, the dark does not subside.

This time, you have nowhere to go back to.

What is worse, perhaps, is that you have nowhere to be.

The place that is no longer a place is all you have now. The cosmic opposite of spaciousness means that, in the suffocating absence of air, you are not granted the relief of feeling the walls close around you, the world smother you. There are no limits to the vacuum; there is no vacuum; there is no thing.

When your bare, hoarse voice escapes, lonely and flat, there is no ether to reverberate through, no echo to harmonize with you.

You are nowhere. You are a song that cannot sound. You are the only morsel of consciousness to vaguely grasp your own melody.

You are barely anything.

You are irreversibly alone.

***

A note catches in Bard's throat, and for a moment they are breathless, and shaken. Then they cough – like the fuzzy wheezing of a clogged flute – and feel the air fill their lungs once again.

Miriam's voice sounds from high above, impatient and strained with effort.

- Hello?? A little help???

Kiwi shakes off the uncomfortable reminder of last night and raises their head, up to the tops of two twin trees, where Miriam is trying desperately to keep her broom straight. It does seem quite hard to do with just one hand, while the other is occupied, clutching one end of a rope stretched between the two parted crowns.

Kiwi clears her throat one more time before singing out:

- A lit-tle bit high-er! 🎶

Miriam grumbles, and her broom lurches up just a bit. The rope now runs parallel to the ground, a level bridge from where its other end is glued to the opposite trunk.

- Now??

- Perfeeect! 🎶

From down below, Bard can't quite make out her movements, but they can imagine them vividly: Miriam pressing the end of the rope into the tree bark, letting the adhesive substance on its tip fix it in place; then her wrapping her fingers around it, face shifting into a concentrated frown. They can almost hear the quiet exasperated sigh, masking the nervousness Miriam always feels when casting less familiar spells and never wants to show.

As a thick woody vine stretches and knits itself along the length of the rope, connecting the flaming-red leafy tops, Bard claps their hands excitedly.

- Great job, Miriam!!

Miriam is already floating down to the ground. She is trying really hard to not look relieved.

- Yeah, - she mutters, glancing to the side, - thanks. Let's just... hope it holds. - She nods at the free space behind her, impatiently inviting Kiwi to join her on the broom, to rise back up to the connected crowns.

- Sure you're holding on well?

Bard adjusts their position in the hold of a curving branch and flashes Miriam a slightly tense smile.

- All good here! 🎶

Miriam frowns.

- Don't fall. Here you go.

Bard takes one end of yet another piece of rope from her hands and holds it up to the level of the previously conjured vine above their head. The sticky mushroom mash takes hold, but they do not take their hand away as to not test the glue with the rope's weight.

Miriam flies over to the other tree trunk, stretching the rope along the already formed scaffold. She glances at Bard nervously, and they give her an enthusiastic thumbs up – before immediately fretfully grabbing the branch below him, having almost lost his balance.

- Don't fall! - Miriam exclaims emphatically. Her tone is nothing short of disbelief: perhaps at the fact that she has to repeat herself so soon, perhaps at the fresh confirmation that the warning is actually warranted. - Eya... Just. Hold on, hold the rope, and don't.. stare while I do this.

Kiwi graciously looks away, letting their glance glide across the treetops shimmering in the light evening breeze. It's a new, fascinating perspective from this high up: the mass of moving, rustling red stretching all around them, making them forget about the ground below.

Bard takes the moment to appreciate the old trees, some of the tallest ones in the forest, raising him above their smaller siblings, into this weird valley of whispering leaves. Here, there is only the gentle waving of foliage and the sky that goes on and on, painted gentle orange by the setting sun.

Saphy was right. This is the perfect spot for a little perch, especially with the two crowns so conveniently close together. The thought brings Bard a gentle kind of joy. It is as if the forest itself was encouraging the initiative, eager to accommodate humans' curiosity.

Bard breathes in, taking in the calming alien view, and swings their legs in the air softly to the tune of the simple song they are so used to humming. It comes out a bit more strained, this time. There is a slight tightness in their chest, but they will not dwell on that. It can probably be chalked up to balancing many, many feet above the ground.

The rough bark of a newly formed vine softly bumps against Bards fingers, and they accommodate it, letting the woody liana reach the trunk and sink into it, as if having grown out of it many years ago. Miriam is doing amazing!

- You're doing amazing! - Kiwi promptly shares aloud, slightly breathless. Magical feats never lose their novelty, not to them.

Miriam skips past the usual embarrassment at being complimented and straight to a quizzical look.

- You sure you don't wanna' help?

- I'm helping! - Bard replies readily, feeling just slightly disregarded. Miriam fumbles.

- Ugh, no, I... - the words come out loud and annoyed in her rush to explain herself. She pauses - with obvious effort - and takes a few seconds. - ...Yeah, you are. Thanks. Just... aurgh, - she gives a jerky impatient shrug, - you know what I mean!!

Bard does know. Combining spellwork and singing is something the two have been experimenting with quite a lot. Bard could probably orchestrate the movement of the vine, direct it with their voice while Miriam is inducing its growth, instead of her sending it along the pre-marked trajectory of the hemp rope. But they shake their head, perhaps a bit too hurriedly.

- This is better! And you're doing great!!

Miriam examines their face, looking skeptical, vaguely confused.

- Fine, - she mutters in resignation. - If you say so. Toss me the next one.

Bard complies.

Their humming has stopped now. Instead, they turn their full attention to Miriam, promptly forgetting her earlier request. She throws a slightly irritated glance in their direction, but does not say anything, letting them observe as a new sprout rises out of a previously bare section of the bark.

Kiwi looks at the sturdy vines that will hold wooden planks, that will in turn hold a shiny new telescope. One of the many Elara has prepared for her world-wide project, to direct everyone's questioning eyes to the sky, to the novel, unfamiliar stars. Together, the people of Earth will explore the horizons of this young universe that has become their new home.

The thought of stars tickles Bard's throat, like the beginning of a song. The faraway lights, so tiny against the vast dark night sky, trading rays and stitching into constellations, must be creating a symphony of their own - one Bard is so eager to discover.

- This is gonna be great, isn't it? - they ask, their eyes clouded by visions of otherworldly landscapes.

- Yeah... - Miriam is silent for a moment, and Bard comes back to earth to look at their friend, questioning. - I don't... know much about stars... But if the astronomer lady says we can help--

- Of course!! 🎶 - Kiwi all but jumps up in a rush of passion. - We just need to look! We will find something really cool!!

Miriam smirks, but the smirk is unprecedentedly close to a smile, only adding to Bard's emotional high. They swing their legs in the air excitedly. It's new, and thrilling, seeing their friend like this: with the steadily growing readiness to find joy in the world around her.

- I'm glad we're doing this together, Miriam, - they say, smiling, as they shuffle to the side to secure yet another piece of rope against the trunk. - I like sharing things with you.

Miriam's hand holding the rope jerks just slightly as she looks away, momentarily flustered.

- Uh... yeah. Me too, - she blurts out, then draws a breath. - It... wouldn't be the same on my own. Or. You know. Without you.

The last vine is grown, and both of them sit down on the soon-to-be-platform, listening to the rustling of the leaves and watching the sun slowly sink towards the horizon.

Bard glances over at Miriam and examines the new look on her face, the one they've been spotting more and more. It is quiet surprise, like stepping out into the garden early in the morning and being met with a perfect gentle breeze. These days, the world seems to keep startling Miriam in the best of ways.

Miriam appears to have felt their gaze and meets it, eyebrow raised. They do not feel the need to explain, simply smile and dangle their feet happily. Miriam smirks and turns her face back to the gentle peachy sunset.

- ...It's gonna be nice, - she says contemplatively, - spending time here.

Kiwi takes a deep breath and feels the tightness in their chest ease and melt away.

- Yeah.

The walk back to Saphy and Miriam's home in the orange twilight is comfortable and special. Bard rants about the trees back in Langtree, and how different they are, and how she never climbed any before, in all her time living out in nature. Miriam grumpily recounts all the times she had to, to get potion ingredients back when she hadn't yet learned to properly fly a broom. When exiting the woods, she points out a specific tree which, she is convinced, has a personal vendetta against her, always tripping her up on its bulging roots. There is that unmistakable comfort of familiarity in her voice. For Miriam, exasperation often seems to be the easiest way to express her deep fondness for everything that is home.

They both take a second at the edge of the forest as the colorful house comes into view, just as the last rays of sunlight fall down the roof, then softly go out, one by one.

Saphy welcomes them with a boiling cauldron. (Her firm habit of using it indiscriminately, for food and for potion-making, is something Bard is still getting accustomed to.) Over dinner, she asks the two about their exploits with genuine, animated interest. Miriam shares the details, half-begrudgingly, throwing quick glances at Bard in moments of self-consciousness. They chime in readily and take the opportunity to praise Miriam's skills, seemingly making her more miserable in the process. It is a new and sweet routine for the three of them.

It is well into the night by the time Kiwi and Miriam get to setting up the guest cot, and Miriam keeps stoically fighting back her yawns. She isn't great at staying up past a certain hour.

- It isn't very bouncy, - she mutters, dissatisfied, as Bard plops down onto the thin mattress.

- It's great! - Bard reassures, running their hand over the clean sheets. - Goodnight, Miriam!

- G'night, - she mumbles sleepily, already walking towards the rope ladder hanging from the second level. With her hand on one of the rungs, she lingers for a moment and looks over her shoulder. - Are you still sure about tomorrow?..

Bard tenses up for a moment and does their best to shake it off.

- It... Yeah! It has been a while, so...

The rest of the sentence hangs in the air between them, irresolute. Miriam sighs quietly and makes her way back to the cot.

Their friend's arms wrap around them in a steady, comforting hug, and Kiwi suddenly feels very fragile. They return the embrace, hands on her back, and stay there for a few seconds, allowing themself to feel small.

Miriam pulls away and looks at them, eyelids heavy and droopy.

- Need... - a big, poetic yawn finally escapes her, despite all the efforts, -...company?

Bard shakes his head.

- You should get your rest!

- ...Yeah. Probably best, - Miriam grumbles and turns away with a final awkward pat on Bard's shoulder.

Halfway up the ladder, she sighs in annoyance and pauses, hanging from the wall with her head turned.

- Could you maybe try counting sheep this time? Silently??

Bard gives a couple of hurried flustered nods. Sharing space with other people again is proving to be difficult to combine with their musical routine.

- Sleep well, Miriam! And, - they grope for words for a bit, but don't find anything better than, - thank you.

Miriam nods slowly, turning away.

- Yeah. You too.

Bard dresses down and flops on top of the cot, hands on their chest. They listen as the house fills with the familiar duet of snores and quiet whistles and smile to themself, thinking about how rapidly Miriam nods off when she is tired enough.

Lying in bed and exploring the authentic years-old webs in the corners of the room, Kiwi goes over the events of the day in her head, and ponders what is waiting for them tomorrow.

A glum gnawing feeling rises in their chest, clawing at it from the inside. They push it away. It will be okay. And they won't be alone.

They lie there, trying not to worry. About tomorrow, about last night, about what this night will bring. They try not to think about the nightmares, and about the tightness in their chest, and the labored sounds of the once-effortless tune.

They close their eyes and dutifully imagine a sheep. A reeeally fluffy one. With big, shining eyes, and with a spring in its step, ready to conquer the highest of fences.

- One 🎶, - they sing to themself, as quietly and softly as they can.

The note does not come out right.

Next chapter

[milky-pillow]

Song: Do I Wanna Know? (Arctic Monkeys) Characters: Yumeno Gentaro, Arisugawa Dice, Amemura Ramuda, Reader Relationship(s): Yumeno Gentaro/Reader

originally posted on ao3

“Have you got color in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type, That sticks around like summat in your teeth?”

Gentaro scans your face as you twirl the straw in your cup. With the silence between you two, he finds it hard to read what could be going through your mind.

Before he gets the chance to break the silence, you open your mouth, “it feels like you’ve changed since we’ve last spoken.”

Gentaro’s expression falters for a second before reverting back to his mask. The mask that you oh-so despised. He doesn’t respond immediately, as if trying to put some thought into his response.

“What do you mean?” his voice and smile seemingly taunting you.

“You’re asking me? I mean,” you pause and turn your gaze to the busy crowds of people in the streets, “it’s like you’re trying to avoid me.”

“Me? Avoid you? Why would I?”

“Look, it’s just a feeling. Right, you’re not avoiding me-- at least I hope you’re not. Well, I guess with you and I seeing each other face-to-face helps prove me wrong,” you trail off, bringing your drink to your lips. The sweetness of it satisfies your tongue, no residue being left on your lips as you place the cup down.

Gentaro laughs and taps the table to get your attention, “hey, cheer up! How about we order a cake to eat?”

Gentaro calls over a waiter to order a cake he thinks you’d like while you watch his expression. You repeat to yourself that he’s not avoiding you, that you’re being paranoid, that he wouldn’t purposely put distance between you two. He glances over at you to make sure you’re okay with the flavor, and you respond to his action by nodding with a smile. It warms your heart that he checks with you before ordering.

“I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week, How many secrets can you keep?”

“So,” you begin, breaking the second period of silence, “you’re participating in another division rap battle? I noticed you’ve been busy with Arisugawa and Amemura.”

A snicker escapes his lips as he drums the table with his hands, “you don’t have to call them that, you know. They see you as a friend, not someone of different status.”

Heat creeps it’s way up your face while you stutter, “r-right. Dice and Ramuda then. But you didn’t answer my question; though I take it you are?”

“Mhm,” he hums, pulling out a notebook, “I’ve been preparing for them, but I guess I’ve hit some sort of writer’s block.”

“You? Hit writer’s block? Liar. I don’t believe it,” you laugh as you call out his lie.

He pouts, “okay, so maybe it was. I don’t like how you call it out so easily now. Remember when you fell for everything I said?”

“Honestly, that feels like forever ago,” you give him a soft, yet sad smile, noticing him staring right back at you with a gentle expression.

“(Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways?”

Your eyes light up when your long-awaited cake arrives. Drool begins to pool in your mouth as you thank both the waiter and Gentaro. You couldn’t wait to dig in. When your eyes meet Gentaro’s, you feel a sense of disassociation from him. As much as you wanted to dismiss it, you felt yourself becoming attached to the thought that he’s hiding something from you.

You push the cake towards him to share some of it. When he waves his hand to signal he doesn’t want a piece, you place a fork in his hand.

“You really wanna share it with me, huh?” he teases, giving in and taking a slice.

Finishing the slice on your plate, you grin at him, “what? You didn’t want a taste of this delicious food? How’d you know what flavor to pick? This tastes amazing!” While your exclamation draws the attention of some customers around you, your eyes continue to sparkle.

After persistent convincing, Gentaro takes another slice. Your heartbeat accelerates when he meets your eyes with a smile that has never felt so genuine. If you had to guess, he was either really enjoying the cake, or he was getting comfortable. Feeling accomplished, you helped yourself to your drink and another small slice.

“Woah, what’s the sudden burst of energy from?” Gentaro touches your hand to get you to slow your pace.

You lift your fork halfway to your mouth, stopping to respond, “no reason.”

Gentaro can only shrug, knowing how stubborn you can get when he tries to pry.

“Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do”

By the end of the evening, you had a takeaway box of a half-eaten cake and a smile plastered on your face. The both of you walked out the building side-by-side, catching up about things you had in common. You enjoyed yourself so much, you forgot to ask Gentaro what he thought.

“Um, Gentaro?” you change the subject by posing your question, “knowing you’re busy and all, when would I get to see you again?”

Teasingly, he sticks out his tongue, “when either of us choose to reach out I guess? Kidding, I’ll give you a call to let you know when I’m free.”

You could sense his lie, but you didn’t want to start an argument by mentioning it. Before he could tell you he was lying, you split off with him and rushed back to your apartment.

You could only imagine what could happen between the two of you. With a wave of emotions hitting you from a blind spot, you lay in bed and ponder to yourself. Becoming bored of the plain white ceiling, you turn to your side to reach for a drink, only to find you’ve run out.

A sigh escapes your lips as you head to get a cup of juice for yourself. You lean against your kitchen counter and stare at the paintings that filled your blank walls. The colors look more blended together than usual, the cold tones screaming out to you. Tearing your eyes away, you opt to look out your window. Though your scenery was filled with other buildings and streetlights, the view of the sunset was still visible. For a brief moment, your lonely heart felt a little less lonely.

“So have you got the guts? Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

It was your phone. Ring! Of course it was. Ring! Ring! Broken from your distraction, you place your cup down and bring your phone to your ears. With a simple tap, you were connected with the caller.

“Hello?” out of habit, the word slips right out.

“Y/n!” Ramuda excitedly beams, “you were just with Gentaro, right?”

“Yeah, why? Is he okay?”

“Of course, of course! I was just asking is all,” he seems to be holding back laughter. He covered his microphone and all you can hear is muffled bickering.

You sip on your juice while you wait for more, but when you don’t, you speak up, “um, Ra- Ramuda?”

Just as you speak, the call disconnects. Confusion seeps through your skin and into your very soul. Unable to connect the dots, you head to bed.

In the morning, you wake to a string of messages and missed calls. This rarely happens. No, this never happens. Squinting your eyes due to the light of your screen, you read the texts. They were all sent from Gentaro, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was the sender as it had gone back and forth between “sorry, that wasn’t me” to “that was a lie; it was me.” All of the missed calls were also from Gentaro, but you start to find it hard to believe he was the caller.

Testing your luck, you call back.

“Y/n! You finally picked up!”

“Gentaro?”

“Nope, this is Dice!”

“Oh,” you attempt to hide your disappointment with a question, “why do you have Gentaro’s phone? Not to sound rude, but I’m sort of confused.”

Ramuda snatches the phone from Dice and greets you, “mornin’ y/n! Could you come over? We want to talk to you about something. I promise it’s not anything bad! I’ll send the address to our office on this phone.”

“Hold on,” you blurt out before he can end it, “why can’t we talk about it over the phone? I mean, do- do I really have to go over there? Not that I can’t, but if it’s important it’s quicker over the phone, right?”

“Look, no time to explain. Just,” Ramuda takes a deep breath, “do it for me? If not then for Gentaro.”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

He ends the call before you could protest anymore. Seconds later, your phone dings with the address Ramuda was expecting you to go to. Who are you to displease a member of Fling Posse-- and even an ex-member of The Dirty Dawgs?

“I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to”

Hesitance filled your body, heart pounding against your chest and filling your ears. With trembling hands, you open the door to Fling Posse’s office.

The moment you step inside, Dice and Ramuda stand up in excitement, “you came!”

“Of- of course,” you stutter in embarrassment, mentally scolding yourself for your stuttering.

They gesture for you to take a seat, and so you do. Sitting back down, their happy expressions falter. The acceleration of your heart rate doesn’t make you feel any better than you were already feeling.

“Let me get straight to the point, we need your help,” Ramuda says, not getting straight to the point.

Out of nervousness, you burst into uncomfortable laughter, “m- my help? I’m of no use to you, trust me, but what would you need me for?”

“Well, we just need you for one smallllll thing,” Dice chimes. They go on to explain that they need you to get Gentaro to be more open.

Ramuda claps his hands together, “so that’s the plan!”

You shake your head so much it felt as if your brain was going to shatter, “no way! I- I can’t ju- just do that! He’ll know something’s up for sure!”

“If it’s you, there’s no way he will,” he smirks at you.

Knowing you won’t be able to get out of the situation, you agree to follow the plan, “on one condition, though. You can’t make me do anything like this again.”

“Deal,” Dice and Ramuda simultaneously nod their heads.

“(Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day”

“Thanks for meeting up with me, I hope you weren’t busy or anything,” Gentaro smiles at you.

Your face burns as you take a seat and look around, “of course not, but this is definitely, uh, new?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Gentaro crosses his arms, “am I not allowed to invite you out?”

“You know what I mean. This fancy restaurant has nobody? It’s unusual. Also, I thought you originally invited Ramuda and Dice.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I heard this place was good and I was able to snag us spots. Ramuda and Dice couldn’t make it, so I opted for you; is that bad?”

“It’s not bad, but spots? The whole place is empty.”

Gentaro raises his hands guiltily while chuckling quietly, “you caught me. I may or may not have pulled some strings, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Liar. With no energy to call him out for his lie, you both order your food and eat in silence. While silence can be comforting, you felt like you had to talk. An uneasy feeling begins to settle in your stomach as you try to drown it with your food.

“Maybe I'm too (Maybe I'm too busy) Busy bein' yours (Bein' yours) To fall for somebody new”

Though you both made small talk throughout the night, time didn’t seem to pass. But whether you believe it or not, you were both in the back of a taxi heading to your apartment. Not for him to go into, but for him to make sure you would make it back safely.

“I got lucky being able to see you two days in a row,” you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you gaze out the window.

“Am I just that amazing?” Gentaro’s response makes you laugh. How is it that you’re enjoying the ride back? You can’t believe yourself and hope it doesn’t make you appear rude.

You nod and turn your head to look at him. He is amazing and you know that. If he was planning on doing this for his friends, he definitely sees you the same way he sees them. Nonetheless, you take in the moment and could only wish for what could be.

“Do you want me crawlin' back to you?”

END.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Whenever

Thank you @dungeons-and-dragon-age for the tag! You got me at a good time because I got goodies~! >:D

Taking a break and playing Inquisition got the inspiration flowing again! So, I have some Solas and Mhairi bonding time! :D

I encountered the Dalish clan in the Exalted Plains, and this is what was born of it:

---

“Da’len,” Solas approached where Mhairi was sitting on the log by the fire, arms at his sides and brow furrowed with subconscious concern. “...have you seen Fane by chance?”

He was beginning to get worried. For the more he searched the Dalish encampment, as small as it was here, along the creek of Halin’sulahn, the less he saw any hide or hair of Fane. His dragon was by no means hard to spot, hair like new fallen snow upon black cliff side and very presence dominating, even if the man sought to make himself unnoticeable. Although, in this instance, Solas knew why Fane was possibly making himself scarce; memories. Painful, painful memories. However, that was why it was imperative that he find the dual being, to stop a spiral before it became a vortex.

The young woman had seemingly been repairing the segment of her robes that had unfortunately met the edge of a Freeman’s blade when Solas spotted her. He himself was giving the other clan’s members distance, so it had taken him a bit to locate the young woman, but it was for the best. He, too, had difficult memories of the Dalish, blades brandished for naught but truth, words hurled in every direction that sounded home to his folly, that spread the guilt like he did plaster and paint. So, it was best for everyone, Inner Circle and Dalish, if he kept his ‘delusional stories’ and ‘maddened opinions’ to himself. He was busy at present, anyway. His own discomfort meant little when he knew there was someone suffering worse than he.

Mhairi blinked, the movements of her hands pausing from where they were delicately weaving twine and thread. Icy blue eyes and a youthful face marked with the maroon of June turned upwards to him, abandoning repairs to regard him easily.

“Fane?”, Mhairi said his sought after’s name, her slightly darker brows drawing together as she tilted her head a bit. “He was with you, wasn’t he?”

Solas shook his head, dread growing within his heart. “No.”, he said simply, doing his to keep tone calm, professional as he kept the connection of eyes that began to melt, concern beginning to show in them. “I have not seen him since before sunset. I presumed he had been with you. Evidently, I was mistaken.”

Mhairi’s delicate features turned downwards, petites hands curling within pure white samite bordered with pink vestment. “...You haven’t seen him at all? Maybe with Cole? Sera?”, she asked, lilting voice shaking a bit with a panic born of the past and all it harmfully bore for the two soulful siblings.

Solas shook his head at each question, letting his expression soften a bit. He had not wished to alarm the young woman, but he saw now that he had been foolish to think his inquiry would have done anything but. Fane had spoken of Mhairi’s anxiety concerning abandonment, and Solas himself had seen such an acute episode when the man had been thought lost in the Fade during Adamant. He should have been more delicate in his delivery, more aware of his words and the effect they had.

Ill-suited as ever, Solas berated within the safety of his mind, releasing a quiet sigh through his nose as he gazed down as the now fidgeting woman. Nails were picking apart sewn thread, undoing work redone without thought, and a deeper frown etched itself upon normally bubbly features. Ice-colored orbs were staring pointedly at the article, but were hazy, distant, lost to the flow of putrid memories. Solas matched the deep frown with a small one of his own, taking a tentative step towards where Mhairi was seated to kneel down in front of her.

He had to fix what he had wrought--in many ways, but for now, he would focus on a light that echoed as much of the past as his unaccounted for dragon did.

“Mhairi,”, Solas called out to the slightly trembling woman, keeping his tone soft, guiding. “Ir abelas. My words were poorly chosen. I didn't mean to alarm you, to cause you to fear.” He managed a tiny smile when long locks of platinum shifted with the rising of a head, reconnection. “I am sure your brother is close by. I merely have not been able to deduce where he may have gone when in concern to the Dalish. That is all.”

Solas watched as the slight tremors in pale hands and lithe shoulders lessened. There was still a concerned frown upon pink lips and the tell-tale signs of dampness upon ice-blue, but he had succeeded in drawing a bright mind back from the edge. At least, he hoped he had. It was hard to tell with his dragon’s sister, even if she was far more open than her sibling. Perhaps her inherent bubbliness blinded him at times, made him believe there were no troubles to ponder, nightmares to banish. Everyone had a mask they used to protect themselves, and he was truly foolish to forget that simple truth.

“N-no, I’m--”, Mhairi tried to say, but released only a shuddering sigh. Fingers begin to pluck and pull at thread once more, but with more care, more awareness this time.

Solas kept a watchful eye on the Dalish woman, noting her breathing was shaky, but not quickening with encroaching panic. The tremors had not returned, but neither had full light to her eyes. The spiral was still swirling, then. He would have to choose his words carefully, and carefully he shall.

“Take your time, da’len.”, Solas encouraged, gingerly reaching out with his own hands to still the ones curling and clenching into purity. His skin flinched a tad when Mhairi’s did, but relaxed when she did so in turn. “Everything will be right where you left it. It will not disappear, vanish as if but a dream.”

A sharp, but quiet intake of breath had Solas freezing up a bit, fear gripping his heart like an owl's talons snatched up a mouse. Had he spoken out of turn again? He had not meant to--!

“Ma serannas, lethallan.”

Solas blinked, the guilt and dread of his mind stilling as he refocused on the woman in front of him. Ice and turquoise regarded him kindly, serenity in their deepest depths and a watery, but grateful smile played with plushness of flesh, curving like the softest of a halla’s horns. Maroon ink was lax, further serenity carved into the heart shaped visage before him. There was no ridicule, no scorn, no retribution in any of those features, and that weighty revelation had Solas sucking in a steadying breath of his own, quiet, but deep. 

How many people would he continue to witness staring at him with such...forgiveness before his own mask cracked from the blow? He did not deserve that release, that depth of understanding and emotion from Mhairi, from Fane, from anyone, and yet, it was there--pure as the snow white hair of his beloved, gold as the spirit that cascaded down...down…

...one of his people.

Solas let his eyelids droop, gingerly taking one of Mhairi’s hands into both of his own. That echoing appendage was joined by its counterpart, squeezing with both as they joined to soothe in tandem. That silent gesture of understanding had Solas closing his eyes fully, heart tight, soul weeping for him to speak, to divulge. Why was he suddenly so overcome with the want to do such?

She would not understand, Solas chided himself, attempting to ward away how his whole being yearned to greet another soul like his dragon’s, like his. She would react adversely. For myself, and for her, I must keep the truth hidden. Now is not the time nor place for such things. There will be much to tell her when the time is right, from myself and Fane. She does not need that burden, that crisis of faith, now. Even if--no.

Solas let out a soft sigh, carefully slipping his hands from the warmth of Mhairi’s own to place them back within his lap. He registered the look of gentle confusion in both delicate features and twinkling eyes, but he once again shoved away the inherent urge to explain. He had let himself falter, allowed his mind to splinter, and now he would repair it, shore up the foundation so it may weather any other storm that would come to pass.

He must find the one who would hold his bloodied hand with one of their own, but even that laced his heart with guilt-filled poison. How much more would he touch and destroy before he perished? Two lights, and they would find themselves extinguished if he continued to be selfish, but...he couldn’t help it, couldn’t fight the want to belong, to be accepted.

To coexist. How pitiful he was. How pitiful.

---

...You have no idea how hard I am resisting on making a female Fane to fully romance this wolf right now. I need to finish canon Fane first, but...HNNNNGH. I just want to analyze the hell out of how Solas changes with romanced Lavellan. *puts face on screen* He called Fane ‘lethallan’ the other day while I was playing, and I DIED AND SCREECHED. ...I always do. *slinks away*

Fun fact: At the beginning of my writing hobby, Solas and Mhairi were supposed to be romantically together! :D 

Tagging (if you wanna, you beautiful people! <3): @oxygenforthewicked @noire-pandora @little-lightning-lavellan @the-dreadful-canine @blueheaded

[artificialqueens]

The Crying Reflex (Rosénali) - SnowBun

A/N: Did I use this to procrastinate from working and finishing I’m Not Into Sometimes? Absolutely. But never fear, I will finish that fic (at some point.) Posted about writing this a few weeks ago and I actually got around to it, what a shock! Idea taken from Rosé posting that Denali’s IG story made her cry.

Thank you to Hollie for always being the most amazing beta. Don’t know what I’d do without you. This is for dawningofdrag and pinkgrapefruit for making me feel like this was worth putting out into the world.

Summary: Denali always makes Rosé cry.

–

Rosé isn’t sure how they become friends. She doesn’t believe in destiny or cosmic jokes. She doesn’t think that there’s a higher being out there that writes a script to the whole universe in the stars.

Being friends with her feels more like a reflex. A meeting of the eyes across the room to stimulate, react with a friendship that feels so real she can almost hold it in the palm of her hand.

Look at me the way you do and that’s it, I’m yours.

“Can we talk?”

There are 11 other drag queens and a small but very present television crew in the room, but there is nothing else in her line of sight but Denali. All she can see is the way she dabs at her eyes and the way that they’re flitting from light bulb to light bulb in an effort to look anywhere that isn’t Rosé.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” She throws out her arms with a little laugh, like she’s about to explain that this all just some ridiculously mean joke that’s unfolding before them. “But I couldn’t even look at you. There’s just something about you.”

“You don’t have to look at me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re going to have a lot of time to look at me.”

Every word that tumbles out of her mouth is a reaction to a tear that Denali blots away with a balled-up tissue paper in her fist. She encourages, even jokes, until she sees her crack a smile that reminds her of the way the sun breaks through hotel room curtains.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her hand before her thumb is already stroking skin.

“I need you to do it not just for you, but I need you to do it for me; because I really need you here with me.”

Rosé is many things. She is a queen with unending wit and talent. She is that person who won’t stop toeing the line between hot mess and professional, purely for fun. She is the girl that everyone in the werkroom is eyeing with cautious curiosity.

“I know I can make it to the top.”

One thing she has never been is a crier.

“I know you can too.”

Well, at least she didn’t think she was.

Glass beads form in the corners of her eyes, so unlike the bright plastic ones that Lagoona had bought bags of weeks ago. No, these are Denali’s beads. Crystals of chandeliers draping from ceilings, as clear as the fact that she’s barely holding together.

She’s about to say something, even lets the air pass through her teeth so the words can come out; but then she feels her bottom lip quiver and she buries the reflex with things she prays she can admit to later.

“You know what to do.”

–

Denali shuts her eyes. Well, the non-prosthetic ones at least. Against the stark black of her dress, the orange hue of the setting sun washes her skin a beautiful shade of orange. Her radiance only serves to remind Rosé that she hates the way she looks right now.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

They lean against the wall, holding hands as they bathe in the last vestiges of daylight. She hums the disco number that’s been on repeat for the past two days if only to make Denali laugh, all low and breathy. It’s these small quiet moments that make the stamp of ‘you’re safe’ more sweet than bitter.

“You were amazing out there, angel.”

“So were you.” Denali turns her head to look at her and she can’t help herself from laughing when all eight black eyes stare back at her. “Still wasn’t enough for the judges, though.”

“Oh no, baby,” Rosé tuts. “I don’t need the judges to tell me shit. I’ll let my delusion tell me how great I am.”

They look out at the lot, watch crew members bustle about as they keep their distance. It’s simple really, how one person is point A and the other is point B. So easy to model with mathematical functions that distance is proportional to safety.

Even easier to prove that distance is proportional to the loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole when she’s trapped in her hotel room.

The thought of having to return to it in a few hours feels like a punch to the gut, the type that’s so strong that tears form in her eyes. To have thoughts, hopes, fears that she can only voice to a void sends her spiralling down.

She presses the back of her head into the concrete wall so she doesn’t cry. She still has to return to the runway after all. She blinks away her tears like the exhaustion and loneliness will disappear with them.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever want something so bad it hurts?”

She knows Denali is talking about the competition. She knows that she’s talking about hearing, “condrag-ulations,” instead of, “you’re safe,” the next time they step out onto the stage. She knows that she’s talking about the things that they’ve both come here to achieve.

But then she notices that she’s been drawing on the back of Denali’s hand with the pad of her thumb this whole time. She feels the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly off her shoulders and she knows without giving it any serious thought that she has all she wants right here. At least for now.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Another cocktail.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I love you too.”

She colors those words shades of orange and black, permanent marker and invisible ink just for her.

–

“You’re going to win.”

It’s hard to be sure of things when the world is falling to shit. Being sure of things is reserved for statements like, “the earth isn’t flat,” or, “my dress is definitely a warm yellow and not orange.”

But Denali sounds so sure of it. She sounds like she’s turning theories into laws, like anything else is a deviation from the reality she’s living.

Rosé is holding a cocktail in one hand and Denali’s in the other, and the only thing she can really be sure of is that she isn’t willing to let go of either right now.

“I swear to God, if you’re jinxing this for me–”

“I’m not!”

Thank you.

It’s the first thing she writes on the skin of her hand in a code only they will ever understand. There are ancient languages lost to time, but she knows that when they leave this competition, those words etched into flesh will be a relic only she can read.

“I’m going to sue you for $5000 if I don’t hear RuPaul say, ‘condrag-ulations, Rosé’ by the end of tonight.”

“Shut up.” She giggles. “I promise that you’re going to win this. There is literally no way you won’t.”

Rosé doesn’t have to think too hard to know that Denali is right. In fact, her reflex is to believe her; but if she pauses, lets the lull of laughter set in for too long, then she hears that little voice in the back of her brain, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t good enough.

You’re right.

Of course, she can’t admit it out loud, but she knows whispers of fingertips will be enough for her to understand.

“In case I do win, I’m going to have to ask you to promise me shit like that every week.”

“Mmm, no way.” She pops the plastic straw of her drink out of her mouth, leaving a ring of black staining bright pink. “I have to leave some of those promises for myself. You know, share the love.”

The room is buzzing with nervous energy from the idea of either Kandy, Tina or Symone having to lip sync, but on the couch alone with her, it feels like a bubble. All she can hear is laughter and promises bouncing off fragile walls.

“I’m proud of you, Rosie.”

Her drink is halfway to her mouth when she says it. It takes a moment for her brain to process, but her body reacts right away. The tears in her eyes don’t come from the pain of having just laughed too hard or from the exhaustion that keeps threatening to knock her out.

No, they come from the way Denali looks at her, like her color blindness takes off the green on her face so she can see all the dreams she hides underneath.

I love you.

“Thank you, angel.” She gives her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

–

It doesn’t register that the hand he’s holding isn’t Denali’s.

Most of the queens have fallen asleep, the emotions from the long day leaving them all drained of energy. There are snores and whispers filling up the empty seats of the van, but he doesn’t notice. All he knows is that something is wrong, something he can’t quite place.

The way he writes it’s okay is more than just a habit that he’s acquired over the past few weeks. It’s become a reflex, no different to breathing. The words he writes need no introduction or conclusion. It’s something he knew how to do before he learned he was doing it.

When he turns his head, he’s almost surprised to find that it’s actually Olivia, hiding half his face in the sleeve of a baggy sweatshirt so no one can hear him sniffling. One look at him and everything comes rushing back.

Denali is gone and no one can understand the words now.

He isn’t angry at him, couldn’t be even if he tried. He sees the bloodshot eyes when they pass under a streetlamp and he knows the way it feels. He knows how it feels because all he can think about is how Denali used to sit there, buzzing with the idea of making his dream come true.

“Sorry, Liv.”

Rosé isn’t sorry that he can’t let go of his hand or that he’s caught him crying. If he’s honest, he isn’t really sure what he’s sorry for. It just seems like the right words to say to tell him he’s not suffering alone.

Is this what it feels like to lose half of something that’s still whole? Things won’t fall apart now that he’s gone. He’ll still push to get to that finish line until his lungs give out and breathing turns into a sting in his chest.

But how he wishes he could get there holding his hand.

“Me too.”

Olivia lets out a shaky breath before leaning against him. Rosé is thankful that he can’t see his face. All the easier to hide the tears that threaten to pour out of him.

–

The hotel door shuts behind him, the sound reverberating all throughout his mind, soul and body until all that’s left in his brain is a single thought:

I did it.

His reflex is to belt, “The winner is Rosé!” to his hotel room. Then he looks around, sees the grand emptiness of it all, and lets the pain in his chest shock his body, a billion volts to the parts of him that even he can’t see.

The void pokes, prods, stimulates, and his body’s first response is to turn and look for Denali. He knows that the doors are locked, that telling him he’s in the top four is nothing short of impossible when he’s probably already hundreds of miles away.

What would it be like if he’d been there?

What would it be like to see him wipe off the makeup, revealing nothing but the look of purest joy and pride underneath? What would it be like to hold his hand until the end so he can learn how the words we did it feel on his skin?

What would it be like if the vision of him that still lives in his mind actually paid its three weeks long overdue rent?

What happens when he comes home? What happens when he has to tell him that he’s achieved something that they both deserved to have?

Questions, questions, and more questions. They occupy his brain and it spins the way he does across the stage. There’s a hurricane in the room, tearing everything apart, and he can’t find his way into its eye.

For the first and last time during the entire competition, he lets himself cry. It is free, messy, ugly with its heaving sobs that wrack through his whole body. It’s the type of crying that would be a meme tomorrow if it had gotten caught on the set of Drag Race.

He isn’t sure why he cries, not when his dreams are literally coming true. He’s always known that things will never be as he sees it in his head, but he never imagined that the pleasure would come with a pain he can’t even understand.

It takes a moment for the hurricane to pass. It leaves him drained of emotions he didn’t know he had, but he’s alive and it’s all he really cares about. He lifts up the covers of his bed and crawls in, hoping that he’ll forget the complex cocktail of emotions that he’s just unearthed when he wakes up the next day.

Before he falls asleep, he rehearses his script in his head.

Hey, D. You were right, I did it.

–

It’s in the last few seconds before falling asleep and in the pauses while finishing his makeup that he spends thinking of what he’ll say to him when he gets home. When he finally gets a chance, none of what he plans ever gets said.

The first thing he does when he gets home from Drag Race is to collapse onto his bed. He fills his senses with the smell of his sheets. It’s a familiar embrace that pulls him into the deepest, most comfortable sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, the room is so dark that he can’t tell he’s even opened his eyes. He drinks in the idea that he can leave it behind, that there is light beyond these walls and he can touch it with his bare hands again.

Instead, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He forgets what he’s meant to do in the first place, but his fingers are already searching for the message that Denali sent as soon as he got home to Chicago. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the words are jumping out of the screen at him, breaking him until he smiles.

Denali: hi rosie! Idk when you’ll be back but since you’ll probably make it to the finale, that might be a while. Ilysm and i’m already so proud of you. Call me when you get back, miss you!

Denali: PS it’s all your fault that i keep singing pretty witty fashion clown, i hate you

The picture of Denali sitting on his couch, typing out something so incredibly sweet then following it up with his own brand of ridiculous, is so vivid in his mind that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Otherwise, he might start screaming about how the feeling of the bones caging his poor heart are breaking.

“Hello?”

“Rosie!”

Nightmares start where dreams end, and this one had started the moment she’d walked off the stage, leaving her hopes at Rosé’s feet, clad in chunky Tina Burner heels. He wakes up when he hears him say his name, even if it isn’t the real thing.

“Oh my god, you just got back. Does this mean I was right?”

“Why do you sound like you were doubting me, baby?”

If he’s honest, he’d been scared of this moment. It was an unspoken contract: we’ll be there together. It felt like breaking his end of the promise, even if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I knew it!” He paints the dark of the room with the joy in his voice and Rosé watches all the colors she’s ever worn on runways tint the bare walls. “I swear Rosie, I knew from the day I met you that you’d make it there.”

I thought the same about you.

He bites back the words, swallows them like a bitter pill.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, D.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

The pill gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He knows he’s been missed and he knows he’s missed him too, but to hear the words burst into a flash of light that fills up the darkened corners of his room makes him remember that everything they have is more than just an intersection of a dream and a nightmare.

What they had in quiet conversations on van rides and tipsy chats in the werkroom was real, and he had come home to it, even if it’s just a phone call that will never be enough.

“I miss you too.”

–

It doesn’t hit him how lonely he’s felt for months until he isn’t alone anymore.

After his third glass of wine, he settles on the edge of Symone’s bed. He watches his sisters talk about nothing and everything all at once. He tries to cut in every once in a while with a song or a joke or his usual mixture of both, but he’s perfectly content just to see all of them together again.

Days, weeks, months have passed and not all of them are spent alone, but loneliness still mars every interaction he has. In the middle of a world that’s going forward and nowhere all at once, he can’t help but feel like he’s in the middle of the ocean with water filling his lungs.

Then he hears them all laugh and he rises to the surface with a breath of fresh air and the sun shining down on his face.

“Rosita!”

Denali whines and immediately plops down beside him, laying his head in his lap. Rosé knows that he’s drunk or at least close to it, but he’s almost certain that he’d do this to him completely sober too.

It’s been four hours since they’ve reunited after months apart, but how they are hasn’t changed. The safety that he’d thought had just been there to shield him from the impending doom in a bright pink box is still there.

He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all to himself, but as he runs his fingers through his hair, he knows that he’s missed this the most.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Are you a fucking cat?”

“I’m a pussy, sweetie.”

He looks around the room again and it sinks in how lucky he is to have this. In a universe that he believes is constantly on the brink of implosion, he’s found people like them to hold on to. They didn’t know it at the time, but all the sacrifices they’ve made have led them to this.

Most of all, he’s found the living embodiment of growth and joy, and he has strands of his hair slipping between his fingers. He blames the fact that he almost cries on how Denali won’t stop making feminine moaning noises, causing everyone in the room to break into laughter.

Soon, he will have to go home to empty spaces. He will return to the loneliness, but the dullness of its knife will have faded. When it comes to him in the night, making the world stop again, he will greet it with this memory of contentment.

–

There are millions of things that she’s willing to do to make it stop. He could turn the universe upside down, inside out for him. He could yell at the top of her lungs for highways and mountains to move for him. He could fly a damn plane to Chicago for him.

Nothing is too much to stop being a helpless soul, watching him cry over Facetime calls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings will never be stupid, angel.”

Denali tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out quite right. It is too full of tears and fears, too loaded with emotions that Rosé begs to understand. It is the saddest sound she’s ever heard and shards of glass appear where her heart used to be.

“Everyone loves me now.” He says as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, because your lipsync was that fucking good, diva.”

“And what happens when I disappoint them?”

Rosé takes a deep breath, lets it settle where shattered glass lies. After a long night alone, he’d once seen a video where they turn the pieces into the most beautiful new figures. He wonders if he’ll know he’s turning his heart into something new for him.

“Listen to me, Denali. You are not and will never be a disappointment to anyone.”

“What happens when I’m eliminated? What happens when people figure out that I’m not as good as they thought I was?”

They’ve only talked about it once before, while drunk in his room after a long day of promo. If the others noticed that Denali was talking to him in whispers and holding his hand too tight, they didn’t mention it.

Does he know that he cuts her fingers when he tries to pick up the pieces for him? Does he know that he believes that nothing in the world could ever be so wrong? Does he know that he loves him too much to ever think of him the way he thinks of himself?

Months ago, he’d questioned how he could ever be so sure of anything. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yes, you will.” He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady for him. “One bad day won’t change how much people love you. You’re a fabulous performer and an even more fabulous friend. Don’t ever doubt it for one minute, bitch.”

“But–”

“No buts here, baby. The only acceptable one is the fat ass you’re sitting on.”

It’s only when Denali laughs that he realizes he’s been crying too. How could he not when nothing in the world could be as clear? To love him is a reflex and to stop is in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m sorry I ruined your makeup, Rosie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s easy to brush off, especially when it comes to him. “Maybe the people that booked Cameos are into the smudged mascara look.”

People never told him he could love someone’s laugh so much before.

–

Denali makes him realize what it means to daydream. One minute, he’s out of his own body, watching them dance in a whirlwind of giggling grace together. He spins across the dance studio and when he opens his eyes, they’re suddenly drunk off of bad cocktails in his living room, trying to do the choreography to Phenomenon.

“Wait, no!”  He almost falls over when he throws his arms over his head. “We really have to put our whole body into the wiggle. Like this.” It takes a single demonstration for Denali to crash onto the couch, burying his face into a cushion to hide his scream from Rosé’s neighbors.

“I’m just trying to be accurate here.” He says when he plops down beside him. “Utica said wiggle to the top, so I’m wiggling to the fucking top, baby.”

“You can’t make a top out of a bottom, Rosie.”

“Well, I made it to the top four, didn’t I?”

They’re both laughing so hard it hurts. It’s the type of laughing that makes their eyes tear up and their vision blur. It’s the type of laughing that makes them struggle for breath until they can’t tell if it’s them or the room that’s spinning.

The cocktail of alcohol and absurdity settles at the bottom of his stomach and he lets the laughter die. He reaches out for his hand, writes down words from memory to flesh.

Thank you.

You’re right.

I love you.

He wonders how many new words he’ll learn during his stay in New York.

Denali writes something back and it’s all Rosé could have ever hoped for. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but having the words burned on the back of his hand is still the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

It happens so quickly that he doesn’t know where it starts and ends. All he knows for sure is that Denali kissed him, a peck on his lips that feels like the quick burst of a bubble.

When he wakes from this dream tomorrow, he’s not sure he’ll even remember what it felt like. All he’ll think of is the way Denali presses into his side, like none of it ever happened.

“Maybe you really are a cat.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Rosé doesn’t find trouble shutting his eyes. He doesn’t need to see him to know he won’t leave.

–

Maybe it’s the power of TV magic or maybe it’s the wall of makeup that Tina had plastered onto his face that makes it look like he isn’t holding back a gallon of tears. Instead, he looks as happy as he always does, bouncing across the runway like seeing Denali leave didn’t break his heart right in two.

The thought of having to act happy feels ridiculous now that they’re both sobbing silently over the phone. Neither of them have said anything since Ru told him to sashay away and as Untucked starts to play, they remember that they have to breathe again.

“Are you okay?”

Denali is almost uncomfortably quiet. The streaks of foundation missing from his face tell Rosé all he really needs to know but he asks anyway, if only to make sure that he doesn’t get trapped in his own head. Beautiful minds make the ugliest nightmares, after all.

“Why do you always dance like that during lipsyncs?”

He stares at him in open-mouthed shock. After the emotional ringer that they’ve both just been pulled through, all he can focus on is the fact that only his knees move when he’s dancing in the background?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Denali?”

“This episode is way too tragic.” He’s brushing it off so easily that the concern Rosé feels grows with each passing second. “My elimination, your makeup, your weird dad dancing. We have to address those things one at a time.”

“And can that first thing be your elimination?”

Denali quits rambling when he says it. They listen to the synced buzz of their TVs, watch as Rosé writes it’ll be okay on her hand. He wonders if the words are still there, wonders if he can still feel them when he needs them the most.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.”

To love him is to accept it.

Tonight won’t be the night for them to talk about it. It probably won’t even be tomorrow; but when he’s ready, Rosé will keep his end of the promise. There will be other times to love him in the ways he knows how.

“Why won’t people just leave my dad dancing alone?”

“Oh, Rosie,” he giggles and Rosé thinks it might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “I think it’s adorable.”

–

Denali: have you seen the response online omg

Rosé: I told u so

Denali: what

Rosé: told u they’d love u as much as i do

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

[skzafterdusk]

han jisung + “Put My Hands On You”

This was requested from the Dean Title Track Prompt List I posted where you can pick an SKZ member and a song for a drabble fic

Word Count: 1.9k words

tags: angst, fluff, and (mentions of) smut- oh my!

Summary: That friends with benefits trope we all know and love. Even though Jisung is sure you’d end up in his bed no matter how, he wishes you guys had met on different terms. 

Jisung doesn’t have many regrets in life, but he wished you and he had met differently, not in a way that was so...typical. But he’s sure no matter how you guys did end up meeting each other, you’d both still be in this same position:

The lights off, the street lamps and vibrant nightlife of the city just outside his window enough to illuminate your bodies, enough for him to enjoy the way your naked back concaves. In the warm glow of those street lights, the muscles in your back dance to their own beat, or maybe it’s the rhythm of his hips as he pounds into you. And even with your moans muffled by his covers, there’s a silence that fills the air in a comforting way.

The chemistry had been palpable from the start with you two. Still, Jisung wishes it had been under different circumstances. Then, perhaps, you wouldn’t feel the need to leave after you’ve washed up. Maybe then, you would just lay with him, allowing him to admire the way your lashes were conditioned and soft from your own tears of pleasure, and the red tint to your swollen lips. 

But alas, your meeting Jisung was so typical it was swaying on the border of unbelievable. 

See, the thing is, Han Jisung wasn’t normally the person to go to clubs. Sweaty bodies, crowded rooms with a majority of its clients under some sort of influence...the music is too loud and never quite that good-

Yet, there he was, at a club, out of obligation because that’s the sort of thing that comes with the job description as a singer, an idol, an artist.

It’s this fun little thing called “networking”, and if he wanted to get a producer as well adored as Seo Changbin to agree to help create what would undoubtedly be a record hit for the young artist, Jisung needed to be there, that night, up at the producer’s booth in the VIP area.

But all of that had already been worked out by then. The deal had been made, numbers were exchanged, and Changbin offered Jisung to party with him the rest of the night. Again, his acquiescence was purely out of obligation.

It meant, though, that when Jisung insisted on going down to get himself and Changbin some drinks so he could move around, he would bump into you, leaning against the bar, waiting for your own drink.

It doesn’t stop Jisung from asking to buy you a drink, more out of a loss of a way to actually talk to you.

You’d looked irresistible that night, silver earrings and a matching necklace adorning your skin, your outfit of choice seemingly made just for you with how well it fit, accentuating everything that Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes away from.

You raised your glass with a warm smile, answering his idiotic question. You wanted him to know that you weren’t meaning to tease him or even turn him away. Simply, he needed to try again, and find another way to spark conversation.

“Sorry. I didn’t notice your drink. Kinda just saw you.”

You scrunched your nose, but still giggled at his words. This wasn’t your first drink of the night, but even in sobriety, he would have seemed cute.

“That was fuckin’ cheesy, dude. But thanks.” You had to lean in close so he could hear you without yelling at him. The lights weren’t that dim, but you then realized why he looked so familiar, and gasped. “Oh, woah. You’re Jisung! I listen to a lot of your music.”

Stricken with flattery, said artist had been brought to stillness, unsure of how to respond. A simple thanks seemed too lame, and too much like the end of the conversation. But he didn’t want to come off as creepy.

And you’d caught onto his inability to respond. Even if you hadn’t known this man by name or face, he still was just very...cute.

“Are you here with someone else?” you asked.

“Ah, I’m getting drinks for me and my...uh, I’m getting drinks for someone in VIP.” And, as if on cue, the drinks magically appeared in front of him. “Would you wanna...join...me?”

Your eyes grew big in shock. “You want me to come up with you to VIP?”

He shrugged. “You seem like you’re fun.”

You grinned brightly, already picking up your own drink. “I can be tons of fun.”

And, to Jisung, he’d never met a person as honest as you, ever. You introduced yourself easily, and led Jisung through conversation that he may not have been able to initiate himself. The night carried on in that way, and it had been you that offered Jisung’s moment to exit for the night.

A goddamn lifesaver.

“Not the partying type?” you inquired once you were out in the open night, the cool air of early fall sending a chill down your spine.

“Not really,” the singer confessed. “I like being with people one-on-one, y’know?”

You stood closer to him. Although there wasn’t the same need to lean in for him to hear you, you still whispered your words as if you had the biggest secret. “We’re alone now. Or we can be.”

After your first night together, he thought he could write a song about you. He could wax poetry about the way your thighs felt gripping his waist, or the way your light touches sent him into a headspace almost foreign to himself, some place he’s only been to in his dreams. He hadn’t thought much about it when you left that night, cause you turned at the ajar door, leaving the gentlest peck on his cheek. Warmth had spread through his chest, and he thought he could write about that as well.

But he held off, waited until you texted him a few days later, asking if you could see him. He offered to make dinner for you first; you obliged, but you never made it to the bedroom that night, and most of the food had to be thrown away because of its inedibility. 

Jisung doesn’t remember the night that the warm spread through his chest began to ache like his heart wanted to crawl out of his chest. You still liked to kiss him before you left, but you were still leaving.

Maybe if he’d met you at a coffee shop instead, or maybe on your way to your university campus, then you wouldn’t feel the need to leave so suddenly. Something about clubs screams fun for one night or just plain fun in general. Maybe you think the night means sin and nothing else.

But now, Jisung’s head is pounding just as his heart, blood pumping through his veins as he crashes from his release.

You rest your head on his chest even if your skin is just as damp. 

“Think you have another round in you?” your words still sound breathless, like you’re desperately chasing for air.

Jisung’s body reacts to the words, thoughts already filling his head at the hope of fucking you again. But the desire scalds him in an almost pleasant way.

“Gonna have to give me a few minutes.”

You grin, lifting your head from his chest. “I can wait.”

The silence is soothing, and the artist likes the way the air cools you both down. It makes him feel like he can say anything daring. So he does. 

“You know...you don’t have to leave after we finish. You can stay here...sleep here.”

“Really.” 

Jisung turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are on your fingers as they draw patterns on his chest. The way you asked...it hadn’t sounded like a question at all. It sounds almost...accusatory.

“(Y/N), did you think you had to leave after we were done?”

You shrug, but you finally match his gaze. “Artists are a different breed, and I understand it. I understand how you like to find the beauty in the mundane, and how it can feel life-altering when beauty gets you drunk. People that constantly think about words are always trying to find the best way to…” you sigh, finding the right words, “Always trying to find the best way to get people to feel how they feel.”

“But, what does that have to do with us?”

“I’m okay with you craving beauty in others, needing to find out who you are with me or with someone else. There’s so much emotion to be had that ironically, words and labels can put a damper on-”

The artist huffs, sitting up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “If you don’t wanna date me, just say it. Don’t try to soften the blow because you pity me.”

“Pity? How have I ever pitied you?”

“You didn’t think I noticed the way you handled me the night we met?”

Sitting up, your brows lace together in confusion. “You were shy. I thought it was cute. I still do think it’s cute.” You remember the way you felt about him then, how the idol with adoring fans seemed to stutter over his words as if it mattered what he said. 

You place a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers walk up his neck, massaging and petting at his skin. His head falls into your hand, chasing your touch. For as open a person you know yourself to be, it’s possible that you have been holding yourself back from this man.

“I would love to date you, Jisung.” Your words are soft and sincere. “I just didn’t want to rush anything because I was happy with just getting to see you, kiss you...touch you. And if you didn’t want to learn more about me, I was okay with that, too.”

“But I do. Probably since the moment you sat next to me in that booth. You let me be me and you didn’t ask me to be something I’m not.” He leans back, your faces suddenly so close to each other. “You don’t know how many nights I wanted to grab your arm and pull you back into the bed, just so we could talk until the sun came up, or how much I want to send you cheesy pictures when I’m in the studio. Hell, I’ve even wanted to drive you home if you absolutely couldn’t stay the night.”

He kisses the hand still holding his jaw, and whispers, “Anything to just spend more time with you.”

“Cheesy,” you reply. “But...I’d like that, too.”

You don’t really understand the warmth that spreads through your chest as he smiles at you so sincerely. It’s a barely there lift of the lips, and yet you grin happily.

“So,” you start, biting at your bottom lip. “Are you ready to go again, or…”

His low chuckle brings you back, excites your body with anticipation. “I still need some time, but we can always start with you.”

You’re not mad at the suggestion. “Do what you wish.”

Jisung still thinks he could write a song about you. The words come so naturally, feel just as right as the way you moan in his ear and whimper against his mouth. And he does. The lyrics are sprawled on napkins, parcels of paper, and behind his eyelids. He’s excited to know what else he could write about with you in his life.

Val’s Note:

I hope you enjoyed this next installment in the Dean Title Track Fic series. This one isn’t gratuitous smut, and I’m sorry if that is what you are here for. But This song sparks more than sex even though...that’s literally what the song is about. Hopefully it still is a good read. Tune in next time!