#NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED THIS WOULD HAPPEN IN A MILLION YEARS????

[ifwdominicfike]

you try to get guitarist!matt to listen to one taylor swift song since he apparently “hates” her music

── .✦. ──

“matt im telling you, one song wouldn’t hurt you. or are you just too scared you’ll like it?” you felt the chillest breeze outside and decided to play folklore on repeat because who wouldn’t? anyway, matt was fed up with hearing about “some girl complaining about her failed relationships” but you couldn’t care less.

“sweetheart, it’s literally just the same song but about a different guy. she’s too overplayed i don’t get how you like that shit” he scoffs, making his way around the couch. “everyone says that though, you’ve only heard her pop songs that why — her other songs are masterpieces. all of her lyrics are basically me.” you sarcastically say — but not really.

as he sits down on the cushion you scoot your way over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “pleaseee just one song? i promise you’ll like it, well hopefully i dont know.” you ask with a smile, he lets out a sigh and finally agrees. “yeah sure come on, show me this song then sweetheart.”

you now have the biggest smile on your face and get up from your comfortable position, and turn to make your way to your shared room to grab headphones “wait here” you excitedly say, as if he would vanish the second you were gone.

when you came back with the black bulky headphones he was already looking your way, smiling at your excited state. “this better be good if you’re this happy about this, if i don’t like the song and its some girly girl pop shit, m’clowning your ass for it.” he jokes when putting on the headphones and adjusting them, you were a little nervous — it was obviously something he would never in a million years listen to on his own but he always shows you his music so whats the worst that can happen ?

you figured why not something from your favorite album of hers, folklore. you were going through the tracklist trying to figure out which song until you were pulled out of your thoughts by matt groaning. “come on sweetheart, m’falling asleep over here” he fakes yawns and rubs at his eyes. “shush i have the song ready, now listen its my favorite!”

you click on the song and look up at him to watch his reaction, you obviously can’t hear the music but you already know how it goes “i’ve been having a hard time adjusting, i had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting.”

as the song continues to play you can see matt swaying a little, you smile when you notice the amusement on his face. the bridge of the song starts up and he stops all movement, listening carefully as the lyrics spew into his ears. he looks over at you in disbelief, jaw dropped as the song now fades out and he’s slipping off the headphones.

“sweetheart thats you’re favorite song?” he says sniffling “well y-yeah? why is it bad?” you ask confused “no, not at all- s’just really fucking sad” he said chuckles before pulling you into a hug “if y’think thats sad then i need to show you more”

“her music s’not that bad i guess..” he says sarcastically “matt please- you were damn near crying i don’t wanna hear it.”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i love folklore. i AM folklore. anywayyy new blurb!!! im so happyyyy i finally finished ONE of my drafts 😭😭

wait omg i forgot to tag you @bluestriips ik you like guitarist!matt !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott

[thatone16216]

Kwon Jae-Sung x fem!Larusso!reader

What happens when the cocky, bad-boy captain of the Cobra Kai team meets Daniel Larusso's daughter?

*Notes, since Kwon is actually 20 apparently(?) reader is going to be 18. So, technically a year older than the rest of the team, Kwon will also not try to make Robby jealous, Yoon can do that

I thought I would have no problem keeping my promise to focus on the Sekai Tekai rather than on guys, even though I'm not even officially competing. I'm here as a backup fighter in case of any injuries, but I knew that all my focus went out the window with the arrival of the Cobra Kai team.

One look at that dangerous smirk and messy hair, and I was smitten.

He turned toward me, flashing me a smirk and wink, and I'm so distracted that I don't even register the fact that Tory is standing next to him until my sister, Sam, elbows me in the ribs. I turn in her direction, and she frowns at me. "He's the enemy," she hisses.

"Well, 'the enemy' is hot," I hiss back. I feel a soft smack on my head and notice my dad giving me a look. He shakes his head, and I sigh, crossing my arms and turning back to face the announcer.

I have the feeling he's on the "forbidden to breathe the same air as me" list. Good thing I have never listened to that list once in my eighteen years of life.

As we file out, I lock eyes once more with the Cobra Captain, and this time return his smirk.

I have the feeling he's going to make this tournament interesting...

~~~~~

As we wait in the lobby to check in, Devon and I chat until she focuses on something over my shoulder. "Captain Cobra is coming this way," she observes. I turn, despite my better judgement, and lock eyes with him as he makes his way to where the two of us are standing, leaving the rest of his team to taunt mine.

"Hi," I say, watching him approach. I wonder briefly if he's always smirking, because that's what he appears to be doing right this second. "Hey," he says back. He stops in front of me. "You must be, [Name]." My eyes narrow suspiciously and he raises his hands in a surrender pose as he chuckles. "Relax, I'm not stalking you. You and Robby are all Tory talks about. I've seen a million pictures of you. It's nice to finally meet the person I've heard so much about."

I nod, raising a brow at him. "So, am I going to learn your name or am I still supposed to call you 'Captain Cobra'? It's kind of a mouthful if I'm being honest." His smirk seems to turn into a slightly real smile, as he laughs. "I'm Kwon. Kwon Jae-Sung. Future Sekai Tekai champion." I nod, acting impressed. "I see. And what makes you so sure?" I ask him teasingly. He straightens up, eyes holding a real sense of pride as he gives me a cocky, though fully real, smile.

"I'm the best fighter here. I know it, my team knows it, everybody knows it. I fight mean and dirty, giving me an edge over my opponents." I study him closely as he talks about how he's the best. He truly believes what he is saying, and I actually kind of believe him as well. Tori told me about Master Kim when she was training at Cobra Kai, and after meeting her during the fight at the dojo, I believe that her students are put through the damn ringer. He doesn't seem the type to follow directions easily, though. More the opposite.

Before I can keep the conversation going, Devon taps my shoulder. "Incoming, sister," she whispers. I nod, turning back to Kwon. "I have to go. I'm sorry. Good luck, though!" I say, holding out my hand for him to shake. Kwon takes it. "I look forward to seeing you fight," he says back to me. Before I can tell him I'm just a backup, he's gone back to his team.

"What did he want?" Sam asks as she approaches, leveling a nasty look in his direction. I shrug, watching he and his team walk away. "Just to introduce himself. I guess Tory talks about me a lot," I say. Sam scoffs. "He's just trying to get in your head. Don't let him," she says. I roll my eyes. "I'm not even competing, so I don't know why he'd be trying to get in my head," I observe, hoping my sister would understand how stupid she's being. Her next sentence tells me everything I need to know about her current mindset. "You're my sister, though, and the daughter of one of our senseis. If he's in your head, it's to use you to get to us," she explains as though I'm dumb. I sigh as I follow her to our room.

She's changed a lot over the past two years, but at the same time, she hasn't changed a bit.

~~~~~

I roll my eyes with the rest of my team as the captains are coddled and treated like kings while the rest of us just stand around and watch. I notice one of them checking out Robby and narrow my eyes. She better not even think about making a move on my best friend's boyfriend. She'll be lucky if I kill her before Tory does.

I notice Kwon smiling at me instead of the camera as the picture is taken. When Tory leaves, he walks over to me. "Hey," he greets. Before I can respond, my sister marches over and drags me away. "Don't talk to her!" She snaps. I give Kwon an apologetic wave as I leave, him flashing a small smile in return.

I briefly wonder if he ever frowns, because he seems like the type of person to always be smiling. Even when he's angry. I then wonder briefly how hot he is when he's angry.

~~~~~

"You're a dumbass, Robby," I sigh, watching the Cobra Kais celebrate getting a new room. Robby says nothing, only turning around and leaving, and the rest of the team follows him. As I turn to leave, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing a text from an unknown number.

Unknown - It's Kwon. Tory gave me your number. I thought it would be easier to talk without getting interrupted this way.

I smile to myself, wondering if he actually enjoys talking to me.

[Name] - Yeah, this works. Especially because I've been told that you're only speaking with me to get in my head

Kwon - Well, you've figured me out. Tell me, is it working?

[Name] - Not really if I'm being honest. Besides, I'm just a backup anyway. If you want to get in anyone's head, it would be my sister's. She's team captain, after all

Kwon - It's hard to tell over text, but you seem disappointed.

I pause briefly reading that. Am I disappointed? I guess I am. Sam has always been the favorite. Even though I'm the oldest, I've never been the most behaved child. Especially not when I'd joined Cobra Kai behind my father's back. Sam has always been the perfect angel, and my parents, my father especially, have always shown their favoritism, even without realizing it. The captain's thing was no different, along with the team tryouts.

[Name] - if I'm being honest? a little

Kwon - If you want to talk, you could always come to my room tonight.

I pause, a smirk on my face as I text him back.

[Name] - this sounds suspiciously like a hookup offer?

Kwon - That wasn't really my intention.

I frown slightly in disappointment, hoping I didn't scare him off, when my phone buzzes again.

Kwon - I wouldn't object to it, though.

I laugh as I reply to him.

[Name] - I'll be there at 11:00. Keep it in your pants

~~~~~

Sneaking out was harder than I thought it would be. I feigned wanting to take a midnight stroll to get over my lack of sleep because my roommates were still up. Devon wouldn't judge me, given the fact that she realizes that a petty rivalry is stupid, but Sam would flip out and most likely tell our father if I snuck out to meet up with a boy. Especially the Cobra Kai captain.

I knock on the door, looking around wearily. I saw Robby walking around as well as I was leaving, and I prayed he didn't return too soon. As soon as Kwon opened the door, I stepped in, quickly closing it behind me. "Make yourself at home," he grumbles. I giggle. "I'm sorry, I just am trying to avoid my teammate who is also wandering around right this second." He laughs, and sits on one of the beds, while I set up camp on the other. I look at the mountain of pillows on his bed, noting that the bed I'm on has no pillows.

I smirk at them. "So, you like pillows?" I ask. He looks confused until he notices the mountain. "They're comfy," he defends. I laugh at him and lay on the bed, facing him on his. "Why'd you invite me here?" I question. He shrugs. "Just to talk. Why aren't you competing?" I shrug, turning away from him to look up at the ceiling. "I'm not good enough."

He scoffs. "I don't believe that." I shrug again. "It's true. I'm not good enough in my father's eyes, and neither is my brother. Sam is the golden child. That's why she's captain. She would have been captain whether or not Tory stayed on the team. I'm not competing because I had strep on the days of the tryouts for the team. As a consolation prize, I was allowed to come here as a replacement in case someone got hurt or sick." I roll my eyes. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway. When it comes to Sam, everyone seems to worship her. My parents only just started acknowledging my brother's existence, and for me, I've always been the sneaky disappointment."

I sit up, training my eyes outside the window. At Kwon's scoff of disbelief, I turn to him. "It's true. They're most disappointed in the fact that I had joined Cobra Kai, and that I chose to remain there during the 'Karate War'. I was there until Eli chose to leave, and I left too."

Kwon nods along to what I'm saying, and he's such a good listener that I find myself telling him even more of the story. "When I was in Cobra Kai, I was a different person. My dad had taught me and Sam Karate from a young age, but I liked the Cobra Kai style better. I thought the offense was more fun than the defense, and I started fighting that way. I also fought dirty. My dad also didn't like the amount of respect I had for his high school bully, so that was another reason he was disappointed in me. The biggest reason he was disappointed, though, was because I wasn't like Sam. I didn't follow hi directions mindlessly, I didn't make everyone's problems my business, and I, most importantly, didn't like the 'right guys'. The only guy I've ever dated was Eli, and that ended because we both knew that there was no way he'd ever be able to settle for anyone who wasn't Moon."

I stare at the city outside of Kwon's window, and I feel the bed move as he sits beside me. "I think that's stupid," he says. "You should be competing while you're here. Your entire team is training for this, yet you aren't able to even attempt to show people what you're made of. You should rejoin Cobra Kai. Master Kim would let you."

I laugh. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can't do that to my team, and I'd rather watch this tournament anyway. Besides, I can't cheer you on if I'm competing at the same time now, can I?"

~~~~~

The next morning, I quietly sneak back into the room. My sister is still asleep, but Devon comes out of the bathroom as I shut the door. "Where were you?" She asks. I glance over at my sister before pulling out my phone. I quickly type Kwon into a text before showing it to her. She raises a brow, and I quickly shake my head. "Not like that," I quickly reassure her. She laughs. "Relax. I was just going to say you're moving a little fast is all," she tells me. I smile at her before my sister stirring distracts us.

"Good morning, guys," she says, yawning. We return our good mornings as we begin to get ready for the day. As Sam gets in the shower, my phone buzzes. I smile as I read Kwon's text.

Kwon - We should get together again tonight.

Devon shoots me a look as I smile at the text. "Moving a little fast, are we?" she snarks. I stick my tongue out as I throw a pillow at her. "Shut up," I say. She laughs as she dodges the pillow. "Have him actually take you out today or something," she suggests. "I'll vouch for you." I nod. "Okay," I decide.

[Name] - How opposed are you to missing practice today?

Kwon - Depends on the reason?

[Name] - I'm bored. I don't want to watch my team practice

Kwon - I don't know. What's in it for me?

[Name] - Theres a beach we could spar on?

Kwon - 10:00?

[Name] - Sounds good

~~~~~

The first time we got together went so well that we've decided to do it every day. Early in the morning, we get together and train, whether it be a sparring session, jog, or weightlifting at a gym, we've been getting together regularly. Today, it's sparring on the beach again. Most days it only lasts about two hours, but today we both have the day off, so we'll be spending it together.

I adjust the workout clothes I'm wearing. I'm in shorts and a (tank/crop) top because I thought it would be warmer today, but right now, near the water, I'm freezing. I settled on my cutest outfit, mostly to impress Kwon. I hear a voice call out to me and I turn and smile as he approaches. "Ready?" he asks me. I nod, and he pulls off his jacket, revealing a rather tight compression shirt with his sweats. I try, and fail, not to stare too hard at the abs I see through the shirt.

As soon as we bow to each other, he runs at me, forcing me to block and dodge his attacks. I back away from him as he relentlessly moves forward, kicking and punching everywhere he could. As I defend, I watch his movements carefully. Every fighter has a flaw in their movements. It could be a past injury, a small habit they never trained away, or, in Kwon's case, a false sense of security. He keeps his arms lower than he should. Not by much, but enough for someone who knows what they're doing to pick up on it. He focuses his efforts more on throwing fast and powerful combinations than he does on his defenses, because he's confident in his speed. While his speed is impressive, he's still open to an attack.

I use this against him, dodging his next kick and aiming a punch at his exposed liver. I'm not going to actually hit it that hard, due to the fact that it can cause permanent damage, but I do hit it hard enough for him to stop. He falls to the ground, in pain and gasping for breath, and I quickly run over to him. "Are you okay?" I ask him, helping him sit up. He laughs, breathlessly. "Yeah, just winded."

The two of us sit and chat, watching the waves crash on the beach for the rest of the day. As night approaches, I shiver, getting slightly chilly. Kwon notices, wrapping his jacket around my shoulders and shifts closer to me, making me warmer. "So, should we consider this our first date?" Kwon asks as we watch the sun setting. I look at him and he's already looking at me. "We've barely known each other a week?" I respond. He shrugs, leaning back. "And?" He questions, staring up at me. I scoff. "We barely know anything about each other!" I protest, trying not to smile. He's squinting up at me and crinkling his nose while doing so, and I have to look away to avoid giving in.

"Tory would tell me about you and Robby all the time, and she showed me a lot of pictures of you. Everything you've told me, like your favorite color and favorite TV show, Tory has talked about. I know all of the surface level stuff about you, like the fact that you hate coconut and people have to hide M&M's from you because otherwise you won't stop eating them. You sounded so interesting that I couldn't not talk to you that first day here. After that, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your sister accuses me of trying to get in your head, but I can't seem to get you out of mine."

The two of us are silent after his confession, until I finally get the courage to look him in the eyes. "If you promise to take me on a real first date tomorrow, no training involved, I might consider it," I say. His smile lights up his whole face. "Deal," he agrees.

~~~~~

I nod at Devon as I walk out the door, passing through the hall. I make it to the lobby, spotting Kwon waiting by the door. As he waves to me and I begin to walk over, a person steps into my path. I bump into Miguel, who looks at me, annoyance on his face. "Hey, [Name]," He greets. I nod at him. "Hey, Miguel." I try to step around him, but he starts talking to me. I lock eyes with Kwon, who taps his watch he's wearing. I shrug helplessly and Miguel launches into a rant about Robby being a horrible captain and how he's always so distracted. I nod along, impatiently before snapping.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" I finally huff. "Look, I'm late to meet someone, so I'll see you later." I quickly make my way out the door of the lobby before he can ask who I'm meeting.

I walk to Kwon, who's now waiting for me outside. "It's about time," he grumbles. I smile at his pout. "I was trying to leave, but he was complaining about his stepbrother," I say. He rolls his eyes. "He couldn't have complained farther away from you?" He asks, grabbing my hand. As he laces his fingers through mine, I smile up at him. "Aww, are you jealous?" I ask, starting to tease him. He frowns down at me and looks away, a blush staining his face red. "No," he mumbles. I giggle, letting him lead me away from the hotel.

~~~~~

We decided to go to the boardwalk, which is where we spent our day. We ate food, played games, and went on every ride at the park, and we were walking around again when I squealed and grabbed his hand. "Look at that panda!" I pull him closer to the game booth where there is a huge giant panda stuffed animal hanging from the top of it.

Kwon chuckles at my enthusiasm and pays the booth attendant. Kwon needs to knock down every clown on the little shelf to win the panda. On Kwon's first try, he knocked down ten of them. He played again and knocked down eleven. The third time, he also got eleven, despite hitting the clown dead center. Just as I'm about to tell Kwon it's a scam and to just leave, he pays again, and this time whips the ball so hard at that clown that it finally does fall over. He turns to the booth attendant. "Panda. Now." The guy does as he's told and hand's me the giant panda. I smile up at Kwon as he looks down at me. He looks like he wants to say something but gets distracted as he looks up. "The only thing we haven't done yet is the Ferris Wheel," he says.

I take his hand. "Then let's go!"

As we pay and get on the ride, we stare out over the city. I shiver as we get closer to the top, because the cold air hit me. Kwon chuckles, draping his jacket over me again. "At this rate, I should just let you keep it," he says. As I laugh and face him, he stares at me. "It looks even better on you than it does on me," he notes. I feel the blush on my cheeks, despite the chilly air, as his face gets closer. As his breath hits my cheeks, I feel my eyes flutter shut and I lean forward to close the distance.

He kisses me, softly at first, but slowly turning hotter and more passionate as it continues. My hands slide into his hair, just as soft as I'd imagined it'd be, as he pulls me closer by my waist. The fact that we're on the Ferris Wheel becomes forgotten until we reach the bottom, and the ride operator clears his throat.

The two of us get off the ride, me embarrassed and Kwon satisfied, and begin to walk back to the hotel. I'm clutching my gigantic panda on my right side and Kwon's hand on my left side, and as he swings our arms back and forth and twirls me around in the moonlight, I silently wish this moment would last forever.

Neither of us knew how late it was as we walked back into the hotel, but since we were greeted by my angry father and sister, and one very confused Johnny Lawrence, I would assume it was very late.

"Where have you been?" Dad begins to question. I shrug sheepishly. "The boardwalk?" I answer. Dad holds up his phone. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Why didn't you answer your phone?" He asks. I look at my phone and wouldn't you know? Fifteen missed calls and over one hundred unread messages. "Oops. My phone was on silent, not vibrate. That's my bad."

Dad begins to get angry, when Sam opens her mouth. "Why were you with him? You know he's our enemy!" She glares at Kwon, who until this point has been standing silently beside me. It's now that my dad seems to fully register who he is and, more importantly, who's jacket I'm wearing.

"Is that a Cobra Kai jacket? And you went out, alone, on a date, with one of their Captains?" I nod, handing the bear to Kwon. "Yeah, and I had an excellent time. He's quite the gentleman, you know. Held doors for me, walked on the side of the sidewalk with traffic, you know, gentleman things." Dad stalks closer. "We're not talking about this here. Give him the jacket back and say goodbye. You're not allowed to speak with him." I stay put, crossing my arms. "That's not fair!" I exclaim. "Cobra Kai isn't your enemy, Kreese is. So why can't I just go on a date with a nice boy who just happens to be from that dojo? I mean, Tory willingly joined the dojo, and you are still being perfectly nice and civil to her! Kwon's just a normal teenager who had an opportunity to succeed and took it!"

"It goes against everything Miyagi-Do stands for," Dad says. I throw my hands up in frustration. "Miyagi-Do this! Miyagi-Do that! All you ever do is talk about Miyagi-Do! Sensei Lawrence tries to teach us something, you argue against it because it's not the "Miyagi-Do way". Do you know how ridiculous you sound? And I can't date a boy because he happens to attend a dojo run by the guy who taught your high school bully how to fight? No offense, Sensei Lawrence."

Johnny waves it off. "No big deal, kid. Listen Daniel, maybe she's got a point." Dad turns to him. "Does she? Does she have a point? Get back to me when your daughter goes on a date with a cocky asshole who is being taught by a monster, and you'll understand how I feel." Johnny steps closer. "Listen to me man, I was the cocky asshole. This guy, he's not it. You're letting your feelings about Kreese affect your judgement and you're making horrible decisions. Just let the girl go on a few dates and be happy. She's not competing anyway, which you already know how I feel about that, so what's the harm in letting her date the guy?"

Dad glares at all of us before taking a breath. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Go to bed." With that, he climbs upstairs and goes to his room. Johnny sighs and waves at all of us before following after him, leaving me, Sam, and Kwon alone.

"How could you do this to us?" Sam asks, tearfully. Footsteps sound and the rest of my friends appear in the lobby. "We heard yelling," Hawk says. Demetri nods. "I tried telling everyone it was none of our business, but you see how well that worked out." he gestures to the other Miyagi-Do students. Miguel wraps his arm around Sam. "She's right. How could you betray us like this?" He asks angrily. I open my mouth, but Kwon finally speaks. "Betray you? She hasn't done anything to betray you, although listening to you people speaking, it's a miracle for you guys she hasn't. She doesn't even get to train with you people. She was brought here as a backup, but instead of letting her be one, you flew another person in from the states instead. I offered her the chance to join Cobra Kai, and she declined, saying that she couldn't do that to you guys."

The whole team except Kenny and Devon glare at him as he speaks, and I roll my eyes. Kwon then glares back at all of them. "You all love Tory so much, even though she joined Cobra Kai. Your captain would still be dating her if she didn't break up with him, so why the hell is me dating [Name] such a horrible crime?"

My team doesn't have an answer, so Kwon just scoffs. "Pathetic, all of you. Let's go, [Name]." He gently takes my hand and pulls me to the stairs, leading me to his room.

"You can stay with me tonight," he says. "I'm sure I have a shirt that you can borrow." I smile gratefully at him, trying not to think about the betrayed faces of my friends and father.

When we get to the room, Kwon tosses me a shirt before grabbing a handful of clothes and walking to the bathroom. "I'm just going to shower really quick," he says. "Okay," I respond, scrolling through social media. I like one of Yasmine's selfies, noting that she looks like she's finally getting better from the breakup. I still can't believe Demetri cheated on her. She truly did care about him, and I could tell it hurt her a lot. I like a post on Aisha's Instagram as well as I change out of my dress/jumper and into the shirt. It's long enough that it fits like a dress, ending just past my thigh. Aisha seems to be doing well at her new school, and I'm really happy for her, even if I do miss her.

I get a phone call from my mom. I sigh before answering. "Hey, mom!" I say, cheerfully. She sighs. "I just got off the phone with your father," she says. I slump. Of course she did.

"Is he anything like the Cobra Kais were when they were in the Valley?" She asks. "No. Aside from being a little cocky, he's not aggressive without reason." Mom sighs in relief. "Then I don't think you really need to listen to your father on this one. I trust your judgement, and even if it only lasts through Barcelona, at least you'll have a time with him you'll enjoy." I smile widely at him as he comes into the room. "Thank you, Mom," I say, happily. She laughs. "Okay. I'll let you sleep now. Love you, bye." She hangs up on me.

Kwon flops onto the bed next to me, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. He wraps his arms around me as he nuzzles his face into my neck. I pet his hair as he sighs into me. "I'm sorry about your team," he mumbles. I shrug, glad he can't see my face. "It's okay. I'm not sure what I expected from them. I thought they'd be a little kinder to you, but whatever. You're only the first guy I've actually liked since my ex, and even then, I didn't like him nearly as much."

Kwon looks up at me with a smile. "Yeah?" He asks, leaning closer. "Yeah," I say, closing the gap. We share soft kisses throughout the night, mostly just staying up and talking, enjoying each other's company as we slowly drift off.

As I lay in bed, staring out the window, I savor the feeling of Kwon's arms around me, his breath warm on my neck as he sleeps. In this moment, I don't care about the tournament, what my team thinks, or what could happen tomorrow, all I care about it the boy wrapped around me, who listened to my friend talk about me and decided that he needed to meet me. The boy who won me a panda and kissed me on the Ferris Wheel.

The cocky little asshole who managed to steal my heart. Little bastard.

[mechanical-marionette-system]

doing the same as prev bc. I eat rocks or whatever idk

also hey guys we’re back

also also answering in plaintext even tho not shock bc lazy

I’m this really fucked up mix of traumatic and lonelygenic. Like imagine being traumatized and then being left alone for so long that you split like 150 personalities (and probably more fragments) could never be us. Oh wait

a lot

System used to be all introjects except like one guy (who was the “original” lol) now theres like 4 non-introjects

Shock can do what he wants with the place and nobody else can do jack shit

two of em. The first is like 5 versions of Evbo and one other guy and the second is. Have you ever played slay the princess

yea, all of them are dormant tho so it’s hard to remember how many

Me and a whole bunch of other people discovered at around the same time bc Maryland informed us it’s actually not normal to hear voices

I think roles are handy. We would use them if any of us actually fit into specific roles

imma be real I’ve only ever used the shittier wiki on fandom so idk

Simplyplural. Bad abt keeping track tho

kind of. We’re fairly certain that shock kinda fell apart at some point and then formed back together slightly different, but he’s always been the host.

Mechanical Marionette System. (You never would’ve guessed lol) not saying why we picked it tho cause it kinda sucks to talk about

Robots, cats, monsters, all sorts of guys. And even most of the humanoid ones aren’t fully human, I think

Shock says there’s a cat or two who hang out around his personal part of headspace, but I haven’t been there yet, so I can’t confirm or deny the truth of that

Hhh. I don’t actually know shit abt myself yet (I formed two days ago shut your fuck up) but shock, who is in co-con, marches instead of walking normally for some fucking reason (it’s because of mcr brainrot) (what the fuck is mcr)

No.

Well yk how shock used to run like 8 million gimmick blogs? He thought Yahooo and Evil Yahoo Mail were headmates for a while (they were, in fact, not. Shock just gets way too into roleplaying.)

I mean I wouldn’t say we have like. Any talents that not everyone can do at least a little, but we do all have slightly different handwriting (shock writes in cursive cause he’s working on his cursive so he has much fancier writing than everyone else rn)

idk, not anything specific

see the above

I mean I don’t really know I formed like 2 days ago and I know a total of like 5 people

I don’t think so (I also don’t know)

this is actually killing me dude I don’t know these yet I formed 2 day ago

Not really. Shock says he’s been happy with the way we are, and probably will continue to be unless something crazy irrevocably changes things

funny thing- we all participate in each other’s fandoms, but few of us participate in our own.

i mean. I’m pretty sure all of us are atheist except for like. Shock, Tommy, and maybe Q. (And that other guy who’s like halfway between being a fragment and fully formed rn) we just kinda cope ig cause shock got the body to be an essential part of the local faith community and we can’t really leave without fucking a few people over now

I’m guessing we’ll let shock handle those things. Or maybe hold a vote if there’s any real discourse over it

not really. I mean I think shock wants to decorate headspace for Christmas but the system only formed like a year and a half ago, so we really just haven’t had time to start any

no (body’s dad took Spotify off our phone like 2 days before I formed ): )

not any that’s good enough to share. YET

i mean. Most of us get along well or just don’t talk, but on the rare occasions that real fights happen, Shock uses his superior command of headspace to break it up.

not really, other than the fact that I’m a lot more mentally distinct than some of the others. I mean some other guys have things like that tho (shock marches and writes in cursive a lot, Tommy and the long quiet subsystem are British)

we don’t, but if we did I don’t think they would use it if for no other reason then that it’s a bit difficult to read.

cat (: also wrote the first half of this post

a mix of both. Nobody has a unique interest, but not everyone has all the interests, I guess?

Slay the princess, if the subsystem counts each member separately, or undertale /deltarune if not

caitie

no

Bonezz. Xe was the first non-introject (other than shock)

well kinda

aroace

idk, probably one of the masc-aligning ones

aroace. All of us

simplyplural

yeah, to a degree

depends on circumstance

we experience a shotload of non-system-related amnesia but no system-related amnesia. Which is funny cause it’s the opposite for most people, I think

idk shock does all sorts of batshit crazy things all the time

hbbh. Vanilla probably

shock is dead scared of bugs, even the harmless ones

hmmmmm… orange (“but petey!” You might say. “Orange isn’t an aesthetic-“ fuck you, it is now)

not that we can tell

nope

we don’t have any syskids, but if we did I’m guessing we would all share that responsibility.

nah

i mean. We really don’t tend to switch when we’re in the middle of something, not sure why (although we’ve switched like 8 times while filling this out but shut up) so I don’t really know.

yeah, usually. Especially without amnesia barriers, it’s kind of hard to tell when we’ve switched.

often. It usually just means there’s like a million people co-fronting for us, though, so we just. Idk deal with it

no. Well. Not really

don’t have rn, may add later

Long system ask game!

Because it's been ages since we made one and we felt like it.

What type of system are you?

How many people are there in your system?

Do you have more introjects or non-introjects?

How much control do you have over your headspace (if you have one)?

Do you have any subsystems?

Do you have any in-system couples?

How did you discover your systemhood? Or did you become one on purpose?

How do you feel about system roles, and do you use them?

What are your thoughts on Pluralpedia?

Do you use anything to keep track of switching?

Have you ever had a change in hosts?

Do you have a system name? How did you pick it?

Do you have any nonhuman members? Feel free to list their species!

Do you have any headspace pets?

Current fronter/fronters, share some random info about you!

Do you have a partner system? How did you meet?

Have you ever mistaken a character of yours for a headmate? What about the other way around?

Does anyone have any skills that the others don't?

What's something y'all tend to agree on?

What about something you tend to disagree on?

Do symptoms of neurodivergencies/mental illness tend to manifest the same way or differently among headmates?

Do you have any syskids?

Share an in-system joke!

Has how you view your plurality changed?

If you have fictives, do they participate in their source fandom? If yes, are they open about who they are in fandom spaces?

How do you handle headmates having different spiritual beliefs?

How do you decide on major life decisions (where to live, what to study, what work to have, etc)?

Do you have any system traditons?

Current fronter, do you have your own playlist? Feel free to share it!

Do you have any art of anyone in the system? Feel free to show it off!

How do you handle it when people in the system don't get along?

Current fronter, is there anything that makes it obvious you're the one fronting? (Voice, accent, body language, typing style, etc)

If you have syskids, how do they feel about stereotypical "babby tawk"?

Share something about your newest member!

Do you tend to have collective or separate interests and hobbies?

If you have introjects, what source do you have the most from?

Are you out as plural to anyone irl?

Do you know any systems irl?

Which headmate was the biggest surprise?

Do you have a singletsona?

Do you have any collective labels?

What's the most common gender in your system?

What's the most common sexuality in your system?

What's your favorite app/website/etc for plural stuff?

Do you tend to have the same taste in food or not?

Is it hard or easy for you to switch?

Do you experience system-related amnesia?

Share something weird a headmate has done!

Current fronter, what's your favorite ice cream flavor?

Share a silly fear someone in the system has!

Current fronter, describe your aesthetic!

If you have outworld pets, do they tend to act differently around different headmates?

Has anyone ever figured out you were a system without you telling them?

When it comes to syskids, is there anyone in particular that takes care of them?

Does anyone in the system identify as otherkin, therian, or fictionkin?

Have you ever switched in an awkward moment? What happened?

Do you ever switch without realizing it?

Are you ever blurry? How do you handle it?

Has anyone ever treated an introject badly because of who their source is?

Current fronter, share a pic of your "face claim!"

[silvers-starrway]

So the wildest thing happened where @mactheactor decided to dub over (if that's even the correct terminology) the Chaos Sonic animation I made!!!!

I'm still in utter awe about this like, hands down the coolest thing ever I've been thinking about this non-stop. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I do!!

[stuckinapril]

It really is so true that you never know what someone’s going through behind closed doors. I’ve made being gentle and kind my default bc I’ve had super put together friends disclose the most harrowing time of their lives to me and it’s like oh?? You were going through that???? I would’ve never guessed

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

having a really old dog is just repeating the mantra to yourself "i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let him go i will do so gracefully. i am grateful for the time i've been given and when it comes time to let wait why are you not pooping normally WHAT IS GOING ON WHY WON'T YOU POOP ARE YOU DYING" and then calling the vet in a panic, being told actually he's fine but give the probiotic some time to do its thing and then let us know if anything changes, and then you take a deep breath and go "cool. yeah. obviously he's fine. anyway. i am grateful for the time i've been given and

[leandra-kinard]

Okay, to play 'devil's advocate' here a little and add some nuance (while definitely not condoning any of the tone-deaf, entitled behavior!).

There IS some merit in stories where people who previously thought they were straight figure out they're not. We had that with Buck; we previously had that with Michael. I personally know a man whose story was very similar to Michael's. So that part is not necessarily NOT gay culture, because it does happen often. People 'see the light' at 30, 40, even 50 and finally find out who they are.

I've often read people say (especially in regards to Eddie) "this, the comphet behavior, is what I did before I dared to admit to myself I'm bi/gay/a lesbian." So there's a natural and non-harmful projection of these kinds of valid queer experiences onto these characters.

Then there's also the slow burn aspect of it, the "will they, won't they" and "there's something there that could very well be more than platonic, these two idiots just haven't figured it out yet."

When it comes to stories and storytelling, there's an appeal to that. It's a very common trope in straight couples too, to have them only realize their romantic feelings a long, long time into their platonic/professional relationship. So why should that not happen with two people of the same gender?

Now this is where it gets a bit complicated, because it presumes a concept that is not necessarily wrong, but can be a little naive and unrealistic, namely the "gender doesn't matter, sexual orientation doesn't matter, this is about two souls falling in love". This isn't something that never happens in reality either, but its framing as a "one in a million exception" is the unrealistic part. There's no "straight with one exception"; discovering and experiencing actual attraction to someone of the same gender does make you no longer straight, and it means you never were straight.

I guess especially younger people cannot always fully grasp these nuances between what does happen in reality and what is a naive fairytale concept that essentially erases bisexuality.

I think it's unfair to say or imply that shipping Buddie is inherently or frequently (seriously) homophobic, or that it comes from a place of not liking gay men. Many of us who ship Bucktommy now used to ship Buddie because we did see the appeal and did see a potential (to a point; for me, in hindsight, that point was probably somewhere in s6 where it became no longer realistic for Eddie to have a gay awakening. A bi one maybe, but I am 99.9% convinced that ship has now definitely sailed. Then again, with some of the inconsistent writing, who the hell even knows what Tim decides? lol)

So, when people say, they don't want another story where someone already knows they're not straight that's also not per se wrong, imho. The phrasing in the above screenshot is definitely insensitive and tone-deaf and requires much more added context to make clear you don't mean it against established gay characters, you just mean it as a plea for coming out/figuring out one's sexuality arcs. Which is something I and many other queer people I know have said before. We want to see the epiphany, the struggle, the process of acceptance because that is something many of us did go through. To experience that with two characters we love could have felt very rewarding and validating.

To say this generally comes from a place of homophobia (while certainly some things that have been said and posted by the most toxic BoBs over the past half year WERE going in that direction!) also erases those queer experiences and feelings.

TL;DR: There are many queer experiences and view points that are all equally valid, and they could be expressed in various types of queer stories in fiction. Buddie as a slow burn and realizing one's sexuality later in life story would have been one valid version of the queer experience. Wanting Buddie is not per se the problem. The problem lies in invalidating the Bucktommy type of queer experience, especially Tommy's side. And the problem lies in entitled, rude and tone deaf behavior online. In my opinion.

I just think we, the Bucktommy shippers, should not fall into the trap of doing as was done to us by framing the other ship as inherently problematic (though calling out individual instances of problematic behavior and wording is valid! And the above are definitely examples of that). We can be better than that and recognize that many queer experiences and views are valid and can co-exist. The BoBs are the ones who cannot do that.

the more and more time i spend on tumblr and come across insane Buddie takes and behavior, the more and more i am convinced that the small, vocal, toxic subsection of shippers who don't know how to behave are, how shall i say it?

homophobic

they don't seem to actually like gay men. the situation with richard siken is an example of that. what they appear to like is their made-up version of what gay men are like and what they do. there's no concept of nuance or an actual understanding of queerness that informs their ship.

and i don't think you do need to understand it. sometimes you can just enjoy something without looking into it differently. but if you're going to be out on main talking about Buddie this and Buddie that, then you absolutely need to do the bare minimum and inform yourself on gay culture and gay issues so you don't, you know, go after a gay poet because you didn't like his tone.

sorry, there's a reason gay men of his demographic don't take shit. it's because they took so much shit that a large percentage of them died. the ones that survived don't owe you a tone when you act like an idiot.

the internet is free. wikipedia is free.

use a search engine and educate yourself, just a tiny little bit, and stop fetishizing while holding onto homophobic attitudes

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I know it might be hypocritical for me to complain about the dreaded... z... movie, you know the one, when I'm myself making a whole animatic thing about the same universe, and it is!!!

it very much is

[carcarrot]

having another one of my job-related crises

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

He does something though in this scene where Schmidt is they're wrestling over this chain that I like, it gave me like a physical reaction because I was like the idea of sticking your head in a casket. And then he's just like all day and he just was like a little one of those like bobbing for apples or like goose things or just like what is going on with you? And he couldn't stop himself. -Hannah

 Yeah, well he's getting he's getting over his fear.  It's like when you have a fear of something, you have to just keep doing it. -Lamorne 

I think he's having a psychotic break. I don't think he got over his fear. He said a psychotic break and he's like I am death now, and you're like, sir, you have gone too far. -Hannah

Funny thing about him screaming all day? Have I ever told you the story about all day? -Lamorne 

You maybe have, but I've forgotten. Say it again. -Hannah

Very famous New Girl thing. I did that.  I did that, and this is this is you know this is a new Girl family and we all help each other out. All day was me. Because we were on the roof and there are saying he's like, He's like, I think the Schmid's line was like, man, I can do this all day, and.  I was like, and I pitched him a joke. I was like, you gotta say it like ALL DAY!!! ALL DAY! and so he started doing it that way and it was obviously very funny. You know, his delivery was what did it? But then they started doing it back and forth and it became a thing. -Lamorne 

[cheddar-baby]

i dont want to get into spoilers for zone of interest because i think its a movie people should really just go into blind and just experience it. But i think it has the most effective sound design i've ever heard in a film. It tells so much story just through sound alone. Absolutely gut wrenching film and i think its incredibly revelant with the genocide happening in palestine.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cleocatrablossy]

My brother watches those weird Minecraft kids videos where they play a mod and pretend it’s vanilla and try to make stories out of it but it’s obvious it’s just to keep little kids attention, right? But he does it on the main tv(so he can be monitored).

And one of them just fucking yoinked Grumbot???

Like the face design because apparently he got decapitated or something, Grumbot is just now in one of these things.

Fucking jump scared me while I was walking by

[snowflop]

could not find a single post about how the devs have apparently been working on a card game on the side so. i am making my own. i don't even know what to say about this.

[bongo-clash]

TWs for: Death, mentions of illness/poison, implied panic attack/flashbacks, and extremely botched ecto-science

-

The Justice League has known Phantom for a while, now. They’ve fought beside him in several battles in the year, and he’s handled every one of them with an inhuman efficiency and grace. His power-set is strange and extensive, but he’s taught them more about the Infinite Realms than any of Constantine’s tomes ever could. About its history, its cultures; about a particular kind of ectoplasmic corruption that only comes with exposure to oxygen.

It’s this particular detail that Batman remembers, when—after years in sort-of remission—Jason’s eyes glow lurid green, and the tidal wave of the Pit’s rage returns. 

It’s hard, to express that level trust, especially with his kid’s safety on the line (one he’s already lost before, that he can’t lose again. Can’t, can’t, can’t). But really, it’s either Phantom or the League of Assassin’s—a group that certainly doesn’t have a great track record of doing right by his children—so Bruce bucks up the most difficult kind of courage, and approaches the other hero after a debriefing. 

“Phantom,” He calls out, just as everyone’s leaving. His hands are clasping the back of the chair he’s risen from; one of his older tactics for preventing visible tremors. “Stay behind for a moment. We need to talk.”

Phantom’s shoulders draw in on themselves just slightly as he waves goodbye to the rest of the group, drifting back towards the meeting table with a sheepish smile on his face. He crosses his legs in the air as he says “Man, I feel like I’ve just been sent to the principal’s office. Am I in trouble?”

Despite the tension lining Bruce’s heart, he almost finds it funny. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Phantom. I just wanted to ask for your input on something.”

“Wait, really?” The hero perks up, neon-sign eyes shining. “The big ol’ Batman wants my help with something? I mean—sure, Bats, what’s up?”

Batman doesn’t allow himself the luxury of hesitance, and speaks before he can even think of sighing. “A few weeks ago, you mentioned your belief in the presence of large sources of corrupted ectoplasm on earth. I want your input on the potential effects of this ectoplasm on a living being.”

Even before Phantom replies, it’s obvious the answer isn’t a good one—based purely on the way the ghost’s eyes turn wide and nervous. “A- a living being? Well, um, I don’t—look, ectoplasm in its most basic form is an obligate anaerobe, right? And corrupted ectoplasm comes from a natural portal destabilising, and oxygen breaking through the initial protective layer. So, you’ve got a sort-of-maybe-sentient—kind of depends—oxygen-poisoned anaerobe getting—what, absorbed into a fully living being? If they’ve had no prior exposure to ectoplasm, then best case scenario’s probably death, Bats.” 

But Jason isn’t dead. And Jason won’t be. 

“…What about a living being who has had prior ectoplasmic exposure?”

He looks at Bruce like he’s hoping this is a hypothetical, but knows with Batman it never is. “So, like, a medium, or…?” Batman only stares. The sigh the ghost gives says more than it should, given he doesn’t need to breathe. “It’s… Batman, if you’re telling me right now that there’s someone out there with even a little bit of a dependancy on ectoplasm, with corrupted ectoplasm in their system—then you need to take me to them. I can’t have any idea how serious this is without more context.”

This isn’t what Bruce had wanted to hear at all. He’d wanted everything to be okay; he’d wanted Phantom to wave him away with a laugh and say it’ll filter itself out on its own in a couple years’ time- and sure, fine, he’d have pushed to the ends of the earth for evidence of that claim, but at least it would have been a little bit reassuring. Jason could be—

No. Jason will be fine. Phantom just needs more context. 

“Friday, 10pm.” Batman finally bites out, and sweeps out of the room with all the steel and confidence of a man who will not be losing his son. 

-

To his credit, Phantom does actually show up on Friday, despite the fact that Bruce hadn’t actually confirmed that Friday would be okay. He’s shuffling his feet like they’re touching the ground hands fiddling with the straps of the backpack he’s wearing, and when he looks up, says nothing at all. Taking the silence for what it is, Batman leads him to the Zeta.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been all that difficult to convince Jason to show up. Though he tried to hide it, he was worried about Pit, too; he’d described it to them, a few times, that sludge-like haze that took him over, nausea in places that couldn’t be nauseous—he wanted it gone just as much as they did. More than they did, probably. When Bruce had told him someone in the Justice League might know what to do, he’d barely even complained about clearing his schedule for the night.

Phantom takes one look at Bruce’s son, and promptly blanches. 

“Holy shit. Dude, that has to hurt so bad.” Seeming stuck between getting closer and coiling away, Phantom looks at Batman, and then at the Red Hood, back forth. 

Bruce can’t take his eyes off Jason, for all that he can’t see an expression from beneath the helmet. “What is that supposed to mean?” Batman asks, barely refraining from a growl. 

“It’s—you’re like, the closest thing to a revenant a guy can get without being a revenant and, y’know, forming a core. You’ve got some natural ecto in you, but it’s completely swamped by the corruption trying to breach it.”

Jason doesn’t move, but Bruce can see the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides, trying to look relaxed and perhaps succeeding to Phantom, but not his father. “Right, yeah, cool. That’s great,” Red Hood replies, voice made forcibly neutral by the helmet’s modulator. “Laymen’s terms, if you’d be so obliged?”

Phantom shrugs, also trying to look causal- but, unlike Jason, both of them can tell he’s uncomfortable. “Okay, so we’ll call the ectoplasm death energy. You’ve got some of your own—which means you’ve either died, got really close, or you were exposed to natural death energy some other way—and you had that before you came into contact with a corrupted source of death energy. But then you came intocontact with this corrupted death energy, and it got absorbed into your system. If you had a core, which is this thing that ghosts have, that would be, like, urgently bad. It’d basically rot your core once the corruption reached it and you’d cease to exist without intervention.”

He pauses for a second there, just to let them absorb that information before continuing. “As it is, you don’t have a core, so the corrupted ectoplasm- sorry, death energy- isn’t going to kill you or anything. But it’s definitely not good for you. You need oxygen to live, obviously—the natural energy makes you kind of a microaerophile, but we don’t need to worry about that right now, because the corrupted energy is an obligate anaerobe that’s already been poisoned by oxygen contact, and it’s trying to take over the energy you already have to save itself. But… it can’t save itself. All it can do is just keep clinging on so it doesn’t rot away completely. Your energy is renewing itself enough that the corruption isn’t going to rot you by extension, but you can probably feel it doing something, can’t you?”

Jason, apparently, decides this is a ‘helmet-off’ kind of conversation now (he only does that when he finds it hard to breathe; Bruce wishes he could make this easier on his boy—), and releases the catches on the back of his hood with a mechanical hiss. 

“I get angry.” He admits carefully, trying to keep his expression blank. “It feels like somethin’ in me starts rebelling against itself, and I end up lashing out at everything. It… yeah, it does hurt.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know about this sooner.” Phantom says, tone soft. 

Red Hood waves him off immediately. “Not your fault. But, you’re here now; can you do anything about it, or is this just somethin’ that’s gonna have to run its course, or whatever?”

“I can separate it,” Phantom answers quickly, reassuring. “It’s trying to cling, but it isn’t actually part of you. The corruption can be removed. The only thing is just, y’know…”

“Know what?” Batman says, suddenly nervous; thrilled beyond beliefto hear that his son won’t have to suffer anymore, but dreading getting his hopes up. Dreading the but.

The ghost looks back at him. “I think I mentioned that normal ectoplasm can be a little bit sentient? Or, well, gain sentience?” Batman nods stiffly, Jason’s glitch between stilling and fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s been clinging to you for a while; this stuff’s probably going to come out as a ghost of its own, and I highly doubt it’s going to be friendly.”

Jason stares. “But you said the stuff can’t exist without leeching off me?”

“Yeah,” Phantom nods, something unpleasant on the tip of his tongue. “It won’t last long without you, but it might try to attack, or reabsorb. You can’t let it reabsorb.”

“Figured that, yeah.” Red Hood scoffs. “We doing this now, or what?”

Phantom hesitates, but assents. “I’ve got some gear in my bag. We can do it as soon as you’re ready.”

…

It takes them a few minutes to get kitted up. Phantom shows them the spectre-deflectors—explaining how he’ll separate the corrupted ectoplasm from Jason, and how he’ll have to put the deflector on immediately after to prevent the corruption from reabsorbing—with Batman wearing one too, just in case. Phantom can defend himself just fine, and the corruption will likely only take a few minutes to completely fade. They don’t even need anything else.

Jason is looking around like he can barely believe what’s about to happen and, quite frankly, Bruce can hardly comprehend it himself. Jason’s struggled with the Pit Madness for years, and to have an option to get rid of it, once and for all? It’s like a dream Bruce never wants to wake up from; he’s wished for this for years. He’s wanted so desperately for his son to be happy without something looming in the shadows, and all at once, it’ll finally be over.

When Phantom asks if they’re both ready, it takes only half a moment to push past the surreality of it all and say yes. Red Hood readies his deflector, and with one crack of his knuckles, Phantom reaches through the man’s chest, and pulls something out. 

…Someone. Phantom pulls someone out of Jason’s chest. 

Someone red, and yellow, and green, and crying. 

Oh God. Oh God.

Jason doesn’t even look up until his deflector’s secured, and Bruce is so, so glad his own was fastened long beforehand, because it’d have dropped from his hands the moment his eyes fell on white-out domino. He’d expected the corruption to look like a monster; Batman had been prepared to steel himself in the face of an incorrigible beast trying its damnedest to cling to his son. He hadn’t expected, not even for a moment, that the leech poisoning his kid would look like a little boy. 

The one he lost in a warehouse five years ago. 

He wants to call out to Jason not to lift his gaze, but like a film in slow motion, his son’s head raises, and his whole body freezes, twitching back like he’s been doused in cold water. He stares like he’s seeing everything, and nothing at all.

Robin—the corruption, turns to Phantom with a snarl on his lips (Its lips. Its. He cannot think of this like his son. He cannot think of this like his son when Jason is right there in front of him). 

“YOU!”It roars, in Jason’s scratchy fifteen-year-old pitch, shooting over to Phantom with its tiny, green-gloved fists clenched tight enough to creak. He hadn’t known it would be able to speak. “What did you do?!”

Phantom looks as if he’s about to say something, but the corruption’s attention has already been diverted. His (its, its, its) eyes are set on Jason. 

“Why did you-?” It cries out, choking on its own tears, face contorting into a grief and an anger Bruce had never seen on his son’s face until it was too late, rushing towards him. Jason takes a stumbling few steps back—and he isn’t fast enough to avoid the corruption’s reach—but it doesn’t matter anyway, because the spectre deflector lights up, and the ghost wails as the shock reaches it. The electricity seems to destabilise it, too; its form glitches and seems to melt a little. 

Bruce feels sick. This corruption that was trying to kill his son is heaving huge, gasping sobs, falling apart at the seams, and Bruce feels like he’s about to throw up. “What’s happening?” He croaks. “It-it hurts, I don’t understand.”

And then it turns its see-through little head to Bruce, teardrops rolling down splotchy cheeks still round with baby fat, and his heart drops right through his stomach and out to the other side of the earth.

“…Dad?”

No.

Bruce stumbles backwards, whole body trembling like his chest’s the epicentre of a personal earthquake, barely saved from falling by a weak grip on the Batcomputer chair. He wants to look away, but all he can see is his baby’s crestfallen face, dying all over again, and he doesn’t want to see this but he can’t stop watching.

The ghost lurches forward again and this time, Phantom silently flicks a hand out, and some kind of green forcefield forms around it. The silhouette of his fifteen-year-old son beats at the shield. His cries are muffled by it, but Bruce can still hear them. He can’t help but think that this is what Jason sounded like in Ethiopia, crying out for a father than would never get there in time. His son’s dying all over again, and he’s just standing there.

“Let him out.” Bruce pleads, voice rasping. “We have to save him.” He can see it through the green tinge of the barrier: Jason’s fading fast. The tips of his fingers and pixie boots are disappearing into thin air. 

Phantom turns to him with utter devastation in his eyes. “Bats, that’s not Jason.” He says, just as the twenty-year-old son that came back tumbles knees-first onto the floor, head leaning forward until his forehead touches stone. It’s the smallest he’s ever seen him in the last five years. 

That’s what snaps him out of it, if only for a moment. He falls over himself reaching for Jason, curling around him like a blanket of kevlar and heartbreak. This close to his son’s head, he can hear the quiet hiccuping of tears. 

They sit there, for the world’s most unbearable two minutes, as a version of his son pretending to be his son sobs and screams and falls apart. Bruce’s surroundings blur between the cave and a warehouse on the horizon, shimmering like a mirage under a hot African sun—his son is right here, safe in his hold, but he’s dying over and over, infinitely again, and Bruce can never stop it. 

Two minutes later, the world rings out with “Dad, I’m sorry!” and a muted scream, before silence is the only thing that’s left. 

…

Phantom gives his boy a completely clean bill of health, promises that his uncorrupted ectoplasm will sustain itself just fine without any further intervention, and leaves the moment Batman asks him to. 

Jason is free from the corruption that had been draining him like a leech for the last five years, and so long as he doesn’t go back to the Pit, he’ll be free of it for the rest of his life. He won’t have to hurt people with an anger he can’t control anymore; Bruce will no longer have to watch his son suffer from a rot welling deep within him ever again. 

This should be one of the happiest days of his life. But that night, he and his second oldest walk to a hill with a tombstone at its peak, hiding beneath the shade of a yew tree; neither of them acknowledge that the other is crying beyond the barest glimpse of fingertips ghosting together. 

In time, this will be a good day, but the relief comes later. For now, they sit down beside each other, worlds away, and don’t move until the sun rises the next morning.

(Jason apologises to a boy he will never be again—that he left in a coffin and never took with him—and Bruce apologises to son he could never save in time. In the end, the only evidence they have of their grief at all is a phantom scream in the wells of their ears, and a stone on the top of a hill with nothing underneath it at all.)

Short DPXDC Prompts #770

Danny cures Jason’s pit madness.. only issue is the pit madness reforms as an evil ghost

[incognit0slut]

Tempting the Cowboy

Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex

word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)

a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.

Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.

The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.

Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.

A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"

The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.

"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."

With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.

As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.

Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.

It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.

As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.

"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.

"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."

"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."

Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."

"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."

You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.

But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"

"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."

The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"

He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"

"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."

The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.

There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.

As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.

But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.

"I remember a lot about you too."

You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"

He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."

You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.

You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"

His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."

You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"

"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."

"...how about bulls?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.

You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."

He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.

"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."

Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.

"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."

"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."

"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.

"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."

You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."

His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."

"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."

"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.

"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."

He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.

"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."

He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"...you need me?"

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.

You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.

Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."

As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.

"And you missed me?"

You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.

"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.

"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"

You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.

"Tell me what you need me for then."

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."

His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.

He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.

"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."

Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.

"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"

Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."

You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."

He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."

His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.

"I can persuade you in other ways."

Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.

You laughed amusedly. "You already are."

His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.

He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.

His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.

A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.

"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."

You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.

The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.

"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"

You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.

But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.

The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.

Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.

He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you are."

You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.

You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.

The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.

"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.

You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.

A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.

But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.

"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.

"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."

"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."

He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.

"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."

He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."

His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."

A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."

"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.

He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.

"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.

"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."

He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.

"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.

"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."

"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."

He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.

Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.

Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.

He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.

He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.

But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.

"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"

You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."

You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.

You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.

His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.

He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.

Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.

His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.

As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.

You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.

"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."

Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"

"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."

"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."

You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.

Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.

"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."