#WOW this got long sorry!!!! but thank you for asking!

[acynicalsweetheart]

HIII i love ur writing so much !!! if your requests are open (and if they arent, feel free to delete this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა) may i request curly x fem reader who’s jimmy’s girlfriend, but like curly is head over heeellss for her?

if thats not your style, no worries! you can delete my request for any reason, but thank you so much if you write this!! >_< 😭💗

hai thanku very much anon ♡… sawry it took forever. this is awful omg i had no idea. what direction i wanted to take this in LOL. but here’s your head over HEELS sorry had to… anyway first non dead dove drabble yay

content warning: 18+, infidelity

“Curly, stooppp!” You draw between giggles, playfully slapping his awfully muscular yet plush arm. The kind of plush that makes you want to bite a chunk out of it. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Curly flashes you his blindingly white Hollywood smile, fingers tickling your side for the eleventh time in the past five minutes. 

Jimmy glares at Curly. Then at you. His gaze burns holes into your skull like it’s made of lasers. 

You blow a kiss to the scowling face across the couch. 

Frown deepening further than you’ve ever seen before, Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.” 

“Okay, babe,” you speak to Jimmy’s back as he’s leaving the room, returning your attention to Curly to get your revenge by attacking his side for a change. 

His couch squeaks when he squirms away, chuckling and grabbing your wrists. Craning his neck, Curly chimes to the doorway. “Hey, get one for me too!” 

A groan can be heard all the way from the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Curly’s face brightens like he has a revelation, letting go of you to briefly search his pockets to pull out a small velvet box. It looks comically miniature in his hand when he holds it out. “I got this for you.”

“What’s that?” You ask confused and curious, ‘cause it very much looks like he might just propose to you. 

It opens sesame. 

“An anklet.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, thank God. Jimmy would’ve fucking shot Curly if it was a ring. 

“Here, let me…” Curly reaches for your feet, careful in the way he peels off your socks and it’s all oddly romantic. So romantic there’s a slight heartbeat beneath your panties. 

Jimmy would never do that for you and that’s why it’s so wrong. 

“There,” he closes the clasp after a good two minute fumble, adorning your ankle with gold that costs more than your boyfriend’s entire net worth. 

“Oh,” it’s so shiny you can’t help but to blink at it, “wow. You… could’ve just gotten me a bracelet or something, Curly, I mean—“

“I could’ve,” his gentle up-and-down caresses to your calves pause, quickly adding, “but who would’ve gotten you this?”

You both know the answer to that question. 

“It’s not that I—“ 

“Hey, next time, I’ll get you that bracelet.” He pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen as his fingers move. 

“It’s fine, Curly,” you tell him—not wanting to seem ungrateful, “this is more than enough.”

But he’s already typing in his credit card information on the Tiffany & Co website when you look over his shoulder. 

What are you supposed to do? Smack the phone out of his hold? It feels… nice to be appreciated. Jimmy’s never bought you anything—you’re the one buying shit for him. Including his black market drugs. 

“Jim’s not coming,” you note after a long moment of awkward silence, poking your head forward like he’s coming through the doorway any second. 

“I guess not.” Curly says, meeting your eye once you look back at him. 

Almost kind of scary, the tenderness in his gaze. Not like Jimmy’s wolfish one that says he wants to eat you alive. In the cannibal way. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Me?” You can’t help but to laugh out loud, it’s so sudden, and Jimmy’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t even think that. “No… no I—“

“You are!” Curly insists, making a motion with his hands towards you. “Doesn’t he tell you that? Doesn’t he…” he pauses again, voice lowering, “show you that?”

“Show me?” 

“Like this,” he leans in closer, like way in-your-personal-bubble type of closer, noses brushing against each other. Curly lifts your chin up like he’s about to do something forbidden. 

You were almost convinced it was a joke till he actually kissed you. 

“Oh!” Lightly pushing on his chest, you stare at him. “Curly, that’s… we can’t.” 

Fisting at Curly’s shirt to pull him closer, you kiss him back. Harder. 

“Stop it,” like you’re not the one sucking on his tongue, tracing the bulge in his pants with your toes. “He’ll kill us!” It’s a half-whisper, half-yell. 

“Nah, I know Jim.” Says Curly, who more than well knows that Jimmy would have both of your heads on each respective stick to then keep as decorations in his trailer, “trust me.”

“Well…” but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon—you know him well enough to assume that he’s most likely sulking by now. “Okay then.”

And so you let him lay you down on his couch the way Jimmy did your first time with him. Only Curly is a thousand times more gentle in comparison. You’re a bad person for thinking it, but you almost wish Curly was your first. 

You’re still desperately kissing when his hands trail up your thighs, creeping under the hem of your dress to pull down your panties. Curly gets them about halfway down when you hear the unthinkable and the unmistakable. 

The cock of a gun. 

Jimmy’s holding this pesky little revolver that he probably found in his mom’s bedside drawer—the same one she blew her brains out with—pointing it at Curly and you with an expression resembling a wild animal more than a human face. 

[stellewriites]

cw: soft & sweet, stud gaz, ace gaz

thank you to woolie who practically wrote half of this fic with me on discord and to birdy who continues to get me hyped and inspired about butch 141 as a whole <3 ily guys

the bar wasn’t new, but you’d never been inside despite how your friends had raved about it in the group chat over the last few months.

you weren’t one to go out late often, your work kept you busy and tired more often than not, and the rest of the time you just didn’t like to have to explain that you don’t drink.

but it was a gay bar, a good gay bar from what you’d heard, and your friends had reassured you that the alcohol-free menu was more than just a glass of oj or a can of coke. so you went.

it didn’t take them long to recognise other regulars there, each of your friends nipping off one by one with a quick, “i’ll be right back, i just want to say hi,” until you were stood alone. you debated joining one of them, making new friends with any of the numerous people they knew already, but ultimately decided to head to the bar first and grab yourself a drink before joining whoever was nearest when you turned around.

the place was smoky, low lit, like something out of an old movie; and with its live band and carefully curated secondhand furniture, you’d have been tempted to call it pretentious if the authenticity wasn’t really working for the vibes of the place.

you hopped onto a barstool and picked up a little menu, humming in disappointment when you couldn’t find the alcohol free section. you noticed the lack of prices on the other drinks however and sucked your teeth, recognising it as a sign of an expensive establishment; you knew your pockets would be woefully empty by the end of the night.

“can i help you with a recommendation?” a smooth voice had you looking up into gorgeous, deep brown eyes. even the bartender looked like she belonged on the big screen with the way her locs framed her slim face. your breath caught. “i bet you like something sweet,” she continued now that she had your attention. “fruity?”

“do you have a non alcoholic beer?” you asked. you’d be paying through the nose for it in comparison to the other dives you usually haunt, but it’d give you a baseline for how much anything else would be costing.

the bartender winced. “sorry, honey, we’ve only got a local brewery’s ipa on tap.”

you looked back to the menu as if it will have suddenly spawned the information you wanted.

“prefer something earthy then? hint of spice?” she asked you. “we have a few non alcoholic gins.”

it was your turn to wince. “i like something with a bit of bite,” you admitted.

she grinned. “i’ve got just the thing,” she said and turned to start making your drink. “i’m gaz, by the way.”

you introduced yourself and she grinned over her shoulder, her attitude was infectious and you felt yourself relax as you sat there.

“did you come alone tonight?”

“no, i came with some friends but they’re just saying hi to a few people so i figured i’d check out the menu while they were busy,” you said.

“there you go,” she placed your drink down in front of you. it was a deep red that faded in to orange, garnished with a slice of lemon. “clean whiskey sour.”

you took a sip and felt your eyes widen. she laughed at your expression and dusted her hands off exaggeratedly.

“wow, that’s amazing. how much was that? think i’ve found my drink for the night,” you chuckled.

“mocktail so it’s cheaper than the real stuff,” she said and gave you the price. you ordered a second as you pulled out your purse and handed her a note.

you turned to see if you could locate one of your friends and pursed your lips as you saw them all engaged midway through their conversations. it’s maybe be a little awkward to go and interrupt to join now, but you didn’t want to sit alone all night either.

“hey, honey,” gaz called gently. you turned back to her and she reached forward with an empty hand towards your ear, you didn’t have time to frown or flinch before she was pulling it back in front of your face, a £2 coin suddenly perched between her fingers.

you blinked before you processed that the hot bartender had just given you your change via sleight of hand magic.

fucking hell. as if you weren’t already interested in her.

you bit back your budding smile and gently took your change, your grin breaking free when you made eye contact with her and she waggled her eyebrows.

“that part of the usual service or does it come with the ‘sour?” you asked as she placed the second glass in front of you.

she moved to clean up what she’d used to make your drink with a casual shrug. “reserved for my more interesting customers.”

you hummed.

her eyes flickered to the booths dotted around, the thin crowd sat at your back.

“i know you probably have your friends to go find soon,” she started coyly. “but if you don’t think they’ll miss you too much, i’d enjoy having some good company for once.”

she came to stand in front of you again, placing her palms on the bar-top and broadening her already impressive, toned shoulders. you were glad it was warm inside and that she’d decided to go sleeveless for her shift if only for the current view of her as she leant ever so closer into your space. “it’s a slow night; if you’re willing to stick around here with me it might keep me from going stir crazy.”

“we can’t have that,” you said, playing along. “who would make me another one of these if you started climbing the walls?”

“exactly,” she agreed. “it’s a public service you’d be doing really. without me, the bar would close.”

“oh is that so? your boss know you have such a high opinion of your drink making skills?” you joked.

“i own the bar, babes,” she said with a gloating grin. “and you don’t think i deserve to talk big?” she nodded to your almost empty glass and you pursed your lips.

“ok, yeah,” you admitted. “and it’s pretty impressive that this place is yours too.”

“yeah?” she asked with a teasing grin.

“i think i need to test your knowledge, though, to see if it’s all for show or not,” you pushed back, not letting her gain the upper hand in the flirty conversation.

“go ahead, honey, i’m ready,” she curved her fingers in a bring it on motion.

“ok, how do you make a mojito?” you asked pulling your phone out.

she reeled off the ingredients one by one confidently and you checked she was correct via google as she laughed.

“ok, that was an easy one.” you sniffed, squinting your eyes jokingly. “now the real challenge begins.”

you continued to quiz her in between the orders made further down the bar until one of your friends tapped you on the shoulder.

“hey, i came to collect you, you strayed from the group for a while there,” vanessa teased.

“oh i was just having fun with gaz,” you said and grinned at the bartender. “keeping each other company.”

“making sure i know my stuff,” gaz added with a wink sent your way. “i think i convinced you enough for one night. go have fun with your friends, honey.”

you reluctantly stood from your stool, but when you grabbed your drink - a non-alcoholic mai tai gaz had made without hesitation when you said the recipe had sounded yummy - you realised you’d not paid for your last two drinks. turning back to the bar you moved to pull out your card but gaz was already at the other side, serving someone else.

you sat down with your friends and made a note to pay later in the evening, but when time came to corral your drunk group into the taxi, the thought never crossed your mind and you didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her.

——

next time you go, it’s a weekend and a lot busier.

your plan to sit with gaz, reacquaint yourself and pay her back for the drinks goes out the window.

by a stroke of luck you manage to get to the bar as she’s serving instead of her colleague mixing drinks at the other end.

“hey,” she greeted you happily, tipping the brim of her cap up an inch to better see you looking up through her lashes as she half-focused on the drink in her hands. “same as last time?”

you glowed at the idea of her remembering what you’d had over a week ago, but you shook your head.

“surprise me,” you offered, felling butterflies run rampant when she grinned in return.

“take a seat,” she offered before setting to work. you pulled out one of the stools that had been tucked beneath the bar and sat patiently as she mixed your drink. it was a deep blue when she brought it over but she poured the final ingredient in and the top half turned a shimmery purple. she plopped in a straw for you and you took a sip, pleased to find that she’d stuck to non-alcoholic for you again.

“mm, that might be my favourite so far,” you gushed, biting your lip when she grinned at you. her upper lip glinted in the low light and you paused, noticing the new philtrum piercing. “you got a piercing? it’s cute.”

gaz raised a cocky eyebrow and licked her plush lips. “noticed that quick. did you spend that long staring at my lips last time you were in here, babes? cute.”

you flushed, unable to deny it, and took a flustered sip of your drink to give you time to gather your thoughts.

she chuckled and went to deal with another customer, talking to you over the raised voices of the busy bar as she started fixing the drink.

“it’s still healing but i’ll be swapping it to a gold sun when i can,” she said as she came closer again to grab a slice of lime.

“oh? we’ll be matching, look!” you said without a second thought. grinning, you pulled up a moon shaped necklace from beneath your shirt. “bought it on a whim the other day, must be fate,” you teased and snorted a quiet laugh. gaz weakly laughed along.

“must be,” she said softly, her deep eyes heavy and focused solely on you. she cleared her throat before moving to finish up the drink, leaving you alone again for a moment.

your eyes followed her along until you heard a mean snicker from your left, a muttered, unbelievable. you turned and saw another woman clearing her throat and covering her mouth with her palm, her eyes darting away from yours when you turned your head.

a bout of self-consciousness hit and you faced back towards your drink with hot cheeks. you’d not thought twice before speaking to gaz, it was second nature to be genuine with her since it’s what she gave back, but thinking back on it you could see why calling your jewellery matching would be cringey. possibly even seen as desperate on your end.

you swallowed and stood from the stool and separated from the crowd around the bar with your drink in hand. you found a small table near the edge of the room and took a seat, watched gaz from afar instead as she made the orders proficiently.

it didn’t take you long to notice how gaz didn’t linger with the other customers like she did with you; she knocked back clear flirty attempts for her attention and turned away other gorgeous women.

you watched the lemon slice go around and around as you stirred the melting ice in your cup. the fact that gaz’s gaze didn’t linger for a moment on those beautiful women had a stray thought that maybe she wasn’t interested in women flicker to life in the back of your head.

“refill?” you looked up from your glass to see gaz hovering by your table. she put down a second drink and took the first from your hands. “on the house, my treat.”

“oh, thanks,” you said with a shy smile. “busy night.”

“mm.” her hum was noncommittal. “is that why you moved seats?”

“felt like i was getting in the way,” you shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “i was thinking of leaving soon anyway, i’ll finish this off and probably head home.”

her free hand rose to pet your cheek. “i’ll save you a seat next time. i prefer it when you’re smiling at me while i work.”

“even when i make it awkward?” you couldn’t help but ask.

she frowned. putting her serving tray on the table between you, she pulled a chair close to yours and sat. “when have you made things awkward, babes?”

“that thing i said about fate, it was silly.” you tried to move past it, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“i liked it.” that shut you up quick. “a pretty girl calling me her soulmate? you think i’m letting you take that back now?” she joked, leaning in so that your shoulders knocked. “me and you are like this, now.” she crossed her fingers in front of you. “whether you like it or not.”

you snorted. “i can deal with that,” you hummed. “thanks for the drink, gaz.”

she nodded and stood reluctantly to go back to the bar, noticing her coworker growing flustered on their own. “i need to get back, but enjoy. stay as long as you want.”

though you appreciated her offer, you left soon after. you made sure to pause where she could see you and wave to her on your way out and she held up her crossed fingers again with a grin. you felt a giddy feeling bubble at the back of your throat as you headed home.

——

you started to tag along with your friends more and more often when they mentioned gaz’s, always spending a good portion of the evenings sat at the bar with gaz.

and she kept her promise, saving a barstool for you in the corner on even the busiest nights with a fierce scowl and well placed coughs to anyone that tried to sneak into it.

anyone that didn’t get the message would be ignored, no drinks made, until they’d moved again.

on a slow night, when she rolled a pound over her knuckles back and forth you asked her about her magic tricks.

“what even got you into all of that?” you gestured to the coin and then vaguely at her as a whole.

“magic?” you nodded. gaz smiled and looked down at the coin before placing it flat on the bartop between you. “my nan. she was an magician’s assistant when she was younger. she could’ve been the main star with how much she knew, but it was the 50’s. people weren’t willing to bank on the main talent being a black woman,” she scoffed and you nodded along with a sympathetic hum.

“she taught you?” you asked.

“everything i know. i’ve loved it ever since.”

her hand hovered over the pound coin, snapping her fingers on her other hand. your eyes darted away for a split second and when you looked back she was moving her hand away to reveal a penny.

you laughed and picked it up, turning it around as if it would reveal the real coin when it was in your own hand again.

“you’ll have to tell me how you do it,” you said.

she sucked her teeth. “a good magician doesn’t reveal her tricks,” she sing-songed and took the penny back from you, letting her hand hold yours for a second too long to be casual.

“aren’t you two cosy in this corner?” gaz’s coworker asked from over her shoulder. gaz turned and rolled her eyes at chris as he smirked at the two of you. he leant by to grab a chopping board before leaving the pair of you alone. as he left, he spoke, “i’m sure our gaz could show you a trick or two,” he said with heavy innuendo.

you snorted and didn’t notice how gaz stiffened.

“it’s a work night,” she said to you suddenly. “getting late. you’ll be wanting to go home soon, won’t you?”

you blinked at the sudden change in tone and nodded. with only half a drink left, you downed the bitter drink in one and stood from the bar.

“i think the girls are planning on coming in sometime soon again so i’ll see you then?”

gaz’s smile grew less shaky and she wiggled her fingers back at you as you headed out to the carpark.

——

sat at home, cross legged on the couch, you leant over the coffee table and practiced the rudimentary card trick you’d found from an online video.

“and then use the heel of your palm and the pad of your thumb to flip the correct card over the top,” the video said and you bit your lip as you tried it. you huffed when it didn’t work and tried again until the card moved how you wanted it to.

it was far from smooth and the other cards fell to the floor, but you were slowly getting the actions down. it just had to become muscle memory.

it’d take over two more months of practicing before you’d finally feel confident enough to show gaz.

——

you sat at the bar and grinned when she set down your drink. when you sniffed at it, gaz chuckled and answered your question.

“prickly pear flavour, i think you’ll like it,” she said.

you were inclined to agree, she’d not been wrong once so far. taking a sip, you hummed and took a bigger drink. you palmed the pack of cards in your jacket pocket nervously before pulling it out.

“ok don’t laugh, i’ve been practicing.” you spread the pack out in your hands as gaz stared with wide eyes, slowly growing more amused by the second as you fanned the cards out towards her. “pick a card.”

your showmanship was stiff, the words you’d memorised the man on the video saying coming across a little less flamboyant, and you fumbled the trick a little. nerves left your grip a little sweaty, but gaz reached out in time to keep the pack from falling out of your grasp. she cupped your hands and adjusted your fingers, smiling sweetly when she pulled back again and nodded for you to go on.

you cleared your throat and remembered the next step for the trick, pulling out the card fourth from the bottom and presenting it with a little more flourish.

“is this your card?” you asked.

it wasn’t.

“it is,” gaz said with an excited smile and started clapping. too smitten to bring your mood down by telling you where exactly you’d gone wrong, not when you were smiling at her like that and not after you’d obviously put so much effort into this for her.

you grinned triumphantly, ignoring the few people that had looked over at gaz’s enthusiastic applause, and put the pack to the side. you leant over the bar and snatched the sharpie from her shirt pocket; you wrote your number on the back of the card she’d claimed was hers alongside a wonky moon and sun then presented it once more to her with a softer smile.

she laughed and pulled out her phone to add your number in straight away, adding a moon emoji after your name. she rang the number and you pretended to ignore the call with an eye roll to make her laugh.

snatching your phone from you gaz huffed and muttered, “guess i’ll have to add my own cutesy nickname, huh?”

“i can be cutesy,” you argued but didn’t change the name when you saw it. you snorted.

super sexy bartender (the one with the eyes and the smile and the arms and the��)

“would’ve been quicker to type ‘humble bartender’,” you said with a snicker.

“oh, babes has jokes now?”

“i’m a barrel of laughs,” you sniffed. you turned when you heard your friends call for you. “see? i’m missed already.”

“hmm, you’ll be missed here too,” gaz hummed. “go back to your friends, i’ll text you later.”

“promise?”

“‘course.” she smiled widely.

——

the next couple of weeks were filled with you messaging back and forth during your breaks at work and throughout the day on the weekends before the bar opened and gaz got busy until the late evening… or more accurately the early morning.

one day she offhandedly mentioned that her replies might be slow because it was stock day, and her coworker had called in sick so she wouldn’t have anyone to help until their cover arrived at opening time.

you’d quickly offered her a hand (claiming you may not have muscles like her, but you could carry a box or two without sweating) and headed down when she’d eagerly agreed and the pair of you spent the afternoon together just hanging out and fixing up the stock room, music playing tinnily from gaz’s phone.

it became a habit, you going by when she had stock taking to sort out and more often than not she let her staff come in a little later so she’d have the time with you to herself.

> if you’re not busy do you want to come down to the bar later? xx

> around 12? xx

> it’s kinda important xx

< yeah of course! what’s up? xx

> my mums are in town, wondered if you want to meet them? xx

< i’ll be there for 12 xxx

despite just being friends with gaz - though you were self-aware enough to know you’d like more - you were nervous to meet her mums. you wanted to make a good impression. in fact, you wanted to impress them; leave them wheezing with laughter and contemplating your intriguing and thoughtful insights on the hot topics of the afternoon for months to come.

however likely that would be.

gaz seemed nervous too from where she stood outside the bar smoking. she dropped the cig and stubbed it dead with her trainer when she saw you however, and a wide grin overtook her face, her nervous energy calming considerably as you got closer.

“you look gorgeous,” gaz said before you got a chance to say hello. you laughed, flattered and feeling less nervous yourself as she made you do a spin in front of her before you were allowed inside.

you weren’t wearing anything special, but you supposed the last few times you’d seen gaz you’d been dressed practically to help her lift heavy boxes or dressed for your own work. your short denim skirt was maybe a little more daring than you’d first thought, despite the casual way you’d styled it.

“come on in, they’re dying to meet you,” gaz said as she led you in finally. she rubbed a hand nervously over the back of her neck, tugging at two short locs as you got closer to the table her mothers were chatting at. “might’ve talked about you a fair bit.”

“a fair bit? try a hell of a lot,” one of her mum’s said and you turned to them.

they were like chalk and cheese to look at. one dressed head to toe in flowing light cotton - a dress or skirt, you couldn't tell with the way the layers folded and sat - dyed vivid colours that seeped into each other in no particular pattern and complemented her rich skin tone. her hands were adorned in gold rings and her arms rattled with the layers of beaded bracelets she wore up her forearms. her hair, styled in passion twists, was half tied back with what looked to be a scrap piece of glossy ribbon. "i'm jasmine, kyla's mum."

“nice to meet you,” you said cheerfully and shook her hand when she held it out. her returned smile was reserved and her eyes watched you sharply.

you nervously turned to the other woman. her pinstripe suit fit her like a glove, the trousers flaring at the bottom, and her short, natural curls highlighted her round cheeks. she was just as gorgeous as jasmine, but the stern frown she was sending her wife had your hand almost shaking as you reached out for another introduction. your plan to charm them both didn’t seem as realistic as you’d hoped all of a sudden.

she turned to you and her frown broke, a splitting grin like gaz’s spread to flash the gap between her front teeth and she used your hand to pull you close for a tight and warm hug; she cooed excitedly in your ear as she swayed side to side with you still pressed close.

“we’ve been wanting to meet you ever since kyla first mentioned her new friend,” she said and finally let you go to sit down.

“mama,” gaz groaned a little embarrassedly, sitting next to you. her arm slipped to rest on the back of your chair.

“oh calm down, kyla,” jasmine tutted teasingly, swatting a jingling hand over the table at her.

you turned to her and mouthed, ‘yeah, kyla.’

she pouted but managed to hold back a second groan. menace, she thought fondly, a bashful smile tugging her pout loose.

“we were eager to see who caught our baby’s attention enough to be pulling extra shifts,” jasmine said before turning to gaz. “even tho she should be taking more breaks instead,” she finished pointedly at her daughter.

“i tell her this all the time! she works so hard,” you agreed immediately, nudging gaz’s side as if to say, ‘see?’

“not you too, honey, please. i get enough of it from my mum, i don’t need you siding with them.” gaz shrunk in her seat slightly, her hand drifted from your chair back and closer to your neck.

“‘honey’?” imani hummed, eyes bright and flicking between the pair of you with a knowing smile. “mhm.”

it was easy to see how gaz had grown to be so confident given the women she’d been raised by and the community of loving, intelligent women back in her home town that imani and jasmine spoke so fondly of like they were family. they were, really.

you spent the afternoon listening avidly as they told you about how they came to buy the bar with gaz after she finished what would be her second and final tour in the military; their hurdles when getting it set up; how much they missed her at home but loved seeing her grow and thrive here.

kyla reached out and squeezed her mums’ hands at that and you rubbed her back when you saw the glassy shine to her eyes.

“you know i’ll come back to visit soon,” she promised them. “i’m not waiting ‘til christmas again this time,” she huffed.

“your aunties will give you hell if you do,” imani warned with a wink.

“i was thinking of getting a taper and line up since these have grown in a little more anyway, and ty would kill me if she found out i went to anyone else when i could’ve seen her for it,” gaz said with a chuckle, gesturing to her locs. “i won’t leave it long.”

satisfied with her promise of future plans, her mums took advantage of their small audience and for the rest of the conversation showed you photo after photo on their phones of gaz growing up. a photo of her open-mouth smiling with her front teeth missing as a child; dressed in a small, ill-fitting suit at her prom; stood with three men in uniform, her hair shorn shorter then but with the familiar cap on her head; a picture with her mums’, this one more recent, with jasmine wearing a graduation cap and gown stood, in between to the two masculine women.

even as gaz pretended to sigh and groan in embarrassment at the memories shared, you could tell she was enjoying herself. that even if you weren’t wowing her mums like you’d imagined, your first impression had still been a good one.

you spent the afternoon with them and it was only when your stomach grumbled, having only grabbed a small lunch before setting off to meet gaz so you weren’t late, that the conversation stopped. all three women turned to you in concern and you flushed hot under the heavy attention.

“oh kyla, you dragged the poor girl over here and now she’s starving to death,” imani tutted.

“take her out for an early dinner,” jasmine said, deciding your time together was finished. “we’ll meet you back home later, there’s a few things we wanted to do before the evening anyway.”

gaz turned to you with a hopeful glint in her eyes. “wanna go grab some food? my treat.”

you nodded.

“that settles it!” imani pulled you into another long, tight hug when she stood to leave, rubbing the tops of your arms and smiling at you. “it was lovely to meet you, i can see why she’s so smitten,” she said, causing your stomach to flip and your smile to falter momentarily before widening again bashfully.

gaz was too busy grinning at her mum to hear her mama gossip, and you smiled softly at the pair as jasmine cupped her daughters cheeks and pet the soft skin beneath her eyes gently. jasmine looked the gentlest she had all afternoon, her edges softened.

she turned to you and you expected her gaze to harden a little like it had when she’d sat opposite you across the table, but she stayed soft and took your hands in hers while imani pulled gaz down for a kiss on the cheek and the forehead.

“you’re not what i’d expected,” she admitted, then moved her hand to pull our your moon necklace from beneath your shirt. her smile became knowing and satisfied, like she’d confirmed what she’d already thought true. “have a lovely dinner.”

“thank you,” you said and let her pull you in for a quick hug. “you too.”

you waved as gaz led the pair out, lingering only for a moment at the door before turning back to you.

“got a place in mind?” you asked, grabbing your jacket and bag.

“how does thai sound?” gaz asked as she opened the door for you again.

“perfect.”

——

“so you were in the military?” you asked as you ate. gaz nodded and put her chopsticks down as she spoke about her time with the 141.

“they’re still in the service but they visit when they can,” she said with a shrug. “that’s reminded me actually, johnny should be down soon enough. pretty sure he mentioned having a few weeks of leave coming up. he’s a bit full on, like a puppy, but you’d get on with him.”

you snorted. “i can’t wait to meet him.”

gaz laughed along with you as a warm, gooey feeling spread in her chest.

you walked back to her bar afterwards and lingered outside for a moment.

“want to come in?”

you shook your head. “i shouldn’t. work night and i’ve got laundry to put away when i get back.”

“ooh exciting,” she teased.

you stubbed the toe of your trainer against hers with a roll of your eyes.

“i had fun, we should do this again,” you said.

“yeah, we should,” she stepped a little closer. “thanks for coming to meet my mums, they’ve been hounding me about it.”

“oh really?” you asked with raised eyebrows and an expectant smirk.

gaz licked her lips and nodded. “yeah.”

you noticed her lidded eyes and slow breathing and sucked up the courage to make a move. you lifted a hand to rest on her hip and began to lean in to kiss her, when her eyes widened and she stepped back.

your hand hung in the air for a damning second before dropping.

“sorry, i should get inside. people will be arriving soon and i’m behind on the opening procedure because of dinner, need to cut some lemons,” she joked weakly.

“right,” you agreed faintly. “uhm, of course. sorry. i’ll see you around then.”

“i’ll text,” she said before slipping inside.

you stood there for a moment, a heavy frown settling in as dread and regret pooled low in your stomach.

you turned on your feet and walked to where you’d parked your car and headed home with an uneasy feeling roiling in your gut.

had you read it all wrong? had gaz ever really given you a signal that she was into you or where you only suddenly confident in her interest after her mums mentioned it teasingly?

you spent the evening pissed off and frustrated at yourself, roughly folding your laundry and when you were still full of an anxious energy after you’d finished, you vacuumed, changed your bedding and wiped down all of your kitchen until it was sparkling.

you collapsed on your sofa hours later with an exhausted sigh but when you closed your eyes that nervous energy still buzzed under your skin. so much for an early night before work.

“fuuuuuck it,” you threw yourself back up onto your feet and stormed to the front door, shoving on your shoes, grabbing your jacket and your keys and leaving without a second thought to how sweaty and unkempt you looked after your manic cleaning spree.

you arrived at the bar and bit your lip when you saw how busy it was, unusual for a sunday night, but maybe there was a bank holiday you were unaware of. it wasn’t as if your work gave you them off.

you pushed through the crowd and leant against the bar, waiting for gaz to notice you.

her eyes widened and her lips twitched up in a smile, faltering when you only frowned back.

“what’s up?” she asked, concern slowly bleeding into her tone.

“have i been reading this wrong?” you asked bluntly, not wanting to skirt around the topic any longer. you gestured between the two of you. “have i been pushing for something you don’t want?”

gaz shook her head and put the glass bottle she was holding down on the bar top with a thunk. her eyes were sad as she swallowed and she looked at her coworker behind the bar serving the crowd before deciding she had a moment to spare.

“full disclosure? i’m ace,” she said with a shrug. “and i guess i’ve felt like i’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop with you.”

“oh.” you nodded. she nodded too, looking resigned. “‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’, you like me that much, huh?” you grinned and she looked taken aback. “does being ace mean you don’t like kissing?”

gaz blinked before stuttering out a reply. “n-no i do, i just— it’s the rest of it i could go without.”

you nodded again and tapped your fingers on the bar as you pushed closer, your stomach pressing into the wood.

“were you going to kiss me earlier? outside?” you gestured to the front door and bit your lip.

“yeah,” she said softly, her eyes dipping to you mouth before flitting between your eyes.

“because you like me?”

“yeah, babes,” she laughed.

“and i like you,” you confirmed eagerly, excitedly, as she leant in on her elbows.

she slowly grinned, her piercing shifting and glinting under the smoky lights. “yeah.”

“great. well. stop me if i’m wrong then.” you leant over the last few inches of the bar and kissed her, cupping her face with one hand and using the other to balance yourself. you felt her own hand trail along the back of your hand as she kissed back fervently.

“met your bloody mums and then you had me thinking i was going crazy for thinking you wanted this,” you grumbled when she pulled back for a second.

“i’ll make it up to you,” she promised with a peck to your lips again. “prickly pear?”

your eyes brightened and your pour was immediately replaced with a grin.

“oh, yes please!” you tapped your hands on the bar again, no longer full of an anxious energy but an excited one instead.

gaz leant in for another quick kiss, her lips twisting into a fond smile against yours. when she pulled back she lifted a hand to your ear and twisted it, revealing an orange slice held between her fingers.

“christ, it’s unfair how sexy that is,” you whined. “but that better not be the one going in my drink.”

butch/stud masterlist

and the moodboard!

[saltlickmp3]

☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)

[marimayscarlett]

Quick question, have we figured out why Richard is so damn ATTRACTIVE??? Like he was so fine during the Mutter and MiG Era but he's even better now??? Sir I have questions!!!! What is it about you that's so addictive??? And that belly??? A MASTERPIECE!!!! He needs to pay for my rehab I'm dying over him at this point lmao

Hi hello how did you get into my head and write down exactly what I think about daily?? Because I'm still so fascinated regarding how he changed over the years, while remaining so enticing and attractive, always reinventing himself a bit, experimenting with different looks and styles while maintaining his overall vibe and aesthetic 😌 This of course includes his physique and wonderful chunkiness, but I'll shamelessly use this ask to venture out in earlier decades, to appreciate this man in all his glory 😩 (I hope that's alright with you)

Let's take a tiny look at Mr. Richard Z. Kruspe over the years, just to process this delicious evolution of his:

Very early on we had a lean Richard with the dreads, for some a no-go, for others quite a charming look (i know exactly i'm not the only one who's down for dreadlock Richard 👀), picture from ca. 1993:

In the beginning of Rammstein, we have some brown and blond haired, somewhat muscly Richard (ca. 1995/1996):

Then of course the ethereal look of Live aus Berlin (recorded in 1998) and his general style during the Sehnsucht era (Viva interview from 1997):

Moving on to the Mutter era, the first time his iconic spiky black hair was introduced to the world (picture from 2001 in Tallinn, gif from 2001 at the Velodrom Berlin):

He maintained a similar style and physique (very much toned and gym-trained I guess) or a while, for example during Völkerball (recorded in 2005):

or in various music videos, such as "Mein Teil" (2004) and "Benzin" (2005, albeit with some very much 2000s eyebrows):

In 2009 while LIFAD was released and during the LIFAD tour, he shortly ventured into another hair style (I won't comment, it was.. something, picture of 2009), then again back to the spiky style and tried out the mohawk (picture from 2012 I think), while parts of his typical stage outfit were born plus he's rather muscly here too:

During the festival tour 2016/2017 you can slowly see him becoming a bit broader/meatier in his physique, which I find just absolutely wonderful, plus some combacks like his spiky hair (gifs from an interview in 2018):

And slowly but surely we arrive in the current time and Richard's current style and physique: vampire coat, chicken coat, meaty and chunky Richard in all his glory:

All in all I have to say: It's so interesting to see how he changed and still stayed true to himself and his aesthetic, to his enthusiastic and genuine self while continously trying out new styles. And this includes his physique!! His appearance of course changed over the span of 30 years, that's aging for you. Of course he put on some weight - but that doesn't negate the fact that someone can be unbelievably attractive. And yes, I wholeheartedly agree, his belly now is a master piece, forged by the heavens, a gift from god, just perfection 💖

[sitp-recs]

hello liv! thank you for your service to the fandom, i spend such an inordinate amount of time sifting through all your reclists! i’ve been seeing drarry authors do their first line/last line posts for patterns and was wondering how that might pan out for reccers, so i had a question for you— what are some of the fics you find yourself reccing most often, across lists? do they speak to your own tastes? does a pattern emerge through them about the kind of asks you get? you always rec a really diverse range of fics but i do see some recurring favourites cropping up and was wondering if you had thoughts on it!

Thank you for your kind words and for the ask, anon! This was a very interesting way to adapt that ask game to my blog and I appreciate you for including me 💜 I had to take a minute and think about this because despite knowing that I’ve recced some fics over and over across lists, I’ve never stopped to analyze it in detail. Taking a quick look, I’ve tried to identify some patterns and I think these examples offer interesting insights:

1) I Am Not Who I Became and A Sword Laid Aside - two long fics I mention a lot (often alongside each other) because they combine some very popular tropes: recluse & powerful Harry, competent Draco, forced proximity, fast smut + slow emotional burn, D/s undertones

2) Clear as Mud and Unfinished Business are two personal faves I don’t see in rec lists often, they’re more like old-ish hidden gems and I love getting the chance to sneakily include them!

3) Take the Moon and Life goes not Backward: two favourites written by my friends! Funnily enough, they’re both kid fics which is a trope I don’t really care for lol. Reccing friends is one of my biggest pleasures in fandom, I’ve seen a lot of criticism/questioning around it which makes absolutely no sense to me - appreciating each other’s work and finding things in common is what brings us together in the first place 🤷🏻‍♀️

The main reason why I include any fic on a list is because I believe it’s a good fit. I always try to get a sense of what the reader is looking for bc it helps me find the right tone, but it can also get challenging if the request is too vague or too specific. Because I publish lists on demand I try to be as trope agnostic as possible, but at the end of the day I can only rec what I’ve read and enjoyed, so this will always be a subjective process (which I love! Imo rec lists are special and unique exactly because they are personal).

Back to the pattern discussion, I think seeing the same works mentioned on a regular basis reflect not only my own preferences but the ways it matches some emerging trends among the readers who follow me. Now the blog’s been around for a while and I don’t rec as much as I used to, it’s fair to assume that those who stick around have found in my blog similar tastes and fandom approach. In the last couple years I’ve noticed more requests around themes such as powerful Harry, competent Draco, bi and gay awakening, or fics where they take care of each other, bond over shared trauma and redeem or heal together. I think those reading trends are largely influenced by writing trends and vice-versa (especially in the Tumblr bubble!) so in a way we’re all collectively setting those trends and de-constructing or giving new meanings to old perspectives. That’s the true transformative power of fandom! Love that for us 🙌

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

☕️the most egregious problem The Flash has is that it literally NEVER ADDRESSES ANY of the trauma it consistently puts Barry and co through, like it has other problems but I think that's the worst lol

1000000% and I will die mad about it.

Since it’s (always) on my mind, let’s take season 2 for example shall we?

If I had a nickel for everytime Post-Zoom-trauma just disappeared at the drop of a hat, I’d have four nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s fucking INFURIATING THAT IT HAPPENED F O U R TIMES

The four (for lack of a better word) victims in question: Caitlin, Barry, Jesse, and Jay.

Caitlin: kidnapped and held against her will for (I believe) two weeks (that’s putting it simply but we’ve all seen the show so🤷‍♀️). The show gives her one single episode to deal with it, during which she shows very real symptoms of PTSD— solved and therefore ignored and glossed over entirely with a single pep talk. I would also like to add that she showed NO fear of him in the season finale which makes no fucking sense with what the show established only an episode earlier. But tbh, this is the best one because at least the show ACKNOWLEDGED that trauma; if only for one episode.

Barry: Back broken during first encounter (among other severe injuries), humiliated by being dragged around the city to show he wasn’t strong enough to stop Zoom, confidence shattered from the experience. Like Caitlin, we got one episode to deal with this trauma and in that episode, Barry also showed signs and symptoms of PTSD (the entire season is evidence tbh). But of course, one pep talk from his dad and everything’s magically ok :-D !!!!!! I’m going to eat glass (also I will definitely make a post on that fucking episode because I hate it). As mentioned; he continues to have PTSD symptoms throughout the season but it’s glossed over so much and attributed to generic-superhero-stuff™️ that it really doesn’t matter. Gods, I could go on all day about Barry’s post-Zoom AND post-Thawne trauma. (Oh, he was also kidnapped, threatened, and {borderline} tortured by Zoom in the Earth-2 episodes; but that’s all normal superhero stuff ofc so it doesn’t matter right :-D !!! gnawing at the bars of my enclosure)

Jesse: Good gods where do I even start. Kidnapped by a known serial killer, tortured by said serial killer, repeatedly and (probably) constantly threatened with death, and held captive for around 9-10 months. Mm also, she was clearly terrified of Zoom every time he showed up prior to her rescue. Sounds like an extremely traumatic experience with multiple opportunities and instances to develop PTSD right? WRONG! According to the lovely writers; people are completely fine after a traumatic experience is over! What’s PTSD??? chewing glass chewing glass chewing glass. They didn’t even TRY with her, at least with Barry and Caitlin they pretended to give a shit about what they went through but Jesse makes two things crystal clear. 1) The writers don’t care about your trauma unless you’re an MC. 2) The writers put minimal effort into trauma if any; MC or not. It’s like they said ‘Ooo, we should have Caitlin kidnapped by Zoom!’ ‘Won’t that have some sort of effect on her? Being kidnapped is a terrifying experience’ ‘Ah fuck you’re right… eh, we’ll give her one episode ig’ ‘What about Jesse?’ ‘Who?’

Jay: Fucking. Hell. I ordered this in what I consider best handled to worst. Jay is by far— handled worst. Let’s see here *checks notes* Ah yes. Kidnapped and taken to a completely different Earth, an attempted theft of his powers, imprisoned and put in a mask so he can’t speak, {not confirmed but very likely with Zoom’s track record and somewhat implied} tortured, had his identity stolen and {likely} mocked and tormented about the subject, and the ~delightful~ cherry on top— held captive in this situation for at least one year. Fuck I’m so tired. Anyways; there’s not much to say. He got rescued (off-screen ofc), was able to access his powers instantly with no problems, and left to go back to his Earth. Trauma? What trauma? *gestures wildly at said trauma posted above* That’s not traumatic at all! *screams* I don’t care how much experience you have as a superhero— that doesn’t just GO AWAY! PTSD, FLASH WRITERS. LOOK INTO IT P L E A S E fuck I just remembered the show is over now ALL YOUR MC’S HAVE IT! EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Sigh. In the end of *gestures at said trauma* all that, Jay was just used to cause Barry more greif from his father’s death. Obviously he gets roles in later seasons but (as far as I can remember) this whole thing was never brought up again. Sigh.

I COULD GO ON

I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS

but I won’t cause dear gods I’ve been typing forever now

[herartificialworld]

it seems like youve got a really strong sense of aesthetics! tell me about your dream home?

Aww I love this, thank you!! 😭🥹

My dream home is a combination of witchy moody victorian and forest cottage vibes! The kitchen would feel very comforting and airy, with soft natural lighting and various glass bottles of spices all over the place. I really want an herb drying rack hanging somewhere in there, too! A small informal table with mismatched chairs. I can see my garden from the window above the sink. Love and protection are put into everything I make. The kitchen is definitely the heart of every home (said with absolutely no bias from this kitchen which nope 😌)

My room would be a dark, rich green, and cream, and maybe a deep dusty rose color with some terracotta accents. Canopy above the bed. Gallery wall of so many random things. The opposite wall would have a dark floral wallpaper, I just think it would make such a cool accent wall effect! Any hardware in the room would be a brushed brass, very antique-y. I have zero solid ideas for the bathroom besides a giant tub lol

Any guest room I may have will be so soft and warm and welcoming and I’d put together a little basket of things for anyone that came to visit, like snacks and water bottles and toiletries and a little handwritten note telling them how grateful I am that they’re here.

But really most of all, I just want a home that all my friends feel safe and loved in, somewhere I can cook for them, and get them throw blankets if they’re cold. Somewhere they know they’ll always be welcome and wanted ♥️

[clarenecessities]

✨🍀 re: wow toons (idk what that is so pls enlighten me!)

AHAHAHA YES!!!! <-sicko voice

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

these go hand in hand so i'm doin' 'em together >:3c so wow toons are what you call your different world of warcraft characters, of which i have... 12? 15? some multiple of three. i shall describe each of them in turn bc you've inadvertently activated my trap card.

Sétanta - my very first wow character. he's a worgen bc obviously i'm going to pick the werewolf race, come on. i made him a druid bc i heard you could turn into even more animals and this pleased me. He's named for Cú Chulainn (Hound of Culann), who renamed himself that as a kid. I pronounce it 100% wrong, with an /s/ at the start and a /t/ in the middle, but that's what happens when you learn all your words by reading as a small child. i pronounced seamus See-Miss until i was like 16. it could be worse.

Seidrin - As I was fleshing him out i accidentally went way too hard on his mom's backstory, so when I wanted to make a tank she was the natural choice. her dad is the wolf god Goldrinn, who I decided (fancifully) to pretend was named for galdra, one of the kinds of norse magic. -inn being the masculine name suffix, i changed it tothe feminine -in and named her for seiðr magic instead. went with a d instead of a th bc logan very wisely pointed out the "-drin-" mirrors Goldrinn.

Crimthann - Sétanta's dad. I wanted to make a healer and I was like you know what would be really funny? If I named his dad after another guy who renamed himself for an animal. And Crimthann (an old irish name meaning 'fox') is often alleged to be the birth name of St. Colmcille, 'church dove'. so i made him a priest but unfortunately priests are very boring to play so he's... languishing.

Donn - I wanted to make a Horde character but I didn't know how to play anything but a druid so I was like... surely, this will work. I was gonna name him Donn Cúailnge after the Brown Bull of Cooley but it turns out you can't put spaces in the names. But Donn (shockingly) wasn't taken so... here he is! Tauren druid!

Jettion - I was bullied into making a dracthyr, the newest race, bc they have a fun starting quest. Dragons in wow have name suffixes according to their 'flight' (color) and he's a male black dracthyr (who are like anthro dragons) so his name had to end in -ion, and often the black flight's names start with shades of blade, so... it was either Jetion or Jettion, and I liked Jettion better bc it looks like Jettison.

Shannock - We all made vulpera, the little fox people together. but i'd already used the name Crimthann. so I was like 'maybe sionnach'? but if you can believeit some bastard already snagged it. so i went with a rough anglicization. i should play him more.

Lokworg - I've twice been bullied into making a monk bc supposedly they get fun later on & i just need to keep doing quests with my pals, but my pals are much faster than i am and outstrip me quickly. The first monk i deleted bc i don't care about him and honestly lokworg's not doin' much for me either. His name's orcish, lok is song/cry (noun) and worgs are the large, extra smart wolves orcs ride as mounts. More or less 'direwolf song'.

Rumpelteazer - Peer pressured into doing the worgen starting quest & I wanted someone who could learn to pick locks one day, so rogue it was! Originally named Scátha (irish for shade but also kind of an oblique reference to scáthach, the scottish warrior woman who trained Cú Chulainn (and my own pseudohistorical ancestor)), but I kept pronouncing it wrong and was listening to Cats 1998 soundtrack and... well... he's a rogue! and Mungojerrie was taken!

Ulfhedrinn - in keeping with the norse theme, he's named after the Ulfheðnar (singular Ulfheðinn, wolf+what's basically a hooded vest made of fur) that were an appropriately lupine variety of berserkers. I wanted to make a Horde healer and i was like you know... i haven't made this insane little family big enough yet.

Galdrulf - Okay, honestly? He was supposed to be Ulfhedrinn. We were starting with new Horde characters and we were gonna level together, but I got so lost in the customization sauce that I forgot Ulf's particular flavor of orc starts at level 10 instead of 1. So I panicked and made a warrior, and I named him galdr+ulf bc I'm not very creative under pressure.

Fuil - Bullied into making a dark iron dwarf but i'm not clear on why bc we never got farther than unlocking them? guys? are we doing anything with these? irish for blood bc he's going to be a Blood Death Knight. one day. probably.

Tigernmas - I was peer pressured into making a Demon Hunter, whom I wanted to name Crom but noooo, that was 'taken', so I named him after a pseudohistorical king that got himself and 75% of the men in Ireland killed worshipping Crom Cruach.

you know i'm sensing some themes here. a lot of irish. a lot of peer pressuring. jesus christ is seidrin my only woman? she doesn't even use the fpose model no wonder they keep he/himming me

[scienceismygirlfriend]

Reading asks:

2. Flops! Or 9. Compels me tho

2. flops! i consider this one a flop because i really wanted to like it BUT. i did not enjoy Things In Jars. it had a great premise, and i love a ghost sidekick as much as the next guy, but it just did not come together for me. and the most frustrating this is that the things i didn't enjoy about it don't seem to be the things that bothered anyone else who didn't like the book so i didn't even get the cathartic release of reading the two star reviews of the book!!

9. compels me tho: this is maybe a goofy answer but i read the first dinotopia children's novel (Windchaser) while on a road trip and it's pretty simple and predictable but DINOSAURS THOUGH. i don't know why i never read this as a child (i devoured A Land Apart from Time) but i know i would have been soooo annoying about it if i had. it's cute!

[duskerot]

Hey… Do you know the song sung by the voice actor from the pilot Hazbin Hotel? Called Thank you and goodnight. Weirdly this song reminds me of Mystic Messenger, despite being a new fan and having been into this game until this year 2024 I already felt a connection, seeing old posts about this game from an old fan somehow makes me tear up. Despite I'm a fan of 2024, I somehow feel nostalgic about this game despite never actually experience it before

i don't actually, i've never seen hazbin :0 i just looked up the lyrics tho and i see what you mean!

absolutely no shame being a "new" fan, actually i'm really happy to hear new people are finding the game in 2024 !! i first downloaded it in 2016 and only recently redownloaded it last year for the nostalgia actually :') it's silly but this game and others by the same devs actually mean a lot to me lol

[mycological-mariner]

For the game, 4, 16, 35, B

I’ve talked about Fred a few times before but never Tredwen (my oldest OC, Age of Sail, and proto-oc for all others to come after)

4: How easy is it to earn their trust?

Not at all. All relationships are transactional, everyone wants something, nobody ever says what they mean, etc. The only character he kind of trusts in a non-professional manner and thinks of as an old friend rats him out to the Admiralty. The only person he genuinely WANTS to trust is actively trying to kill him.

5: What makes their stomach turn?

Watching someone die. He’s done a great deal of killing people, as an officer and a mutineer, the violence is impersonal and you don’t need to stop and think because you’ll die too if you do. After the mutiny, he was cast adrift with only a 12 year old midshipman who died in front of him due to wounds over the course of several days and Tredwen couldn’t bring himself to do what needed to be done to give him a peaceful death, either.

35: How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Well, he’s a cold bastard so no one ever tries. The friend that betrays him is always talking about his daughters and Tredwen just suffers silently through it. He does try and take an interest in the natural world and medicine and suchlike because the kidnapped med school graduate gets excited about those things (and he also feels bad for abducting the wrong person). He is trying to make an effort.

B: What inspired you to create them?

Oooh. Like I said, probably my Oldest oc. It’s been over a decade and he’s gone through a ton of iterations before becoming Jaded and Cynical Old Bastard With a Death Wish. I was reading a lot of maritime adventure books and my favourite was Jack London’s The Sea Wolf. And I was also really into Thomas Cochrane?? I used to read his autobiography aloud to work on my tongue-tiedness pre ops. I could rattle about him for hours (still can but you’re more easily excused at 10 years old).

But I can tell you the precise moment that really inspired this character: I was 11, I had made up my mind to become a sailor and one day even a captain, I went during my turn on the computer to find out what qualifications you needed and I got hit with a page saying basically “If you take seizure medication, have ever taken seizure medication or are epileptic, you’re disqualified.” I went to my room and cried. I was on 6 AEDs at that time! And so, Tredwen was born. Originally a fun, chaos-causing, curious, ex-Navy pirate captain. I was 11. But then I did get older, life just got worse, and he changed into a more world-weary, depressed, cynical and honestly kinda suicidal smuggling captain (still a Navy mutineer though) who was also a total cad. Male slut. Also moved the time period from 1800-1813 to the 1760s. Some things that DIDNT change over the years are: he’s Cornish, he antagonises the RN at every opportunity, he used to be a child miner before joining the RN, was a mutineer, and whatever is Going On between him and his 1st mate (who in early drafts was his bosun? Either way it’s kinda gay), oh and also the whole trans thing.

[mywritersmind]

OBVIOUSLY OBLIVIOUS - LN4

summary : she thought the hoodie was her brothers, she should have known since the comfort was too good.

listen up : hating on landos style. fewtrell!sister. messages!!

word count : 729

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m practically imprinted into the couch, flipping another page of my book and yawning. I’m at my brother's house for the weekend but after a night of streaming, he’s probably passed out in his room.

It’s early but I still have my makeup on from the night before. I went clubbing with my friends and was desperately craving a good book in my pajamas with a side of ice cream.

I sit comfortably with Billie Eilish playing on low and my brother's hoodie on me. It’s an extremely good find, soft and cute which is rare for Max. It’s got a red heart on the back with black letters that say ‘MAISON DE MONACO’ No clue what that is but it’s fancy.

I jump when I hear my brother's door creek open, “Jesus, you scared me.” I shake my head and look back down at my book.

The voice who answers isn’t my brother, “Sorry, forgot Max’s house is a billion years old.” Yet the familiarity washes over me.

“I forgot you were here.” I look over to Lando who’s filling up his water in the kitchen. It had completely slipped my mind that Lando was staying here for the night.

“Wow, thanks.” He turns around, drinking his water while looking at me funny.

“You alright?” I ask the boy as nods slowly.

“I like your hoodie.” He says, nodding down to the gray fabric.

“Thanks, It’s Max’s.” I shrug and look back to my book, “Quite nice. Didn't know my brother had such good taste.”

Lando laughs a bit, “Maybe my style is rubbing off on him.” I roll my eyes as he watches me closely.

I don’t mean to laugh as hard as I do, “Keep telling yourself that, love.” I shake my head as his eyes narrow.

“What, you don’t like my style?” I close my book and sigh.

“It’s just… very driver-like.” I say as he frowns, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You don’t like any driver's style?” He takes a seat at the end of the couch.

“No! I love Lewis’ and Zhou’s! You just… don’t have that. Max is probably being influenced by Pietra.” I lean my head back on the cushions, my body facing his.

“Maybe I need a girlfriend then.” He says easily, tilting his head against the pillow and looking at me with eyes that I could lose myself in.

I shake off the feeling, opening my book back up, “Would probably help.” He side eyes me.

We stay silent then, I fall back into my story as he scrolls on his phone. Still, Lando can’t be focused on anything for too long (odd considering the whole two hour non stop driving thing) so he bugs me two minutes after we stopped speaking.

He’s staring at me. I can feel the gaze of his blue eyes while I'm reading. I glance up to meet his eyes, “Is there something on my face?”

His smile sneaks back onto his face, “No. You just…” He licks his lips and shakes his head, “Sorry. I gotta go- Have a good day, Y/N.”

“Bye…?” he’s out the door before I even finish the word. I just shrug and try to ignore the tingles in my fingertips.

An hour passes and my brother's door opens for the second time this morning, letting out a loud and long groan. “Good Morning to you too.” I laugh as Max falls onto the couch, his face in the pillows. “Hey, I’m stopping by the store so text me what crisps yo-”

His head pops up and interrupts me, “What are you wearing?” He makes a face which immediately concerns me.

“What?”

“Your hoodie. I know it’s not yours because it’s like Fifty Five Thousand pounds.” My jaw drops.

I slam my book shut, “This isn’t yours?”

“Christ, Y/N how much money do you think I make? What’d you do, rob the store?” He’s being serious and I feel ill.

“Max. I found this in your room.” His confusion turns into humor when the realization hits and he breaks into laughter.

“You’re-”

I don’t want him to say it, “No.”

He seals my fate while laughing, “You're wearing Landos hoodie.” He says befitting shoving his face back into a pillow, muffling his giggle.

I roll my eyes, “You child!” I throw a pillow at him and grab my phone.

[heartsbyani]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[ravendruid]

Heyo!!!

🌻, 🕯️, and of course 🎀

(btw discovered what the mystery emoji was! It appeared on my phone, it's a magic wand apparently)

OMG HI FREN! Thank you so much for the ask! ^_^

From: Let's get ((real)) fic writer asks

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going? Sometimes those low numbers on Tumblr and the non-existent comments make me want to give up writing. I have a lot of fights with my brain because it makes me feel like the stories I put out aren't good enough (I'm not good enough). But it's people like you (and other names I'm not going to name, but they know who they are) who make me keep writing and posting. It's seeing the reactions in the tags or the comments in AO3 and seeing people truly enjoying my silly little writings that keep me going. T_T I literally would not be doing this if it wasn't for those who read my stuff, and I'll always be appreciative of you <3

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you? Yes, there are two fics that were hard to write (in different ways).

The first one is Forever, and ever and always. Mostly because it took me a really long time to write it. I had a lot of ideas and descriptions that I wanted to write (and I realized after posting it that I had forgotten to include another idea at the end), not to mention the whole wedding process itself. It was very time-consuming, but in the end, it was so rewarding and one of the stories I'm most proud of.

The second one is, of course, Be In My Eyes. This fic has been the source of many anxieties, doubts, and tears. Specifically, chapters 8 and 9 were the hardest to write so far because I wrote them when I was having a really bad time.

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing Oh no, not again xD Let me see... I think I'm really good at keeping my fics organized and consistent on what concerns my writing process (like having adjacent documents to keep all the descriptions and important information to avoid contradictions).

[sanguineterrain]

crushin' | jason todd

Summary: Barbara invites you to dinner with the Bats. She's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the Bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. Little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings/tags: batfam shenanigans, dick is a good meddling brother and deserves a fruit basket, fluff and humor, kissing, crushes, love confessions. just wanted to write something sweet and light :)

the divider

"So you're gonna press this," Barbara says, demonstrating on her own screen.

You follow along, clicking and typing. She nods.

"Good. Then you're gonna do this."

You open the file. A video of what looks to be Bruce drunkenly hula-hooping pops up. Your eyes widen.

"And that's how you keep Bruce in check," Barbara says, patting your shoulder. "Use sparingly. Only when he's getting on your last nerve."

"Wow," you say. "Babs, I... I don't know if I should have this kind of power."

"No, it's cool. I have dirt on everyone in this family, so really, it's my power. You're the only one who gets to see the vault."

You look at her. "You scare me."

She grins. "Thanks! Anyway, you're free to go. They'll be back from the mission soon, so our job is pretty much over."

The computer beeps. She checks the notification and types back. Then she hums.

"Or, you can, y'know, join us for dinner. Alfred keeps wondering when you'll do so."

You press your lips together. "I dunno, Babs... are you sure? I don't want to intrude."

"You're not. Seriously. And you know what I just found out? Jason will be here too."

Well. That does certainly stop your refusal in its tracks. You haven't seen Jason properly since he returned. You feel a pang of guilt at that; true, he's never at the Manor, at least not when you're around. But you could've reached out by now.

Still, being able to see him again properly is a wonderful opportunity. One you can't pass up.

"Okay," you say. "I'll join you all. As long as Alfred's okay with it."

She rolls her eyes, smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. C'mon."

You follow her to the elevator Bruce got installed for her. In the Manor, most of the family are sitting down to dinner. Damian and Cass are on one side of the table. Bruce is at the head. Alfred is still bustling in the kitchen.

You start to pull out the chair next to Cass, but Barbara startles you.

"That's Dick's chair!" She smiles sympathetically. "Sorry. He's particular. Isn't he, guys?"

"Yes," Cass says. "He's comfortable here."

"I've no idea what you're referring to, Gordon," says Damian. He nods at you. "Hello."

You smile. "Hey, Damian. That's fine. I'll sit next to you, Babs." You sit in the middle of three chairs, with Barbara on your right and an empty chair on your left.

"Hi, Cass. Hello, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce," he reminds you. That's not happening. It feels way too weird to call him Bruce, even though you've known him since Jason was Robin. Just, no.

Cass smiles. "Hello. Glad to have you."

"Where's Tim and Duke?" you ask.

"Thomas is at university," Damian says. "Drake is probably with that idiot clone he calls a boyfriend."

Bruce looks up. "Tim and Connor are dating?"

"Good God," Barbara mumbles.

"Well, yes, Father. They've been dating for quite some time, even shared a room together. Last month, Drake went undercover in Atlantic City and the clone—"

"Old man! Where are you?"

"Jason, just—"

"Shut it, Dickhead."

The grandfather clock swings open, revealing the Cave entrance. Up stomps Jason, followed by Dick. Jason has a smear of purple goo on his forehead, but otherwise is clean. His back is to you.

Jason points an accusing gloved finger at Bruce. "You owe me a new bike, new guns, new gear, new phone, new—"

"Jason, slow down. Why exactly do I owe you new things?" Bruce asks.

"Because Tweedle-Dum here didn't scan the fuckin' spaceship that landed in Syracuse and melted my bike with purple goo!"

"It said it was empty," Dick says tiredly. "How was I supposed to know an abandoned ship would spit goo?"

"Okay, alright, boys, don't fight. Yes, Jason, I'll compensate everything you lost in Syracuse."

"Yeah, you will. And a new fridge." Jason thinks. "And a new TV."

"Master Jason," Alfred begins, walking into the dining room with a dish of roasted potatoes. "You may continue your bargaining with Master Bruce after dinner. Wipe that alien sludge off your face and have a seat."

Jason sighs. "Alf, I appreciate the invite, but you know I don't dine with most of the folks at this table. Gets real fuckin' crowded."

"Master Jason, watch your language," Alfred says sternly. "We have a guest. Behave like the young man I raised you to be."

Jason scoffs. "Who, Barbie? She doesn't—" He turns and stops, staring at you.

You smile, suddenly self-conscious. "Hi."

He swallows, eyes wide. "Hi. Hey."

"Aren't you staying for dinner?" you ask, confused. "Barbara said you were."

"I—" He glances at Barbara, then looks at you. "Uh. Well. I don't really..."

"C'mon, Jay, you guys should catch up!" Dick says brightly, already seated.

Jason's mouth sours as he turns to Dick. You pull out the chair next to you and tap the seat.

"You can sit next to me," you say, looking up at Jason.

He immediately turns back to you, lips parted. "Oh. I—y-yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Master Jason. The goo," Alfred reminds, raising a brow. "And hang up your jacket."

Jason quickly backs up and bumps into the table corner. He winces.

"Right. I'm gonna... yeah. Be right back."

Jason disappears down the hall. Dick grins wolfishly at Barbara.

"You're amazing," he says.

"I know," she says, shrugging.

Alfred serves the last tray of vegetables, then sits. Jason soon returns, gloves and jacket away and goo-free.

"Did you style your hair, Todd?" Damian asks.

"No. Shut it." Jason scoots in his chair, glaring at his brother. But when you pass him the tray of roast, his expression softens. He smiles at you.

"Thanks," he says, and puts three slices on his plate. "Great roast, Alf."

"You haven't tried it," Alfred says, but looks very pleased.

"Don't need to."

"We're very glad you're here, Jason," Bruce says. "All things considered—"

Jason holds up a hand. "Ah-ah. I'm not here for you, old man. Save the speech for another day."

"And who are you here for, Jason?" Dick asks, propping his chin on his hands.

"None of your beeswax, Dick."

Dick shrugs. Damian begins to talk about an art project in school. You pay the appropriate amount of attention until Jason nudges your arm.

"Hey," he says, nodding at your empty glass. "Didja get something to drink?"

"Oh." Heat creeps up your neck. "Um, no. Sorry. I didn't know where to get the drinks."

"'S okay. Alf doesn't put out drinks anymore 'cause everybody drinks something different. You just help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll get it for ya."

"Jason, you don't have to—"

He holds up a hand, smiling. "C'mon, none of that. You're a guest. Orange Fanta, right?"

You blink. "You remembered."

"Uh." His cheeks go pink. "I mean, yeah. No biggie. I'll be back."

Jason stands. Immediately, the others pounce.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" Dick asks.

"No," Jason says.

"Can you get me another Diet Coke?"

"Todd, if you're going to the kitchen, I would like another lemonade, please," Damian says.

"I just said I'm not going to the—"

"Master Jason, will you please bring this into the kitchen?" Alfred asks, holding up an empty tray.

Jason heaves a sigh. You wince.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He shakes his head and winks. "Nah, 's not you."

Obediently, Jason takes the tray and goes to the kitchen. He returns with a Diet Coke, which he tosses at Dick, who catches it with one hand, and a bottle of lemonade, which he throws to Damian who also catches it with one hand and a scowl. Finally, Jason opens the Orange Fanta for you and gently pours it into your glass, then sets the half-full can next to your plate. He sits down.

"Of course they get special treatment," Dick mumbles into his drink.

The table rattles, and Dick winces, squinting at Jason. The table rattles again, and Jason hisses.

"Boys," Bruce says wearily. "Enough."

"Yeah, Jason," Dick says, sticking his nose up. "Y'know it's my birthday soon. I deserve a brother who doesn't kick me."

"Oh, I'll tell ya what you deserve," Jason begins.

"Are we doing laser tag?" Cass pipes up from the end.

"'Course we are! Everybody's gonna be there." Dick looks pointedly at Jason. "Except my own brother. He refused."

You look at Jason, who's got a nasty glower aimed at Dick.

"You're not coming?" you ask.

Jason's expression melts away when he turns to you. "Uh, I mean—"

"No, he's not," Dick says, pulling the saddest pout you've ever seen. "He said he wanted nothing to do with my stupid birthday."

"Those weren't my exact words."

"They were very close," Damian says.

"Shut—"

"Jason, I can't believe you aren't going to Dick's birthday," Barbara says, shaking her head.

Jason's mouth falls open. "Et tu, Barbie?"

"You should come," you say, touching Jason's arm.

He immediately looks at your hand. You slowly remove it, smiling sheepishly.

"Then we can be a team," you say. "We're playing doubles. I'm horrendously bad at laser tag, but I bet we'd win together. I'd watch your six."

"Leaving them in the lurch, Jason?" Barbara tuts. "So unlike you."

Jason heaves a sigh. "For God—okay. Alright, brother mine. You win."

You beam. "So you'll come?"

"'Long as you and I are a team," Jason says, a little shy.

You bump his shoulder with yours. "Of course."

Dick looks at you. "You should join us for dinner every night."

You laugh bashfully. "Thanks, Dick."

Dinner goes on. Bruce excuses himself early, as do Cass and Damian. Soon, it's the four of you plus Alfred cleaning up after dinner. You and Jason are loading the dishwasher when Jason hisses. He pulls out his hand, revealing a thin red cut on his palm.

"Are you okay?" you ask, hovering worriedly.

"Yeah, 'm fine. I'll take the tray—"

"Jason, no," Dick says, herding him away from the dishwasher. "You have to get that wrapped immediately."

"What are you—dude, it's a tiny cut—"

"Yeah, but there was food on there, and you have no idea what can get into the wound and make you sick," Barbara says seriously. "You need to get it cleaned right now."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. There's a first aid kit in the closet."

"There isn't!" Dick says, shooing Jason toward you. "Alfred hasn't restocked it. You have to go to the Cave. You should both go."

"Yes, great idea," Barbara says, looking at you. "You have medical experience, don't you?"

"I mean, a little, but—"

"More than us!" Dick says, shoving you both towards the hallway.

"I don't think so..."

"You take care of Jaybird here, he needs that hand," Dick says cheerily, opening the Cave entrance. "Go on, go."

"Christ on a bike," Jason mumbles, and heads down the stairs.

You follow, confused and concerned. The entrance slides closed. Jason goes to the medbay, muttering under his breath as he digs through one of the drawers with one hand. You join him, searching the top drawer for the antiseptic spray.

"Is the cut really bad?" you ask, trying to get a better look.

"No. My brother's just an idiot. Nothin' new."

You pull out the spray, some gauze, and a bandaid. Jason nods in thanks and goes to take it.

"I can do it," you say. "I do have medical experience, after all."

He snorts. "Fine by me."

You both sit on the edge of a cot. You turn to Jason and pull his hand into your lap. He inhales sharply. You stop.

"Is this okay?" you ask.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Sorry. I don't get touched a lot." Jason's mouth screws up. "Ugh. That sounded weird."

You laugh. "It's fine, I know what you meant."

He scratches the back of his neck while you clean his hand. He has big hands. Bigger than you remember. They're deeply scarred and calloused. You rub your thumbs over the pads of his fingers without thinking.

"You got soft hands," Jason says quietly.

"Heh. Thanks. The computer life."

He hums. "I didn't know you were working with Babs."

The guilt swims back full force.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should've reached out, Jason. I-I basically ignored you. Not on purpose! I just... I guess I wasn't sure where we stood and I thought maybe you'd be mad I was working for Batman after everything and I was afraid that we wouldn't—"

"Hey, whoa. 'M not mad." Jason finds your gaze. You frown. "I'm serious. I don't mind that you're working for Bruce. I mean, hell, I do too, on occasion. Mostly I just bitch at him."

You giggle. He smiles. You're still holding his hand. You don't really want to let go. Jason doesn't seem to want to pull away either.

"Well, even so, I'm sorry for not reaching out. I did miss you, Jason. And I'm glad you're back."

He clears his throat, ducking his head. "Huh. Well, I missed you too. And y'got nothin' to apologize for. I could've asked about you."

"Well—"

"Uh-uh, no, I'm the king of self-deprication. Y'can't take that from me," Jason says, eyes dancing with mirth.

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, fine. Can we say that we both could've reached out?"

"That's agreeable. And, uh, while we're clearing the air, I'm so terribly sorry 'bout my dumbass brother."

You tilt your head. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, huh. Hm. Well, funny thing. I kinda had a, um, crush on you, before. And Dick has it in his head that I... that I have a chance now. So... yeah."

"Before?" you ask.

You don't know why you're disappointed. It's not like you knew. Except maybe if you had, you wouldn't have missed out. Maybe you wouldn't have lost so much time.

Jason glances at you. "What... why are you sayin' it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you wish... that I..." He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Jason," you say, barely a whisper.

He looks at you. His eyes flick to your lips, just for a millisecond. "Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

A beat. Your heart falls.

"Yeah." Jason nods. "Yeah, kiss me."

You heart soars.

You hold Jason's face, still holding his hand. He gingerly touches your neck with his uninjured hand, strokes behind your ear with his thumb. Every nerve alights. You're kissing Jason Todd. The boy you've loved since you were thirteen.

"They did it! They're kissing!"

Jason growls against your mouth. You know it's not aimed at you, but it makes lightning shoot down your spine. Wow.

"'M gonna kill 'im," Jason mumbles.

You smile and pull back, just an inch. "It's nearly his birthday. At least wait till next week."

"Hm." Jason kisses the corner of your mouth. You like him so much. "Fine. Y'know you can convince me of pretty much anything? Wield that power carefully."

You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason braces you with a hand on the small of your back.

"I'm very flattered, but I think you're confused, Jay." A kiss to his jaw. "It's you who has a hold on me."

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - call

miguel calls you because he misses you

. . .

“Lyla.“

“Yah?“

“Call y/n.“

“What do we say?“

“Oh my god, just call her. Please.“

“You’re in your office, call her yourself.“

“Lyla!“

Lyla scoffs, flickering in and out in a flash of cream and pink. Miguel rolls his eyes, watching as a module is pulled up in front of him.

Lyla flickers in, pressing the obnoxiously green “call” button on the screen as Miguel subconsciously fixes his hair. The screen starts to dial, and Lyla chuckles to herself. 

“What?“ Miguel asks, crossing his arms together. 

Lyla’s hand runs up to her mouth. “Pfft. Nothing.“

And with that, she disappears. 

The screen dials for a few more seconds, and finally, you answer the call. A video calling of you, looking down at at the camera on your watch. You’ve got your spider suit on, chaos seeming to be crashing in the background as you zip through a metropolitan city with your webbing. 

“Miguel, baby, you know I’m busy.“ You say, the man watching on his screen as you simultaneously glace down the watch and look back up to swing your webbing against random architecture. 

“I know. Sorry.“ He says, and you look expectantly down at your watch. 

“Did you need something?” You ask, and your watch suddenly drifts over towards behind you, an anomaly chasing behind you. 

“How long will it take for you to be back?“ He asks, hand slithering to the back of his neck. Even from the shitty camera quality, you can see the slightest tinge of blush on his cheek. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, sighing to yourself as you bustle through skyscrapers and towers galore. “Is this really was this was about?“

“Yeah, I wanna see you.“ He states. You watch as he starts tapping on the holographic screen, seemingly zooming in on a particular picture. 

You watch as Miguel already goes to grab his spider mask, clutching it in his hand while he taps at his own watch. “Where are you, honey? I can take them off your hands.“

“It’s fine, Miguel. I got it.“

“But I wanna see you.“

“You can wait a little longer, right? Jessica sent me out on this mission.“

“No. I’m going out there, where are you?“

You sigh. “Fine, I’m at Earth-681, Queens.”

“See you in a sec, hun. Love you, bye.“

“Love you. Bet I can finish this guy off before you can even make it down here-“

You hang up, and the call screen flickers dark. Miguel yanks on his spider mask, leaping off his office until...

“Wow.“

Lyla sputters in front of Miguel, laughing to herself in a doubled over position. She flashes in a few more times, each one a different frame of her laughing. Miguel tries to ignore her, speeding up into a run whilst tapping at his watch.  

“You’re really that whipped!“ She exclaims. 

“What does whipped even mean?“ Miguel asks, obviously annoyed. 

“You’ll find out later.“

“Hm.“

“Oh and, just so you know. That entire convo was recorded. Thanks!“

Miguel groans, and Lyla vanishes as soon as she came in. 

. . . 

Miguel dives headfirst into the inter-dimensional juncture, leaping directly into the skies of Earth-681. There’s millions of skyscrapers below, all of them almost identical to any other Earth he’s been on. 

He webs a nearby building, slinging himself through Queens in search of you. His spidey-sense picks up, detecting you to be in his far right. Faster than ever, he slingshots himself through buildings, his heart quickening in his chest at the thought of seeing you. 

Unexpectedly, you aren’t where you’re supposed to be. 

Miguel pauses himself onto the head of a gargoyle, eyes flickering left and right to try and find you. You’re supposed to be hugging him, kissing him, teasing him about dates and what not. 

“Boo.“

Miguel doesn’t even flinch, but he’s more excited than ever to see you. He misses you so much. 

You laugh to yourself, taking a few steps forward to Miguel. He rolls his eyes, and you can even see it through his mask. 

“Haha, very funny.“

“I know, I’m the funniest.“

“C’mere.“

Miguel wastes no time, hastily tugging you into him by your waist, until you’re close enough to hear his heartbeat. You tug your mask off, revealing the face that Miguel knows and loves. 

Tenderly, the man presses you into a kiss, savoring the taste of your lips for a moment longer than he should’ve. You can feel the poke of his fangs on your bottom lip, and you yelp a little in his mouth. 

“Ah, I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine-“

And he a presses a few more gingerly kisses to your cheek, stroking your other with his thumb. His big hand lingers on your lower back, threatening to ghost his fingers against your behind. 

“See, told you I’d finish him off before you’d come.“ You say, indulgently resting your chin on his chest. 

“Can’t believe Jess sent you out here, on your break day too.“ Miguel scowls, “Wanted to take you somewhere special.“

“Welp, now I’m free.“ You shrug, and Miguel leans the both of you against the concrete walls of the tower. 

Something sparks in Miguel’s mind. 

“Hun, what does whipped mean?“

“Whipped?“

“Mhm. Lyla mentioned it earlier.“

You chuckle a little. 

“It’s what you are, Miguel.“

“And what, exactly, is that?“

“Absolutely in love with me. Like you’ll do anything, k’know?“

Miguel grumbles to himself, releasing you from his embrace. 

“I hate that she’s right.“

miguel gets jealous oneshot (same universe)