#and my ballsy ass went for it

[idfuckhimcarnalleigh]

you ever imagine a specific scenario happening so often and then one day it does happen and you're just like

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 9

Word Count- 5.5k

Warnings- Swearing, reader going through A LOT, slight self harm, violence

In and out. In and out. In and out. Oh god, why isn’t this working?!

“Y/n, just take a deep breath,” Elena says from her seated position on the dirt-covered ground of the Salvatore’s creepy ass dungeon. 

“Oh, thank you, Oh Wise One for that great advice,” I sarcastically shoot back to her as I continue my pacing. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Why are you so nervous? I thought you liked Elijah?”

Her question has me rubbing my hands over my face in exhaustion as I try not to roll my eyes at my best friend. When she called me asking to hang out this morning I thought “Oh cool girl time!” What I didn’t expect was us resurrecting a one-thousand-year-old vampire. But now that I’m thinking about it, that’s on me. When it comes to Elena it’s highly unlikely that her days don’t include something that is going to get either one of us maimed or murdered.

“It’s not Elijah I’m worried about,” That’s a slight lie. Ever since Elena told me she’s going to wake him up I’ve felt nauseous, “I’m worried about the two vampire brothers that are obsessed with you and are totally going to murder me when they find out I went along for this stupid ride!”

Elena shoots me an Are you serious look, “They’re not going to murder you.”

I shoot her back the same look, “Oh so you’re telling me that Damon Salvatore is going to be oh so okay with this little plan of yours? Is that why you haven’t told him?”

At that question, Elena sighs. She opens her mouth to reply but a sharp inhale from behind me has me jumping in surprise, and Elena quickly rises from her seated position. 

I turn around to see Elijah gasping for breath, his skin still grey and veiny and the suit he’s wearing has definitely seen better days. Elena kneels down next to him and I walk behind her as Elijah looks at Elena like he doesn’t know who she is. 

“Katerina,” Elijah leans on his elbows and then he must’ve noticed my presence as he glances up at me. His already wide eyes somehow open more, “You!”

I flinch back at the familiarity in his eyes as he searches my entire frame frantically. 

“No Elijah, it’s Elena,” Elena gestures to herself and then to me, “and Y/n.”

This knocks Elijah out of whatever stupor he was in as he leans his head back onto the dirty ground and seems to fall unconscious. Elena glances at me over her shoulder and I just shrug my shoulders, not really knowing what to do in this situation. I watch wearily as she leans down closer and flinches backward as Elijah abruptly rolls to his side yelling. I fight the urge to gag as I hear his bone cracking as he roughly stands himself up. 

“I can’t, I can’t breathe,” Elijah says distressed and then he falls back towards the ground huffing, “What’s happening to me?”

Elena and I just watch speechless and in the blink of an eye Elijah flashes forward but ends up knocking into the wall. If this was any other situation I’d probably be laughing my ass off. I watch as Elena jumps up and helps him stand I come up behind them and hold onto Elijah’s other elbow to stabilize him.

“I can’t…I can’t be in this house.”

I frown as Elena realizes what’s happening, “You’re not invited in.”

“Then get me out of here.”

Elijah thrusts himself out of our grips and flashes upstairs hastily. I run behind Elena and stop as we come to the front door where Elijah is hunched over. We walk over to him but Elena puts out a hand to stop me from going any further. This seems to worsen Elijah’s already angry mood as his eyes darken at my friend. He flashes forward but the invisible supernatural barrier stops him.

“What happened,” Elijah speaks but Elena shushes him. Elena may have the survival instincts of a toddler, but damn the girl is ballsy. 

She gestures to her ear to let him know that we could be heard, “I’ll tell you. Not here. Can we trust you?”

Elena’s question has Elijah raising a brow and then glancing at me momentarily before turning back towards her, “Can I trust you?”

Elena nods before handing over the silver dagger to Elijah, who slowly takes it.

I should really stop answering Elena’s phone calls. 

—

Ten minutes later, the three of us are driving to the Mayor’s house. Elena is driving while Elijah is in the passenger seat drinking from a blood bag. I have been fighting the urge yet again to gag ever since Elena pulled out the first one for him. But, the blood seems to be doing him good since his veiny skin has almost returned to its once-normal color. I am currently watching the two from my position in the backseat of Elena’s car. The entire car ride has been filled with tension as Elijah glares at Elena and the ladder only sends him sheepish looks in return. Elijah has not once turned to glance at me like he would before he was daggered. Before I was annoyed with his staring but I think I’m now more annoyed by him not staring. God, I need to get a grip.

Elena pulls over puts the car in park and turns to Elijah, “You look better.”

“Where did you get the dagger?”

“I’ll tell you everything. But we have to work together, Elijah. I need your word.”

“Your ability to make demands has long passed.”

Elena nods, “No demands. I’m offering you my help. And in return I want yours.”

“And why should I even consider this?”

“The same reason you haven’t killed me. You need my help to kill Klaus. And I need you.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by Elena’s phone ringing. Uh oh. Elena answers the phone but I’m unable to hear who’s on the other end. But from Elena’s voice, I’m going to assume it’s Stefan. 

“Yes, I’m fine…. He’s right here... No Stefan, Elijah, Y/n and I need some time alone… Yes, Y/n is here aswell.”

At this, I lean forward towards Elena’s phone, “Hey Stefan!”

Elena looks at me, “He says Hi.”

I smile to myself and lean back in my seat.

Elena looks over at Elijah, who I now realize can hear everything Stefan is saying so I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. Typical. 

“Elijah is a noble man, Stefan. He lives by a code of honor. I can trust him. He knows that I’d be incredibly stupid to betray him again. By removing the dagger, I have proven myself… It’s my decision, Stefan. Please respect it. And make sure that Damon doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I snort at that because I just know Damon is indeed going to do something stupid. 

“I’ll be in touch,” And with that, she ends the call. 

Elena and Elijah stare at each other for a moment before he places out his palm for her phone. She sighs as she gives it to him and I almost laugh until Elijah’s hand comes towards me. 

“Seriously,” I groan but am not met with a response. Asshole. I feel like a child getting her toys taken away as I toss my phone into Elijah’s palm. Elijah puts the phones in his suit. I wonder how many pockets he’s got in that thing?

“He’s here,” Elena’s words have me sitting up in my seat.

“Klaus is here?”

“He’s taken over Alaric’s body.”

“Of course he has. It’s one of his favorite tricks.”

“He’s quite the people person,” I say sarcastically under my breath, but Elijah must’ve heard it as he whips around in his seat and his eyes widen as he looks at me.

“You met him,” His tone has a tinge of worry and I just nod slightly. 

“Well ya, he taught my history class, not very well might I add, and I think I called him an asshole at one point. I don’t understand how you were able to spend years with him. One afternoon with him and I’m already planning his demise.”

“Did he hurt you?”

My eyebrows furrow and I shake my head, “Other than my ears. No. He said I wasn’t on his hit list. Do I remember that right Lena?”

Elena nods from her seat. 

Elijah stares at me before his eyes trail to my right thigh for a split moment. I frown at him before he turns back in his seat. 

“What are his other tricks? What is he gonna do next? You’re the only one who knows him,” Elena asks Elijah.

“Yes, I do.”

—

“Great, this lady,” I say under my breath as Ms. Lockwood opens her front door for us. Elijah sends her a warm smile that is quite clearly fake. 

“Elijah, Elena, what are you doing here? What happened,” Shes asks and I fight the urge to tell her I’m here too. 

“I’ve had a bit of an incident, Carol. I’m hoping you could help.”

“Well, I’m on my way to a meeting, so I-”

Elijah steps forward, “We won’t take but a minute of your time.”

After a moment Carol’s face brightens, “Of course. Anything you need.”

He thanks her as we walk through the threshold of the house. 

“Well, first things first. I’m going to need a change of clothing.”

“Well, we can try one of my husband’s suits. I haven’t boxed them up yet.”

“Wonderful.”

Ms. Lockwood walks away and Elena turns to Elijah, “How did you know she’s not on vervain? 

“Cause I’m the one who got her off it. Right before you and your friends killed me, twice. If you’ll excuse me. I’ll be done in a moment.”

Elijah walks off and Elena and I stare at each other, “Well this seems to be going well,” I say sarcastically and Elena rolls her eyes.

—

I hold the glass of water in my hands tentatively as I watch Elena watch Elijah who glances around the parlor we’re currently sitting in. I’m sitting next to Elena on a sofa while Elijah sits on a chair across from us. 

“So, I assume the Martin witches are no longer with us.”

“No,” Elena says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“And Katerina. She would’ve been released from my compulsion when I died.”

“Klaus took her. We think that she may be dead.”

Elijah smirks, “I doubt that. Not Klaus’ style,” To which I nod my head in agreement. If some crazy guy has been tracking her for over 500 years I doubt he’ll give her a quick death.

“Death would be too easy for her after what she did.”

“I don’t understand. You say that you want Klaus dead. But you still made Katherine pay for betraying him.”

“I have my own reasons for wanting Katerina to pay. There was a time... I’d done anything for Klaus.”

“Were you guys like dating or something,” I ask which has Elijah turning to me with a disgusted look. 

“No, we were not…” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “dating. Klaus is my brother.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. 

I sit here with my mouth hung open as Elena seems just in as much shock as I am, “I heard that. I’m still processing.”

“Yes, I’m a little behind on the times But I believe the term you’re searching for is O-M-G.”

Elijah just sips his tea as he watches both of us go through the stages of shock.

“Y/n sweetheart, close your mouth or you’re jaw will start hurting,” I slowly close my mouth at Elijah’s words and he watches me with a smirk. 

—

“There’s a whole family of Originals,” Elena asks Eljjah as he goes to stand by the unlit fireplace. I stare at the fireplace and go back into thought of the other night. Staring at the lit embers of the Salvatore’s fireplace and the red-hot rage I felt when I believed that Klaus had killed Bonnie. There’s been moments in my life where I’d felt angry or upset about things but never in my life had I felt that amount of anger. Just thinking back to it has me clenching my fists in my lap. I’m not an angry person. I’m not a bad person. So why could all I think about was making Klaus hurt?

“Y/n? Are you listening?”

I look over to see Elena looking at me wearily. I stare at her blankly and then look to Eijah who is already staring at me. He looks down at my clenched fists and his lips move downwards. 

“What were you saying,” I ask Elijah trying to sound nonchalant as I place my hands under my legs. 

Elijah stares at me for a moment almost unsure before he clears his throat, “My father was a wealthy land owner in a village in eastern Europe. Our mother bore seven children.”

Elena stands from her seat, “So your parents were human?”

Her question has me wanting to roll my eyes. What an idiotic question. I make myself uncomfortable with that thought though and how cruel and unlike me it was.

“Our whole family was. Our origin as vampires is a very long story, Elena. Just know…we’re the oldest vampires in the world. We are the Orignal family. And from us all, vampires were created.”

“Right, but Klaus is your brother. And you want him dead?”

“I need some air. I’m still feeling a tad… dead,” He walks past Elena and I towards the front door, “Come.”

I take a deep breath as I stand up and walk behind Elena and Elijah. Hoping a walk in the fresh air will clear my thoughts. But when I look down at one of my opened palms I freeze. Raising my hand I see four red fingernail cuts with slight specks of blood around them. My eyebrows furrow as I look at the wound. Did I just do this to myself?

“Y/N, are you coming,” I look to see Elena standing by the threshold waiting for me. I nod as I put my injured hand in the pocket of my sweatshirt and put that under “Problems for another day” slot.

—

“So as you’ve seen’ nothing can kill an Original. Not sun, not fire, not even a werewolf bite. Only the wood from one tree. A tree, my family made sure burned.”

“That’s where the white ash for the dagger comes from.”

“Yes. The witches won’t allow anything truly immortal to walk the earth. Every creature needs to have a weakness in order to maintain the balance,” Elijah responds as he leads us through the garden at the Mayor’s house. I trail behind him and Elena not feeling exactly ecstatic for yet another history lesson.

“So the sun can’t kill an Original. Why is Klaus so obsessed with breaking the sun and moon curse?”

Elijah smiles, “Right. The curse of the sun and the moon. It’s all so…Biblical-sounding don’t you think?”

Elijah looks at both of us oddly, “What’s so funny?”

I listen with eyebrows drawn together as Elijah tells us about the time years ago when Klaus drew the drawings for the curse.

“I don’t understand…Klaus drew the Aztec sketches about the curse?”

“Roman scrolls, African tribal etchings and any other culture or continent we felt like planting it in.”

Elena still seems confused, “But why?”

“Easiest way to discover the existence of a doppelganger or get your hands on some lost, lost moon stone is to have every single member of two warring species on the lookout.”

“So it’s not Aztec at all?”

From the smirk on Elijah’s face and the oddness of this all I’m going to take a wild guess here, “It’s a decoy isn’t it?”

Elijah seems happy with my connection and nods his head, “The curse of the sun and moon is fake. It doesn’t exist.”

We walk with Elijah some more before he starts talking again, “Klaus and I faked the sun and moon curse dating back over a thousand years.”

Elena shakes her head, “But if there’s no curse…”

Elijah cuts her off, “There’s a curse. Just not that one. The real one’s much worse. It’s a curse placed on Klaus.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Klaus has been trying to break it for over the last thousand years. And you were his only hope.”

“Well, what is this curse?’’

Elijah doesn’t answer as he reaches into his chest pocket and pulls out Elena’s ringing phone, “Your phone won’t stop its incessant buzzing. Answer it, please.”

Elena grabs the phone and answers the phone call from who I’m guessing is Stefan but her mood instantly changes to what I think is fear. I step closer to her trying to hear what Stefan’s saying but I can’t. 

“No…no,no,no…Okay I’ll be right there.”

“Elena what happened,” I ask her.

“Klaus went after Jenna. I have to go to her.”

“I’m afraid that wasn’t a part of the day’s arrangement.”

I get heavily annoyed at this, “Well obviously she didn’t plan for your brother to go after Jenna,” I turn to Elena, “You go I’ll stay here.”

Elena looks at me wearily and I know in any other situation she wouldn’t leave me alone but it’s Jenna we’re talking about here. 

“I’ll be back,” She turns to Elijah, “You have my word.”

“That doesn’t mean anything to me until you live up to it.”

Elena thanks him and with one last look at me she runs back to her car. Elijah and I stand there silently as we watch Elena’s car roll out of the driveway and out of sight. The silence is anything but comfortable as I stand still watching the road. From my peripheral though I can see Elijah now staring at me.

“God, you need to decide if you want to ignore me or stare at me,” I grunt as I start walking back towards a white picnic table overlooking the pond. I can hear Elijah’s footsteps behind me.

“You’re upset with me,” He says matter-of-factly.

I place my ass down on the seat and Elijah sits himself on the other side of the table. He watches me and I just stare at him for a moment before huffing. Honestly, I am not mad at him and I’m not sure why I’m as agitated as I am.

“No, I’m not.”

Elijah quirks a brow, “My mistake,” He smirks slightly but it drops when he sees my blank stare.

“Let me see,” He reaches his hand across the table with his palm open.

“You already have my phone, remember.”

“Not your phone. Your hand. I could smell the blood on it the second you cut yourself. Now, let me see.”

“No,” I say defiantly.

“Y/n…I just want to see it,” I look back over to him and the small smile on his face has some of the agitation I’m feeling slip away. 

I bring my hand up and show it to him, “It’s not a big deal.”

Elijah takes my hand in his and he brushes his fingers over the small wounds. He has a deep frown on his face as he looks back up to me.

“Did I make you do this?”

I shake my head in confusion, “What? Why would you ask that?”

“When I was telling my family’s history I saw how you seemed to check out. Was it something I had said?”

I stare at him and his almost saddened face for a moment before clenching my eyes and taking a deep breath, “No, Elijah. It wasn’t something you said.”

“Then what was it,” At his continuous questioning a surge of annoyance builds within me again. 

“Jesus, why do you care,” My burst of emotions don’t seem to set him off and he just sends me a small smile. 

“When it comes to you I’ll always care.”

I take my hand from his but he doesn’t move his empty one from the table between us. As if waiting for me to place mine back in his. After a moment he reluctantly brings his hand back to his person. 

“Why,” I ask him.

“You know I can’t tell you that right now.”

His shrug off has my anger bursting again and I glare down at the table in front of me.

“How long has this been going on?”

I send him a look, “How long has what been going on?”

He looks at me like I’m a puzzle with a missing piece, “The bursts of emotions and anger you’ve been feeling. I can see it clearly from your face and your body. Something’s angering you. And if you say it’s not me than what is it?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Elijah gives me a “Are you serious” look, “So I can take away whatever is paining you.”

I think to myself for a moment before responding, “Well lucky for both of us if everything goes as planned than what is paining me will meet his demise soon enough.”

At my admission Elijah sits back slightly, “You’re talking about Klaus?”

I nod and Elijah’s frown deepens, “I thought you said he didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t, other than a few choices words and the way he acted around me, we didn’t interact much. But he did hurt Bonnie. And when I thought she was dead all I could think about was how much I wanted him to hurt.”

I look up to Elijah waiting for whatever unnerved look he’s going to have on his face. I haven’t told anyone my thoughts about this because I didn’t want them to think I’m some violent freak but when I look at Elijah all I see on his face is understanding. 

“I understand your hurt. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you and your friend. Is she alright now?’’

I’m weary about telling him Bonnie’s actually alive but something in my gut tells me I can trust him.

“Ya, she’s alright now.”

“What does it feel like, this anger?”

His question has me silent for a moment as I think it over, “It isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s like it takes over my whole body and I can’t think straight. It scares me,” I admit the last part quietly.

Elijah looks at me and his eyes show something I can’t put my finger on. He catches me staring and changes his face into one of nonchalnce. 

“What you’re feeling is normal Y/n. You’ve experienced more in the past few months than many will experience in their entire lives.”

I almost groan at the textbook explanation.

We sit there is silence for the next few moments until I see his expression change to one of slight confusion, “You said between your choice words and interactions you had with my brother? What were they?”

I think back to the day of the 60’s dance and frown, “He just stared at me weirdly in the beginning. And I went up to him asking him what was wrong, still thinking he was Ric, and he just gave me the cold shoulder and told me not to bother him. But then later that night at the dance he…kind of helped me. I guess.”

Elijah frowns and his next words come out low, “Helped you how?”

I remember the slight not heart attack I had and decide worrying anyone about that now is a bad idea, “I just choked on my drink a bit and he just made me sit in a seat and gave me some water to help.”

Elijah nods but from the look on his face I don’t think he entirely believes me, “Anything else?’’

I begin to shake my head and then stop, “When I figured out he wasn’t Ric he said something.”

“What did he say?”

“He said something about understanding now why he would like me or something like that. I don’t really know what he mean’t by that. Do you?”

Elijah stares at me and blinks once. Then twice and then once more before he slowly shakes his head. His reaction has me unnerved. And that’s exactly how he looks, unnerved. Almost spooked. And whatever spooks an immortal who can’t be killed is definetly going to make me nervous.

“Elijah? What’s wrong?”

Elijah instantly fixes his posture and leans forward, “You’re to stay away from my brother Y/n, do you understand me? Give me your word.”

At his urgent tone I frown, “Well I mean I’m not going to bring a basket of muffins to his house and welcome him to the neighborhood if that’s what you’re talking about.’’

My joke only seems to agitate him more, “Y/n.”

His voice comes out hard and stern making me instantly nod my head, “Ok, Elijah. I know.”

My agreement seems to ease him a bit. We hear the sound of a car pulling in and I watch as Elena climbs out of her car and walks to us likes she’s a woman on a mission.

“I’m sorry.”

Elijah voice has me turning back towards him and his face is now one of sorrow, “Sorry for what?”

“Back at the dinner party, I hurt you,” He gestures to my right thigh, “It was the last thing I remember doing while being daggered. And even in my comatose state it was all I dreamt about. I told you I would never hurt you and I did exactly that and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

I’m taken aback by his confession and the look in his eyes overwhelms me. 

“It’s ok, Elijah. You didn’t know. Ric and Damon took you by surprise it’s not your fault.”

Elijah opens his mouth to speak again before Elena cuts in, “Tell us. What is Klaus’s curse?”

—-

I sit next to Elena, back on the sofa from before, as Elijah stands before us. After Elena got back Elijah guided us back inside.

  “You know, my family was quite close but Klaus and my father did not get on too well. When we became vampires, we discovered the truth. Klaus was not my father’s son. My mother had been unfaithful many years before. This was her darkest secret. Klaus is from a different bloodline. Of course, when my father discovered this he hunted down and he killed my mother’s lover and his entire family.”

My eyebrows raise at everything he’s telling us. And even though I hate Klaus, as someone with a strained paternal relationship I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Not realizing, of course that was igniting a war between species that rages until this day.”

Elena and I share a look, “A war between the species?”

Elijah nods, “The vampires…and the werwolves.”

Wait. If Klaus’ birthfather was a werewolf…holy shit.

“So Klaus’ real father was from a werewolf bloodline? What does that make Klaus? A werewolf or a vampire,” Elena’s question has me sitting up in my seat but a part of me already knows the answer. 

“He’s both.” 

I’m going to puke again. 

“A hybrid would be deadlier than any werwolf or vampire. Nature would not stand for such an imbalance of power. Therefore the witches, the servants of nature saw to it that my brother’s werwolf side would become dormant.”

“That’s the curse that Klaus wants to break?”

“He wants to trigger that part of him that’s a werewolf. If allowed, Klaus would sire his own bloodline. He’d build his own race. Endangering not just vampires…but everyone.”

Elena stands up but I stay seated as I try to process all this new information without puking up my lunch on my shoes. 

“But you helped him,” Elena says to him.

“I helped him because I loved him. That’s changed. Now he must die.”

“We have the dagger now. We can stop him,” Elena be so fucking for real right now. 

“When a werewolf is wounded by silver, it heals. An Original can’t be killed by anything but white oak ash on a silver dagger. So you see the conundrum. The dagger does not work.”

“What are you saying that Klaus can’t be killed?”

“There’s one way to kill any supernatural species. At the hands of the servants of nature themselves.”

“A witch. If they can channel that much power. But it would kill them.”

“The curse must be broken during the full moon. When Klaus is in transition. That’s when he’ll be at his most vulnerable. A witch with enough power…can kill Klaus.”

“What if I told you that I knew a witch that could channel that much power,” At Elena’s last sentence I’m whipping around in my seat. Is she being fucking serious right now?

“Then I would tell you there’s one more thing that you should know,” Elijah then goes on to tell us how he found an elixir that could’ve saved Katherine’s life if she’d not run.

“You found a way to save the life of the doppelganger?”

Elijah looks down at the floor, “Yes, Elena…I did,” He walks past her to come to stand next to where I’m seated, “But unfortunately, Katerina took matters into her own hands first. I believe you already know how that played out.”

“You cared about her didn’t you,” At Elena’s question I look up to Elijah who is already staring down at me.

“It’s a common mistake I’ve been told. It’s one that won’t happen ever again,” Our eyes are locked for the what seems like an eternity before he glances down at my hands and clears his throat. 

“We should be going now,” He says before he reaches his hand down for me to take. I grasp his hand and he gently pulls me up. He drops my hand as soon as I’m up though and walks towards the front door leaving Elena and I standing there in shock. 

“I need a drink.”

Elena shoots me a look, “You don’t drink.”

“Damnit, you’re right.”

—

 “Stop!”

Elijah has moved in front of me to shield me from the two buffons in front of us who are fighting each other. Elena drove the three of us back to the Salvatore mansion and as soon as we open the door we heard Yoda and the demon harassing each other. 

Elena steps down the steps towards them and I go to follow but Elijah puts out his hand to stop me. He shoots me a glance and a shake of his head. Guess I’m staying right here then. 

“Now you’ve invited him in,” Damon gawks at Elena.

“Elijah and I have renewed the terms of our deal.”

“Really,” Damon’s sarcastic voice ticks me off.

“Can’t you just listen for 30 seconds before making an unwanted comment Demon,” I yell over Elijah’s shoulder at the blue-eyed vampire.

“Shut it, pukey. I wasn’t talking to you,” Damon barely has time to finish his sentence before Elijah flashes in front of him and shoves him backwards.

“You will watch you’re tone when speaking to her. Or better yet,” Elijah picks invisible lint off his shoulder, “Don’t speak to her at all. Am I understood?”

Damon growls underneath his breath which has Elijah stepping towards him and Damon holding up his hands, “Fine.”

Elijah walks back up to stand in front of me and next to Elena as if he didn’t just threaten Damon, “The two of you will come to no harm at my hands. I only ask for one thing in return.”

“What?”

“An apology.”

A loud guffaw escapes my lips as I hunch over clenching my stomach.

“A what,” Damon’s tone only has me laughing louder and I feel Elena slightly nudge me to get a grip. I lean against the railing to catch my breath as Stefan steps forward and looks up to Elijah. 

“I’m sorry for the part I’ve played in your death. I was protecting Elena. I will always protect Elena.” 

I let out a small “aw.”

“I understand,” Elijah glances towards me. And then we all turn towards the Demon in the room. 

“Sacrifice is going to happen, Damon. Bonnie will be able to kill Klaus without hurting herself and Elijah knows how to save my life. I told you I’d find another way. And I did.”

Damon glares at Elijah, “Is that true.”

“It is.”

“And you’re trusting him?”

“I am.”

“You can all go to hell,” Damon bites out as he walks away.

“Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming,” I let out. 

Stefan shakes his head, “He’s angry with me right now.”

“Damon’s always angry at you.”

Stefan looks at me for a moment and his upper lip twitches before falling back into his tortured look. 

“But, he’ll come around.”

“Perhaps,” Elijah responds.

We all stand there for a moment before I yawn. 

“You should get some rest,” Elijah says to me. 

“I don’t really want to go home right now. Empty house and all. And since, he who shall not be named, doesn’t have to be invited in…well y’know.”

“You’ll stay here,” Stefan says to me, “For as long as you need.”

“Let’s just hope this is over soon. I don’t want to live under the same roof with that thing,” I point towards the direction Damon went, “For too long.”

[fantasylandblues]

modern!lucemond college au

modern lucemond fics have had a real chokehold on me for a while, so here's my attempt at a lucemond college au! (i wanted to include some minor jacegon at some point but still don't know how's that gonna go lol.) this turned into a whole ass drabble but just hear me out (and pls be nice!!!):

Lucerys Velaryon (22) is an undergrad student majoring in ocean studies. Aemond Targaryen (26) is getting his post-grad in modern-age westerosi politics at the same institution, the Crownlands College of King's Landing, Westeros, of valyrian tradition.

in his free time, Lucerys takes theatre lessons at school. he has a scholarship and makes the best of it, although he wouldn't consider himself to be particularly bright (he also has some trouble focusing). he walks with the determination of someone who's got places to be, though maybe that's just to appear stronger or more confident than he actually is. Luce's got a somewhat tall build now, but years of being undermined by his peers have worn down his shoulders and his joyful, boyish appearence.

his older brother, Jacaerys (24), is the one who got him into theatre in the first place, although Jace now pursues his passion for the martial arts, teaching children and teenagers alike. he's known for being short tempered among his friends and family, but is as good with those kids as he once was with his little brother during their formative years. they currently share a two bedroom apartment and often hang out at their neighbors', Baela and Rhaena's, sisters who sometimes feel like perfect female versions of them.

Aemond lives alone, but often meets up with his confidant and cool sister Helaena (27) at the campus restaurant. Helaena is an English professor there at Crownlands with a passion for teaching medieval histories. she has the study of biology as her main hobby and is often seen carrying a book or two on entomology which she borrows from the library on her free time.

it's not uncommon to catch Aemond at the olympic pool well past everyone's school hours, swimming focusedly as a way to clear his mind. he comes from a somewhat influent family, the Targaryens, and knows he will soon be introduced to the actual world of westerosi politics, so he gets to focus all of his energy on his studies and training, almost as if striving to achieve the best version of himself. back home, he cares for his pet lizard, Vhagar - named after the goddess of war in valyrian mythology, a name only his sister could come up with.

he's lost his eye and gained that terrible scar in a scrap with his brother many years ago, which needless to say went too far. he remembers seeing Aegon with their father's letter opener in hand, and then waking up in the hospital to his mother's worried eyes. there are days in which he proudly wears unnatural, dark-colored prosthetics, and days in which he just puts in a clear one and patches it up.

his brother Aegon (29) works remotely as a manager in their grandfather's company, a job he doesn't particularly like but was left with no choice but to take. he is still recovering from the car accident that left him paralysed from the waist down and with severe burns along his body. with his little daughter by his side, he's been dealing with this new life surprisingly well, as well as finding a new joy for parenting.

despite being bitter for years on end, Aemond could no longer hold a grudge against him after the terrible accident. they have been finding ways to remedy their relationship ever since.

beloved by his colleagues, Lucerys is easy to talk to, somewhat extroverted and ballsy, even, although he would rather shield from too much intimacy. being gay is an issue he thinks he's got handled, thank you very much, if that means getting with guys in seedy corners and never bringing that up in conversation. people know, of course, but it bothers Jace that he's never ever heard a mention of a special name.

that day, he strides out of the school's pool bathrooms with the uneasiness that's left in the bottom of his stomach after one of those types of encounters. a few swimmers are packing their stuff up for the day, and he looks just so out of place in his jeans and t-shirt.

Aemond knows confidently what he wants, yet is hard to approach for those who haven't earned his trust, and would very much like to mantain that hardened image. but it doesn't bother him that he craves like a human being, that he craves small and he craves grabbable, just enough to leave small bruises where his hands have been, and he would definitely benefit from fisting a handful of those brown locks he's just laid eyes upon. or maybe he shouldn't be thinking that while clad in nothing but tight swim attire.

let me know if this is anything! my askbox is open for feedback and shenanigans~

[mariondeux]

I kindaa want idia to wreck my ass rn, can i request prince!idia with butler!mReader where's the reader get a rough ass pounding in the throne room with other servant looking.

idia somehow gain confident after seeing butler reader at vulnerable state before ( like reader usually strict and malicious on public just to show people that he's dominant, so probably idia saw reader either jerking himself or something; whining like a submissive boy ), maybe add voice kink and creampie, please ignore if the plot kinda meh or against the rule thanks!! Have a great day <3

— SYNOPSIS ; Idia catches you stroking yourself in a pathetic hiding spot in the throne room. Once he makes his presence known, you immediately apologize and ask for punishment. He’ll gladly punish you.

CW ; NSFW, public sex, throne room sex, voice kink, creampie, rough sex, manhandling, bruises

WORD COUNT ; 828

PAIRING ; Prince!Idia Shroud x Butler!Male!Reader

A/N ; I love this loser so much oh my god.

FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.

This was new. Idia watched as the usually strict and malicious butler (that he thought was annoying at times) acted like a completely different person. Your pathetic attempt at a hiding spot behind a pillar at the far corner of the throne room hardly concealed you. 

Muffled whines struggle to make it past your hand as you quickly jerk yourself off, clearly determined to come as quickly as possible. Your eyes closed, hips bucking up into your hands. Each little whine or whimper that made it past your hand went straight to Idia’s cock. Your usual assertive voice could give him a headache if he heard it long enough, but hearing you whimper like that made him feel things towards you he’d never felt before. This new, vulnerable side of you was absolutely delicious.

Never in a million years would he think he’d ever gain the courage to make such a ballsy move, but the sounds you made were so hypnotic. You were practically begging him to come closer, like a charmer and a snake.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, using both of your hands to cover your exposed cock. Your eyes widened, blood running cold at the sight of prince Idia Shroud staring at you.

“Your Royal Highness! I apologize for my highly indecent activities. I’ll accept any punishment you give me.” You hurriedly tucked your cock back into your pants, repressing a whine as you hadn’t yet gotten your release. You got onto your knees, body positioned at a 30° angle with your head hung low in shame.

Idia stared at you for a second, taking his time with taking in your vulnerability. A sharp, creepy smile twisted onto his face, showing off his threatening sharp teeth. He enjoyed this side of you more than he should’ve.

“I have the perfect punishment in mind for you.”

When you brought up punishments for your indecent behavior, you were expecting food restrictions, sleeping out in the stables with the horses, or even being stuck with doing most of the maid’s chores. Yet, here you were, tightly grabbing onto the arm of the throne as Idia fucked you into a blabbering mess.

“Oh, fuck- Don’t stop, sir!” You moaned loudly, legs and arms trembling as you struggled to keep your body stable. His cock plunged into you so roughly, tugging at your insides as his balls slapped against yours. Idia’s hands on your waist grew tighter, knuckles nearly growing white under the black leather gloves he wore.

Idia’s body loomed over you, hips striking your ass as the sound of slaps of skin against skin echoed around the room. Your body wavered, feeling your limbs slowly give out from underneath. You couldn’t utter another word, not with constant moans preventing you from trying to form a single syllable word. Your head rested against the arm of the throne as your body leaned further against his. Your right arm lets go of the throne, reaching down and stroking your weeping cock. You weren’t particularly disappointed you received proper punishment. In fact, this form of punishment was the best outcome out of your little slip up.

“I want to hear you whimper and whine for my cock.” Idia grunted, his right hand riding up your back, making you arch into his touch. You let out a shaky hum of confirmation, quickly swallowing up your saliva before you could start drooling over how good your prince was fucking you.

You two had completely forgotten that other staff of the palace had access to the throne room. You two were so engrossed in your own activity that you hadn’t noticed the shock in the other servant’s faces as they watched you go at each other like rabbits in heat.

Idia let out a loud groan at your needy words, fucking you at a frenzied pace as his hands shifted to hold on to your hips with a bruising grip. His head hung low, mouth open as he murmured curses under his breath. He slapped his hips against yours a couple more times before burying his cock inside of your ass as deep as he could go, making you feel his cock pulsate, emptying himself inside of you. He ground his hips, milking every last drop of his semen. 

He pulled out a little, listening to your whimpers as he gazed down at the cum dripping onto the cushion of the throne.

TAGLIST ; @exhokai @shuvies @venniin @4kumaa @ambassadoro @noahrandom @1694 @ajaints @berrycolaa @twst-rui @kytesakuma @secretivemessenger @yumixxn @gay-as-hell-blog @bokutosproperty @rennie-1 @leoyayzies @nazunis @maxx0inwonderland @resluv @kangdae @miyuuuki @harumagi

[sempsimps]

Gregory + Cheslock x reader nail painting

So they are separate, but I wanted to paint their nails okay, so I'll do wholesome first, and I'll add a line for NSFW stuffs. All right, chill :)

Gregory-

-He loves to paint his nails it's just like normal painting, and it looks pretty, although it isn't typically for males, but he doesn't mind

-It's a good distraction when life gets too much, ya know, and he will do Cheslock's his if he asked for some help

Late in the evening, chilling in his room, talking or just sitting in silence and carefully doing his nails.

"So, how was your day"

Gregory looked up at me and sighed deeply before giving an answer.

"It was... busy"

I nodded and carefully turned his hand to get a better angle to paint his thumb.

"Yeah, you are a prefect, after all. You get a lot of ... uh sidequests"

a tilt of his head told me he thought it was an odd description but smiled a little, shaking his head. I applied the polish once. twice, three times, and then it was done. now to do the other hand, which he gave quickly. softly admiring the first set as they dried, glistening in the light, once I was done, he stared at them for a while.

"Thank you"

"Don't worry, I'm happy to do them"

I smiled and started to do my own nails to look pretty. But as I felt a hand reach out for mine, I looked up at him. He glanced away before asking.

"Could i do them for you?"

"Oh y yeah, have at it"

His touch was gentle, and he did the same treatment I did for him. He seemed to either know what he was doing or was a very fast learner. Either way, they looked immaculate by the end.

Cheslock-

-I feel like he has a little bit of anger management, and painting / picking the nail polish works to calm down. but he can't do it himself that well, so he either gets Gregory, or you to do them, it looks better, and he'll feel a little bad about ruining it, but it's better than blowing up at people.

-and if people judge, he just yells at them. idk

-He likes to rant doing it since you'll listen to him, but it's like a comfortable silence when Gregory does it. Instead, Cheslock wouldn't start the conversation unless Gregory did. idk

He sat cross-legged on the floor, one hand in your lap that was being yassified using the other hand to gesture during his new rant.

"And then he went on to say I was in the wrong! like I wasn't educated in the subject. Also, I'm a damn prefect! He shouldn't argue with me of all people!"

He gestured with his spare hand to emphasize his point, showing frustration with the student by waving it in the air and occasionally pushing it forward. As I attempted to paint his other nails, some polish smudged onto his skin. However, I chose not to say anything, as it was best to allow him to stim.

"Wow, really? and what else did he say?"

I was genuinely curious about what this ballsy person had to say. I briefly paused in the nail painting to look at him, my eyes asking for the continuation of the story.

"Oh, don't get me started, he continued to -"

He kept telling me what happened and soon had to switch hands, keeping still to let them dry. When this happened, He remained silent, smiling at the completed set, feeling both amazed and impressed at how quickly it was done despite his fidgeting. Once it was done, you started painting your own nails, not wanting to end the conversation just yet. However, then it was lights out, and you both went to your separate dorm rooms.

=====okay here's the spicy ideas i had for the same thing=====

warning

cock warming

men whimpering

Gregory is a bottom / Cheslock is a top (SEPARATED THO)

(send me feral ass outside to touch grass, or water, or fire, like anything not electronic, or in my house)

trying not to move?

doing two things at once??? I guess??

Gregory-

I was deeply focused on the hand I was painting carefully running the brush along it, but the hand I was holding suddenly flexed, and I smeared some of the nail polish onto his skin

"Hey, keep still, please,"

"mh trying"

I felt him twitch at my words. I was on top of Gregory, his member inside of my hole, with my thighs on either side of his waist. Gregory's head was lulled back on the pillows. He was biting his lips, trying his best not to move. his other hand digging into my thigh to keep him grounded. he was panting a little and occasionally let out a whimper. It was cute because I had only done three nails on one hand. and there was so much left to do. he was already this sensitive, trying his hardest not to thrust up into me. I was just finishing the fourth nail, but I leaned over to gather more polish from the bottle resting on his chest. coating the brush again, as I moved Gregory whimpered. I felt a slight shift of his cock, this made me pause and let out a shaky breath, as my hole clenched, in response to it another soft buck made the bottle of polish almost tip, and my thigh have a slight spasm. I was teasingly slow with it, but it was getting to me now, I understood why he was coming undone so fast, but I wasn't going to leave a job halfway done.

Cheslock-

it was getting hard to focus. All I could feel was Cheslock, his hands resting on my chest, and playing with my nipples. my legs were around his waist as he sat on the heel of his feet. and his cock was deeply buried inside of me, as a random roll of his hips made me lose my brain every time. his teasing laugh echoed in the room.

"Hehe, come on, don't you want to make me look pretty?"

"y yeah, just ah, it's g getting increasingly! difficult. t that's all"

I snapped back. I planned to do it, just that, but this position was making it hard. Even breathing was a challenge to do while he was being a prick and purposely making me mess it up. As I painted his nails, I couldn't help but notice my hand shaking a few times from his teasing actions, leaving accidentally smudges of black nail polish on his fingertips. Cheslock didn't say anything, but his teasing tsk tsk let me know he noticed. As I finished one hand and started on the other, Cheslock calmly took the brush from my hand, closed the polish bottle, and moved it to the side. before slamming my wrists up and rolling his whole body fully connected to mine, leaning over to kiss my lips

Okay so I hope that was ya know at least enjoyable to read I had this thought with a friend they were innocent and I was like "But hear me out sex" and so here it is look at that I also ended them both quickly I was losing some motivation but oh well (i also hope its not very obvious who I like more o_o definitely not)

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Imagine being kidnapped by Tom Ludlow.

Hi anon. This got out of hand. I’m sorry. CW: mentions of child abuse/dark humor concerning it, rape/noncon fantasies and details. I write from a place of my own trauma, and it gets a little fucked up. If you don’t like dark fics, or are triggered easily, DO NOT READ THIS. Violence, bad cops, SA. Tom Ludlow is not the bad guy in this, though.

If you’re a big girl, a tall girl, a girl with a lot of muscle or fat, you probably haven’t been picked up off the ground since you were very young.

You question your femininity because of it, along with a whole lot of other shit that society decides to push on you for not having a traditional feminine figure…whatever the hell that is.

You often take on a more protective, mothering or masculine roll with your smaller or daintier or gentler friends. You don’t look down on them at all—or envy them too often. Some people just carry a unique tenderness that you wish the world had more of. But every little rainbow or sunbeam needs their strong protective cloud, and you mostly gladly, sometimes reluctantly take on this role.

You will never be a meek, kind, delicate person. It’s just not going to happen. You don’t want it to happen. You’re pretty comfortable with your role in life. It’s just…sometimes…and this is probably something that everyone craves in vulnerable moments…you want to be the one getting protected.

It’s just kind of exhausting, always being there for everyone else. As much as you love it, and you do, it can also really drain you.

The duality of man is that we can be more than one type of person, and want different things. You know this. But…it’s hard as hell to admit you want to be taken care of. Because doesn’t that ruin your tough facade? Your strength and independence? Doesn’t that let everyone know that you’re just putting on an act to cover up who you really are—a weak, sniveling girl?

That’s why you bottle up, keep things to yourself, regard the world cynically and humorously with a lazy shrug of your shoulder. You act like nothing gets to you, like you are a stoic guard at the queen’s gate, like a big mastiff on patrol of your sheep.

When you do wear an emotion, more often than not it’s either sarcasm or…anger. Like tonight, when some guy won’t leave your friend alone at the bar.

She’s visibly uncomfortable and attempting escape from the creep following her around. She’s too nice to tell him to go away, but you’re not, and you have had to put yourself between them way, way too many times.

“She’s not interested,” you tell him.

He sneers at you. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Except he fucking doesn’t, because ten seconds later he’s smacking her ass when she stands up, and you’re punching him in the mouth.

He hits you back, and it feels like a slap from a two year old, but it startles your fight or flight, and before you know it, your vision is blurry with rage and your fists are flying.

The security guards have to pull you off of one another and haul you outside to where the police are waiting with cuffs.

“He was harassing my friend,” you tell the guy who’s chaperoning you.

“Her ugly ass is just jealous cuz nobody wants her!” Screams scumbag from down the sidewalk.

Wow, you’ve never heard that one before.

One of the cops grabs him by the collar and says something that appears to be stern with his finger pointed at his face.

The guy looks visibly shaken after that, and he specifically avoids looking in your direction again.

The ballsy officer, probably in some sort of supervising position by the looks of it, gets to you next, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him.

You expect anger, but his face is neutral as he pulls a pen and paper from his utility belt. “Hello, ma’am, my name is officer Ludlow with the LAPD. You mind telling me what went on here tonight?”

You tick through the list of events as best you can, trying not to paint yourself as innocent (because with the way you beat on him, you’re definitely not), but making sure he knows what a fucking reprobate you were up against, and he scribbles it all down diligently.

After you’re done, he flicks his chin at the officer standing next to you. “Reed, let her go.”

They uncuff you, and you roll your arms, testing the circulation and rubbing out the raw red marks on your wrists. “Thanks,” you tell the lead officer. “You mind if I go back in and get my friends? There’s only three of us and I’m worried about them…”

“I can’t let you go back in,” officer Ludlow says, “but give us their names and descriptions, and I’ll send Reed in for them, alright?”

You nod, comply, and a few tense moments later Abby is running out to wrap her arms around your shoulders, smearing her glittery tears and pink blush on your jacket.

You hug her back, picking her up a little bit off the ground with the ferocity of your relief, and look at officer Ludlow over her head. “Thanks,” you tell him.

Tye, arriving from the thicket of people at the entrance a few moments later, immediately wants to know what happened.

She, however, is interrupted, by the asshole down the sidewalk, still in cuffs. “Hope you think of me when you see that handprint on your cute little ass tomorrow!” He calls, and Abby turns away, choking on a sob.

You’ve always had anger issues. Usually, in adulthood, they’re pretty easy to tame down. Not in this circumstance, not when you see Abby shaking and crying, looking as defenseless as a baby mouse.

Unbeknownst to you, because your sight and sound have been marginally narrowed to one person who needs his face bludgeoned in so hard that he finally shuts the fuck up, the head officer has already signaled for them to haul this guy into the back of a police car.

You’re not sure how you cross the distance between you and him so fast—you’re built for endurance, not speed—but suddenly your fists are connecting with his flesh again, and there’s a lot of yelling and pulling and finally your feet leave the ground and your knuckles leave his face.

It takes you a minute to realize you are being carried away—that your feet are not on land—and you look up at the person whose arms are currently wrapped around you.

Like mentioned before, it’s been a long, long time since someone has picked you up and you’ve lost your center of gravity so quickly and so thoroughly. Like a startled animal, you fight to try and get back to the ground, more out of shock and adrenalized fear than anything.

You don’t mean to scratch or bite the nice officer, you really don’t.

Ludlow just sighs at your resistance, like he could be doing something much more important right now rather than manhandling you into the back of a squad car like you’re an ornery kitten rather than a formidable opponent.

You are silenced into shock the whole way to the police station.

They put you in the waiting room sans cuffs, and you’re not sure how much time passes until a heavy presence plops down on the plastic chair next to you.

“Fuck,” is the first thing you say to Ludlow. “My friends…”

“They’re safe. I’m giving them an escort back home.”

He gives you some room temp water, and after the fear wears off, grants you enough time to come back to your good senses. You look at him sheepishly, with your head tucked down. “Sorry, he was a fucking creep.”

Ludlow nods. “I get it, hopefully I can get you out of it with a slap on the wrist.” He hands you some tissues from his breast pocket. “Wipe that blood off your face.”

You didn’t realize you were bleeding, so it’s a shock to finally feel the ache of a bloody lip and bruised cheek and see the paper come back crimson streaked.

After a few long moments of silence, you say, “I feel like an asshole.”

He shrugs, leans back, grins over at you. You fight the urge to flush at his crooked smile. He’s a handsome man. Sometimes you like those. “Asshole, no. Dumb, maybe. He could have really fucked you up.”

“I handled myself just fine.”

“Your split lip will disagree tomorrow morning. Lemme see.” He holds out his hand, as if for you to rest your chin in, and you’re not sure what brain malfunction gets you to comply. You are not a good listener by any means, especially for men in positions of authority or power.

Maybe it’s sexist, maybe it’s unfair. Spend your whole childhood getting the shit taken out of you by a man that’s supposed to love and care for and protect you, and then decide what’s fair and what’s not.

He whistles low, turning you this way and that with a tenderness you don’t expect from calloused, bear paw hands with knuckles like golf balls. “I’ll give it to you, you’ve got balls. Bigger than most men I’ve met.”

Your mouth betrays your tough girl facade, and lets a tiny smile hike up the edge despite the stinging pain that follows.

Officer Ludlow gets you out with a slap on the wrist—aka a misdemeanor—just like he said he was going to. You tell him thank you about ten million times for saving your ass, and for offering to give you a ride back to the bar to get your car.

“I’ve already put you out too much tonight,” you tell him. “I’ll get a Taxi or something.”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he says, jangling the keys in his beater pocket. “By the time you get to the bar, you’re gonna be towed. C’mon.”

You open the back door of his charger, but he shakes his head and, instead, opens up his passenger seat for you to slide in.

It’s about now you’re starting to get a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach, like something is off about this interaction. You’re not one to trust easily, and getting in the car with a complete stranger, although one in uniform, is out of character to say the least.

Your radar has really been fucked up tonight. By the alcohol, the scumbag, the being arrested, the bruising and tearing of your knuckles. What a way to end it, you think, if Ludlow is a bad guy.

The funny feeling in your guts that you decide to ignore this one time? It turns out to be right. And as Tom Ludlow starts driving up through the deserted hills, in the opposite direction of the bar your car is at, you almost want to burst out laughing at how stupid you are.

Asshole, no. Dumb? Fucking definitely.

You test his door handle and he snorts at you; like he’s saying, you think I’m that stupid?

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” you grumble, sizing him up from the corner of your eye, deciding whether to fight or flight or just give up now. He’s thin, but he’s broad. Tall. Not lanky. He won’t be easy to push over. You’ll have to bite, claw eyes out, rip his hair from his head. Make sure he doesn’t pull that shiny pistol out of his belt before you can jump on him.

You could do it right here in the car and risk barreling over the steep hillside on your right. You could—

“Hey,” he says, calmly, capturing you too easily from your violent thoughts, “it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A part of you wants to believe him, or maybe just believe there’s still some good in the world—some good in men. Hell, maybe leprechauns exist, too. You never know.

He looks sideways at you when you giggle in response to these reassuring words, as if you’re the one who’s fucking psycho. “I’ve heard that one before.”

He makes a pensive sound, air puffing from his nostrils, switches gears as the incline increases. “Daddy beat you up?”

Well, fuck it, might as well share all your sob stories if this is really happening tonight. “Uncle, actually.”

“Sorry,” he says, and you hazard a glance over to see if his face matches his empathetic tone—it, surprisingly, does. “He still alive?”

“No.”

You must be violently shaking to compensate for the repression of a panic attack, because his still, steady hand on your shoulder pauses the tremors. “It’s okay,” he assures, like he’s trying to soothe a crying kid. You have to admit, his voice is a cool ointment for hot nerves, even if he’s the reason for them in the first place.

The brain has a funny way of dealing with things like this. There’s about a 30% chance his intentions are raping you, because with his looks he could get any lady in the city of lights for free, but rapists and molesters rarely think about physical attractiveness when it actually comes down to the act. Psychologists say it’s more about the power trip for them. And, at least, if he is going to fuck you, he’s not exactly the worst man that you could pick to do it.

At least he’s hot, is what it boils down to. Because you’re a disgusting degenerate. Because your coping skills are a ticking time bomb, a broken record, stuck back at the part of your life where you had to start liking the way uncle Eddy touched you to deal with the shame and the despair of it.

Officer Ludlow’s gonna pick you right up off the ground again, slam you into his backseat, tug your pants and underwear down in one go. He’ll make you beg him to fuck your pussy instead of your unprepared and untainted ass, use his spit as lube, rub his meaty fingers over your puffy lips and taunt you when his saliva encounters your slippery cum. He’ll smack your ass for liking this, leave big red handprints, whisper in your ear that you’re gonna remember him, not just tomorrow, but for weeks after he gets done working your cunt. That he should kill you and leave your body out for the flies, but he wants you to live just so you can feel the way he destroyed your pussy.

The charger slows to a halt out in the sticks, and you have no idea where the fuck you are or how long you’ve been driving. The night is thick black soup in a boiling pot, and his headlights cut through it meagerly. It’s enough light to see what’s happening ahead, though, and when you look over at him curiously, he is grinning at you.

The man from the bar who assaulted your friend is in cuffs, an officer on each arm holding him in place. You don’t feel bad at all when you notice his swollen lip and purple temple, but you do wish you would have gotten more hits in.

Lucky for you, Officer Ludlow has you covered.

“Do you want to hit him?” He asks, unclipping his seat belt. “Or do you wanna watch?”

You blink a few times in response, not sure what to say to this brutally kind gesture. This man who barely knows you is helping you exact revenge against his own brethren. You’ve never been so…flattered.

“Don’t tell me you’re attempting to grow a conscience?” He teases.

“I wanna hit him.”

To your disappointment, Ludlow is not a total savage. He lets you get 3 or 4—it’s hard to remember the exact number—good hits on this dirtbag, and even wraps your knuckles up in a cushiony flannel from his back seat beforehand. His only rule is, “stay away from his ugly ass face. I don’t need him coming back to the station more fucked up than it already is.”

You get him in the stomach, the ribs, kick him so hard in his dick that you feel the hard pelvic bone underneath. Maybe it’s only a couple hits, but you make them count. And when you start to ache, or get tired, all you have to do is remember the tears smearing Abbie’s pretty glitter eyeliner down her face.

If he does say anything to you, you don’t hear it. Or maybe he really doesn’t, because Ludlow stands behind you like a watchful wolfhound the entire time, and then escorts you back to his car with a heavy arm over your shaking shoulders.

“Good job,” he praises, seeming very amused and unaffected by this whole ordeal while you are trembling, soaked with sweat, panting like a hooker in a fur coat. “It’s alright, he had it coming. Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

You do as he says, momentarily escaping your fury in favor of his calming voice and soft black eyes.

“You did amazing. Lemme see the knuckles.”

He takes your hand in his, and you notice the size difference first, and then the warm, damp, pleasant heat second.

There’s been a lot of firsts tonight: someone’s hands being larger than your own (big lady hands should’ve been your nickname in highschool), being picked up off the ground past the age of 7, a man going out of his way to do something nice for you—because your brain decides that’s how it’s going to frame this scenario whether you like it or not, as some fucked up little date on Tom Ludlow’s dime.

You feel safe with your hand tucked into his and the heat of his skin and the cozy intimacy of being belted into his vehicle. You feel grateful that good men still exist. You feel…tight, twisted up in some deprived box of longing you’ve made permanent home in.

You leave the sanctuary of your comfort zone, and have another first, as you cross his center console and kiss a man on his mouth.

For a moment where you feel like your heart is suspended on the edge of a very tall cliff, he freezes. This stiff resistance immediately makes you want to pull away, but, before you can, he wraps his hand around your chin and pulls you deep into his mouth.

Arthur from college, Monica from New Orleans…Hell, even Uncle Eddie—they have nothing on Officer Tom Ludlow with his big, slick tongue and muscular lips.

It’s so good you can almost ignore the fresh sting of your split lip.

He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and murmurs a laugh when you give him a low groan for the effort, then takes your angry little grumble and dampens it with his renewed fervor. His hands remain gentle and chaste on your face, your neck, your shoulders, even though there is nothing gentlemanly about the way he devours your mouth. He does not push for more, does not hold you down with those big hands that absolutely could if they wanted to.

You set the pace, you pull him closer, you push him back when you need to gasp for air.

He licks the taste of you from his tilted, beautiful lips. “You have to breathe through your nose, honey.”

“Sorry,” you say, crossing your arms over yourself, pressing back against the door, away from him.

His lazy smile droops. “Are you alright?”

”I just…Can you take me to my car? If not I can—“

The thick start of his engine cuts you off.

The car ride back is silent. You think about turning on the radio a few times, but don’t want to cross more boundaries than you already have. Luckily, he flips it on for the both of you and you’ve never, ever been so happy to hear Metallica.

When he parks, cutting the engine off in the nearly deserted garage, the tension between you immediately peaks, sizzling like vinegar on baking soda. He wraps a long limb over the back of your seat, looks confused—vulnerable for such a big, scary man, and he makes your heart twang a lonely cord.

He seems almost boyish, when he asks if he can take you out sometime.

And you want to say yes. Every feral primordial part of you does, anyway. But then there’s the rational part, the one that should and does win most of the time. You’ve already snubbed that part too much tonight, so you politely decline Ludlow’s offer, and with your traitorous heart padlocked and chained back into your breast cavity, you say goodbye to the nice officer.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 10

Summery: it’s been two months since Christmas, and there is a bit of distance between Jason and Y/N. but not to worry, Stephanie Brown is on the case!

Warning: swearing, fluff and sprinkle of angst if you squint I think?

Tag-list: @teapartydreams

Parts: ao3 series master list

Feedback is always welcome!

—————

March 2

Unknown (5:30 am)

Are you guys still together?

Did something happen between you and Jason?

Do I need to kick his ass?

Do need to kick your ass?

Y/N

Huh?

What are you talking about?

And who even is this?

Unknown

Please I just need to know if there’s something wrong

Your my favourite couple

And I haven’t seen Jason this happen in a long time

I need to know

Y/N

Who is this?

How did you get my number?

Did Jason give it to you?

Did Conner?

Tim?

But you didn’t get an answer. Sticking out your tongue, you set the phone down as you flopped back onto the bed. There weren't a lot of people who had your number, and the ones that do won’t give it away.

Rubbing your face, you thought back but no one came to mind. There was Tim, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn't do that to you twice. Would he? Groaning, you weren't sure anymore.

Before you could ponder anymore your phone started to ring. Groaning you palmed for your phone and answered it without glancing at the ID.

"You still haven't answered my questions?" the person said the minute the call went through furrowing your eyebrows, you pulled the phone away to see who called. It was the same number who had texted earlier.

"How the hell did you get my number?" you asked once the phone was back ear to your ear.

"Not important," she waved away your concern. "What is important is what happened between you and Jason."

"No. Whatever is between me and Jason is none of your business."

"It is, if he’s my brother." she shot back. Covering your eyes with your free hand and sighed. There's only one person you could think of who would be ballsy enough to confront you. Granted, you met her once and that was through a video chat. Through Jason. But you could tell they mean the world to each other. Even though Jason doesn't show it, you could tell.

"Stephanie," you said, cutting her rambling off. "If Tim gave you my number I swear.”

“What? No, I went through Jason’s phone for your number. And I have to say, your conversations are wild.”

“I swear to god.”

“I didn’t read all of it. I just wanted to know when was the last time you guys talked. And that was Valentine's day. I am not counting that, by the way. You guys just said thanks. Lame, not really a conversation. The real conversation was at Christmas."

…What?

“Has it been that long since we talked?" you asked in wonder, and thought back to what happened.

"Yeah, so? What happened between the two of you?"

“Been busy I guess. With school and work.” That was a lie and you know it. Apparently, you weren’t the only one. Staphanie scoffed and you winced.

“Don’t give me the same bullshit Jason gave me,” she said, “every time we’d ask, he’d say that or change the topic. Please can you give me the real reason?”

“So you can fix it?”

“So I can understand,” she stressed. “Jason was the happiest when he was talking to you. Now he just mopes around and snapping at everyone.”

“Oh.”

Guilt churned in your stomach at the realization that not talking affected him. To tell the truth, it affected you just as much. And it felt like too much time had passed to start again. Too afraid he wasn’t interested in you.

“So? What happened at Christmas?” Stephanie asked again, and you wondered where her patience came from. You dropped your hand from your face and sighed. It was no use, she was going to get it out of you one way or the other. You caved.

“He came to Metropolis after he called. So he spent the night. I, uh, woke him up from a nightmare and he didn’t react well.”

“What’d he do?”

“He attacked me I guess,” you answered, subconsciously rubbing your neck. The bruises had faded but for a while you were wearing scarfs and other clothing to hide them. Your friends had made fun of you for it, and you didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth.

“Shit.”

Yeah. Later he told me the story of how he died. Well, not the full story. Just said it was an accident and he was dead for a while.”

“But he told you about the pit?”

“Yup.”

That had sent you into a rabbit hole when you got home. When Jason had dropped you off at home you couldn't stop replaying your conversation and being curious you went online trying to find everything there was to know what the Lazarus pit was, and the group of assassins. Naturally it just gave you verses from the bible, and could find nothing on the League of Assassins.

Not one to back down from a challenge, you went diving into the dark web. There, you got all the information you wanted and plus some. The only downside was that you got someone's attention. Wanting to know more you followed the person and immediately closed the laptop.

You nearly destroyed your computer when you followed the single.

Not wanting Batman to find anything on you wiped it and just used it for school. Well not before creating a backdoor to Batman's computer. Who knows, maybe you'll need some information that only Batman has.

"Are you scared of him?” Steph asked, voice quiet. "Because then I get why there's radio silence from your end."

"And Jason’s end?" you asked not sure if you wanted to know the answer to.

"Sort of. He's scared of losing you. So he's keeping his distance. Waiting for you to stop pushing. He thinks it worked. Which makes him stupid, because he likes you and shouldn't do shit like that.”

"And I'm not helping.”

"And you're not helping."

"Okay. Okay, I have a plan. But it's going to take me a couple of hours "

"Ooh, tell me."

“Just going to do some baking.”

"Can I have brownies?"

"Only if you tell me what everyone else's favourite baked goods are."

"What? Boo, you shouldn't, they were going to come and bombard you. I talked them down."

"If you want your brownies, tell me.”

"Oh, I see why he likes you. Fine. But get my brownies first.”

You laughed, and grabbed a notebook and pen to write down your list. After your phone call with Stephanie, you made a list of the things that you need.

Quickly getting changed, you grabbed your keys and wallet, and left for the grocery store. An hour later, you were panting slightly in your apartment with grocery bags around your feet. You wondered slightly if you were going over bored. But waved the thought away.

Once gaining your breath, you began your baking mission.

Stephanie (10:30am)

How's it going?

Y/n

Uh....

There's a chance I might have gone overboard.

Stephanie

What?

Y/n

*A picture of all types of cookies, pies, cakes, and scones scattered around the kitchen.*

Stephanie

Holy shit.

Why?

Y/n

I don't know what happened

One minute I'm making cookies, the next I come to and this is all made

Stephanie

I don't see brownies

Y/n

*An imagine of brownies baking in the oven*

I've made two different types

Stephanie

If things don't work out with Jason

I'm available

Y/n

I'll keep that in mind.

Stephanie

:D

So, how are you going to bring that to Jason’s?

Y/n

Is he home?

Stephanie

Uh, like me check

He is not, he’s at Bruce’s

Y/n

I thought he hated spending time there

Stephanie

He sort of does?

Y/n

What does that even mean?

Stephanie

It means that he mopes around the house

And Dick told him to go home it all he was going to do is mope

Jason said he would rather be where people are than at home

Y/n

Oh.

Stephanie

Yeah

So! How are you going to bring me my brownies?

Y/n

Uber?

Stephanie

I think the fuck not

Y/n

Then what do you suggest?

Stephanie

I'm so glad you asked

Y/n.

I have regrets

Stephanie

Dick is going to be around your place in an hour.

Y/n

Stephanie!

You didn't have get him to do that

Stephanie

What? He's my brother

Plus he wants those cookies

Y/n

Not your brownie?

Stephanie

No, those are mine

And I will throw hands with anyone who thinks they can steal them.

Y/n

Okay

Remind me not to come between you and your brownies

Stephanie

Good

I don't want you to learn the hard way.

I like you.

Y/n

I like you too.

Stephanie

Enough to leave Jason for me?

Y/n

Ha!

No, you'll just use me for my brownies.

Stephanie

Touché

So, can Dick come by?

Y/n

You're not going to take no for an answer

Stephanie

Oh you know me so well

Y/n

I've known you for a day, if even that.

Stephanie

Who says friendship can't form so quickly?

Y/n

Wait, did you say an hour?

Stephanie

Yup

Y/n

Make it two

An hour won't be enough time

Stephanie

What?

You still have things to bake?

Y/n

Ha!

No, after the brownies are done, I need to let them cool before packing them up

Plus I need to shower and change.

I smell so bad all sweaty and stuff

I think I have flour up my nose

Stephanie

That is to much info

Y/n

I thought we were friends?

Stephanie

We are

Were just not that close yet

Y/n

Mm. See you in a couple of hours.

You and three others have been added to a group chat.

Something that actually makes sense, sometimes

Conner

DID YOU AND JASON BREAK UP

Ellie

Real smooth Conner

Y/n

What the fuck is this?

I didn’t consent to this group chat

Conner

Answer the question y/n

Unknown number

Yeah Y/N

Answer the question

Y/N

Who the fuck are you?

Unknown number

Jay’s best friend

Who the fuck are you?

Y/N

Jason’s…….something

You’ll have to ask him

Conner? What the fuck?

Conner

Oh, yeah that’s Roy Harder

He’s in Star City and Jason’s friend

Y/N

Ellie, I’m going to kill your boyfriend

Ellie

Yeah that’s fair

It was Connors idea

I told him not do it

Apparently he didn't listen

Conner

Ellie

How could you?

Betrayed by my own girlfriend

Ellie

Not sure what you expected

Roy

Whatever we have more pressing matters to talk about

Conner

Yeah, it’s a matter of life and death

Y/n

Have you been talking to Tim?

Conner

Don't worry about it

Y/n

I'm going to kill him

Ellie

Please answer him

He wouldn't shut up about you and Jason

Y/n

No we didn't break up

Just I don't know

Not sure what happened but in fixing it

Don't worry

Conner

I will worry about it

Roy

Jason deserves the world

Two hours later, there was a knock on the door. "It's open!" you called from the kitchen. From your place at the sink, you listened as the door opened and closed. Light footsteps made their way through your apartment, and soon their owner stood at the doorway.

"Do you always have the door unlocked?" Dick asked, thumb pointing over his shoulder.

You glanced at him with a shrug and turned back to your dishes. "No. I keep it unlocked when I know someone's coming over and when I'm busy that I can't answer the door."

"You still should have it locked.” he said with a frown, "you live in Gotham.”

"Ya but nothing happened yet.”

"Yet being the key word." You made a face but didn't answer. "So, want to tell me what's going on between you and Jason?"

"No, not unless you want cookies.”

"Shutting up now," he said, with a smile.

“That's what I thought. Now, help me with all this,” you said, putting the last dish away and gesturing at four bags of baked goods.

Dick whistled lowly as he looked through the bags. "Steph wasn't kidding when she said you went a bit overboard.”

"What can I say? I wanted to make an impression.”

“Yeah, but isn't this to much for Jason?" Dick asked grabbing two bags as you grabbed the other two. He followed you through the apartment, and watched with amusement as you struggle reaching for your keys that were in your pockets. You made a sound of victory when you pulled them out.

"Oh no, this isn't all for Jason. He has his own container of sweets,” you reply, turning around to your door and locked it. "See, locked." You said pointedly.

"Doesn't count, you're not even in there. You're leaving," he counted, you stuck your tongue out and made your way to the elevator. "Okay, then who are the rest for?" he asked turning the conversation back to the baked goods.

"You, your brothers, sisters, Bruce, Alfred and whoever else lives there.”

"Even for the dogs, cat, cow and bat?" You paused and looked at him as if he grew an extra head. The way he said bat told you there some washing more to that, and you’re not entirely sure you wanted to know.

"You have a pet bat? And cow?”

"It's a long story."

"Yeah, I don't think I want to know," you said, and turned back to the elevator. You both stepped in once it opened. After pressing the ground floor button you answered his question, “no, but if they're the jealous type then I can pick some treats from the store since I need to get something anyways. What do you get a bat and a cow anyways?"

"No idea, Damien is usually the one to fees them,” Dick replied with a shrug. "What do you need at the store?”

"Tea," is all that you said.

“Jason doesn't drink tea,” Dick pointed out as he stepped out of the elevator and made his way through the parking garage to his car. You followed close behind and shrugged.

"I know," you said, sniffing. "Doesn't mean I still can't get it. Do you mind?" Dick studied you for a minute, and you did your best not to fidget.

"Sure, but only because I'm curious."

"Sure Jan." Dick laughed and loaded the bags in the car. Once the two of you were seated and buckled, you told him which store. To which he proceeded to look at you in surprise, saying that it was an expensive store. "I know, but I also know what I can and can't afford"

"I guess you do," he mumbled and pulled out of the parking garage.

As Dick drove through traffic, you made idle chatter, talking about everything to nothing you could think of, when silence fell between the two of you, you debated on asking a question. Before you could, he pulled to a stop in front of the store.

“Thanks, I'll be back in a few," you said and left the car before he could say anything. You browsed through the store until you found what you wanted, and within minutes you were sitting beside Dick "See? I didn't take to long"

“No kidding, '' he said and pulled out into traffic. "Usually people take long when they say it won't take long.”

"I mean yeah but I knew where to find it."

"Plus you want to see Jason."

"Plus I want to see- hey! Don't put words into my mouth," you said, poking his arm. Dick raised an eyebrow at you. Slumping into your seat like a chid getting scolded, you signed. "Okay. So I want to see Jason. I miss him, sue me”

“And get my ass beat by him? I'm good," he said, and you snorted.

“This coming from the guy who almost fought a couch? I'm sure you could win.”

"Are you betting against your boyfriend?"

"I didn't say that!”

"Mm sounds like you're implying it," Dick teased, you stuck your tongue out and shrugged.

"Why'd Steph ask you to drive me?" you asked, changing the topic. Dick snorted and shook his head. "I could have just taken a taxi or something,"

"Yeah but she doesn't really trust public transportation," he answered, "it was either me or Alfred. And I don't think you'd like a limo drive up at your place." You winced at the thought. "Yeah that's what Steph thought too.”

"Okay, but why you?" you asked, ignoring his hurt pout he sent you. "You don't live in Gotham, and yet you seem to be always here. At least when I talk to Jason."

"I'm here on the weekends, but sometimes my job brings me here." You gave him a confused look and thought back to your conversation with Jason a while back.

"Oh right. You're a detective."

"You don't have to sound like it's a lame job," he pouted.

"I'm not saying that. I just forgot that’s all." You two lapsed into silence for a moment before you posed your question. "Did you ever find the missing college students?"

"Yup. It ended up being a human trafficking ring."

"Yikes. Did they find every one?"

"Yeah. some were a little hurt and traumatized but nothing too serious."

"That's good" you murmured, "I'm glad their okay."

"They should be thanking you," Dick said, turning right. "You were the one to bring it to the cops attention."

"All I did was talk to Jason. Asked if he could talk to you about it," you said, shrugging.

"Yeah but without you it could have been a lot worse.” You didn't have anything to say to that, so you stayed quiet.

With the conversation coming to a close and no other topics came up, you spent the rest of the drive looking out the window in silence. You liked Dick, but it wasn’t the same as talking to Jason.

With Jason, it didn’t feel like he was judging you. He encouraged some of your ideas and help spark others. He wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bull, and told you the things that you needed to hear.

With Dick, you had a sense that he was holding back. Like he was afraid to say the wrong thing that would make you run away.

Which was absurd, given what you know about Jason and all the research you’ve done after Christmas. It wasn’t going to make you run then, so whatever he wants to say won’t make you run now.

Granted, the two of you haven’t talked since Christmas, and you can admit that you needed time to process everything. But this all could have been avoided if you told Jason that you needed a minute. It also didn’t help that Jason pulled away too.

But you were going to rectify that starting today.

Dick pulled to a stop, bringing you out of your thoughts. You blinked in surprise at how big the Wayne Manor actually was, and wondered if it was possible to get lost in it.

Dick laughed and you turned to him confused. “It’s possible to get lost, trust me.”

“Good to know,” you mumbled, flushing that you’ve said that out loud. Quickly getting out of the car, you grabbed the bags from the back seat.

Before you could even walk towards the door, it opened and Stephanie came bounding towards you. “Brownies!”

“Steph! Wait!” But it was too late, she tackled you into a hug and the two of you tumbled to the ground. You grunted at the impact, and watched as the bags fell to the ground around you.

“Oops,” she said as she looked at the bags. “Sorry.”

“If I would have known you’d tackle me, I wouldn’t have gotten them out of the car,” you said, waving away her worry. “No worries. I should have seen it coming.”

"So," Stephanie said, arms and your neck as she leaned in with a knowing smile. One that you didn't trust one bit. "Brownies?" The question startled a laugh out of you, and you shoved her off of you.

"Help me bring them inside and you can have them,” you answered, and she jumped up and offered you a helping hand. Which you took.

"I can do that," she said, grabbing a bag or two.

"You know, if I didn't know better I would have guessed the two of you were dating,” Dick said in amusement, watching the two of you from where he stood. You laughed and shoved a bag into his arms.

"She only wishes,” you said, threading an arm through Stephanie’s.

"Damn right I do." She laughed and the three of you made your way to the house.

As you walked towards the kitchen, Stephanie and Dick chatted while you looked around the house in wonder. This place was huge and more than you could ever afford.

"So, why’d you bake so much?" Dick asked, putting the bags on the counter. You blinked in surprise that you made it to the kitchen without realizing it.

"Don't know," you answered with a shrug. "Felt like doing something nice. And yeah, I'm sure Alfred could do this and it'd taste twice as good, but I figured I could give him a break, you know? Since he’s taking care of a lot of people, the man needs a break."

Silence fell in the room as everyone stared at you in shock. “What? What’d I say?”

"You're like the opposite of Jason," Tim said, breaking the silence. "I am unsure what you see in him." You blinked and looked up from your unpacking and shrugged.

“Guess that's something you'll always have to wonder about," you replied and went back to sorting everything. "Okay. Steph your brownies," you said, pushing two containers towards her.

You winced as she squealed, and hugged them to her. "I have chocolate chips, snicker-doodles, and oatmeal cookies. Apple pie and pecan. And the tea is for Alfred. So if you could tell him that. I would appreciate that," you said as you pointed out the different snacks out to everyone.

"What about Jason?" Stephanie asked, peering into her containers of brownies. "You did this for him right?” You held up a special looking container and smiled when she pouted. "I see how it is. Jason gets the special treatment while us nobodies just get boring."

"You have brownies, but if you have a problem with that then I’ll just take them back," you replied, reaching over the counter as if you were going to take them back. Stephanie pulled the brownies further from you and stuck out her tongue. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked around and frowned when you noticed that Jason wasn't here. “So, where's Jason?" you asked. And your stomach flipped with nerves when the exchanged looks.

"Todd's in the library," Damien answered as he walked in. "He needed a moment before joining us later."

"He doesn't know I'm here, does he?"

"No, I made sure no one told him,” Stephanie replied before stuffing a brownie square into her mouth.

"Cool cool cool cool," you muttered and reached for Jasons container full off sweets. "Mind telling me where it is?"

"I'll show you,” Dick said, already moving to the door. "Like I said, you'll get lost if you don't know where to go."

You nodded and quickly followed him after waving to Stephanie. The walk to the library from the kitchen was silent and you felt there was no need to fill in the silence. Dick motioned towards the door of the library and wished you luck before leaving you alone.

You looked at the door for a minute, your stomach in knots wondering if this was a good idea before you could change your mind you took a deep breath and opened the door. Your jaw dropped at how big the library was, and you wanted to spend time walking through. Wanting to discover what kind of collection Bruce Wayne had. But the need to see Jason outweighed the need to explore.

You walked further into the room and found yourself coming to follow a slight shoring. The closer you walked towards it the louder it became. And soon you found Jason sleeping on a couch in what looked like a reading nook. Your gaze softened as you studied him, before looking for a blanket. Finding one you grabbed his book that was lying on his chest and covered him with the blanket.

You set the container of sweets and his book down before picking a random book from the shelf and sat down willing to wait for him to wake up. Judging by the black bags underneath his eyes, he could use some sleep.

Jason woke up to a soft humming coming from beside him. He groaned and covered his face with a throw pillow. "Steph, I said I wasn't in the mood. Shut up and go away,” the humming stopped, but only because the person he thought was Steph scoffed.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or offended that you see me as your sister.” The voice said and Jason froze at the familiar voice. "But considering I would like to kiss your stupid face, then I'm offended."

Jason peaked over the armrest and blinked in surprise. You were indeed sitting on one of the sofas, peeking over your book hiding the smile he knew was there. "What are you doing here?"

"A little birdie told me that we've been avoiding each other. And I plan to fix that."

Jason made a face. "Was it Tim?"

"No. It was Stephanie," you replied. "You should really keep an eye on your phone.”

"I'm going to kill her," he growled and moved to get up but you were quicker, and pushed him back on the couch. Now sitting beside him, you nuzzled into his side.

"Don't be mad at her," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist. "She cares about you and I'm glad she said something. I'm sorry for being distant for the last two months. It was a lot of process and I guess I needed time. Sorry I didn't say anything. That's on me."

Jason signed, and wrapped his arms around you, while resting his head on you. "I forgive you. I'm sorry too, guess I thought you were too scared or something so I thought l'el let you go." You scoffed and poked his side, smiling when he squirmed.

"Don’t think you’re not getting rid of me that easily," you said, "like I said at Christmas. I trust you no matter what. Besides, I've read some of the stories about the group of assassins. And let me tell you, if those didn't scare me off you wouldn't.”

"Good to know," Jason mumbled, and pulled back when he realized what you said. "What do you mean you've read some stories about them.?" You avoided his gaze and shrugged. “Y/N,” he said and your shoulders dropped.

"So my curiosity got the better of me and I went into a rabbit hole of research."

"I doubt Google would have anything on them," he commented wryly. You nodded and scratched your nose sheepishly

"You would be correct," you said, "on another note. Did you know Batman monitors certain words on the dark web?"

"Please tell me you didn't?" Jason groaned, head falling onto back of the couch exaggerated.

"M’kay I won't."

Jason groaned and closed his eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know, but at least I can keep you on your toes," you answered with a giggle. Jason only grunted. "Anyway, hungry?" Jason cracked an eye open to glance at you questioningly. "What? I did some baking this morning. "

"Why?"

"Why not?" you questioned back and pointed towards the container of sweets on the table beside him. Jason reached over and set it on his lap before opening it.

'That's a lot," he commented as he looked at all the goodies in it. You shorted and reached for a chocolate chip cookie.

"You should see the stuff in the kitchen," you said, taking a bite. "I baked so much it's a bit ridiculous."

"How long were you awake?"

"Uh, I think Steph woke me up around five five-thirty-ish. But I didn't start baking until seven. Don't worry, the ones in the kitchen are for everyone else. These are for you that way you don't have to share. Well, except for me if that's okay."

Jason looked at you in awe as you continued eating your cookie, unaware. "You are amazing," he said, leaning in to kiss your temple. "Have I said that yet?"

"No, but you could say it more often," you said with a smile. Jason only grinned and grabbed a cookie.

"I think that could be arranged."

"Good, and don't you forget it."

[silent-sanctum]

If you can, you do Jotaro x reader where the reader (gender neutral) is a very famous music celebrity and how Jotaro handles the being with someone who is famous with their daughter Jolyne in their life as well. Love your work and hope everything is good with you 🩷

Thank you anon! 💖 Kinda stressing out over paperwork over here but it's all good nonetheless! 🫡 You're request is heard and I hope I did your request justice with this short fic. Hope you enjoy! ♡

My Universe - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2.2k

One of the perks of having your spouse be a famous global soloist, is having a kid with them and have said child be their number one fan if Jotaro wasn’t already.

Sure, he may not necessarily like all the discography you put out for your fans, but that’s normal for anyone. You did mostly pop with some R&B on the side, and he was more of a jazz man himself. But he did have his personal playlist of favorite tracks he’d listen to time to time on repeat.

But Jolyne was on a different level than he was- she adored you off-screen and on-screen. If you were at home or at least around her, she’d have a field trip being with her idol: She’d get her hands on every merchandise that’s yet to be released, listen to songs yet to be heard, and get special access to VIP areas only meant for artists.

How about the time spend with Jotaro?

Well, aside from musing your daughter with all the perks and love from a celebrity guardian, there were times you left Jolyne with her own bodyguard and babysitter, and used the free time to roam the city with your husband and do whatever they wanted to do.

Initially, your personal life was kept secret from the world, choosing to separate and not involve it with the life of stardom. And that was still the case back when you and Jotaro were still dating. You posted a lot on your social media, mostly pictures of your “selcas”, outfits-of-the-day, food items, behind-the-scenes special from your stages, nature shots, and pictures with fellow celebrity friends.

Once in a blue moon, your fans would blow up social media whenever you decided to be ballsy and post pictures of you with Jotaro, his face hidden thanks to his hat and mask. The content of the image was relatively tame and “neutral”, but given the context behind these pictures- the intimate proximity of the two, the matching color palette clothes, the rare posting of him in general- might as well made your fan base theorists.

“Boyfriend reveal when????”

“Bestie, please share the tea to the world”

“Hello? The couple fits?? The cute poses??? Call me delulu but-”

“All of you are being weirdos. Stop invading their privacy”

“Yeah the dude could be her cousin or brother or something”

“Girl they be dropping these lovey-dovey ass pics and still wonder why we’re this delusional”

“Uhm cousin?? Brother?? With those pictures? Weird but pop-off ig”

You’d receive many posts of similar flavor all over your timelines and you admitted to liking whenever your fans talk about the love of your life as if it’s a conspiracy theory and most of them coming from a supportive mindset. It irked Jotaro for a moment when said community managed to somehow track both his formal account used to document his research findings, and his private social media account where he posted pictures of scenery similar to yours.

But there were the rational handful who were able to veer them off his ass, dismissing their claims as false despite hitting the nail on the spot.

Eventually, once you shifted to a more flexible and lenient agency, you decided to reveal to the world that the popular music icon was engaged and to be married the next week all through a single image of your hand brandishing a ring on your ring finger with a bride emoji as its caption.

“GOOD MORNING???”

“MARRIAGE?!!”

“THEY IS GETTING MARRIED YALL”

“And yall called us crazy for saying they had a boyfriend all this time”

“We boutta get Papa Star amongst us”

The fans and the general public went wild and aside from the obsessive ones, most of your community sent their support.

Despite your relationship now public to everyone, Jotaro still wanted to keep himself mostly anonymous to the news. So whatever images were taken with him in it was blurred out with the default blur effect or an emoji sticker- a “star” one to be specific-covering his face whenever it was shared among fans.

The community erupted with loud awes and cheers when you announced to the world that you were going to have a baby girl in the family in one of your interviews.

“OMG???”

“Alright baby protectors, it’s our time to RISE”

“Much love to the little onee”

“I will defend this child with my life.”

“Shooters for baby girl where yall at?”

“Oh she bout to be the luckiest mfer with all the merch exclusives”

Years later, Jolyne grew up to be her parent’s number one fan, doing exactly what your fanbase had thought of when she’d grow older.

Going back to the present, you found yourself stuck knee-deep in your career doing a sold-out world tour, performing for thousands of cheering people in cities across the world. This wasn’t your first tour and you’ve found a decent routine to follow when doing so, but this year was a first for you.

You expressed both in social media posts and in interviews that burnout began to hit you full-time and a multitude of nagging negativity clouded your head as you kept up with all the schedules, production, and practice sessions for majority of the year. You’ve been so busy that time spent with your family this year was little to none. You constantly shared that hopefully sometime in the middle of promotions, you could return home to your family.

Jolyne felt it watching you through the screen. Jotaro felt it too.

All of them missed you and he wanted to do something about it for once.

By the time September came, your world tour came to a close with one last concert to be done in the Rose Bowl Stadium in California. Both him and Jolyne were never able to attend to any of your concerts due to work and school, but timing was in their favor for once and he made the most of the opportunity.

He got into contact with your manager, someone he became close acquaintances with, and notified of them coming over to watch your show. At first, Jotaro just wanted to be there with your daughter in tow, but the manager and a couple of the crew members in-charge of the set list had different plans.

He agreed to it.

With the VIP tickets secured and their booth ready for them, Jotaro and Jolyne flew across the States with eager anticipation and excitement, the latter mostly radiating off from the little girl.

Eventually, the day of the concert arrived and your daughter couldn’t contain herself from running about, unable to wait any longer for her to watch her other parent sing and dance live for the first time. During the day, rehearsals were done before the show proper and a handful of lucky fans were able to watch it.

Thanks to a streamer fan’s dedication and generosity, Jolyne was able to watch you walk about the stage in cozy casuals interacting with your community through a live stream in her phone. From time to time in the middle of preparing things needed for a concert, Jotaro would tune in as well, happy to see you even if it was from a live feed.

Hours later, he rented a car nearby and drove both of them to the beaming stadium, teemed with cheering crowds of fans falling in line either to enter the venue or to purchase on-site merchandise. On the lampposts and the walls were banners of you welcoming everyone to the event.

To avoid getting mobbed, both father and daughter kept themselves hidden from any passing person with a hat and mask as they walked across the area to the stadium’s entrance. To everyone else, they might as well be an ordinary dad-and-daughter duo who were also fans of their favorite artist.

Jotaro followed the instructions sent to him by your manager and headed off to a more discreet entrance where they didn’t have to worry about any lines or people complaining of why they get to enter first and not them. A guard stationed by waved them inside and led the family into their seats overlooking the brightly lit stage. Before the platform were thousands of light sticks waving in the dark, belonging to the fans singing to songs being played as they waited for you to start.

Beside him, Jolyne sang along with enthusiasm, shaking her own personalized light stick to the beat of the music. He would do the same in an alternate universe, but here it just wasn’t his thing.

After a few minutes, the music faded off into silence and the lights dimmed until the stage cast the whole venue in darkness. The crowds cheered and many miniature lights shook in the night. The speakers suddenly blared a remix of one of your title tracks and the jumbo screens flashed to show a VCR containing a mashup of you in a concept film, introducing your theme as a music artist to your audience.

Then as the dancers brought in the energy with their entrance, the stadium exploded with excited screams as you rose up from the below and walked to the front, passing by your back-up dancers until you stood in front of everyone. A second after you greeted the crowd, you switched demeanor and joined the others in choreography.

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile and clap by the time you finished your introductory performance, contrasted by his daughter’s loud screams. He watched wistfully at you speaking with the audience, sweating from all the dance and singing.

It truly was something different watching you live versus watching a live broadcast from home. You’re so near and yet so far from him.

And so far, the rest of the evening was spent like this with you; the beloved soloist performing many of their hit songs ranging from hard hitting beats with impressive dance routines to soothing ballads that had you simply sitting on a fancy stage prop all dolled-up to match the aesthetic of the songs.

Jolyne never pried her eyes away from her other parent, always focused on you and making sure she sung, danced, and responded to your every questions with the devotion of a true, hardcore fan.

By the time the concert was near its end, you were standing in front of the crowd in a cozy outfit akin to the aesthetics of a person living in a humble cabin in the woods. Supposedly, this segment was supposed to be for when you brought up a box of mixed Q&A and dares for you to do.

However, as you said that you were about to start with the bit, the screens beside you changed from showing an arcade-esque “Break Time with Y/N” to a simple “You have special guests watching you”.

Out of the blue, spotlights turned to Jotaro and Jolyne’s booth and there they were- clear as day on the jumbo screens. Everyone cheered yet again as their way of greeting their favorite artist’s family. And even as Jotaro froze on spot, tipping his hat over his eyes as he offered a small wave, his little girl beamed and waved her light stick at the camera.

“I’m here! Hello!”

Jotaro, from what he could see from under his hat, fixed his gaze on the other jumbo screen where it showed your reaction to the surprise- you were crouched on stage, one hand waving at your child, while the other covered your mouth as he saw tears well up in your eyes.

You didn’t expect them to be at your closing concert but seeing your family present was enough for you to break character and fixate on the loves of your life. “Ah really, you guys…”

In response to your happy tears, the crowd cried out a nearly-synchronized “don’t cry!” prompting you to let out a wet chuckle and sniffle.

It occurred to him that he could do something while the cameras were on them. He reached for his phone from his coat pockets and with a few taps, he showed the screen to everyone- a mobile digital message with the words scrolling across the black screen in neon yellow:

Congratulations on your successful world tour. We love you <3

“Ah! You’re gonna make me cry again!” You said, whining as you swiped your eyes free from the new batch of tears ready to fall. He chuckled back. “Everyone, that’s my husband and baby girl. I love them and the fact that they’re here makes me the happiest person right now.” The crowd cooed.

“Now that they’re here, I’m all the more charged up to perform for everyone!” You said and the stadium cheered in response. With one more long look at your family watching from their booth, you continued. “Hope you all enjoy the rest of this night as much as I am enjoying right now.”

With Jolyne’s suggestion via a whisper, Jotaro turned to his phone and changed the message one more time before the camera diverted away from them. This the message scrolled by in neon green saying:

Let’s celebrate! Let’s eat out later! Our daughter is starving.

Your fans expressed a mix of laughter and wholesome “aw’s”. In turn, you smiled and with both hands grasping your microphone, you replied back to them with a curt yet loving, “Of course. My treat.”

[foreversagacious]

jesus christ man, ur art is sick, keep doing u and just know if u go for the grift, if u make a "fixing your art" YouTube channel even though theyre so fucking annoying and dumb run by entitled ass 26 yr olds who went to art school, u can make a lottt of money if ur rly 14 and lean into that gimmick, as wel as the actual merits of ur shit cus. like bro if i had a time machine. and i was in ur shoes. honestly do it. go for the grift. fuck the merits of art anyway it doenst mean shit. "art is dead" but not in the cringe bo burnham way but in the way where being a furry is slowly being poisoned by capitalism as companies notice that demographic can be profitable (this is why furries need to be actual freaks. but not you you are like a child. just do whatever u want man i dont care dude)

but forreal you should make one of those art drama channels where u fix peoples art so there are less annoying ass fucking 26 year olds who talk like assholes on purpose and being intentionally divisive and annoyingggg running those channels that genuinely suck balls and dick and cock at art . like ok i shoudlnt be saying this to a 14 year old. sorry for the naughty words. balls are the orange things with black lines on them on a baskertball cvourt. mihcale jordan.. yeah..... he was tall as fuuuck boy. anyway ur art is cool and made me have an internal crisis because i am like almost 3 years older than u and leagues behind. but that's ltierally so cringe because we both love skibid toilet because we are both basically children so oh my god so much in common! wha tthe fukkk this is like when the hipies invaded the white house. or sonmething. i love peace and love on the earth oh m god dude skibidi bop yes yes. skbidi biden is kind of fucking hard as fuck though bro i aint even gon lie to u i aint even holdin u to that it kind of is actual heat,. this is on anon man, but i dont even care, i speak for the communitnmy, i hope u never sell ur soul for the art world and community, but if u do, i hope u make a shit ton of money for it because art youtubers are fucking annoying as shit but make a ton of money. do it bro i swear to god youll get huge if u lean into the 14 yr old thing god DAMN im old now oh my goddd DONT GO INTO A RETAIL JOB!!!!!! well, u should for the experience, but DONT GET STUCK THERE AT LEAST. EXPLOIT YOUR COMPANIES TIME. SLACK OFF ON THEJOB. UNIONIZE SECRETLY AND DONT TOLERATE NARCS AND SNITCHES. art "fixing" channels are lowkey scabs like they are the type to be worker scabs but also god damn man they are a scab on the art community cus theyre ANNOYING AS FUCKKK I DONT CARE IF THEYRE ETHICAL ONES THEYRE ANNOYING. I literally dont fucking take them seriously like oh my god ok bro yes aw ohm y god wow! anyway. becvome one of the scabs. the art youtube scavbs not a worker scab. make money. then dip and god please god dont turn 26 ever, i have ten good years maybe and then boom iim that colleen girl and i have to killmyself! dont do it !!! dont do it

holy shit wow. that is a whole disquisition and a half

thank you though i appreciate the fact that you took the time outta your day to spam my inbox with kind (and equally as questionable) words!!

i havent really been able to draw cus of exam season but here you go chew on this stupid dirk doodle til i have the time to whip up something a little less ballsy

peace out mwah mwah youre awesome and i will be looking deeper into the bill gates foreskin couch conspiracy

[ladykissingfish]

*Deidara waking up in bed, groggy and confused*

Deidara: What the hell? *groans* My head … what happened last night?

Deidara: *turns his head to the left and notices the many empty beer bottles scattered along the floor*

Deidara: Dammit … this is exactly why I told Hidan I don’t like drinking, hm! My body feels like shit and I can’t remember a thing!

Hidan, next to him: Please shut the fuck up before I kill you, blondie.

Deidara, startled: What the — why are we in bed together?! Oh god I didn’t … WE didn’t …

Hidan: Relax, bitch. They just put me in here ‘cause they didn’t wanna clean up our puke from a lotta different places.

Deidara: *lifts the blanket and blushes* Oi; why are we both naked?!

Hidan, turning on his side and pulling the pillow over his head: So loud! I always sleep naked, asshole. You, you took off your pants ‘cuz of Uchiha.

Deidara: … Itachi? What does he have to do with anything??

Hidan: Fucker dared you to get naked and go confess your gay love to puppet-dick, remember?

Deidara: WHAT?!

Hidan: If you scream one more time I’m cutting your fucking nuts off. You spent all night drinking and going on and on about that ugly-ass redhead and finally Uchiha told you to stop bein’ a pussy and do something about it.

Deidara: Itachi said to “stop being a pussy”? Really?

Hidan: Fucker gets weird when he drinks. Anyway you stripped and we went to puppet-dick’s room. You did a “mating dance” for him with your dick swinging and shit, and at the end you kissed him then ran away giggling like a fucking weirdo.

Deidara: *pulls his own pillow over his head* Oh my god … yeah okay, go ahead and kill me, Hidan, hm. As soon as Sasori comes to find me, my life is over anyway!

Hidan: *rolls back over towards him* Hey, cheer up, bastard. I mean yeah what you did was fucking stupid but it was kinda ballsy too. *laughs* Literally, “ball-sy”. And if Red don’t want you, I’m pretty sure mask-boy does. He was looking so hard I thought I saw blood running out of his eye-hole!

Deidara: So not only did a lot of you see me naked, but I completely botched my confession to Sasori and made it so that now he’ll never take me seriously. That scythe of yours is sounding better and better every second.

*the door opens and Kakuzu and Sasori walk in*

Kakuzu: Come, brat … *bends and lifts Hidan out of bed and into his arms* We have a mission this afternoon and I need to get you sobered up before then. Let’s get you into a bath.

Hidan: Yeah, yeah … later, blondie.

*once Kakuzu is gone, Sasori shuts the door and sits at the edge of the bed, a cup of tea in his hands*

Sasori: Drink this. I’ve crushed some powders into it that should help with the headache you likely have.

Deidara: T-thanks, Danna. *quietly sips his tea and tries to ignore Sasori’s gaze on his face*

Sasori: So. I was thinking now might be a good time for us to have a little talk.

Deidara: Danna please believe me, I am so sorry about what I said and did. You know that wasn’t me, that��s not how I am, right?

Sasori: So you’re not in love with me?

Deidara, blushing harder than ever and looking down: Well, yeah, I am, hm.  I meant the dancing naked thing, and whatever other stupid thing I did last night, hm. That’s not me.

Sasori: Alcohol is certainly a funny thing, isn’t it? Lowered inhibitions can be quite the mixed bag. But, despite everything … I’m glad you told me, Deidara.

Deidara: R-really?

Sasori: Mm. I’ve had some hours to think about it, to really think about what you said, and my own reaction to it. And … *gently takes Deidara’s hands* I believe I have some pretty strong feelings for you as well. I have for quite some time. *chuckles* I suppose it took seeing your very brazen “dance” to make me realize it.

Deidara: Oh god …

Sasori: And seeing you naked like that, well, it made me feel almost desperate to see you like that again.

Deidara, flustered: D-Danna … that’s really flattering but I … I’m n-not ready for that yet? I mean shouldn’t we start with a date or something first and then work our way up to —

Sasori: No, no, brat. I meant I wish to closely examine that mole on your backside. It’s quite large and should be removed. Don’t worry; you’ll only be incapacitated for a couple of weeks, the pain in your buttocks will be minimal, and when it’s all over, then we can have our date.  *stands up* Now finish your tea and come to my lab. The sooner I can cut into you, the better. *leaves*

Deidara:

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 10

Whether you like it or not, this will leave you in... Suspense.

Character: Eustass Kid Reader: cis!fem Warnings: Suspension bondage, degrading talk from Kid, reader giving oral, dirty talk, Reader calls Kid Master, begging, messy oral, 18+

Summary: Teasing Kid comes with a price, and more so when you risk flashing his friends in the process. Loosely a part two to Naughty Mouse -:- 1489 words

-:- Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3

Knotty Mouse

Your breath came out heavy, and you couldn’t stop the needy moan that escaped you every time he tightened a knot.

“Listen to you, little rope whore.” Kid teased, tugging the rope against your slit and watching you squirm. “You’re ready to pop just from getting tied up.”

“It’s… it’s not just the rope.” You whine. Your outfit from earlier was still mostly on you, shoved aside and bunched up in places leaving all the parts Kid intended to utilize easily accessible. The thick knit sweater was bunched up so much that it was almost hard for you to see around it.

Your lacy bra had been pulled down enough to free your breasts, and the ropes had been run under your skirt and over your thigh highs.

“I still can’t believe you went the whole night without anything on under the skirt. Mouse.” He grabs the rope harness and pulls you close. “If someone else had seen…”

You were suspended off the floor just enough to be waist height with Kid. He was bent low so his warning went straight into your ear, his hot breath rolling over your neck.

“N-No else would’ve dared,” you insist.

Your arms were folded behind your back, anchoring ropes were connected from your shoulders, hips and thighs. The harness and the other ropes gave enough control to Kid, but not any to you. All you could do was squirm and dangle.

“Not on purpose, no.” He agrees. There’s a loud crack and a sharp sting as his hand connects with your ass. You yelp, more in surprise than anything else. Leave it to Kid to suspend you from the ceiling and still leave himself enough room to smack your ass. He slaps the other cheek just as heavy as the first, and your yelp is more pain than surprise this time, as your body twists a little in the ropes.

“Some parts of you are really only for my eyes, Mouse.” He clarifies.

“Y-you always threaten to ta-take me in public, or in front of the guys.” You whine, face and body hot at the thought of both. Your current predicament adding to the thrill running through you at the thought of it all.

“Arguing with me right now? That’s pretty ballsy, Mouse.” He says, voice heavy on your pet name. When he hangs on the word it almost makes you feel like you’re being hunted.

“Not arguin-HAA-SHIT!” You swear as he twists your nipple roughly. “Not arguing!” You cry out and he lets up. “Just… just sayin’.”

“Mm, if I put you in those situations, it’d be because I put you in those situations.” He says, his voice right by your ear as his fingers tease your nipples. “Not because you decided it.”

“S-Sorry! I’m sorry!” You cry out as he slowly starts pinching your nipples a little harder. “Please, please, Kid I’m – hnnngh – sorry!” He’d given you one last harsh twist before letting go.

“Learned your lesson then?” He prompts, and you nod, tears in your eyes even as the stinging sensation in your nipples shifted to more of a throb that was making your body hotter.

You gasp, trying to keep your need under control. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He prompts and your mind stutters. Kid’s never had you use a title for him before.

“Yes… sir?” You try.

Kid snorts. “Try something with more grit to it.”

“M-Master.” You almost mumble the word.

Kid’s hand tangles into your hair, tugging on it roughly and pulling your face up to his. “Again.” He commands.

“Master.” You say more clearly.

Kid licks his lip a little, gnawing on the bottom of it for a quick second, before a devious grin splits his face. It’s obvious he approves.

“If that’s the case, then you can apologize properly for teasing me earlier.” He says, standing up.

He undoes his belt and unzips his pants, pulling his thick cock from his boxers. He pulls his goggles off, adjusting them a little smaller, and puts them on you, using them to keep your hair back in an impromptu kind of headband.

You never would’ve thought the first time you were going to be wearing Kid’s prized goggles, it was going to be during suspension bondage, but you weren’t complaining. He grabs the rope harness at your shoulders, lifting you up just a little bit and making it easier for your mouth to be where he wants it.

“Show me just how sorry you are for teasing me.” He prompts, rubbing the stiff tip of his cock against your cheek before letting you get to work. “Do a good enough job and I’ll even let you swallow.”

You feel a shiver ripple through you that you know he can feel through the ropes, and open your mouth, licking and wetting his shaft, teasing the stiff flesh with kisses.

“You like that, huh? You’re more of a freak than I thought, Mouse.” He muses, pulling away from your mouth a little and lifting you up more, bringing your gaze up to his. “I really like that.” He admits, kissing you roughly before lowering you back down.

You find yourself hungry for him, as close to a declaration of love as you ever expected to get, licking and kissing the tip of his cock before you begin to suck it in earnest. He’s a goddamned beast, thick and long and you know there’s no way you can deep throat this – heh – cocky bastard, but you can lavish attention and pleasure on every inch you can manage to take in.

He helps you, lifting you and lowering you by the ropes of your harness. He holds you in place a couple times and thrusts into your mouth, pushing himself so deep you can’t help but gag. He gives you time to recover each time he does it, praising you in his own way every time you go right back to sucking him off.

You can hear him hiss, his hips coming forward a little before he stops himself, and you know he’s close. You keep trying to do the same things that make him groan, wanting him to cum sooner. There’s a time to drag things out and tease him, but now’s not the time.

You press your tongue against the underside of his shaft, humming against him. You could hear the ropes creak as he tightens his grip on them, his hips swaying despite his efforts, pushing a little further deeper each time, slowly working further into your mouth, giving you half a chance to adjust.

You try to let your jaw relax as you take more and more of him in, a mess of drool and precum dribbling down your chin. You gag as he goes deeper, but it’s not too bad, just watering your eyes slightly. You urge him on by humming a little, and when he pulls back, you turn your head to look up at him.

“More, more please,” You beg, letting words roll off your tongue. The faster you talk the more you can say before embarrassment will eventually stop you. “Master, fuck my face and cum in my mouth, please, please. I want you to, I swear, I can take it, please, Kiiiiiid ❤️.” You know your face is a mess, slobber and tears have certainly just wrecked your makeup, but the look on Kid’s face was exactly what you had hoped for. It made the begging worth it.

“… I’mma have to fuck you up more often, Mouse, that’s hot.” He nearly groans the word. “Open up. Don’t do anything else, just open that pretty little mouth of yours, and stick your tongue out for me.”

You do as he asks, looking up at him expectantly as he runs his tip against your tongue. “Fuckin’ hells, Mouse.” He growls, pushing in deeper. “Looking up at me like that.”

He pushes in further, using the ropes and his hips to keep control of everything. “Keep lookin’ at me.” He commands, pushing in deep until your eyes squint and start to water. He seems to use this as a guide, fucking your mouth with a steadily increasing pace, breath getting heavier and heavier.

“Shit.” He growls, pulling back just a little, pushing against your tongue as he cums into your mouth. You break his earlier command, closing your mouth enough to swallow. He pushes in after the first swallow, swearing again before he pulls back reluctantly. He lets you swallow again before you lick and suck on his tip for a minute.

He leaves you to it for a minute, running his tongue over his lips before he steps back, and kneels in front of you again.

“Good girl,” he grins, bringing your head up with a finger under your chin. “We’ll work on that deep throatin’ you were trying to do.”

You smile in response as he leans in and kisses you.

[badcaseofcasey]

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) | Part 3 aka: my Steddie soulmates au, Eddie's POV Part 1 | Part 2 | Steve's POV

guess who's baaaaack? Sorry for the long wait between parts, but here's part three of Eddie's POV! I'm back to working on this fic primarily, so will hopefully have the next part sooner rather than later! As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off of the taglist!

As Eddie settled into life in Hawkins, he quickly realized that the universe must be playing a practical joke; there was no way in hell that Steve Harrington was his soulmate.

His assumptions that first day at Hawkins High had proven correct: Steve was popular, painfully mainstream, and had zero time or attention for anyone outside of his circle of influence. In some ways, being so utterly ignored by his soulmate hurt worse than if he’d been outright rejected. It was a reminder every day that Eddie wasn’t even significant enough in his soulmate’s life to merit rejection.

Eddie had learned how to use his outcast status to his advantage well before he’d moved to Hawkins - how to wear the mantle of “freak” like armor. He found the other outcasts and was able to use his reputation (and the fact that he supplied weed to most of the popular kids) to protect them, too.

He carved out a section of Hawkins that was his own and made just enough space there for the people he cared about. Over time, he slowly brought more and more lost sheep into the fold, founding Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin with people he could legitimately call his best friends. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as someone like Eddie could ever hope to get.

Corroded Coffin’s practices were often one of Eddie’s favorite parts of his new life in Hawkins. Gareth had started at Hawkins High Eddie’s Junior year, but he saw Eddie’s Dio patch on his first day of school and was ballsy enough to approach the older teen to ask if he played any instruments. Since then, they’d added Jeff, and Freak (who was actually also named Geoff, but happily went by Freak to avoid any confusion). They were sounding more and more like an actual band these days, and they had a standing gig at the Hideout to prove it.

Of course, sometimes the peace of shredding through whatever insane guitar solo Eddie had learned or come up with that week was shattered by one of the other guys bringing high school into the mix.

“Are you guys thinking of going to the party this weekend?” Gareth asked.

“What party?” Jeff responded. “I haven’t heard of one yet.”

“Harrington’s parents are out of town again,” Gareth said. “He’s hosting; I heard Carol Perkins talking about it during Bio.”

“Probably not,” Jeff said. “My mom’s been on my ass about homework lately - she like, actually wants me to get into college, especially since my brother got denied from everywhere except Ivy Tech.”

The rest of the band nodded sympathetically. Even Eddie had Wayne on his ass to apply to college - as if they both didn’t know he’d be repeating senior year. He had way too many absences and D’s on his transcript for them to give him a diploma this time around.

“What about you, Eddie? Are you going to be there selling?” Gareth asked. “I hear Harrington’s crowd has enough money to throw around.”

Eddie strummed loudly and let the feedback echo through the garage. “I would love it if I didn't have to hear Steve Harrington’s name during band rehearsal for once.”

Gareth looked acceptably cowed by Eddie’s response, but was clearly not going to be deterred. “Come on, guys. You’ll be graduating soon and I’m going to be stuck at Hawkin’s High with Freak and zero street cred.”

“You don’t get street cred by going to parties like that,” Eddie argued.

“Okay, maybe not - but what about girls?” Gareth challenged. “You know all the girls show up hoping to hook up with Steve and when they are inevitably disappointed, they’ll be looking for a shoulder to cry on. I could be that shoulder!”

“Don’t you ever wonder if the King Steve thing is all an act?” Freak piped up. “You hear about all these girls, but do you ever really see him dating anyone? For all we know,  he and Hagan could be hooking up behind closed doors. The way they act around each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who were soulmates, not Tommy and Carol.”

Eddie whirled around to glare at Freak. “What are you even saying right now?”

“I’m just saying that all that bravado is there for a reason,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trying to cover up something.”

To this day, Eddie isn’t sure what made him do it. Maybe all the talk about Steve’s words and his sex life had gone straight to his head and stopped him from thinking straight. Maybe he’d been waiting for an excuse to do it and it seemed like as good a time as any. Or maybe, Eddie desperately needed a distraction to a different topic.

Whatever it was that made him do it, Eddie found himself saying, “Would it be so disgusting if he did get his words from a guy? Pretty ironic to be a homophobe as a guy named Freak, huh?” His tone of voice made it absolutely clear which side Eddie found himself on.

“Woah,” Freak said, holding up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really?” Eddie said. “What did you mean it like? The only reason it’d be big news if Harrington was a queer is if you have some sort of problem with it.”

“C’mon, Eddie,” Jeff said, always the peacemaker, “you know it’d be a big deal if the ladies man of Hawkins High was actually into dudes. Freak didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. “Sorry. I got defensive.”

“No worries, man,” Freak said. “But you know I don’t have problems with people like that. Us freaks have to stick together.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and accepted Freak’s handshake as everyone went back to their instruments. Luckily, his little outburst seemed to at least have gotten them off the topic of Steve Harrington. They messed around with a few cover songs and even got an original song or two started before Jeff had to leave to go work on homework.

As Eddie was packing up, Gareth came over, trying to come across as nonchalant but missing it by a mile.

“You know, we’d all be cool with it if… if you got your words from a guy,” Gareth said quietly.

Eddie snapped his guitar case shut and turned to look at Gareth. “Yeah, man. I know. Thanks for saying it, though.”

“Imagine if Steve Harrington was the person you got your words from though,” Gareth said. “That would be hilarious.”

Eddie just huffed out a laugh, trying not to give anything away.

Unfortunately, Gareth knew him too well.

“That would be hilarious, right?” Gareth asked, skeptical.

Eddie looked at him and raised his eyebrows, mouth stretched into a grimace.

“Oh no,” Gareth said. “No way, man.”

“Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

“No, I mean - I’m gonna have to put up with you falling for Steve Harrington one of these days - if it hasn’t happened already - oh god, tell me it hasn’t happened already.”

“As if,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh good, I still have time,” Gareth said, theatrically relieved. “I need to enjoy my Harrington-free life while I’ve still got it.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie said fondly, shoving Gareth just hard enough for him to lose his balance.

As they walked out to the car, still laughing at each other’s ridiculous behavior, Eddie couldn't help but feel a little lighter. He might not have the same faith as Gareth that he and Steve would ever end up together, but it was nice to know he’d always have friends like this by his side.

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[caernua]

completely genuine question—what makes you like Valhalla so much? I played that game for over 100 hours and I think the world was absolutely gorgeous, and some aspects of it were incredibly fun, but I thought so much of the writing, pacing, and characters were just… off? I think the gameplay mechanics (dialogue, romances, other “choices” you get to make, and the way they handled exploration objectives) are really hollow and narratively it’s maybe my least favorite or second least favorite ac game, but I’d genuinely really love to hear why it hits for someone whose a big fan

anon this is about to get very long i am so sorry also thank you for asking me this i love rambling about my favorite viddy games

in a lot of ways i agree with you! i think the pacing is off, the game is way too long and it overall feels like a game that aims to waste your time as much as possible which is simply infuriating. this is part of the reason why i started valhalla many many times but only finished it a handful of times. (which for 500 hours is insane) that is also bc the earlier arcs imo are superior to the ones in the middle and many of them feel downright unnecessary. i’m also not a fan in general of the rpg mechanics either, i’ve largely ignored them in valhalla frankly and neither am i of the romances (with the exception of ciara but that one too feels a little half assed and inconsequential - it's like you're always aware that whatever you do it won't last bc the character's story can't deviate too much) or the whole choice aspect that matters little. i will always hold the opinion that having choices (including the gender of the main character) introduced in a franchise where the premise is that you are reliving someone else’s memories is stupid, frankly. no amount of in-game explanations or isu bullshit will change that in my eyes.

however, what really clicked with me was the story. i know that’s not the case with a lot of people and i actually see why, it's a huge reason why it's such a polarizing game. weirdly enough, i first watched the gameplay before buying the game and i really disliked it. i wasn't pulled in, i didn't care much and i thought it was a subpar story. buut when i actually got my hands on the game i deeply connected with eivor and even tho i’ve just criticized the length of the game i think the hours and hours you get to spend as her contribute to that a lot. her entire journey was incredibly compelling in my eyes and especially the latter arcs hit me like a truck (i cried playing this game a lot <3). i think what i love most about this story is how it goes against the game’s promotion and the direction it went completely shocked me. doing an assassin’s creed based on vikings and very much using the romanticization of the term like any other form of media focused on vikings to depict these badass rutheless glory seeking fighters and absolutely relishing in that imagery in all the promotion and the beginning of the game and really in eivor’s character only to lead to a climax in which the main character turns away from odin and glory and says “no, the love of my people is more important to me than victories” was just… an amazing moment across the whole franchise in my mind. it was satisfying, it was heartbreaking, it was relatable and it was unique in my mind. i think assassin’s creed for so long has relished in these aspirational images of badass warriors and to choose THE most universally seen as badass historical warriors to send that kind of message was a ballsy move and really surprising. and it also works because eivor feels threatening across the game, she's scary! and ac doesn't always manage to make their protagonists feel that way (sorry arno love you 😘)

i also think that for how boring the asgard arc was (really don’t know how they achieved that) the storyline was REALLY well thought out since lore-wise they were essentially left with scraps from the other games so to make a coherent continuation from that mess that someone else thought out was impressive in my mind. i really liked how it tied in to basim’s story, i loved the moment when the reveal finally happened and i loved basim and eivor as narrative foils who are in a similar situation but experience it completely differently.

but aside from the ending i think there’s plenty of high points in the main campaign that just feel fun? i lovelovelove the east anglia arc (oswald’s story), i loved the lunden arc with its many many throwbacks to ac1, i loved soma and her arc, i loved vili's arc, cent was also really fun and a personal favorite. i also just enjoy doing the world events (fuuuck the anomalies tho!!!) and as sad as i am to say this, a part of my enjoyment was also the questions posed that were dissapointingly answered with the half assed 'last chapter'. i can't deny that valhalla suffers from missed potential a lot which is crazy bc you'd think that a game that forces you to play for hundreds of hours would have the time to deliver satisfying conclusions.

but i do also love doing... not much in it. as you said the environment is beautiful, the soundtrack is top notch and the atmosphere is really just amazing as well. i don't know how but valhalla kinda awakens a very deep sadness in me but it's not unpleasant, it's bittersweet. whenever i open the game and hear that beautiful main theme i want to cry a bit, same goes for when i climb the snowy mountains of norway and i look at the northern lights. the atmosphere in valhalla is just... outstanding. it reawakens so many things in me and that's partly due to eivor's story as well but it's amazing that it's somehow infused in the environment itself. am i thinking of regrets i carry and heartache, of how i have to cherish the people i have before i lose them, of how i lost my childhood because the pixels are pretty and the soundtrack is heartbreaking, or because eivor's story is in large part about all that? i have no idea but it's a precious sentiment. 💗

[kaysters247]

Deadly Inferno {A Patrick Hockstetter Fic}

Part 9 - Welcome To Derry

Word Count: 1432

I slowly got my ass out of bed the next morning with such pain coursing throughout my entire body, yet the mere memory of it all sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. The loud rev of the Firebird had woken me up, indicating dad wasn't home, otherwise he'd been out that door guns a blazing from them making all that noise in his yard. He was such a big ball of sunshine. The phone was ringing off the hook, knowing I would have to be the one to answer. It stopped by the time I had threw on my clothes. But started up again once I hit the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Oh my gosh.... Leslie?" My blood ran cold from the mere sound of the voice on the other end of the line. My mom.

"Mom....?"

"Honey.... Oh honey I'm so sorry I haven't called you in so long. I know...." But I had stopped listening. She's sorry? Sorry she hadn't picked up a phone to call her kids in years? Funny.

"Dads not here. Henry's out." But he came bounding into the kitchen the minute he heard his name, mouthing the word mom to him and he looked pissed. More pissed than I'd ever seen him. That's when I noticed Belch, Vic and Patrick standing directly behind him as usual. Their usual summer outings of torture and fun.

"That's fine. I wanted to hear your voice. And to tell you good news. You have a little sister. I want to bring her by for you and Henry to meet her. She's six." I about dropped the phone from the mere sound of the word sister. Sister?! Years of nothing. And now this?!

"Dad will have a cow."

"Well then it can be our secret. My husband and I just moved back to Derry. I'm sorry I haven't been there. I.... I got help. Mental help. I met Daniel that way. And then we had Belle. She wants to meet you guys." Henry had his ear pressed to the back of the phone, listening the entire time like I was and we both were seething with rage. Hatred. Sadness. Heartbrokenness. Everything. My watery eyes locked with the curious ones of Patrick's, seeing he could tell just how hurt I truly was. He seemed.... angry. Like he knew someone was hurting me. He just didn't know the extent of it yet.

"Go to hell...." Henry said before exiting the kitchen and storming out of the house, judging by the slam of the front door. Except, Patrick didn't leave. He stayed while Vic and Belch followed Henry out.

"Mom....."

"I know sweetie. You have every right to hate me. But please, come meet your sister at least. The Derry Ice Cream shop okay?" I sighed in complete disbelief, conflicting emotions clouding my judgment. I was caving in. And I hated it.

"Fine. But I'm bringing someone with me." I looked at Patrick and saw he was looking back like, hell no. But I knew he'd follow. He always does.

"That's fine hon. I can't wait to see you. I love you..." But I hung up with no parting words of my own, closing my eyes as I leaned up against the wall.

"We aren't going on some Ice cream date Les. Remember? We are on the low." I simply sighed, before opening my eyes and eyeing him with a sudden smirk.

"Fine. Be that way. Guess I'll call up Richie Tozier and have him escort me there." I went to walk out the back door, but was roughly pulled back and pushed up against it, his dark eyes looming into mine with such seriousness, I thought he would kill me right then and there.

"Try me. Make my day Bowers. Make my day....." I pushed him off of me, going for the phone and dialing Richie's number, when his voice came on the line and Patrick hung it up so fast I couldn't get a word in etch wise. He slowly backed me up against the wall, his playful smirk in full view. He was enjoying this a little too much.

"Impressive. You actually did it. Ballsy. But don't think I'll forget it princess. I swear I'm going to start burning your arms up inch by inch at this rate. And you won't stop me. Or would you prefer my fridge with all the dead animals?" My eyes widened. His fridge. I'd never seen the inside. But I knew it was true because I'd followed him and the guys there to the junk yard one day to see what the hell they could possibly get up to in their free time. Traumatized. That's all I'm going to say on the matter.

"Or will you drown me like Avery?" He slowly backed up, shaking his head with such an evil smile appearing on his face, his green eyes assessing me so hard that he was practically tearing me apart with one glance.

"I won't give you the satisfaction baby." His hand suddenly laced around my waist and pulled me to his body, not even an inch to be seen between us. I knew it was a low blow. But he was so demented, he found humor in it. I only remember Avery very faintly now. It was so long ago. But I remember his laugh. My dad still talks to Patrick's dad. Which is why I'm not allowed around him. Patrick has been in so much trouble it's unreal.

"Going soft on me Pat?" He just kissed me without a second thought, biting my lip so harshly it drew blood. He always sucked it right off.

"Come on Hockstetter!! We don't have all day." We slowly pulled apart with my blood showing on his lips before he licked it off, leaving me in the kitchen to my own devices. And my mind whirling. My mom has moved back to Derry. And I have a little sister....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Derry Ice Cream Shop}

I came to a slow halt outside of the ice cream shop that had been in Derry since the mid 50's with my camera around my neck, always enjoying their ice cream any day I could possibly get it. So many memories flooded back from this place.

"Thank you for coming with me Bev. I just.... I just couldn't do it alone." I had called her once Patrick had left, only joking about Richie. Well, half joking. He was an option. Only if I wanted to end up dead in Patrick's fridge.

"It's no problem. You've always been there for me. Let me be there for you." I softly smiled at her, noting her haircut. Short, and very pretty. It was a new look for her. A badass look.

"You look smokin by the way Bev. Your hair is amazing!" She's been wanting to cut it to piss her dad off. And finally did it. I was proud of her for telling him to basically fuck off with that one gesture.

"You flatter me too much." But she smiled through her words, sending us into little bits of laughter. Until I saw my mom through the window. Long blond hair, a summer dress and heels, sunglass atop her head. And a little girl that I knew was Belle, simply eyeing me through the window of the shop. It was like looking at myself in a mirror. She looked so much like me....

"You can do this Les. I'm here." I finally snapped out of it with my rapid heartbeat, smiling in appreciation at Bev. But feeling like utter shit on the inside. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave. But my mom noticed Belle staring at me, and immediately was on her feet.

"I'm here to! Now get your ass in that shop before I kick it in. I didn't come here to look stupid." I whirled around to see Patrick standing right behind me with the guys no where in sight, knowing Henry wouldn't show for sure. But the fact that Patrick showed was insane to me.

"Don't give me those puppy dog eyes princess. I just came to see some family pain. Get with it." His serious look was doing him no favors. I could see right through him. Even Bev was shocked he was here, thinking he'd never show for anything like this. He made it clear we were nothing but fuck buddies. And fuck buddies don't normally do this sort of thing. Maybe I'm crazy. But does Patrick actually like me? I think I am going insane.

[wishing-stones]

how did you come with the plot for r&r? its so nicely written and i constantly struggle with coming up with plots for multichapter fics despite desperately wanting to write one, so im wondering what your process was?

This one got long

Originally, the plot came about from a one-word prompt done for my oneshot collection. The story wound up with more background to it than I intended, and I decided to try and fill it out a little more. I'm kind of old-fashioned, so I used a plot diagram and slapped the important bits in there before thinking about what all else I'd like to put in a story like this.

Picking a villain was pretty easy; who is stupid and/or ballsy enough to pick a serious fight with Nightmare? XGaster, who could be made a main antagonist easily. He also has the added bonus of having a personal investment in fighting Nightmare (Cross) That gave me my conflict, and filling out what needed to happen between that and the resolution got handled too.

I knew I wanted this to be a reverse harem sort of dealio, so everyone needed to have their own arc with the reader. Everyone needed to have character development. To do that with Nightmare meant having to include his brother, and it gave me an avenue to do their resolution and also include the stars. Killer and Cross needed to come to an understanding, but after realizing that would only really come about after they go to blows, they needed a doctor.

Enter Baggs, who I have sort of stuck with the Bad Sanses for a hot minute in my own sort of personal plot space and in general thought mess. Formally including him would also just be a nice little self-indulgent thing since he's a seriously bastardly brainrot. It also gave me an excuse to work with him more, and, unintentionally though it was, introduce more people to him and his AU.

With the cast figured out, I could start placing little scenes I wanted to happen in the appropriate places on the timeline. As I wrote it, some things were off-the-cuff, some things popped up early, some things got nixed, and a whole character who I hadn't originally intended to include got included anyway due to source material being released between plotting and writing (XChara.)

The actual ending got pulled out of my ass because I only had a couple bulletpoints for the post-fight resolutions. There's a couple whump lines there I'm especially proud of.

That being said, there's a couple continuity errors that need fixing and places where things didn't quite go according to plan, so always be prepared to compromise and fix in post. I also never had a beta reader and basically went "FUCK IT WE BALL" with every update. (I did re-read them and fine-tune them after the initial write before posting them, but that's it.)

In short, the process was: 1. Come up with the initial idea 2. Refine the idea (Starting point, rising action, conflict, resolution) 3. Place the idea on a plot diagram 4. Figure out scenes you want and place them accordingly 5. Figure out how characters are (or are not) going to change and place the catalysts for the actions and where/when their arcs will conclude/when they have gone through their development 6. Pad it out-- make scenes connect and plot points make sense 7. Start writing. Keep writing. Pace yourself. You'll finish it eventually and with a roadmap, you'll always know where you're going. Feel free to embellish on the details and don't be afraid to move things up or back in the progression of the plot if it makes more sense while writing it.

And if there's anything I've learned from this, it's that:

a. Your audience is a lot nicer than you think they are. You are absolutely your own worst critic. b. Don't be afraid of mistakes, just go with the flow. You can edit things in post when you re-read it, even if that's after you posted it.

I really hope this helps!