#but I die a little more inside with every update

[sadagios]

Icarus, and the Sunflower

PART TWO: UNFIXABLE ERROR

PROLOGUE: PART ONE

3.4k words below the cut

SOME BEGINNING NOTES: - This AU is only character shipping, and references a lot outside the life series events (evo, hermitcraft, empires, etc). This is not meant to ship the CC’s themselves and if anything alludes to it, it is purely unintentional. - This is not canon-compliant ermmmm i do what i want and i will put every idea i have into this - No more bullet points this time... taking off the baby wheels - This is to add more to the first part! Please read that one before this if you haven't - Tags for this part? Game dev AU, Past BigB/Grian, a lot of BigGri flirting, some characters are real and some are fictional, this is only the prologue (part 2!), Grian is still down bad for Scar, absolutely not beta'd i only have one impulsive braincell, contains some fake chats

I. HALLOWEEN

The game awards have been announced, and it was the talk of the company. Evolutionists’ Portal has been online for 4 months now, and it built itself a dedicated fan base with a peak of about 80k players a month. Updates were still on the way, scheduled for Halloween and Christmas Day.

The team working on Evolutionists’ Portal hoped for a nomination, and maybe even an award. Gria hoped for this, as well, but he was too tired to even think with everything on his plate. Their art director quit suddenly, so he was carrying out two big roles, but even when the past art director was there, he was basically doing most of his work.

The team took notice of his exhaustion and invited him to the company Halloween party. Gria didn’t want to, but Martyn had a brilliant idea for making a bet: Gria believed they would get one nomination, and Martyn believed it would be two. If Gria wins, Martyn will get him breakfast every day until Christmas. If Martyn wins, Gria has to wear an outfit to the party of his choosing. Gria thought it was a harmless bet, and he’d actually benefit from it, so he agreed.

Jimmy is his closest friend in the company, but Jimmy was also busy with his work in Empires. There are talks of a big collaboration and he knows he can’t get ahold of Jimmy until it is settled. One morning, a cup of coffee appeared on his desk with a note attached to it that said,

“You might need a little boost in your morning.”

Gria had no idea who it could be from until he noticed a wrapped piece of warm, chocolate cookie beside the cup. He looked up from his desk and met eyes with Big B, who smiled and gave him a little wave before resuming his work.

His crush on Big B was no secret. The man is funny and handsome, and he and Gria started in the company together. Martyn was the first one to catch it, the way he gets giggly and embarrassed around Big B, and he’s been on Gria’s case since. Pearl found out about it through Martyn’s teasing, but she had the grace not to poke fun at Gria (only sometimes.) Jimmy still hasn’t caught on, and Martyn bursts out laughing every time Jimmy unintentionally third wheels or cockblocks Gria. Gria has an inkling that Big B might’ve noticed it, but he acts the same way around him, which Gria is thankful for.

The nominations were out the morning of the party, and they were nominated for “Best Multiplayer” and “Best Audio Design.” As soon as the news broke out, Martyn walked in stride to the art department and pulled Gria to the parking lot where Martyn’s car was parked. He opened the trunk, pulled something out, and gave it to Gria with a devilish grin.

Martyn: I’m so excited to meet such a popular singer tonight.

Gria peeked inside the dress cover, he wanted to die.

One night, the team went out drinking. Gria had a few more drinks than he should’ve. He doesn’t remember what happened, but Pearl recorded the whole thing; basically, he got so drunk that he started singing nothing but Ariana Grande songs. To put the final nail in the coffin, he might’ve sat on Big B’s lap as he sang one song.

Gria wore the outfit after being manhandled by everyone into wearing it. Big B wasn’t going to the party as he’d said days before, and while Gria was relieved not to embarrass himself, he also wished for Big B to be there.

Gria wore a ridiculously pink two-piece top and skirt, with a white furry shoal attached to gloves. Pearl also lent him her white boots, which surprisingly fit him well (and gave him a few inches.) The room cheered when he walked in, and he was too embarrassed to walk that Jimmy had to drag him around the room.

Pearl wore a cute green dress, which looked a lot like a character from Empires. Jimmy wore a Captain America costume, but instead of a star had a huge letter S at the middle of his chest. Martyn wore a pirate costume. 

Martyn: What a shame Big B isn’t here to see this.

Martyn teased, and Gria wanted to strangle him right there. Then, without warning, a finger poked his cheek. Gria turned and there Big B was, holding a bloody axe in a bloody costume. Gria remembered the game Big B told him about, a zombie game called “The Creaking Dead.” It was one of the things that led them to become friends, their love for zombie games.

The night went by, celebrating both Halloween and their nominations. Empires also had their own share of nominations, and Jimmy was so giddy that night.

Pearl pulled them four to the photo booth before they could get more wasted. Jimmy grabbed a weird-looking fish beanie and Martyn put on a Mickey Mouse headband. Pearl put on a sunflower crown that fit the gold accents in her dress. They made sure to put Gria and Big B at the center of the photo, and Gria tried not to explode with how close they were. Big B suggested they take a Polaroid photo after for keepsake, and before Gria could head out of the room and go home, Big B gave him a Polaroid photo with a message written in Sharpie.

"Glad I came by today, G. Happy Halloween. ♡"

II. VALENTINE’S DAY

Gria and Big B have been talking and texting each other non-stop for months now. People assume they’re dating, but when Jimmy asked, he clarified that they had no label. It’s true; they haven’t done much. They hung around a lot, and they might’ve fooled around during cold December nights, but it was an unspoken, casual thing. At least, that’s what it was for Gria.

On Valentine’s day, Big B invited him for dinner, and everyone teased them about being lovebirds. That night, Big B finally asked Gria to be his boyfriend.

Gria was happy. Overjoyed. Someone as kind and thoughtful as Big B, who treats him so well, wanted them to be exclusive. He wanted Gria. But the smile on Gria’s face slowly faded as his happiness turned into dread. Big B is too nice for him. Too perfect for him. Too much for someone like him.

Gria turned him down without explaining further. He saw the hurt in Big B’s eyes, but the man still treated him the same: with adoration and care.

Big B drove him home, and that was the last time they talked outside of work.

III. MARCH

Gria finally took some time off. Aside from the upcoming April Fools update, there wasn’t much to be done. The tension between him and Big B has been too much to bear, and he can’t shake the guilt he feels each time Big B leaves a warm cup of coffee with a cute note on his desk.

He lurks on the internet, bored out of his mind. He met this person, PotatoNutshell, and became friends over Hermitopia 6.

IV. APRIL FOOLS

< Let's play like cats, let's count to three. >

The gang liked the Alpha version of “The Life Game.” The map is good (which makes Gria proud as he designed it,) and the mechanics are simple enough to get used to.

There are several problems, though. The motion blur is making everyone sick, and the one who had it the roughest was Joel. The UI is also unintuitive, as you have to look at your wrist to see the messages and your health status, which you can easily lose track of. Then, the computer AI characters are indistinguishable from each other. It was supposed to be a battle royal game, but with only the players having unique skins, it feels a bit more like player versus enemy than a competition.

It was understandable, though, that it didn't have much character customization. The remaining two working on the game are a writer and a programmer, and they have no 3D modeling experience at all. Gria figured he could help out and tinker with it when he had time, especially with how the gang loved the game despite all its flaws.

V. SUMMER, a year later

Gria’s old friends finally messaged him that they added more things to the game, and it might be enough for a beta test. The only thing they haven’t figured out is the character models. Gria confirmed if they were planning to release this game, and the two said “no, not yet. Not anytime soon.” That gave Gria all the liberty to simply tinker with the game just for their own enjoyment.

He asked the team if they had any characters they’d like to mod into the game, preferably with 3D models so they wouldn’t have to worry about rigging and animation too much. Skizzleman suggested Hermitopia characters, which Gria wouldn’t contest because this gives him a great excuse to add Scar into the game.

They needed one more character, and Gria remembered the Empires plush on Jimmy’s desk. The team gave him a free plushie of the “Starboy, The Rivendell King” because all plushies of the “Codfather” were sold out, the one Jimmy usually played as. Still, Jimmy keeps the Starboy plushie on his desk and sometimes carries it with him to the breakroom when he takes a short nap. Gria found the image of Jimmy carrying this plush to be adorable, although he will never say it aloud, so he decided to add Starboy as their final character. He also had Gemini and Shadow Lady (as per Joel’s request) 3D models ready, but he’ll probably add them next time. Pearl also isn’t joining their session for now, so it would be good to save her favorite character for another time.

On one Friday night in April, they all logged on and waited to connect to The Life Game’s private server. Gria was excited to play until he received a message from one of his old friends.

A slight chill crawls up Grian’s arm. He gripped his VR headset, a bit hesitant after his conversation with his old friends. After a moment, he shook off his nerves and wore his headset. He looked at the server status reading “5/6 Players” and hovered his controller over the button that would let him play with his friends. Grian ignored the warning bells and hit “Join World.”

VI. HELLO, WORLD

Gria spawned into the world, a bit dizzy from the sunlight blasting into his eyes. He got off on the ground and surveyed his surroundings, and it seemed like the map was different from the last time. In front of him looked like a ruined portal, which he doesn’t remember adding to the map years ago. Could this be something his old friends added to the map for the Evolutionists’ Portal developers to see? Gria smiled at the sentiment. He looted the chest near it, and it felt a bit like cheating. He joined the game late, but he already had golden gear in his first minutes of playing.

He did some resource gathering, something which they learned was crucial from their alpha test. He travelled and spotted a village, and saw Martyn’s character completely raiding it. Out of all of them, Martyn might have been the one who became so immersed in the gameplay. Even before playing, he was discussing tactics and plans in their call. If it ever came down to it, he knows Martyn would be a formidable opponent with how into it he is. 

Gria traversed the map more until he hit the border. There’s no way to get through it, even if you force it. It also seemed like the friendly creatures weren't able to get past it. It’s a bit scary to think about how they’re stuck in this little box until only one of them remains. It’s a good thing all of this is just a game.

Being the creator of the maps for this game, Gria remembers where most of the biomes are on the map. He goes back to the village and spots Big B.

Excited and without thinking, he jumped in front of Big B and surprised him, which made Big B’s character jump back. But, when Big B met his eyes, he immediately laughed and smiled. 

Before Big B could strike up a conversation, Joel’s voice could be heard from a distance, he looked just like himself in real life, but he wore a costume that reminded Gria of Shrek. He shot Big B a quick look and saw he was wearing something similar to his costume during one of their old Halloween parties. Martyn’s character seemed different, too.

Gria noticed the little shop icon on his screen. When he clicked on it, it opened a shop of a multitude of items that can be bought with experience points. He checked out the costume section and saw that costume accessories were fairly cheap. He bought himself a red sweater, and now his character feels more like him.

He noticed someone trailing behind Joel, a blazing head of fire and red eyes. It took him a while to realize that this was Tango Tek from Hermitopia. When he spoke, both Gria and Joel cranked their neck at him, surprised he could speak. Hermitopia had no voice lines. Despite this fact, Joel excitedly conversed with Tango, prompting him to speak more. Gria excused himself, confused at how this was possible.

He went off to gather more resources before he headed to the village. He saw Big B yet again, and his cheeks flushed at how many times he had seen him by himself. Gria’s a bit awkward around him, but Big B greets him with a smile each time. 

Big B: Are you sneaking up on me, G? Gria, giggling: Hello there, B. Whatcha up to? Big B: Trying to survive the first night, and maybe even you? Gria: Well, I don’t think a danger. Not to you. Big B: A danger to my heart, maybe?

Gria bit his lip and walked away. Big B laughed behind him, and he couldn’t fight back his smile. He looked at the ground and saw Martyn’s faint green name tag. He grinned and turned to Big B, “Wanna scare Martyn?”

They made their way down Martyn’s mining hole, carefully, and they tried not to giggle like a bunch of kids sneaking out in the middle of the night. Gria heard Martyn, talking to himself, and he approached him behind before shouting, “Hey Martyn!”

The three hang around together in the mining hole, chatting and bickering while hoping to find diamonds. Martyn succeeds and even gives them two diamonds each for a sword. The two were dumbfounded at this generosity, and Gria gave Martyn his golden apple in return.

Martyn: I just gave you guys diamonds because we’re buddies, c’mon. Gria: You know what, you can have my most prized golden apple. Martyn: Ooh, what’s this do? Gria: It gives you extra hearts when you eat it. Martyn: You’re giving me hearts? Way to make Big B a third wheel. Big B: Oh my god.

Gria exploded into laughter at this, and Big B shook his head but smiled at the situation.

After the sun had risen, he parted ways with the two and spent his time around the village and looking for a place to stay. He came across another nametag below the ground, and he thought it might’ve been Jimmy. He went down and surprised the man, only to find that it wasn’t Jimmy. 

When he heard Tango speak a while ago, he couldn’t figure out how it was possible. However, he did know of a game around an AI girlfriend who wouldn’t let you leave the house unless you said the right words. To think █████ could add such a feature, for AI to understand and speak back to you, all in a year is quite impressive and he would like to ask him more as soon as they finish playing. He didn’t listen carefully when Tango spoke earlier, and it might’ve been more robotic than he remembered. But now, as Ren screamed in surprise and spoke how Gria spooked the hell out of him, it sounded too much like a real person’s voice.

After mining a bit, Gria went out to the world and built a base at a lovely ravine area. Unfortunately, his resources weren’t enough to make it look pretty, and he suddenly missed the creative freedom he had while playing Hermitopia.

After being alone for so long. He made his way back to the village. Much to his surprise, so many people were there. At the side of the village, a group of characters in iron gear approached him. They excitedly called out his nametag, Grian, to greet him. Just like Ren and Tango’s voices, they all sounded so real. Too real. 

Martyn, Big B, Jimmy, Skizz, and Joel were nowhere to be seen. He was surrounded by characters from a game he spent countless hours playing. They talk and bicker like they are real people, and they sound like real people would. Gria would never be able to think of better voices for them. 

Among the four of them, one stood out the most. He had disheveled hair and a huge scar on his face that went down his neck. Despite having a cape and scarf covering most of his torso, Gria can’t pry his eyes off his huge, exposed right tit.

Completely distracted, something suddenly fell into his hands. It took him a while to process that this man held his hands and gave him flint and steel. Gria looked up, meeting the man’s eyes, and he had this devilish grin that made Gria’s knees weak. He turned his head higher and looked at the man’s nametag, “Scar Goodtimes”

Scar put his arm around Gria and made him face the village, and one of the houses were burning.

Scar: It was Grian! It was him who did it! 

Gria couldn’t move. He couldn’t process what was happening, and he couldn’t care less about how Tango and Etho were trying their best to put out the fire. The man beside him, probably more than 6 feet tall, is Scar Goodtimes. He’s way different from what he remembered, he had shorter hair and markings instead of actual scars, but when he spoke, Gria might’ve melted into the ground if the man didn’t have his arm around him.

Scar: Geez, Grian, what a rapscallion burning down villages.

Scar grinned at him and gave him a wink. It was as if Gria’s hardware crashed. Cleo, BDubs, and Impulse were all talking to him, even playing their jukebox for him, but his mind was filled with one thing and one thing only.

“His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so—”

Something nudged Gria, and Scar was so close to his face that Gria thought he could be hallucinating. Scar whispered into his ear, asking for the flint and steel back, and he complied without a second thought. He gave him a grin before he ran off to the village. Etho and Tango followed suit in panic.

Gria finally breathed. He doesn’t know how this could be possible. He had organized an unofficial voice cast for Hermitopia before, but the chosen voice actor was so off the mark, and everyone else liked it but Gria. But now, Scar’s whisper loops in his head, and he would go to war just to argue that no actor can replicate the sound his ears had been blessed with.

While talking to Etho and Impulse, he saw the historical tree burn. Scar walked in stride and stood beside Gria, waiting for Etho to take notice. Gria and Scar share a mischievous smile as Etho runs to the burning tree. Scar watched the tree burn down, and Gria watched the fire illuminate his face.

Scar: Grian, want to take over the desert with me? Gria: Me? Scar: Yeah, you. Let’s make all the sand ours.

This marks the End of Prologue

Next > ACT ONE: STUCK IN THE DESERT

ENDING NOTES: Took a while to finish this one! supposedly there's more, but it was getting too long so I had to cut it here. The next update will be a bigger one, so it might take months before that is posted. I also plan to do more character design before moving forward with the actual life series events. If you've read this far, thank you for reading!

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to you being sore the morning after they went hard

Request: Can you pleaseeeee do like Ot13 s/o being sore all of their body after sex? Or like their body being sore the morning after. Like what are their reaction to their s/o being sore after being fucked harddd lmaoooo

A/N: Minghao.

Seungcheol: You're walking funny and he just smirks, “Can’t handle your man?” he teases while already scooping you up bridal style. Kisses your temple, massages your thighs later, but doesn’t promise to go easier next time. In fact, he’s kinda proud.

Jeonghan: He's a devilish little shit, “aww, baby~ did I break you?” Fake sympathy and coo-ing while dragging you onto his lap. Whispers “You were begging for more last night” in your ear with a sly grin. He'll then run a bath for you and act like a saint. Manipulative menace.

Joshua: As we know, he can be an angel turned demon. At first, he’s all, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?” But when you admit you’re sore, his ears go red, but he smiles a bit cockily. “Guess I got carried away, huh?” Helps you stretch… but starts teasing and touching you again. Trouble in disguise.

Jun: This man is blunt and cocky. “You’re sore?” Grins. “I warned you.” Slaps your butt playfully as you wince, but then offers a massage and actually follows through with warm oil and expert hands. Still whispers, “Want me to make you sore again tonight?” You might actually throw soap at him and die.

Hoshi: Oh, he's a tease too, “babe… are you limping?” starts laugh-laughing, but when you glare, he panics, “Wait wait wait—are you okay?!” Gives you one of his precious tiger plushies from his sacred collection as an apology. But he's high-key proud. Very proud.

Wonwoo: He watches you struggle to sit and just lifts an eyebrow over his pc. “So you’re feeling it.” Says it so casually like it’s a weather update. He’ll tug you into his lap and rub your back gently, murmuring, “You’ll get used to it.” NO YOU WON'T!!!

Woozi: “...You’re sore? Huh. That’s… that’s not my fault. You told me not to stop.” Cue him looking away, ears turning pink. Makes you coffee while avoiding eye contact. He’s embarrassed but lowkey flattered, but planning to do it again tonight. There's no stopping him.

Dokyeom: “OH NO DID I BREAK YOU?!” He’s so apologetic even though he was the one destroying you six hours ago 😭 Will carry you around, feed you snacks, kiss your forehead 50 times. Cries a little inside, but if you say you liked it—he lights up. And this will repeat all over again...

Mingyu: Golden retriever smug. “Can’t move?” He’s grinning so wide while helping you get out of bed. Literally acts like you just won a championship. “That’s my girl.” He’ll cook you breakfast and wink every five seconds. Zero shame. Very shameless. Very, very shameless.

Minghao: I think he's very chill but lethal about it; notices the way you’re stretching weird and just goes, “Hmm.” Nothing else. Then comes over and whispers, “But, you were so loud last night.” Kisses your neck while handing you tea and I don't really know what the fuck that means but he's very into how ruined you look. Might go again just because.

Seungkwan: “You’re SORE?? I—did I go too hard?!” Full-on pacing in his pajamas, hand over heart, but when you admit you liked it, he blushes like hell. “Well, of course you did.” Helps you change and wraps you in a blanket. King of extra aftercare. He's the softest among all these 12 shits.

Vernon: Idk if it's surprising but he's lowkey a menace. “Damn. Wasn’t even trying that hard.” Says it all deadpan while watching you limp to the bathroom. Doesn’t tease too much but will absolutely throw in a You look hot, though while sipping water like nothing happened. Might poke your thigh just to see you flinch.

Dino: It's probably an overachiever moment. “You're sore?” Confused. “I didn’t think I went that hard… unless—” Pauses. Slowly starts smirking. “Well, guess someone couldn’t keep up.” He tries to act cool but fails when you start whining and hitting him. Still massages you. “Next time, stretch first.”

[hrtnovas]

hey so uhm……….. ARLE EATING HER WIFE OUT UNDERNEATH HER DESK

↑ this is the face she makes when eating u out trust i would know

yk what..?? HELL YEAH PUSSY EATING ARLE WE CHEERED !! 🙏

update ; i finished , sorry for earlier i will get down on my knees

cw ; wife!arlecchino x wife!reader, pussydrunk arle mhmhm,, kind of desperate arle?? WOAHHH??,, outercourse (eating out),, reader is in her office , not said if she works a job or it's just for personal use..,, i thinkk that's it.. divider by @cafekitsune

You just wanted to get some work done in your office. Coffee within reach, glasses pushed up into your hair, papers in a neat stack waiting for your attention. The kids were off doing… whatever kids do. Quiet. Peaceful.

But Arlecchino?

She was busy with something far more important than.. reports or meetings or diplomatic outings.

She was busy under her wife's desk—mouth pressed between your thighs like she belonged there, like she'd earned the right to worship you during office hours.

". . Ma chérie," she purred, voice like silky against your skin. "Be good. Open up a little more for me, won’t you?"

You were trying to focus, truly. But your pen had long since fallen from your hand. The neat pile of papers was now scattered, wrinkled, maybe even stained, some marked with lipstick from when she'd pulled you in for a kiss mid-session. Your collarbone shown the proof of her mouth. Your face, flushed and smeared.

Your legs trembled beneath the desk, fingers clutching the edge as if that would somehow ground you.

And Arlecchino? She wouldn’t stop. Tongue unrelenting, hands gripping your thighs , like if she let go you'd slip away. Like she was trying to memorize every inch of your pussy with her mouth alone.

oh god, this woman could die in your pussy.

Your breath hitched when she moaned into you—moaned, literally; like she was the one being ruined. Her tongue curled just right, slow at first, then faster, messier, like her control was slipping with every damn passing second. Your thighs quivered around her head, but her grip didn’t waver.

No, Arlecchino just dug her fingers in deeper, holding you open, keeping you right where she wanted you.

She needed this. Needed you, the taste of your skin, the heat of you dripping onto her tongue, the way your hips twitched every time she circled that one spot.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as a sound escaped, high-pitched and needy. The office door was shut, yes, but not soundproof. You could be heard, possibly. Arlecchino didn’t care.

In fact, she smirked.

“Mm… quiet now, ma belle,” she murmured, lips swollen, her voice thick with need. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear how filthy you are, would you?”

Then she dove back in, hungrier. Sloppier.

You felt her tongue everywhere, everywhere; devouring you with a desperation that made your knees buckle. You collapsed against the desk with a soft thud, papers sticking to your arms, your face flushed and sweaty.

Her name fell from your lips , “Arle—!”

That seemed to break her.

She didn’t stop until your legs were trembling so hard they threatened to give out. Until you came—loud, messy, helpless—right into her mouth. Even then, she kept licking, lapping at you , like she was trying to wring every last drop from you.

You tried to push her away, gasping, overstimulated.

She caught your wrist gently, kissed the inside of your thigh, and looked up at you from under heavy lashes with a ruined smile and slick glistening on her chin.

“One more, please..” she whispered.

Not a question.

A promise.

this woman is so getting u pregnant

[shaisuki]

❝ SOME EFFORTS. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. mentions of past abuse.

NOTES. got sidetracked by requests and i didn't really put up with this chap. apologies. i swear i only update when someone asks if i'm still continuing this fic.

SYNOPSIS. the awaited date and some memories ruins it for you.

the bistro was filled with numerous chatters. coming from patrons and customers alike. conversations over good food and the small laughter coming from them. surrounded by the warm glow of the lights like sun rays but more subdued. hitting the wooden interior with its soft light. creating a more laid-back atmosphere where everyone can wine and dine.

you were still on guard. geto sees how you scanned the room more than twice. avoiding eye contact at him and twiddling your fingers in the smallest of manner. he knows you were still wary of him. a bully or a former bully. it sets a bitter taste to his tongue. the knowledge of being one of your tormentors and realizing it later in life how he deeply regretted for hurting you.

he's not his former self anymore. he tells to himself. this date where you reluctantly accepted after many times of convincing you. saying that he'll make up all the years of the misery he caused. proving to you that he's no longer that person who causes you tears and pain but is it when he sees you. sitting across from each other with your gaze who couldn't even look at him and your withdrawn hands not making it nearer to where his rests.

“look at me.” there's tinge of authority in his voice but gentle when he spoke to you. it was like coaxing you to go outside of your box. “can't we unless talk?” rich coming from him who can make you say the filthiest of words while he used to torment you.

“i guess.” you briefly muttered. gathering every nerve to your body to look at him and you die a little bit inside how similar his eyes to his. a complete copy of him but you shake the thoughts. it was just you and him. “thank you for taking me out here.” your eyes briefly landing at the small frame pinned at the door.

a bit distracted and intimidated. gripping your cup filled with tea to prevent from squirming to much. it's not like everyday your former bully would invite least asks you for date. you were reluctant of course but geto is persistent to get what he wants and it earned you.

he picks good. the place didn't scream high-end or some posh place that their menus didn't have a price and the bill ending up as a month's worth of salary.

a ghost of a smile etched in his face at your response. there it is. what he has been waiting for. geto can't help but to admire you. the same round face that used to look at him. there's the softness in it and something new. perhaps determination? he can guess but nonetheless it isn't the time to guess what you're made of now. you've changed just like he is.

before any of you can continue, the waiter arrived with the food you both ordered. placing the plates in front of you and bids you both to have a nice meal.

you began to eat. taking a spoonful of the food and chewing softly. surprised that you managed to work an appetite despite how guarded you feel around him. “you and gojo fucked me up, literally and metaphorically.” you paused in between bites before continuing. “but you two never made me feel bad about eating. i'm kind of glad for that.”

shrugging as you placed your utensils down. taking sip of your beverage. your relationship with food was kind of rocky around in the edges. you never ate in public. afraid of the stares and judgement that strangers give to you when eating and never in front of someone. let alone as cruel as gojo and geto. surprisingly they never made you feel bad about it and encouraged you to eat with them when they're particularly in a good mood. often going as far hand feeding you.

you didn't beat around the bush and geto applauded you for that. it often got you in trouble when you talked back and defy them when you won't do a particular thing they want you to. they were such an asshole to you. “you look happy when you eat. simple gestures like that is hard to come by.”

pouring the creamer in his cup of coffee and adding two sugar cubes. geto stirs it with a spoon. he finds you looking at it. his large hand dwarfing the cup and it was like a teacup rather than a coffee cup.

“is it?” pausing and trying to sink in what he said. somehow your lips curved into a smile. it was rather a pained one. “and you, gojo would take pleasure in hurting me afterwards.” now, you killed the mood. the food gone bland in your mouth. feeling like your eating nails. the memories came flooding and it just made you ache in places. a phantom pain.

putting down your utensils down. your appetite's lost. everything's heavy now just like it was in the first time.

geto freezes at your words. it was like a punch in his gut. you were still stuck at that time but you never made it seem like it affected you and you were doing it just to make thing seems right. for his own comfort.

a pang of guilt hits in his chest. seeing you hung your head low and blinking back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. he hears you mutter an apology.

he stands up. grabbing the back of his chair and placing it besides you. “hey, it's fine. it was never your fault.” he says, holding your cheek in his hand and forcing you to look at him. “it's been years, sugu. why does it still hurt?” you asked him. peering through your blurred vision of tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. you could have pushed him. recoiled at his touch and when you leaned in. giving up to his touch — you asked yourself why? and you understand it. why some people come back even though they were hurt by the same person and you weren't any different from them cause the best comfort will always come to the one who had hurt you the most.

a stray tear rolls down your cheek. suguru was quick to wipe it with his thumb gentle. cradling your face in his one hand. he looks at you and there wasn't any emotion shown in his face except for the conflicting emotions inside him. pain? guilt? and new emotions he never felt mixes with it and the more he stays with you, the more he feels all of it.

geto wasn't anything remorseful for what he had done. he and gojo had their fun playing around with you and what happened after that night — you disappearing without a trace and shoko's warnings that they shouldn't interfere with your life anymore despite the circumstances that you were working for both of them.

he did fucked you up and reduced you to this mess. the younger him would relish over it but seeing your tear-stained face. he felt worst. everything since you came back is forced. always driving you to a corner and if he really wants to build his relationship with you again. he have to change and he's willing to make it.

the weather's warm. with the slight breeze of wind sweeping throughout the park. the scent of the sakura blossoms wafts in the open air. after that little breakdown of yours earlier. geto decided that you need a breath of fresh air and the park is where he took you.

both of you remained silent. you in the most part. embarrassed at the sudden burst of emotions and thinking that you ruined the supposed date. “i'm sorry.” you softly muttered. glancing at the man besides you.

strands of his hair danced along the rhythm of the wind. he only hums. slowly inching his hands towards you. holding your hands in his. “don't apologize.” reveling in the softness of your hands in his and suguru's mind drifts for a minute. marveling at the sight of your hand in his. if things were just normal and he pursued you in a much kinder approach — is this how you two will be? except for the part where he's the reason why you suffered at his hands.

“i shouldn't have said that.” meeting his gaze and you suddenly felt bothered. “you were making it up to me and i ruined it.” blinking and biting your lower lip in guilt. you should have never brought it up.

geto sighs. he swipes his thumb in your knuckles. the gesture sweet and intimate with gentleness in their touch. “you didn't ruin it. i should thank you for accepting that date. it was pleasant to talk to you about things.....” his words trailed off. referring to what happened three years ago.

you only nod.

“can we start again?” your former bully eyes widened at your suggestion. “no talks of the past and all? just us two adults as friends?” and you have that effect on him. geto isn't easily swayed. it was the opposite he's the one that should be doing this and here you are.

there is no need to know what was his answer. it was a yes. without hesitation.

it was hard to tear his gaze off away from you. despite the earlier dilemma of your sudden outburst everything was going fine after that. you were just eating but why do you look so alluring. your cheeks puffing up in a manner while you ate.

“is something the matter, sugu?” pausing to glance at him and he reached to wipe the cream in the corner of your lip before licking it off with his tongue. your face burns in embarrassment at what he had done before looking away. clutching the hem of your sweater and ignoring the sudden rise of your heartbeat. face warming at the gesture.

geto chuckles at your reaction. his eyes narrowing and his pupils dilating. it is known that there is still the attraction lingering in your body after all the years you're away from them. too used to their touch that your own responds without the will coming from you.

it's going to be sweeter this time pursuing you.

gojo was running impatient.

he has been waiting all day. wondering what happened to the date suguru had scored with you and he did get the full detail of it. geto smirks triumphantly in front of him and gojo felt an annoyance towards him.

“she won't even glance at me, suguru.” he sighs exasperated. running his hand in his hair out of frustration.

“she knows you're in a committed relationship. you're engaged and to sayuri. don't compare (y/n) to your ex-flings and sayuri. she won't do anything that would jeopardize a relationship because of her.” geto explains. he knows all of it. girls didn't care about the others when they really liked someone and when he got the gist of you working under satoru. he quite abandoned the thought of other women. fully commiting to you. trying to get back to your life and make you his.

gojo scoffs. “what's your plan, suguru?” his blue eyes glinting behind his glasses. there's been change of plans. he's not going to woo you anymore. he's going to pursue you.

“nothing really.” he lied. “i know (y/n)'s going to give in to me. anytime if i played my cards right. you should know we're not the only men in her life. we don't know what really happened to her life the last three years.” he didn't lie on that part. geto knows someone in your life is trying to also pursue you. one that you owed deeply.

his friend remained silent. taking a long sigh before going back to his desk. he can hear the cogs running in his brain right now. he's out of it and he just can focus to you and only you. he didn't need to drag his ass to gojo even it was planned from the start that they would have you.

guess he's not sharing you to him.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej@0honeylemonade @definetlythinkimanalien @thulhu @mastermasterlist1p1

[revelboo]

That Optimus cameo in Trailbreaker's last chapter fucking sent me. Any chance we could get an update on boss bot?

Sure!

Gravity Pt 13

Optimus Prime x Reader

• Draped against his chin, you study those serious optics. Wonder if stress and worry are all the big guy runs on, because those smiles are rare enough but so gorgeous. “Maybe the humans will mellow them out some,” you say and he groans, those pretty blue optics shuttering. Though to be fair, all you know about the Decepticons is that they’re the bad guys here. “I mean, you guys have been fighting for how long? Maybe they just really needed to get laid, you know?” Engine sputtering, he squints at you and he looks like he’s somewhere between trying not to laugh and indignant on behalf of those other humans. “Hey, humans survive. We’re like cockroaches.”

• Venting as you just grin down at him, he can’t understand your, well, it’s not quite optimism. He doesn’t know what this is. Jazz and Blaster are the earth experts, but Jazz is spending most of his time outside the Ark lately and he knows he needs to look into that, but even with the Decepticons being quiet, he’s been busy. There’s Hound and Trailbreaker’s attempt to preemptively save humans from getting abducted by Decepticons to deal with. When Red Alert had reported that to him having hysterics about there being more humans on the Ark, he just hadn’t had the energy to deal with it. Or to round up the Autobots with humans and try to talk about interspecies relationships. Especially since he’s been making love to you, though at least he’s the only one who’s intimate with their human.

• Boosting yourself up to sit on his chin, you grin down at his serious frown. “I mean fucking me is how you destress, right?” Bigger frown as he reaches up to run a servo against your spine. Reminding you that he’s a hopeless romantic. That it’s not just sex to him, despite that being what you insist to keep your heart safe. Because he’s so sweet and you know you’re in trouble as you stare down at those optics, getting lost in them as your heart aches. Know you’re lying to yourself about not falling for him. That you’ve already fallen down that rabbit hole knowing you’re going to get hurt.

• “It’s not like that.” At least not to him. Knows you’ve made it abundantly clear that you want nothing more from him, but he can’t accept that. Because this isn’t just interfacing or stress relief. Wants to come out of recharge with your warmth in his arms, to see that mischievous grin and hear you laugh every cycle. To watch you dance because it makes you happy. To dance with you. And he vents, freezing as you lay a hand on his cheek and drape yourself against his face. Realizing he’s falling in love with you. And wondering if you could ever love him or if there’s too many difference to bridge between you. That he’s already so lost in you.

• “Talk to me, big guy.” Because he’s doing the thousand yard stare he does. Lost in some thought or memory. And you gasp when he cups a hand against your back, rolling and mass shifting. Your back hitting the berth as his mouth comes down on yours. Kissing you with a desperation you’re not used to from him. Like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Not sure what flipped his switch, but more than willing to roll with it as his glossa steals inside to tangle with your tongue. All sweet urgency and need as you slip a little farther past the point of no return.

Previous

Next

[totaly-obsessed]

Omg omg omg i have an idea

r is the team baby and mapi is like a big sister to her

it’s gameday and mapi always braids readers hair before a match, but with mapis injury, she can’t do it. So Aitana takes the role of being your big sister and helps you with everything,

Changes

Barcelona Femení x reader request

-> With Mapi injured, your usual plan gets changed

-> Very short! I hope you like it - was very fun to throw something quick and small together

-> Little pt.2 - On the Road

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was weird.

Ever since joining the team last season, Mapi had been a constant in your everyday life, and one day to the next, she was gone. She didn’t die, duh, but she was injured. And while a lot of people on the team injured themselves or sometimes just had to sit out – never Mapi.

She had taken you under her wing as soon as she saw you, but her plan of making you her accomplice didn’t work, as you were much too introverted to embarrass yourself in public like she intended to do.

Ingrid had always just scoffed at her girlfriend whenever she had sent you on a wild goose chase for something completely made up, while Maria would laugh at you. The Norwegian was always quick to solve the mysteries, pressing soft kisses on your forehead whenever you got annoyed, ignoring her girlfriend until she stopped.

While everyone on the team was great friends, even a family, the relationship between you and Mapi was just different and everybody knew that – which is also why everybody could see just how much it affected you that your favorite defender wasn’t there. Especially when you were in the starting eleven.

Ingrid had religiously been updating her girlfriend, reassuring her that you were in fact totally fine and not freaking out. But you weren’t fine.

The girls tried to help where they could – Lucy and Keira had picked you up from home, Pina sat next to you on the bus (Patri and Ona behind you, making for a very funny ride), Jana and Bruna had made you a new playlist that you were all listening to and Alexia did what she did best – she observed and helped when needed.

In the changing room, most things took their natural course as every girl had their slightly different routine and needs before a game.

You were so incredibly nervous. Making the starting eleven was big, especially for a club like Barcelona, but the team for the day was quite experienced, calming you down just a little. Esme looked just as nervous as you, she was a striker alongside you, making for a very young frontline.

Aitana saw you brushing your hair again and again and again, just to do absolutely nothing with it, just patting your own head in a calming manner. After three minutes she took pity – remembering that your older sister figure wasn’t there.

“No need to rip out hair Cari. Let me do it.”

The entire team had affectionally started to call you Cari in your first season – it was short for cariño, and you loved it.

As still as humanly possible you sat in your cubby, letting the ballon d'or winner do her thing, sometimes handing her a brush, a ponytail holder, or a bobby pin.

“I can’t do it like Maria, so I did something else. Do you like it, Cari?” She indeed had done a different hairstyle, but it was still braided out of your face and it looked cute.

“It’s perfect Tana, thank you!” The brunette couldn’t help but smile, seeing you come to life just a little more after such a simple action from her. In thanks you kissed her cheek, squeaking when Sandra poked you into your side, making all three of you laugh.

“Let me help you with your shirt.” The goalkeeper didn’t even wait for an answer, helping you tuck your shirt inside of the shorts – just like Mapi would do for you. “Thank you!”

Now you felt much more prepared and ready to take on FC Rosengård.

Walking in, instead of a mascot's hands you were holding Lucy’s who smiled at you so brightly that you couldn’t be sad anymore. “You’ll do her proud kid – don’t worry.”

The Brit had indeed been right. Mapi had been close to tears sitting next to Frido in the stands, as you scored an amazing goal in the second half, dedicating it to her, as you sprinted over to where they sat, pressing a kiss to your palm, and practically throwing it at her.

“Look at my sister!”

[perfectlyoongi]

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who has been tying your shoelaces since you were little. Yoongi still had that image in his mind of you crying in the rain because you tripped over your shoes and got all wet. since that day, Yoongi has always made a point of tying your shoes before leaving the house. and now, even though you were adults with separate lives, Yoongi couldn’t control his habit whenever you slept at each other’s houses. “wait, you still need to tie the laces. you can fall, you know that. nevermind, i don’t mind bending down. it’s not like this is my first time.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still intimidates any suitor of yours. when you were just 5 years old, Yoongi remembered how that boy who bothered you so much started running away when he saw Yoongi picking you up from school. since then, Yoongi has made it his personal mission to fend off any and all suitors you might have. he was your older brother. somehow, he always looked out for you. and Yoongi guaranteed that he would continue to take care of you, no matter how old you were, no matter how many suitors you had. if they really wanted you, they could put up with an intimidating Yoongi for a few minutes. “oh? are you really sure you want to bring your new friend to lunch? well, if it’s just a friend, i’m okay with it. but if it’s something else…”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who still cooks lunch for you whenever you need. if you asked Yoongi, he would say he only learned how to cook so he could make your favorite dishes. during school, Yoongi always woke up early to cook for you, making a point of giving you something tasty and attractive — it was already his habit. so when you spent the night at his house or when you couldn’t waste time making lunch, Yoongi would show up at your work or doorstep with a small lunch box filled with your favorite lunch. after so many years, he still knew you. “your message was full of typos. i knew right away that you were late, that’s why i cooked this to you. it’s your favorite, i hope you like it. oh, and i also brought you a piece of fruit. enjoy, minion.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who picks you up from work or school when it’s raining. every month, Yoongi had your schedule updated and posted on the wall of his studio, and when you were still busy and the rain became more and more intense, Yoongi would put everything on hold to pick you up. whether you worked next to him or studied on the other end of town, Yoongi always found the quickest route to you, to make sure you didn’t get caught in the rain or risk getting sick. “remind me how many umbrellas i’ve given you, and how many you’ve used. just to refresh my memory. it’s just that it’s becoming really old that i have to come and get you every time it rains.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who offers you something whenever he is with you. Yoongi was never good with words. and Yoongi was shy in his actions. but what Yoongi always did to show you that he liked you was something as simple as giving you a gift. a new book, your favorite ice cream, even a four-leaf clover he saw on the way home — no matter what. ever since you were little, Yoongi got used to giving you little souvenirs to calm your heart and this act seemed to never die, no matter how much time passed. he just wanted you to know how much he truly loved you. “there’s an origami stall back there. a lady is teaching children how to make various animals and her husband was selling some and i thought you would like this crane.”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who is always willing to give you advice, or receive it. it was three in the morning and you had come home after a date and didn’t know if they were right for you? Yoongi was already accepting your call without realizing it. you just received two equally good job offers and don’t know which one to choose? Yoongi was already ready with a list of pros and cons. was Yoongi unsure of his new project? you were already inside his studio listening to his music. Yoongi didn’t know if he could hold on a little longer? you were already by his side reassuring him that he was loved. you or him, it didn’t matter. both of you gave and received in that mutual relationship of complicity. only Yoongi knew what was best for you. only you knew what was best for Yoongi. and that was enough. “i’m going for an interview now but as soon as i leave i’ll call you. it’s not supposed to take long, so you can think about what you really want to say and i’ll help you later. if you want, i can even write the message for you. i have to go. don’t make any stupid decisions before i get back!”

OLDER-BROTHER!YOONGI who looks at you with eyes full of pride just because you are you. watching you from afar only squeezed Yoongi’s heart. yesterday you were still a small child and today you were already signing the contract for your first job. time flew between your childhood and your adulthood, and all this time, Yoongi was watching you. you were such a pure, innocent child and managed to transform into this responsible, mature adult — only Yoongi knew how many heartaches it took to make you so grown up. “it seems like yesterday that i gave you a piggyback because you had hurt your knee on the slide. and now i’m inside your first apartment that you bought with your first job. you’re growing up too fast and i don’t like it. stop. stop right now.”

[bookofthegear]

Long, long ago, before Twitter descended into its end-stage hellscape, I ran a few iterations of a weird little choose-your-own-adventure game there, where I used the poll functions to offer options as we traversed a strange concrete labyrinth. I’d like to do that again. But as the shortest poll I can run is one day, this is more like a play-by-mail than a real-time on-the-fly. Fewer choices, but hey, you do get much longer descriptions!

The Rules

- Your choices are by majority poll (though if there are two identical options, they may be weighed together)

- If y’all choose to do something boneheaded, you WILL die, and the game will begin again with a new adventurer (who may someday find your corpse!)

- If y’all choose to retire and raise cabbages, by god, I will send you home to raise cabbages, which is sort of a happily ever after

- If you played on Twitter, please be kind and don’t spoiler too hard for the new players! Also, don’t assume the maze is still the same…

- Life being what it is, I cannot promise every update will land as soon as the poll closes—I love you guys, but y’know

Let’s begin, shall we?

You, friend, are the latest graduate of the Wentworth School Of Exploration and Adventure (Goooo Fighting Codfish!) the second-best explorer’s school in the city. You left behind your grandmother’s cabbage farm in pursuit of higher, better, possibly more fatal things.

It was at Wentworth that you first came across a reference to the works of Eland the Younger, that wandering naturalist, historian…okay, occasionally out-and-out liar…and his great fragmentary work, the Book of the Gear. It detailed his descent into a great clockwork labyrinth, filled with strange creatures and stone gears. Even for Eland, it’s a bit weird. Most scholars dismiss it outright as a fabrication, and the few professors who would talk to you about it strongly suggested that it was dangerous and you should ignore any rumors about its location and do something else. (Possibly on one of their projects! For course credit, obviously, not money.)

You didn’t listen. It was all just more academic cabbages as far as you’re concerned. It took a lot of research and guesswork and a lot of slogging, but after cutting your way through the overgrown woods, miles from any town, you find yourself standing before a stone wall with an immense crack in it. The edge of a stone gear taller than a man is just visible inside.

A small finch sits on a branch nearby, waiting.

Wentworth students are highly trained in the arts of adventuring, including Hiking, Skulking, Orienteering, and deciphering avian interpretive dance. Which brings us to the first question!

[kibbles-bits]

any voxval fics you’d recommend?

Ah, yes, voxval fics... The one ship that finally made me cave and read explicit stuff. I am now numb to everything.

Everything.

I'll only be posting completed fics. Warnings, almost all of these are explicit. A couple also have Angel, you know, suffering.

And please mind the tags.

First off is a couple of favs that I always go back for a reread:

Corrupted Love by DoveFactory (Words: 149,495)

In a moment of blind desperation to one-up Alastor, Vox puts himself in a compromising situation that leaves him worse for wear. His state triggers something in Valentino who decides to change the nature of their relationship.

The title and summary of this is so misleading I thought it was going to be a dark fic but nope. The Vees are a bunch of goobers and Valentino always wins. I would scream about this every time it updated. I love the characterizations and their banter it almost made me forget there's sex in like every chapter. Honestly I wish there was more tags referencing the character/story stuff.

Virtual Reality by passthevoxcord (Words: 7,634)

Vox gets tired of his cybernetic biology being a barrier to his sex life, so he starts a new project to fuck Valentino in VR. Val will try anything once, but he has something else in mind.

This one ends up being so sweet I want to die. passthevoxcord's other fic, Only a Shadow, drives me nuts but its a WIP and hasn't actually gotten to the voxval yet.

choke behind a smile by gloriousmonsters (Words: 19,881)

"I'm not scared by extreme, although I doubt I'll find it interesting. What is it?" Valentino's eyes narrow slyly over his smile. "If you aren't scared, why do you need a warning?" Vox has everything under control in his new business partnership with benefits. His emotions, his unfortunate desires, the little mind games they play. Even Valentino himself. When Val offers an invitation to a special show he's performing, Vox knows it's a dare, and knows he has to take it, show Val that he can't be scared or destabilized. He has no idea of how deep under his skin the show will get.

Everyone's so normal. I love this Valentino. There's another Valvel fic that has the same Valentino I also recommend called bad girls go backstage.

Great Expectations by MarenRose (Words: 11,280)

“It’s his goal. Those three simple words. If he could get to hear them once, could let the reality of their meaning and spoken existence occupy his mind for only a few indiscernible moments, then maybe, Vox could learn to see the appeal of this god forsaken holiday. He might even learn to ‘love’ it too.” Or: Vox hates Valentine’s Days. His prick of a ‘wife’ is just too damn hard to please.

This miiiight have been the fic that made me Lock In on voxval? I'm not sure. It's sweet. Alastor is hilarious.

biting keeps your words at bay by Subedarling (Words: 1,511)

“You can’t hit me,” Valentino says. He’s practically vibrating with rage. “You’re not allowed to—you can’t hit me!” Vox sneers, cruel and mocking and hopefully masking the way his heart is breaking apart inside his chest. “Baby, I can do whatever the hell I want.” A decade into their partnership, Vox and Valentino have their first and last physical fight.

This might be the only non-explicit fic in this list. I am all for Val being the worst just because he's Like That. But I will not say no to an implied tragic backstory. I read this one a lot and want to die. Can I draw this. I want to draw this. Oh my god I have free time I can totally draw this...

And my other recs:

Just For The Record by PeppermintWalrus (Words: 13,795)

Vox is thrilled about his new film enterprise with his business partner, ready to build a lucrative empire for the denizens of hell to experience true cinema, in the only genre their depraved minds desire. There’s just one problem that he finds out too late; Valentino has never filmed porn before. Vox decides that some... hands-on teaching, is necessary to save their production.

Yeah you read that right.

a putrid feeling that i've addressed by spoondrifts (Words: 5,162)

They weren’t a couple because Valentino was pathologically noncommittal and Vox simply knew better. He tried the whole romance thing with a certain radio demon a few decades back, and he’d learned his damn lesson. Hell just wasn’t the place for that sort of cutesy bullshit. Also, he was pretty sure that Valentino was straight up incapable of love, which was both par for the course for Vox’s friendships and amazingly convenient—things couldn’t get complicated if there was nothing to complicate in the first place. Or: Full Moon, Vox/Val edition.

Haha I love pain. I lied, this is the second non-explicit fic.

Little Miss Hellion by DoveFactory (Words: 10,657)

Hell’s worst married couple spends a day of family bonding at a beauty pageant doing whatever it takes to make sure their daughter takes home the crown, because failure is never an option for the Vees. Pilot AU where Vox and Valentino are married and Velvette is their adopted daughter.

It's more Vees than voxval but they're married so.

The Art of Pimping by MarenRose (Words: 9,161)

Desperate to close a deal with one of the most lucrative investors in Pride, Vox does the unthinkable and pimps out Valentino for a one-time date. What could go wrong?

Val's attitude in this one is funny and Vox. Yeah. Vox made a mistake.

You Found Me by passthevoxcord (Words: 4,338)

Long before Velvette came along, it was just them. Vox and Valentino. Valentino and Vox.

Sobbing.

Something Less Than Dishonest by daphnerunning, Galiko (Words: 33,931)

He isn’t expecting the way Valentino walks, for some reason. Maybe it’s the extra limbs. Maybe it’s the wings. Maybe it’s the heels. Vox had skipped briefly through a few of the slut’s movies, for research, and isn’t expecting the way Valentino moves in person to feel so… Different. “…You must be my four o’clock,” he says, standing and offering a hand. Oh, shit, he’s huge. Valentino towers over him, easily would without the stripper heels. Vox is not afraid of heights.

Vox is so offensive in this it loops back around to hilarious.

Red Skies and Valentino by alternatedoom (Words: 86,050)

"Vox and I are special friends, doll. Go give him a kiss," Val says to the boy.

Angel does not have a good time. But the Voxval is nice.

before you go by xoTsundoku (Words: 4,426)

Before Alastor came into their lives, Vox and Valentino were happy. Maybe they still can be.

A Farewell to Ghosts by Accidental_Ducky (Words: 37,149)

"What do you think that is," Vox demands, pointing at the new guy. Valentino turns, eyes raking greedily over the man's body. He's gorgeous, skinny in a heroin chic way with big blue eyes and blond hair that falls just so across his eyes. "Hot." "Don't fucking call the ghost hot!"

The only human AU I've liked so far. Love the character interactions. Vox and Val are hilarious.

God I hope I didn't miss any. There's definitely some good WIP ones out there.

[thatawkwardmoth]

I'm sorry but if you think Logan would be a bad dad or just straight up not care about his children, read the comics or watch X-Men evolution.

Yes, Logan is a brute and he's 'not nice' a lot of the time. But if you think that this man wouldn't raise Laura, Gabby, Jubilee and all his other little shitheads out in a cabin in Canada, far away from people (but close enough for cell service, he gets it Jubilee, please stop yelling in his ear about Instagram), you're dead wrong.

Gabby's room would have built in bookshelves and she'd have a killer treehouse outside, her bedframe would be hand carved wood with pieces meant to withstand her claw for a while. She'd have plushies and posters and whatever she wanted. Logan could go without food for a while just for her to get the things she liked. She could not go without food and neither could the rest of the shitheads. Yes, Laura is her main adult but Logan won't let Gabby have a lackluster childhood.

Laura's room would be covered. With whatever she wanted. Even if she changed her mind and redecorated a thousand times, it's her room. It's not a cell or some blank white room. She's not X-23. She's his girl, the Wolverine. She can have a small gym set up to train and keep her active, 100%. But she'll come to eat when called and won't overdo it, healing factor or not. Or Logan will lock the door and ground her. He keeps the porch light on for her every night, knowing sometimes she just wants to run, to stretch her legs and feel the freedom she has. He'll wait on the porch, beer in hand and offer her some food when she's back. Tell her Gabby's asleep and she's fine, like Laura can't hear her snoring. She's got his attitude and they butt head but he'll always be the first to remind her she's not an experiment. She can put up a hundred dumb posters and read a hundred dumb books that aren't educational, he doesn't care. He'll even listen with minimal grumbling.

Jubilee's room is more adult than her old one is. It's got a jack and jill bathroom that leads to Shogo's little nursery. It's not used very often, but it's got all the updated supplies, for her and the baby. She's got the whole lawn to use her powers and not deal with complaints (unless it's the people inside the house), a hand made playhouse for Shogo when he gets older. She's got it all, whenever she wants to just run away. Whenever she needs a vacation or just to come see him.

Kitty's got one too, it's not changed. She can be the Red Queen to Krakoa, the fearsome Shadowcat to others but she's still got a room at his cabin with pictures upon pictures lining the walls, plush X-Men toys bought with Jubilee to annoy them, little notes from Rachel and Illyana. It's like a piece of the old Shadowcat Logan refuses to let Kitty Kate get rid of. She's got her own bathroom so she stops phasing through the doors and walls of the other ones without knocking and she's got a little balcony for her plants to die on because she never remembers to water them and Logan also forgets even though he tries to remember.

Logan's got a room that he hardly ever uses. He finds the girls in it (and his sons sometimes) in it more than he is. His bed is the communal 'i had a nightmare but we're not talking about it' place. It's the only reason he's got a TV in there. To turn on whatever dumb thing they want to watch, even if he hates it, he'll sit through nine seasons. There are stickers on his dresser (on most things actually, Gabby's personal signature), a giant plush dog bed for Jonathan the Wolverine, multiple pillows he doesn't use but they do. He even made sure to buy a comfortable blanket set even though he doesn't care at all when it comes to himself. He's survived worse but if it brings them comfort, he's going that extra mile.

He's stunted emotionally and sometimes messes up but this cabin, the one he's fixed up and added onto, he knows he did right by them with this. But he refuses to fix the creaky steps or the painted light switches, the chipped tiles or the old decorations that he shoves in the attic. Those are the character the house has, memories he doesn't want to lose like he's lost so many before.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter VI

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: sorry for the major delay on this chapter everyone, I've been juggling a lot privately and professionally but I'll be back to regular updates over the course of the next week <3 also, just broke 20k with this update, woo!! summary for this chapter is: the art of self-sabotage. or, old habits die hard.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving/receiving), loss of virginity, dirty talk, shower sex, falling in love

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark @sadslasher13 (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

How could you let this happen? Be this stupid?

This is exactly what you didn't want, trying your absolute damnedest to bury your feelings for Bjorn deep, deep under the weight of denial and downplay but—you can't, no matter how hard you try.

You're fighting an increasingly losing battle, falling further every time Bjorn comes around, every time he fucks you and holds you in his arms after. Every time he apologizes for whatever mean things he said in front of the others just so he can keep up the appearances you so desperately wanted to uphold. Every time he tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers that everything's going to be alright when nothing about this remotely is.

And you cry every time he leaves, finding it harder and harder to hold it in each time he does, like he's taking another piece of your heart with him every time he goes, crying salt into your pillow as you hug it close to your naked chest in the hours after, until your sobs taper off into pathetic wet sniffles, dehydrated and drained like you’re grieving a loss that hasn’t yet come to fruition.

But it will—and that’s the crux of it isn’t it, because you know in your bones, in your soul that you’ll lose this just like you’ve lost everything else before, because you’ve learned early on that everyone, no matter how much you need them, will always, always, leave in the end.

It’s a tough pill to swallow but then again, the truth always is, so you do what you can to prepare for it, choosing to shatter the illusion of happiness yourself instead of waiting for it all to inevitably come crashing down around you, desperately hoping it won’t hurt as bad when you do.

A decision you come to after another night spent drinking in the quarry, most nights spent together spent drinking, alcohol the only thing that really takes the edge off after an incredibly long and difficult shift.

Slumped back into the camping chair you’re sitting in, the one that you’ve unofficially claimed as yours, you quietly watch the familiar dance of flames everyone was sitting around, finishing off the last of your beer while the others talked and laughed.

You’d been pretty quiet all night, barely contributing anything to the conversations happening around you, too busy in your own head contemplating how to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve found yourself in as you tossed the now empty glass bottle into some nearby bushes.

Usually you'd stop after three, never one to catch anything more than a buzz but tonight, tonight you wanted to get absolutely shit-faced, wanted to shut out all the white noise inside your head, if only for a little while.

So you go to get up, intent on grabbing another drink from the worn down cooler Navarro’s feet were propped up on when Bjorn’s voice made you freeze, asking, “needa refill luv?” from the other side of the pit, head whipping up so hard you almost threw it out.

He must’ve been watching you, had to have been for him to have immediately noticed you were out, your stomach fluttering wildly at the assumption, doing your absolute damnedest not to show it on your face, no matter how badly you want to hiss at Bjorn, “what the fuck are you doing—sit back down!!!” but, you don't. Can't. The words dying in your throat every time you went to say it.

With your eyes glued to him, you watched as he walked around the burning steel drum towards his sister, his shoulders slouched and his chin down, the confident swagger he usually carries himself with gone and been replaced with a level of uncertainty you're not used to, one that helplessly flashes you back to shy blue eyes unable to meet yours just before he sucked on your breasts or stretched you open on his thick fingers.

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling wetness starting to seep between them. Not the time.

Bjorn nudged Navarro’s feet off the cooler lid, totally ignoring the scowl his sister threw at him while her hand was cupped around the dying cherry of her cigarette she was trying to keep from going out, fishing another bottle of aspen beer from the half melted ice in the process.

He came to a stop in front of you, holding the drink out by the glass neck to take, giving a smile meant just for you, so warm it had you burning hotter than the kindling wood behind him as everything briefly dissolved around you, like the entire universe was made up of just you, him, and the space in between, the warmth he was wearing radiating throughout your chest.

It was incredibly tender and brief and all wrong, the moment interrupted when Rain cleared her throat beside you, bringing you crashing back down to reality.

More than enough to make you recoil—hard. The bottle you'd been mid hand off slipping from your grip and shattering onto the pebbled stones between his and your feet, splashing chilled lager across both of your pant legs.

Bjorn had sworn under his breath then, asking you things like, “fuck, ah’ ya alright?” and, “ya’ ain't hurt ah’ ya,’ darlin?’” but you’d barely heard, had tuned it all out as your gaze swung wildly around the lopsided circle your friends were huddled in, all eyes on you.

Whether from the beer or from Bjorn you didn't know—didn't want to know, feeling severely scrutinized under the weight of their collective stare, like they could see right through you, like they knew what you were hiding, causing you to shrink down low into your seat, line of sight trained on the freshly wet gravel as you snapped at Bjorn that you didn't want his fucking handouts.

You could see the lower half of Bjorn’s body go rigid from within your periphery, refusing to look up and meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find, of possibly seeing some of that blossoming affection you’d been feeling mirrored in his icy blues, waiting to let out the shaky exhale you’d been holding until he walked back to his seat.

No one commented on your bizarre little exchange, probably because they knew you were a flight risk, that you’d turn tail and run at the first sign of conflict—like you always did, which is why you forced yourself to stay, not wanting to raise any more questions.

After the bonfire had ended Bjorn, like most nights, found his way back to your apartment, a bit cautious to approach you in your bedroom, probably sensing the sour mood he'd inadvertently put you in, asking for permission to touch while he crawled into your bed to join you.

And now here you are, Bjorn grunting as he thrusts into you once, twice, three more times before he finishes inside the condom buried eight inches deep between your legs, hairline damp from exertion with his bangs sticking to his forehead in sweaty little peninsulas.

He leans down, the cool metal of his dog tags brushing up your bare chest while he does, to plant an incredibly tender kiss to your lips, smiling into it when he feels you reciprocate, going in for a slew of quick pecks the same time he lets go of the leg he’s still holding up, fingers dimpling the back of your thigh.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he grins a little wider, still a bit winded as he tries catching his breath, rolling off of you to lie flat on his back instead, covered in a fresh set of scratches trailing down from his shoulders to the base of his spine.

There's a beat of silence, only punctuated by the mingling of your heavy breathing slowly returning to normal and the systematic tick of your alarm clock on the bedside table next to your head, feeling Bjorn's hand find its way into yours down between your bodies.

Tears start to crease along your waterlines, rapidly fluttering your lashes to try and blink them away, to not draw Bjorn’s attention to how absolutely vulnerable you feel. This was a mistake. A big one. And not just tonight—all of it. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered filthy praise shared between you, closing your eyes for a moment, just long enough for you to work up the nerve and say, “we have to talk,” voice thick with thinly-veiled emotion.

Bjorn perks up at that, rolling onto his side as he sat up on his elbow, cheek resting on a loosely curled fist, the shitty stick and poke of the losing dice frowny face he has tatted on the back of his right hand, one of the many Navarro gave him when he was fifteen and they were both high as a kite while giggling quietly on the floor of his bedroom as to not wake their dad, upside down from this angle.

“Glad ya’ said sumthin’ princess,” he smiles a shy, tiny thing you aren’t used to, fighting the overwhelming urge to back out now, “cuz m’ pretty sure I feel tha’ same.”

You seriously doubt that, your suspicion sadly confirmed when he confesses, “I think m’ fallin’ fo’ ya,’” the same time you say, “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

More silence, except—this one says a hell of a lot more.

Your throat goes tight and painful, like you just swallowed shards of glass and poured salt into the resulting wounds, watching the smile on his face quickly dissolve, replaced by a pinched frown and the confused furrow of his eyebrows, sitting all the way up to stare down at you.

“Wha’?” He asks, so small and fragmented it feels like a knife stab to the chest having to hear it. Fuck, you knew it was going to sting,that you were in too deep by the time you realized you were falling for him, but you didn't expect it to hurt this bad, like you want to take it all back but you don't—you can’t, for your sake and his.

“I said,” you push through the acute ache, disguising your tone with something harsher, something hurtful, “we should stop seeing each other. It's just—not working out anymore.”

“M’ sorry but where in tha’ bloody fuck is this all comin’ from? I thought things wuz’ good between us,” he argues, using his hand to gesture between your body and his as you sit up against the headboard, pulling your blanket up over your chest so you aren't so exposed.

“Well, you were wrong. We just—we aren't meant for each other. We're only hooking up out of convenience and you know it,” you reinforce, unable to meet his eyes head on, just like the quarry, gaze trained on the worn comforter by his naked thigh.

Still, you're able to catch a glimpse of the confusion on Bjorn's face morph into utter annoyance, snapping at you to, “cut tha’ shit already.”

“Excuse me?” You bristle immediately, letting your anger temporarily eclipse your pain so you don't break down in front of him, “fuck you if you think I'm lying.”

“Oh, m’ sorry if m’ havin’ a hard time believin’ ya, but ya’ can't jus’ fake tha’ kinda chemistry. I'm willin’ ta’ bet it all on black ya’ felt it jus’ as much as I did.”

You can see desperation bleed into his eyes, hear it seep into his words, wavering like he's not so sure anymore but still trying to convince himself that he's right—and he is, you know in your bones that he is but he doesn't need to know that, muttering back, “what the fuck do you even know.”

His nostrils flare as a result, clearly offended by your statement, leaning in on his palm, fingers spread over your sweaty, wrinkled bed sheets, his gaze firmly transfixing itself on you, “‘scuze me? Ah’ ya’ tryna be daft on purpose?” not giving you any room to respond before he continues on.

“Listen—I can't speak fo’ ya,’ but I know wha’ I fuckin’ feel. D’ya really fuckin’ think I wanna feel like this?! Tha’ I wanted this ta’ happen? Course fuckin’ not. I don't get close ta’ people tha’ ain't mah’ family but then you. Ya’ came along an’—I neva’ intended ta’ get ta’ know ya’ at all. Yeah I thought ya’ wuz a total smokeshow when I first laid mah’ eyes on ya’ but I figured ya’ wouldn't stick around long with how bloody standoffish ya’ were, always lookin’ like ya' didn't wanna be there

“But then ya’ did. Ya’ did an’ we almost fuckin’ died so I opened up ta’ ya’ figurin’ we wuz both gonnas’ then ya’ let me touch ya.’ Let me inside ya,’ an’ I couldn't stop fuckin’ replayin’ it in mah' head tha’ night I slept ova’ at Kay an’ Tyler's. Had ta’ rub one out in tha’ bathroom an’ bite down on mah’ fuckin' fist like a hormonal tweener. I woulda been embarrassed if I wuzn't so fuckin' turned on.

“So I had ta’ go back fo’ a round two, see if it wuz jus’ a fluke but once I was fuckin’ ya again I couldn't stop, I wanted more every time, like a fuckin’ junkie lookin’ fo’ tha’ next fix, no matta’ how hard I tried resistin.’ But then I started ta’ notice otha’ things ‘sides tha’ face ya’ make when I make ya’ pussy weep around mah’ cock an’ ya' sing so pretty fo’ me,” he says, face neutral and tone even despite how hot your cheeks are hearing that.

“Like how carin’ ya' ah’ fo’ tha’ othas’ despite actin’ like ya’ don't. Tha’ ya' had ta’ grow up fas’ as fuck an’ took it out on yaself’ instead o’ lashin’ out like an’ insecure prick. Like me. Tha' I thought I'd neva’ seen someone so fuckin' beautiful in all mah’ life when ya’d fall asleep befo’ me, even when ya’ wuz droolin’ on mah’ chest and snorin’ like one o’ them fuckin' minin’ drills. Tha’ I thought I could listen ta’ ya' horrendous singin’ in tha’ showa’ all day when ya’ woke up befo’ me. Tha’ I wanted ta’ call ya’ mine fo’ a fuckin’ while now.

An’ I know I wuzn't jus’ imaginin’ shit. I might be shit at expressin’ mah’ feelins’ but so ah’ you. Ya’ can’t convince me none o’ it wuz real.”

You consider trying to take it all back, while he’s still giving you an out, feeling like your heart’s been violently ripped out of your chest but you refrain from doing so, choosing to stand your ground, no matter how shaky the earth beneath you feels. You can’t afford to lose someone again, it’ll be better in the long run to ruin it now than to let life steal someone else away when you least expect it, when you can’t possibly handle any more heartbreak.

Finally meeting his eyes you force yourself not to flinch at the intensity of his gaze as they scrutinize you, like he can see right through you, feeling more exposed now than you did when he first got you naked.

“It wasn’t,” you insist, somewhat petulantly.

It’s his turn to roughly swallow at what you say, his confidence visibly waning in the slouch of his shoulders and the way he pulls back a little, the uncertainty of his words when you first confessed making a comeback—much stronger this time but still underscored by a level of defiance like he’s clinging on to some modicum of hope.

“So allat—allat really meant absolutely nuthin’ ta’ ya?’”

You know you have to inflict maximum damage, to crush any chance of making the same mistake twice, finding yourself leaning in like he did earlier to emphasize your point, not deviating away from devastated blue as you hiss, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

And that was all it took, watching how quickly Bjorn turned his back to you while he quietly yanked on his clothes, shoulders shaking in anger, in rejection—in defeat. He's hurting, it's more than obvious by the way his voice shakes, sounding like wet gravel as he croaks at you to, “have a nice fuckin’ life,” before storming out of your apartment, leaving you alone, the silence you once found comfort in when you were on your own bordering on unbearable now.

It's for the best, you reason, it's what needs to happen, you don't need to make this any harder than it already fucking is, finally allowing yourself to break down, as pained sobs rack your body, crying so hard you grab at your chest like you’re trying to open another airway, gasping between each tearful moan.

So, if this is really for the best—then why does it feel like the worst decision you’ve ever made?

[goldenraeofsun]

was it ever really real

“You’ve got to be joking,” Lois says flatly as she takes in the single bed in the middle of the cramped hotel room filled with flowery wallpaper, bland oil landscapes, and yellowing, lacy white drapes that do nothing to keep out the dimming Kansas sun in the west. It smells slightly of old people.

Hopefully nobody died here in the past week.

Behind her, Clark lets out a bewildered, “Gosh.” He straightens, bumps his head on the doorframe, and hunches back over as he closes the door behind them.

“Is this even a queen? It looks more like a double.” She sits on the edge, nose wrinkling as she spreads both arms out to gauge the size. “And they’d better be out of rooms if they’re cramming us in this shoebox. Although god knows why there's a rush on Dodge City, Kansas of all places.”

“I’ll take the floor,” Clarks says firmly.

“No way,” Lois argues. “I’ll step on you on the way to the bathroom. We can share.”

“You just said the bed was too small.”

Lois raises her eyebrows. “And are you planning on making off with my virtue, Kent?”

Clark goes bright red in a blink. “N-no! I would never – how could you even ask – of course not!”

Lois cracks up. “Jesus Christ, of course you would never. You’re the exception that proves the rule.”

Clark blinks at her, completely lost. “Thank you?”

Lois shrugs. “Fair warning, I kick in my sleep.”

Clark lets out a surprised cough. “That – that won’t be a problem.”

“You say that until you wake up with black and blue shins,” Lois says darkly. “You want the first shower or should I?”

“Go ahead,” Clark demurs. 

Lois beams as she flounces into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. She stares at herself in the mirror, barely able to contain her whoop of joy. So far, all according to plan. 

First up, post-shower entrance. She turns on the water, yelping as the frigid cold spray hits her chest. Instead of leaving the shower and admitting defeat, she grits her teeth and bares it. This will only make her stronger. Probably. 

She spends entirely too long putting on makeup. Not a full face, but just enough to mask their eight hours of travel. Hopefully, if things go to plan, she won’t actually be sleeping for a few more hours yet.

She gives herself one last sweep with a critical eye, mentally tells herself It’s just Clark, and turns to face the door. With a towel wrapped around her chest that shows a tasteful amount of cleavage (if you asked her) or a scandalous amount (if you asked Clark), she steps back out into the room. 

Lips curling in a coy smile, she calls, “Sorry, I forgot my pa–” She breaks off at the sight of an empty hotel room. “Clark?” she says blankly. 

But no, he’s definitely not in the room. For one, he couldn’t fit under the bed or inside the pudgy little armoir, and for another, there’s no way Clark wouldn’t jump and knock into something at the sight of a naked lady in a towel. 

Damn. She’s been looking forward to the humor in addition to the lust. 

She ducks back into the bathroom, puzzled and a little embarrassed. He could have left to ask the front desk something or find a snack. Their airport dinner was a few hours ago now. A trip to the vending machine would take, what, five minutes max?

Slight delay to her plans. Not a big deal. It’s not like anyone is going to die if she can’t seduce Clark Kent in the next five minutes. 

She gets bored after ten. 

By fifteen, she’s changed into her silk pajamas and sat cross legged on the bed. 

After an hour, she’s resentfully wiped off her makeup, pulled out her laptop, put the television on to the evening news, and started writing up her article notes. 

As the report flashes between drone shots of Superman rescuing flooding victims in Kentucky and updates from the field reporters, Lois gathers her data together and compiles her quotes. So far, starting from the basics, she’s got that Superman lives in Metropolis, watches every Meteor’s game, and reads The Daily Planet. It’s not much to go on, which is why their visit to Annette’s bakery tomorrow will hopefully point her in the right direction.

After two hours, her irritated concern has calcified into a hard stone in the pit of her stomach. She changes back out of her pajamas and into regular clothes and heads out the door. She taps her fingers nervously along the side of her plastic hotel key card all the way down the creaky elevator ride to the first floor.

“Hi,” she says, pasting on a smile as she approaches the front desk. “I was wondering if you’d seen my partner. Six feet or so, big guy, with glasses?”

The lady behind the front desk frowns, and Lois’s smile vanishes. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “I don’t think anyone matching that description has been by. But my shift just started, and I can ring Martin to see if he saw your companion?”

She puts in her call, and Lois tries not to let her temper get the best of her as Martin answers in the negative. Fuming, she stomps back up to the room. She slams the door shut behind her, and nearly has a heart attack at the muffled, “Oof!” She yanks the door back open to reveal a stunned and rumpled Clark Kent.

“Where the fuck have you been?” she demands.

Clark exhales a slow breath. “I can explain,” he says as he edges around her into the room.

“And why are you wet?” Lois says as the ceiling light catches on the droplets in his dark hair. His cuffs are wet too, and the collar of shirt has a ring of moisture around the edge.

“I –”

“You’ve been gone hours,” Lois hisses. “I get out of the shower, and you’ve just ‘poof’! Vanished! What the hell was so important that you couldn’t tell me that you were leaving at all?”

Clark shuffles in place. “I was –”

“We’re in fucking Kansas,” she snaps, “so I know you didn’t leave the oven on, need to feed Mrs. Hannigan’s fish, have a doctor’s appointment –”

“There –”

“So please tell me, what the hell were you doing for,” she glances at the bottom right hand corner of the newscast, where they always broadcast the time, “more than two hours?”

Clark’s expression turns mulish. “If you’d just let me –”

“Jesus Christ, I thought you’d gotten into a car accident or, I don’t know, were dead in a ditch somewhere! You couldn’t call? You couldn’t text?” she demands. “I know I make fun of Kansas for being hicksville central, but I know there’s cell service here.”

“Lois!” Clark snaps, “I get that you’re angry. I get that you’re frustrated.”

“Do you?” she says, her voice raising as she jabs him hard in the chest. “Because if you did, I can’t fathom why you would go radio silent while I was in the shower. Would it have been so hard to interrupt for five seconds? I know you’re comically prudish at the best of times, but…” She drifts off, letting her hands fall limply to her sides. “This is something else,” she finishes after a long beat. “I was worried.”

Clark’s shoulders slump and his spine bows as the fight seeps out of him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Lois shakes her head. “Just, where were you?”

Clark straightens. “I –” His eyes narrow behind his glasses as he turns to stare, hard, at the closed door behind them.

“Clark?” she prompts as he says nothing.

“I have to go,” he says.

“Clark Joseph Kent,” she starts, her voice dangerously low. “If you don’t explain yourself right fucking now –”

“I can’t,” he says, sounding genuinely pained, which just makes her madder. “I’ll tell you everything when I get back.” And before she can grab his sleeve to keep him from leaving, he slips right back out the door. 

“Fuck!” She kicks the mattress with her foot. She swears a blue streak up and down the length of her (admittedly small) hotel room, only pausing at the words “robot invasion” from the television. She freezes in place, staring at the screen, now showing a special breaking news report.

Robots are invading Metropolis.

And Lois Lane is stuck in Dodge fucking City. 

It takes her five full minutes to pick her jaw off the floor and wake up her laptop. First, she calls Perry, who predictably doesn’t answer. Next, she calls Jimmy, who doesn’t pick up. Desperate, she dials Cat, who is apparently safe and sound and watching the whole thing from Bruce Wayne’s annual fundraiser for Gotham’s pet orphans or whatever – Lois tunes her out as Superman, on the tiny hotel television screen, yanks off a robot’s laser gun and hurls it into space. 

Then, Jimmy calls her back, and Lois finally gets real-time updates from a qualified source. 

Superman finally shuts down the robot hivemind HQ around two in the morning. 

Clark still has not returned. Her temper simmers just below the surface, a burning irritation that flares every time she thinks about it. 

By three thirty, the 24-hour news cycle has moved on from the cleanup attempts. Lois shuts off the television, closes her laptop, and crawls under the covers. 

After what feels like minutes but what must be at least an hour later, judging by how she’s kicked off all the blankets, she wakes up in the darkness.

Movement, on the other side of the bed.

“Clark?” she says muzzily.

“I’m back,” he says in a low voice.

She bolts upright and flips on the lamp on her side of the bed. “You’re back,” she repeats as she gives him a once over, as if she would be able to deduce his whereabouts from his disheveled hair, crooked glasses, and generally weary demeanor.

Clark hunches in further on himself. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want apologies. You already apologized plenty,” Lois says scathingly. “I want an explanation.”

Clark inhales a deep breath. “I know. And I’m going to tell you.”

Lois waits.

And waits some more.

“Just spit it out for god’s –”

“I’m Superman.”

Lois blinks. “Come again?”

Clark coughs. “I’m Superman,” he says, his voice thready and nervous, and he couldn’t sound less like Superman if he tried. 

What the fuck is happening? This is what he’s going with? Did he hit his head on his mysterious four-hour errand? Eventually, she says , “You can’t be serious.”

But Clark just shakes his head. He reaches up and removes his glasses.

Her jaw drops as he starts on the buttons on his shirt next, revealing the familiar blue and S insignia. 

“You wanted to know where I was?” Clark says quietly. “First, I was in Perry, Kentucky. It rained more than eight inches in two days. I put it off all day, but people were stranded and injured, and FEMA was going to get there too late.” He sets his glasses down on his nightstand and turns to face her fully.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. Possibly for the first time in her life, Lois Lane is stunned speechless. 

“Then, I had to fly back to Metropolis,” he continues over her dumbfounded silence. “Toyman and Livewire teamed up to create an army of robots and hold the city hostage. It was the middle of the night, people were confused and terrified.” He sits up a little straighter, far straighter than Clark Kent ever presented himself, and a shiver courses down Lois’s spine, chilling her down to her very bones.

He keeps talking, describing the fight with details only Superman could possibly know, and his voice is steady, his posture is impeccable, and his eyes are so, so inhumanly blue without the glasses as a buffer.

She can’t find a hint of Clark Kent anywhere in him. It’s like her best friend never even really existed.

She’s been such a fool.

After Metropolis, he went to Vancouver to contain an out of control house fire and then Orlando to brace a collapsed high rise condominium. Lois checks her phone as he talks, and not even local news stations have picked these stories up yet; only a handful of local Twitter accounts mention Superman. But that’s enough evidence for Lois.

“And that’s where I’ve been,” Superman finishes. “But I’m sure you have more questions. I promised to tell you everything, and I can do that now.”

Lois had a billion questions for Clark Kent, her partner, her best friend, and recent star of her last sex dream. She has zero questions for Superman, except incoherent screaming.

He waits more or less patiently for Lois to say something. 

Eventually, she forces out, “So you do have a secret identity.”

Superman dips his head in a nod, and she could hear a phantom, “of course I do,” in Clark’s voice that Superman is too magnanimous to say out loud.

She was right. 

Of course she was right.

Superman has a disguise, a whole civilian identity he used to hide right under her nose. Was that why he befriended her in the first place? He reasoned she was the most likely in the media to discover his big Clark-Kent-shaped secret, so he positioned himself in such a way that she could never stomach splashing it across the front page. Because he was her friend. 

The corners of her eyes prickle, but she valiantly swallows down the lump in her throat.

Is that why he agreed to this stupid trip? Because she was getting too close, and he needed her out of the way where she couldn’t make a scene when she found out the truth?

God, she’s such an idiot.

Make that a giant fucking idiot, because his plan is working. She’s going to scrap her article, delete all her notes, and text Perry to take her name off the agenda in the pitch meeting next week.

“Lois?” Superman asks, and, shit, he was definitely expecting more follow up questions.

In the increasingly tense silence between them, she glances down, anywhere but at him. Fuck, she’s still in her silk pajamas, the ones with the short shorts that reveal 98% of her legs and a sliver of skin above the waist band, below the lightly cropped top. 

Modification floods her again, shriveling her stomach and making her fingers clench around nothing.

God, she was going to seduce Superman. She couldn’t think of a more useless, embarrassing endeavor, and she burns with shame the longer he just keeps looking at her. She pushes herself off the bed.

“Lois?” Superman prompts, more confused this time.

Lois grabs the blankets from the floor and dumps them back on the bed. “It’s late. I’m tired.”

“Okay –”

“I’d like to be alone,” she says curtly as she drags the covers up over her hips.

Superman opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again only for him to falter as he meets her icy gaze. “Okay,” he repeats, disappointed.

“I’m going to move up my flight tomorrow,” she says as he gets to his feet, “since there’s no need to visit Annette’s Bakery now.”

“There isn’t?”

Lois throws him a scornful look. “I’m not going to write the article. Obviously.”

He pinks. “Thank you,” he says. “I wasn’t – well, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” She reaches over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table.

“Lois?” he tries in the darkness.

She says nothing, just clutches tighter at her pillow.

He sighs. “If you want to talk, just call for me. I promise I’ll hear you.”

Of course he’ll hear her. He hears everyone. He’s Superman.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Get out.”

Head back to Part I here!

He does.

Read Part VI here!

[ender-cloud]

Oooo boy man, this update has me excited to talk about

Tgs spoilers under cut

MIND JASPER CHAT, MIND JASPER!!! Also that one evil scientist dude whos name I forgot on accident.

It’s interesting that Jasper is apart of Jekylls self doubt but it also perfectly makes sense! Jekyll is Jaspers mentor, his teacher, someone who took him under his wing after Jasper went through a lot of stuff.

But at the same time, he’s not the perfect mentor. Remeber his reaction to Jasper telling Jekyll he’s trans? It wasnt really the best response he could’ve given him; and that put a strain on their relationship for a while.

Also, Jasper is one of the few people who likes Jekyll and respects him but also isn’t afraid to put him in his place when he needs to, which gives the two this incredibly intresting dynamic.

The “You missed your chance at happiness” is a nod to the conversation Jekyll and Jasper had about Lanyon, and how Jekyll Deep down always thought it was his fault. He wasn’t good enough for Lanyon, or that it was inevitable for it to happen.

Jasper is one of the only people who knows about it and now Jekyll’s mind is using that to play cruel tricks on him, to make him feel even more ashamed, and is also taking in people finding out that he was Hyde.

Jekyll feels Unlovable because he sees Hyde as this monster inside of him, and who would like him for his flaws when he needs to be perfect, now that the secrets out he’s willing to die alone because of it.

This thought of being this monster also leads into the evil scientist dude (sorry im so bad at names 😔) , the self doubt that he is preaching is that because of Jekylls failed experiment, and that because Jekyll had this part of him in the first place he is doomed to end up just like him.

Alone. Feared. Angry and Bitter. But it’s not true in the end because while these thoughts of doubt seem so loud and are pulling him under, Jekyll can still choose who he wants to be and Mend what he has done wrong.

Now while these thoughts are mostly directed at Jekyll, Hyde and Jekyll have similar fears so it makes sense that they would affect Hyde aswell.

Hyde is afraid of being alone, just like Jekyll he’s stuck in this place of uncertainty in himself and he needs Jekyll to guide him which he can’t do alone.

We saw how he crumbled when Jekyll left, how he was so lost and how he was terrified, and now he is acting strong again, his persona he displays is a switch that he can turn on and off at any moment because it’s his self defense mechanism.

Even though he’s talking to the mind people of self doubt with confidence and conviction, even a little poking fun, its not enough to keep him from getting dragged down under by the nightmares just like Jekyll was. Once again being called a monster, when even though Hyde is a manifestation of every bad part pf Jekyll, he is not a monster, but a misguided person.

Hyde can’t stop it, the comments are getting to him more that he could’ve ever guessed, and he has always been afraid by the nightmares that consume him.

When he was the one who had taken in charge they haunted him, and now that he’s all alone they haunt him again, because without Jekyll to tease and make fun of or give him guidance, he’s an easy target to get to, for he loses almost all of his confidence and definitely all of his control.

In a way the mind self doubt has made some good points that they are a little right about, they over exaggerated those points, making is seem more hopeless than it actually is because thats what self doubt is.

It extends from something that has happened but grows it and twists it until its out of hand and it ways down on you.

Most of these extend from wanting to be perfect, failing to find love, and most of all Hyde.

Its tragic how this is what Jekyll is getting pulled under by but it also Perfectly realistic at the same time, if Hyde gets Jekyll back he is going to have to find a way to prove that these things are not true which will be hard because they are apart of his self doubt too

[lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus]

At a minute or two til two (Pt. 2)

[Part 1], >Part 2

Hi everyone! I'm back with the second installment of my To Die Today series! >:3c I already have an idea for part 3, so I'll do my best to update you. Comments and tags really help me know you enjoyed it and want more!! So let me know if you love it like I do; much love!

Trigger warnings: same as part 1, but with some throw-up, a panic attack, and a touch of deadly ideation. No beta, we die like Steve.

He doesn’t remember much, but he still thinks about that place he visited. He always yearns to go back to the absolute peace when things get too loud.

Sometimes, he just wishes he could fade into black. He can still hear the waves every now and then calling, and his soul yearns.

From the incident on, Steve had a faint scar; it rested on the back of his neck and wrapped around slightly to the side. It refused to fade.

He hid it with concealer.

He hid it with his hair.

He was still doubtful on whether or not he had died. Or, what it meant to him.

It had to’ve been a fluke…

… Right?

Maybe it just took him a little longer to… bite the dust?

The next time he died, he was 10.

His parents were away for the week as they did more and more often these days, and it was the start of summer.

The crisp bite of cold water reduced the sting of the sun, and there was really no other place to be. He spent his days poolside, enjoying ice pops and canned soda from his parent’s cooler. He’d run and jump and splash and play until his skin shriveled from water or split from the sun. Whichever came last.

This was the summer he learned a vital lesson.

See, there are rules when you go to the pool or pond or really anywhere to do with water. But Steve was just a kid; rules were put in place by adults because they didn’t like to have fun.

So he ignored them.

It was Thursday, midday, and he’d just gotten off the phone with his parents. His mom was checking in and making sure he was safe and being smart, and he reassured her he was. And he was, for someone who had yet to learn certain hard truths.

He ran to jump back into the pool, but there was just one millisecond where the traction failed under his feet, and his heart leapt in it.

And that was enough. 

A puddle on concrete.

One second, he was pool-bound, and the next, everything went black. Color shot into his world again as his vision came back, yet left his eyes unfocused. Vague and unseeing. He experienced the sound and distant vibrations at the same time he heard an earth-shattering crack and bone-shaking rumble. His eyes opened again to see bloody concrete roll away, and he distantly felt like an egg being cracked open.

The ‘splash’ came second to the cool sensation crashing around him. Enveloping him. Eating him alive. What little oxygen he had bubbled to the top of his lungs, most slipping out in a silent but all-consuming exhale.

His eyes burned as chlorine forced its way in; sparks ripped their way around his eye socket and popped inside his skull.

His lungs were on fire - conflicted and stretched to the max to save what little oxygen they could. He wanted to scream. All he did was choke.

The heavy swish and weight of water in his nose and throat unsettled him, and he heaved. Body flexing and struggling as dark blues began to bloom with a soft black. He coughed. All he got was a lung full of water and the endless feeling of throwing up.

Something sharp catches on his throat and covers his flooded windpipe for a moment - something flimsy that bent with the water. Some brown debris coughs its way out of his system and triggers his gag reflex again. His tears are like lava.

His last thoughts are just how heavy and muted everything feels: the sound of water in his ear, the cold darkness that envelops him, and how his body screams.

He doesn’t know how long he chokes and burns.

Is this what dying feels like?

He just wants to go back. Why couldn’t it be like last time? With the beach and the waves? Instead of feeling hot water forced out his nose and back into his lungs?

–

There was no peace. No comfort like last time. Instead, he wakes up and feels his weak body burn, trying to suck in air while purging the water. After an eternity of choking, a warm static embraces him, granting sweet numbness as he drifts again. A few hours feel like minutes before he’s dragged into the cycle again.

–

Three days pass before his body floats to the surface. Three days of a small, infinite torture before he feels dry heat on his back. When he comes to, his body kicks fruitlessly again, and his arms swing around, desperately trying to find the surface. He chokes and vomits water back into himself. Something feels different. He doesn’t have time to investigate as he’s purely in fight or flight mode, his body out of control and flailing.

Things go black again.

–

Eventually, he finds himself floating over to the shallow end. He hits a wall, and when he scrambles back to consciousness, his feet hit the pool’s ground as he gags and expels water from his nose and mouth and lungs, flailing wildly. His hands find a ledge and pull.

When the sun sets, he comes to with snot, water, and blood running down his face and pooling on the concrete beneath him.

–

It took two days for the rot and swelling to go down. During that time, as his body worked to mend itself, half in the pool and half out, his mind drifted to that pleasant space. No more was this pain and fire. Instead, there was finally fuzzy peace.

His mind relaxed, and his soul just… floated. It was dark, the ocean. Rain clouded the sky in dark grays, rolling and tumbling onto each other like the very waves they kissed. It was cold.

The churning of the waves put him at peace. It could never be horrifying, despite looking into the mouth of some cosmic horror. Instead, it felt… outside himself. It was all simply a part of the universe as death and creation rolled onto itself, creating the peacefully roiling and vicious clouds. It did him no harm, and he knew it wouldn’t, so he existed and felt.

Everything ached. His head throbbed with dehydration, as it felt like every drop of water was wrenched out of him. Railroad spikes of pain hammered into the side of his skull, practically nailing him to the ground as he writhed. He felt nauseous and on fire. His mouth was dry, his skin burned, everything inside him ached, and the sun and water felt like needles on his arms and legs.

Water. He needed water. Water and shade. His body screamed as he used what little strength he had left to pull his torso up and roll himself out of the pool. His skin burned where it met the abrasive concrete, and Steve barely processed the blood stains beneath him. He could feel his tight skin stretch with the movement, almost as if it would tear at any second.

Minisculely, he crawled over to the patio door. When he reached up for the handle, that tight feeling in his skin came back in a warning, so he instead clawed the door open from the floor. Getting over the door track was like shuffling through barbed wire, but the cold of the tile instantly replaced the burning.

Catching his breath on the floor, Steve looked around while panting. The sink was his first thought, but he couldn’t reach it like this. He couldn’t stand, and he definitely couldn’t reach it, so the refrigerator it was.

Scooting himself along, he reached into the blissfully cold fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Sitting up as best he could, he twisted the cap, winced at the burn of his wrist, and downed the bottle. A blast of frosty spikes took over his mouth before moving to his throat and stomach. It hurt as much as it helped.

Gasping between swallows, he held the cold plastic to his face and breathed at the relief it brought. The second bottle he took slower to prevent the frigid pain, uncaring about any that escaped his lips. It was like a balm across his too-hot skin anyway.

His stomach cramped and heaved at the freezing intrusion while he fought down the urge to vomit.

Keep it down, force it down, you’re not going to throw up, you’re not- vomit surged up before he could repress it and left him shaking, freezing, overheating, and crying. The stench bloomed through the kitchen and stung his nose. Clutching his water bottle, he scooted across the floor, snot running down his face as he took hiccuping sips. His arms hurt as his shoulders moved with each cry.

Giving up, he laid down as far from the vomit as he could and rested his body against the cold tiles, sighing at the minor relief. Catching his breath, he quickly sank into a rough sleep, his mind replaying the sensation of falling and being unable to breathe.

He woke with a pounding headache, temples squeezing him and tile warm beneath. Spotting the forgotten bottle, he ripped it open and chugged the remains. The room-temperature water set right in his body and, thankfully, didn’t cause any cramping this time. Shakely, he got up on all fours, crawled to the fridge, and stretched over his vomit - ew - to pull another few bottles.

He eventually managed to stand up after what felt like hours of trying. By then, he’d already drunk his room-temperature water and was feeling somewhat better. Not entirely, but at least his headache had dulled.

Cold showers helped, and when he tried to put on a shirt, his body screamed in pain at the stretch and sensation of fabric. So he went shirtless and passed out face-down in his bed.

His parents came home the following morning. They bustled in with luggage and bags, his mom chatting happily to Steve from the other room.

“Oh, darling, you look dead on your feet!”

Steve didn’t have the energy or strength in him to find it funny.

His dad made a displeased noise. “Where’s your shirt? Did we raise an ignorant heathen? Put a damn shirt on - you’re not a kid anymore,” he rumbled.

His mom came around the counter and reached for his face, stopping short, and a worried look locked on her face. “Darling, your shoulders, what happened? They look so red. Did you get sunburned? Oh, I know I taught you to wear sunscreen.” The ends of her eyes scrunched up in an attempted smile.

“Did I stutter? Put a damn shirt on!” His father growled from the kitchen. Steve held in a sigh and resigned himself to the pain. He’d just have to get over it, as his father would say.

He turned around, and before he could get a step further, his mother gasped and dropped her bags.

“Steven! Your back!” She sounded horrified, and Steve tried to turn around and see what she was talking about, but his neck protested and burned too much. He could feel her body heat when she came up behind him.

His father’s footfalls even came closer. “What on Earth…”

“I’ve never seen it this bad before - ever…” His mother trailed off, voice a bit wobbly.

-

Dr. Goodmund, his pediatrician, took one look at Steve’s back and muttered, “Well, that can’t be good.”

-

They ended up going to the hospital.

On the way into the ICU, Steve was lectured by his parents and the staff on the importance of sunscreen.

It wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t just say that without his father seeing it as an excuse. He was already mad about how “it’s always something” with Steve or that “he must’ve been truly dumb to let it get this bad and not notice.” “It’s a visual thing, Steve.” He’d say. “How could you not see it? Or feel it, for that matter?” He gripped Steve’s upper arm tight - sunburn screaming as the swollen and blistered skin was squeezed, “When we get home…”

Richard didn’t have to finish that for him to know what was coming.

Steve wanted to go back to the rolling storm over the gray sea.

-

The nurses, already a step ahead, began bustling about getting things ready and set up. The doctor started talking with them and wrote some things down on the clipboard.

The doctors say he'll need a skin graft.

But if he can't feel it, is it really that bad? He says as much, and the doctor stays impassive. "That is a common misconception." They explained. "See, the damage here goes all the way to or through the hypodermis - the bottommost layer of skin, which is right above the muscle. Which means that with severe burns, it travels through all the layers of protection our body makes and damages the nerve receptors. When these are shot, we typically can't feel anything.

"Now, what we're going to do is administer a painkiller – looks like you've got some second-degree burns too, which I'm sure you can feel – and start you on an antibiotic. Looks like some of these lesions are already becoming infected, and we want to solve that. We'll also start you on an IV so that we can replace some of your fluids."

Steve liked them. He felt much more seen than with Dr. Goodmund.

When the doctors walked away, his mom approached his bed. His dad had opted to go home. Her voice was a whisper," It happened again, didn't it?" Steve was quiet, head hanging low. Mom reaches for him, something broken and defeated in her eyes. She stops right before touching him. "It happened again, and I wasn't there to help. What happened?"

Steve was instantly brought back to the sensations of drowning, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. All he could feel was water in his throat and nose and lungs. He coughed violently, trying to clear his throat from the sensation and failing.

A nurse was called.

It didn't help.

–

Using two mirrors, he eventually saw what everyone was talking about. The apex of his shoulders had black and deep red dimples that dug into his skin, all varying in size — some as small as a fingernail and others as large as a baseball. Ragged, torn, and infected flesh patched itself around the lesions in a red-and-black fashion. Yellowish but transparent welts the size of his palm and the girth of his fist littered his back and legs.

Instead of the red color he was used to when he got sunburned, he was met with waxy, white, and cracked skin.

The flesh was swollen.

The flesh was tender.

The flesh was going to scar.

–

The sight of it made his mother cry.

His father said it's what he deserves.

They eventually stopped looking.

–

The blood never did fade from the concrete, no matter how much Steve tried.

>[Part 3]

[revelboo]

Could we perchance get more Ironhide?

I love your writing btw, and can’t help myself from checking your blog every so often(every single day) for updates:) I live for this kinda stuff

Thank you!

Hold Me Down Pt 2

Ironhide x Reader

• Engine roaring, he accelerates and feels your head smack back against the headrest, getting flattened back into the driver’s seat. And there goes your calm, screaming your head off as he takes a turn too sharply. “I’d put your seatbelt on, darlin.’” He says, struggling not to crack up as you claw for it and fumble until you get it clicked in. Having a complete mental breakdown inside him.

• Feeling your heart racing, you dig your fingers into your thighs, afraid to touch the wheel as it freely spins and turns. This has to be one of those freaky self driving cars. Or it’s possessed by a demon just to punish you for your sins. As it’s deep laughter rumbles around you, you’re betting on the latter. “Please, I don’t want to die.” You moan as you get slung around when it turns again.

• Regretting your life choices, yet? Because this is the most fun he’s had in a long while. Listening to your caterwauling and begging, like music. Up until the blue lights flicker behind him with the angry woop of a siren. “Frag me,” he snarls, spotting the human cop car speeding after him. Because nope. He’s not getting impounded today as much as his little thief deserves to get thrown in jail for a timeout.

• Head craning to see the cop on demon van’s bumper, you almost start bawling as it accelerates again to leave the cop in the dust. And you’re thankful for the seatbelt as you get knocked around when he swerves down a side road. Risking whiplash as the tires scream around a curve and your head bangs against the side window.

• Fragging cop. Fragging human in his driver’s seat, too as you slump forward and he has to cinch down the seatbelt to keep your limp form off the wheel. Because now he’s well and truly fragged himself. He’d planned on just scaring you straight and dumping you on a side street babbling about possessed vans and too scared to try anything like that again. Thanks to that cop, everything’s gone sideways. And guilt won’t let him just dump you on the side of the road out here in the desert sun. Running through every swear he knows until he’s repeating himself, he gives up. Starts heading back to the Ark, hating himself and you, because he just saddled himself with a little thief without meaning to.

Previous

Next

[j0kers-light]

Y/n being as crazy as Joker.....but can sorta hide it.

Imagine joker sitting at the table, trying to think of a way to carry out a robbery but every plan he thinks of had a fault and it's stressing him out. Without thinking y/n just blurts out a plan that is mind-blowing and perfect. She just says 'it's the voices in my head'.

However the plan goes left because some goon did something stupid. Joker gets caught by the batman and is sitting at the back of the police car in hand cuffs being sent to the asylum. When the police officer talks to him, he recognises the voice and the eyes from the rearview mirror and its his bunny blended in as a cop. Recklessly driving away and ending up in a car chase with many police cars and even a helicopter on their tail.

His Lighthouse: Paint the Town Red (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Paint the Town Red - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

OOOOOOOOOOh my GOSH! Thank you to the moon and back @chelsea-xxx2003 for your patience! This request was a long time coming but I love love love loved writing it! This request is so old it makes me wanna hide in the box of shame!

But anyhoo!!! I hope you enjoy my love! Thank you once again for your patience (omg😭 please don't hate me!!) and if its not to your tastes, let me know! I can try again!🖤✨

Of course the song that inspired the plot 🤭

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @clemdango04 @l3ejm @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

The saying, “You are known by the company you keep” could be misconstrued in so many ways.

For how can someone say they truly know a person?

Joker felt that he knew you both inside and out; his stubborn yet highly intelligent Y/n. He loved you to a toxic degree and he knew the feelings were mutual.

He’d only known you for a year, but he knew the itty-bitty details that made you unique. You were quiet when necessary and rowdy at the most inopportune times. Your literary skills were profound at the cost of your social prowess.

J loved how you stumbled your way through conversations and your cute little ums were to die for! But if given a pen and paper, you could move the masses with your words.

In Joker’s eyes you were just shy of being perfect. Sweet, innocent—you couldn’t harm a fly. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.

Your dining room table was a war zone of stationery and mindless clutter.

Joker had parked himself there early this morning and had not moved since. You brought him breakfast and snacks but he would only grumble a quick, “Thanks Bun” to you before resuming his work. He was so fixated on this new heist idea that nothing else mattered. He couldn’t focus on anything if it wasn’t the blueprints in front of him or his phone that would chime with more reliable intel.

Come to think of it, you didn’t see him take a bathroom break. This robbery couldn’t be that important. You tried to get his attention despite failing every time.

Nothing was getting through to your dark clown, so you stopped trying.

You could tell planning was stressing him out, but once J was in his thinking mode, either he would finish or throw a murderous tantrum until he figured it out. All you had to do was wait for the outcome.

In the meantime, something you loved about Joker was his handwriting. It resembled nothing of the infamous madman. His penmanship was legible and slightly feminine with hints of cursive in unexpected places. Only Joker could get away with writing slaughter in pretty script. You did not expect him to have neat writing. It was a huge contrast to his deranged mental state.

It was soothing to watch J hunch over his notebook plotting out his next heist. There were so many intricate details that ultimately found their way into his notes—and you got to see the magic unfold in real time. You almost missed him groaning at the ceiling. He finally stopped plotting and started mumbling to himself under his breath.

A tantrum was imminent, so you decided to intervene before he went out and started killing innocent people.

“What’s bothering you, J?” You asked him.

His stressed-out green eyes immediately found yours from across the room.

You watched his pupils dilate taking in your beauty. You tried not to let his awe-struck reaction get to your head and instead focused your attention on his response.

“It's nothing to worry that uh.. pretty little head of yours with, Bunny. Am I... bothering you sittin’ here?” He gestured to his mess at the table while raking a hand through his dirty hair.

He needed to wash it but if he was going out, he needed to dye it. You would miss his natural sun kissed strands until the green faded out. A pity he covered up something so beautiful.

You shook your head, walking closer to him. “You are never a bother, J. I just came to see if you needed anything. You know... like a break.”

You made grabby hands at Joker’s hair and waited for him to voice his consent.

With a happy squeal, you carded your fingers through his greasy locs. The texture was a bit unusual, but it was an honor to touch Joker in such an intimate way that you overlooked your own discomfort to establish his.

Joker’s head fell back against your stomach in bliss. Your nails felt so good on his scalp, all his thoughts about the upcoming mission just melted away.

It was crazy how you automatically knew how to calm him down. J purred under your touch and you smiled at the overgrown cat at your mercy. This man worked so hard, he never stopped to take breaks and care for himself. He was blessed to have you around to remind him.

Not much it did with the stubborn clown, but the thought was appreciated.

The snacks you brought J were left untouched except for the sugary treats you added last minute. Joker and his sweet tooth. You rolled your eyes and they landed on his scattered plans.

From your advantage point, you could read everything from over Joker’s shoulder.

The heist was thoroughly thought out even in its rough planning phase.

Joker planned to rob the mob run bank in downtown Gotham, but you noticed there was something missing to tie it all together. He couldn’t seem to figure out how to access the bank’s service panels on the roof. You skimmed over the goons’ hired for the job. They were familiar names from your past and you remembered their individual skill sets. You knew who needed to be where to extract their ultimate usefulness.

The heist was scheduled to be done at the day’s end so that Joker could blend in with the district's school buses that drove by the bank everyday like clockwork.

It was perfect. Too perfect, hence why Joker circled alarm panel three times in red marker at the top of his notes and underlined, eliminate idiots twice.

There were open gaps within his idea. He didn’t know how to fill them.

Your poor clown was overthinking this and his little doodles on the plan’s margins were a sign of his restlessness. The solution was so easy; you couldn’t stop yourself from spelling it out for him.

“Baby.. have John John and Razor zip-line from the adjacent office building down onto the roof. John John can access the alarm panel and disable it. He’s got more situational awareness than Razor, so he’ll regroup with the two idiots you stormed the bank with. Tell them... it's only five shares, they’ll off each other to hoard all the money for themselves. Greed will have them turning their guns on their own accomplices. You won’t have to do a thing but watch. Before the bus gets there, there should be only one guy left. That way...”

You leaned down to kiss Joker’s scarred cheek. “You can kill him and the bus driver and make off with the cash. Easy.”

You resumed stroking his hair as if you didn’t solve his day long conundrum.

It was a mind blowing and perfect plan, one that he could’ve crafted if he weren’t so stressed but coming from his Bunny—it was even more diabolical. It was a glimpse at a darker side of you that he’d never seen before. He honestly didn’t know one existed.

He turned to stare at you in disbelief and you had the audacity to look surprised.

“I’m sorry, did I scratch too hard?”

You were worried about his hair rather than the plan you just orchestrated on the fly. How did you string it together?

He glanced down at his unfinished notes scattered on the table. Frost still had trouble decoding Joker’s long code, it was so complex, but you managed to decipher it and fill in the blanks within minutes.

“Can ya read that doll?” J pointed to his notes.

Were you not supposed to? It was clear as day, but you didn’t want to hurt Joker’s feelings if he didn’t like his own handwriting or something.

Joker stood up slowly, seeing you hesitate. He hoped he was just overthinking this.

There was no way his precious Light was some secret criminal mastermind. You wouldn’t harm a fly, yet he couldn’t ignore how easily you read his coded text. No one was supposed to unless they had previous skill in certain circles.

You sensed a shift in Joker’s demeanor and quickly backtracked.

“Um well, I.... I mean not really, no! The um voices in my head.. kinda filled in the gaps? Perks of being a writer, I guess? We can read anything! You have pretty handwriting if that’s the problem! Haha.. Wow! Would you look at the time? A-Are you hungry? I was thinking lamb stew with some fufu for lunch!”

You laughed and all but sprinted towards the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Joker staring after you.

Perks of being a writer? Was he really supposed to believe that? Although he did blush at the compliment you made towards his penmanship. You somehow managed to talk your way out of his suspicions with your sweet nature.

Joker watched as you washed your hands and forgot about the odd moment altogether. Watching you cook was the perfect way to distract Joker. It must’ve been a fluke for you to be able to read his code.

But why did he have the feeling you were hiding something?

Your plan was so foolproof, Joker didn’t change a single thing.

The day of the hit came, and everything went smoothly as if you personally knew the mindset of his hired goons. They played their part as pawns perfectly and Joker was able to drive the school bus out of the bank with no issues. His Light was secretly a genius!

What neither of you predicted was the loyalty of the bus drivers in front and the one behind Joker’s decoy.

Despite the hush money given, they still snitched to the GCPD, and the authorities had Joker surrounded by the time he broke off from the fleet. He couldn’t put up much of a chase in the worn-down vehicle and was quickly apprehended.

There was nothing Joker could do to get himself out of being hauled back to Arkham by his arch-nemeses, Batman.

J’s triumphant day was instantly a catastrophic failure.

The caped crusader was standing around, giving Jim Gordon the rundown of events as if he did all the work. They were talking for almost an hour now with no end in sight! All Joker could think about in the meantime was how many strings he had to pull to break out of Arkham to get back home to you.

He didn’t want you to worry when the news of him being captured aired. It was an inevitable outcome within the relationship, one that you mentally prepared for; but Joker had always planned on saying goodbye should this situation arise.

Joker hardly gave you a kiss when he snuck out your apartment for this robbery. He was so confident in your plan that he didn’t fathom the possibility of being caught and skipped his traditional goodbye. It was a small mistake that he regretted terribly.

Without a doubt, Joker knew you would sit up all night waiting for him only for a breaking news bulletin to squash your hopes of his return.

Escapes from Arkham took careful planning months in advance and eight times out of ten, they ended in failure. Joker couldn’t survive a day without his Light. Now he would be separated from you for an undisclosed amount of time before he could even begin plotting an escape. He was screwed.

He banged his head against the window in anger. Jim and Batman glanced over at the noise and didn’t notice a rookie cadet snatch the handcuff keys away from Jim’s belt.

Joker’s world was crumbling fast and the voices in his head were making things worse.

What will Bunny think deserting her like this?

She’ll never love you again for leaving without a word.

You’re gonna lose her forever.

No one said anything about the rage filled tantrum Joker was having in the backseat. They could hear his yelling and saw how the car was rocking violently as he flipped out.

Batman spent enough time talking with the Commissioner. It was time to transport Joker before he grew too volatile and risked an escape attempt.

Jim turned around and got the attention of a cop he trusted. “Hey, Cruz! You and the rookie take the clown back to the precinct. We’ll follow after we finish here.”

Cruz nodded and slapped his newly appointed partner’s arm. “Hah! Let’s go rookie. You drive.”

Joker was still fighting against his restraints when he spotted the two cops approaching the vehicle.

He found it odd that Batman wasn’t escorting him straight to Arkham Island. Instead, two average looking police officers were tasked with the job. Much to his amusement, one of the cops stuck another with a needle about halfway to the car.

Cruz crumbled to the ground and was dragged out of view of the surrounding GCPD officers. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see a corrupted cop and for that Joker didn’t raise an eyebrow at the sight.

He grew curious when the rookie hopped into the car and cranked it up.

They didn’t waste any time stepping on the gas pedal and flooring it straight out of the parking lot. It was only after they drove through the police barricade did a fellow cop shout, “HEY!” thus alerting the squadron of the situation.

Shouts rang out in attempts to pierce the tires, but the cruiser was screeching away like a bat out of hell. Joker couldn’t balance himself being handcuffed as he was.

He tumbled roughly into the door and had a mind to complain about it. “Who taught ya how to drive?!”

He was unsure if this person was his savior but his answer came when other GCPD vehicles gave chase. Even more surprisingly, the Batmobile was not in pursuit just yet.

“I know how to drive, thank you very much.” The erratic driver mumbled towards the backseat.

Joker’s head shot up hearing the voice. There was no way.

Despite the fast speeds and harrowing turns, he managed to right his balance and peer through the dividing glass at the driver. Your e/c locked eyes with his shocked green through the rearview mirror.

“Y/n?” Joker was sent headfirst into the passenger side door after you made a sudden turn onto the highway, literally on two wheels. Okay that jerk felt a little intentional.

J shook off the pain and overheard you laughing in the front seat. He was in shock seeing this rare side of you. Was he dreaming?

Joker almost didn’t recognize his Bunny dressed undercover—mainly due to the scarlet red wig you wore. This had to be a dream. Your e/c eyes were wild with excitement and much to his horror, there was a natural ease to you.

You were in your element speeding down the highway with an apprehended criminal in the back seat.

The police cars caught up and opened fire, yet you laughed at their pathetic attempts even as a few gunshots cracked the back windows of your cruiser. The odds were stacked against you, however you continued, swerving in and out of traffic, causing wrecks and utter chaos in your wake.

You spotted a familiar SUV driving parallel to you and waved at the driver. Joker was about to ask if you knew them when they introduced themselves in a bold fashion.

Two men leaned out the backseat windows and returned fire at the police. Their aim was true and hit the police tires, stopping them in their tracks.

Joker was speechless. How was any of this happening?

His brain didn’t have time to process anything when a helicopter highlighted the car from above. You groaned in anger but reached over to grab a walkie talkie.

“Up top! Up top! Up top!” You chimed into the device.

Then it finally clicked to J. Somehow you were in on this daring escape. He didn’t care about his fate; you were the only concern on his mind.

Joker banged his bound hands onto the divider glass to get your attention. “Bunny! This is dangerous! Ya gotta stop!”

All you did was roll your eyes and scoff. “Mm that’s cute coming from you!” You shifted gears when you spotted something up ahead. “Thank God! Our backup has arrived!”

Joker glanced out the window and only saw Gotham civilians trying to get out the way and the all black SUV shooting back at the GCPD. That wasn’t backup? He didn’t understand anything at this point. The spotlight overhead was keeping you and him visible to the authorities so what could you possibly have in mind to escape?

“What are ya talkin’ about doll?! What backup?” Joker saw twin 18 wheelers up ahead open their hatches. His green eyes widened at the heat they were packing.

What he didn’t see was two more SUVs entering the highway, already aiming at the police helicopter with rockets.

In response to his question, all he received was your maniacal laughter as you reached one hundred and twenty miles per hour. From there, everything happened simultaneously.

You spotted the tank Batman called a car fast approaching and radioed to your men. “Light em up, boys.”

Your cruiser whizzed past the two trucks and the now three support SUVs at the precise moment they blocked the highway and unleashed their weaponry on the unsuspecting police.

It was a war zone. News outlets later on reported that the highway sustained so much damage, it would need to be repaved.

A brave civilian caught the battle from the southbound lanes on his cell phone and it was a literal massacre to witness.

The helicopter was shot down and exploded in a fireball onto the first two cop cars leading the chase. Once a wall of fire separated the GCPD from you and Joker’s getaway car, your goons opened fire and brutally murdered the rest of the fleet of police officers.

Batman tried to save the day but his tank suffered heavy structural damage from the RPGs and other arsenal fired at it.

The bat had no other choice but to flee the scene.

The authorities were severely outgunned and quickly outmanned by a few criminals. Jim Gordon was at the end of the chase and his face paled seeing the insignia painted on one of the 18 wheelers.

It was his cue to call out the immediate, fallback orders to his men. But it was already too late.

It had been decades since Jim Gordon had seen the haunting image of a cobra coiling around a bouquet of nightshade.

The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate. Their Latin translation meaning; death is a dark light. They were the deadliest gang in the east, dating back as far as the Great Roman Empire. And now their current leader was making their stand here in Gotham City by allying with The Joker.

The ominous air was palpable. This was the beginning to a very long bloodbath.

But it wasn’t that deep to you.

All you did was call in a favor the second you saw Joker landing himself into trouble during his heist. You were worried about his poor choice of a getaway vehicle right from the beginning. The school bus would help him blend in, but after separating from the yellow procession, he would be vulnerable.

And you couldn’t have been more correct. Through surveillance and radio, you watched Joker be apprehended. It was now or never, and you acted fast.

You called your uncle and exhausted your one-time favor to rescue Joker.

The consequences of your actions would sink in later. You didn’t care that asking for help was your Defacto swearing in ceremony into the gang. There was no way out once you got involved.

None of that mattered as you exited the highway and drove to the predetermined meet up spot. Joker had yet to stop yelling in your ear.

He was giving you a mouthful about the events that were unfolding around him. He too recognized the ancient gang’s insignia and its importance. The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate was the greatest active gang in the world and to have them as an ally was legendary.

His mind was still reeling to discover his Bunny was affiliated!

You screamed whenever there was a bug in the apartment. He shielded you from his own organization due to your intolerance to violence. That’s the Y/n he thought he knew.

His Light wasn’t pure as he thought.

That much was evident when you pulled into an abandoned junk yard, turned off the car, and faced him. “SHUT UP, J! Just.... be quiet, I can’t hear myself think!!” You closed your eyes as Joker stared at you in horror.

You were mumbling to yourself with an eerie smile on your face. Whatever you were discussing was resolved for you quickly composed yourself and grabbed the keys to unlock his handcuffs.

You joined him in the backseat and without hesitation, you grabbed Joker by the neck to kiss him.

He wished it was the interaction mutual but the shock factor of discovering your dark side was hindering his ability to function properly. Just how deep was your affiliation? Should he be intimidated or aroused?

You caught onto Joker’s wary demeanor.

You smoothed down his wind tossed hair, “I’m sorry baby, I’ll explain m-more later but right now? We need to get you somewhere safe.” Your attention wavered after hearing a car door close.

Joker sputtered seeing you pull a gun from your waistline. It even had a silencer on it, he was impressed!

Thankfully you didn’t need it, yet he knew you were a seasoned warrior based on your stance. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had nothing but murder on the mind and a steady hand.

You recognized your first cousin Flex approaching from his armored SUV and lowered your weapon.

“Bella.” He nodded at you before giving Joker the up down. He wouldn’t judge your choice of a partner. “We’ll take care of him from here.” Flex noted.

Joker was positively mind blown. He waited until you freed his hands to ask. “Uhhhh.. Bella? Is that your err real name, Y/n?”

You and Flex snorted. You hugged your cousin and whispered something in his ear as Joker looked on, growing more and more annoyed by the second.

Finally, you replied to J’s question. “No. It’s an honorific in our Syndicate. Flex will take you to your hideout. Don’t. Kill. Him. I won’t be able to save you if you anger the order. I’ll see you at home for dinner, okay J?”

You kissed him one more time and smoothed out his suit, as if you didn’t pull off a highly dangerous recovery mission to free him.

Joker’s head was spinning as you urged him to follow Flex back to the car. Nothing made sense. Everything Joker thought he knew about you was apparently a lie.

You were already destroying the cruiser’s license plate and removing your wig to revert back to your harmless civilian look. You fluffed out your natural curls and then proceeded to coat the cop car in gasoline. The fire started inside the vehicle as Flex cranked up his SUV.

Joker watched you stay behind, staring at the growing flames with that eerie smile on your face. He was staring at a stranger. A devil in disguise. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.