#but i love to get these kind of questions!! they are so fun

[baldachinsbrainrot]

Because people are getting pissy in the notes, these are the regional origins of all the different kinds of crops.

(Khoury et al, 2016)

So have fun looking through this, i find it really interesting and fun to look at.

And fun fact about potatoes because theyre such a staple ingredient in Europe. Potatoes came to Europe as late as the 16th century! Brought here by Spanish conquistadors. It was very popular, especially among the poorer people of Europe because of its bulk, lower rate of spoilage and its price (it was pretty cheap).

Another fun fact about potatoes. Sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas) and ordinary potatoes (Solanum tuberosum) are only distantly related! Theyre not even from the same family, theyre only in the same order (Solanales). The potato you eat, the tuber, also grows in different places in both plants. The potato grows a stem tuber, while the sweet potato grows a root tuber.

I love plants a lot so if anyones got any questions, feel free to hit me up!

Everyone say thank you american indigenous people for cultivating corn, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, cacao, pumpkin, squash, and anything i missed. Makes life more meaningful globally

[essektheylyss]

My thing about Veth potentially venturing into polyamory is that I do think everyone involved would be perfectly fine with it and happy to help her experiment, and I think that no matter how they do it, it would not fix her. This isn't to say that she wouldn't get any benefit out of trying! It's just to say that it's not a solution to her actual problem, because I genuinely don't think the problem is that she's lacking any one thing that would make her life complete.

Fundamentally, I think Veth struggles with the idea that there will come a point at which she has to settle. Not in a bad way, just in the sense that she is one person with one life and she will have to live within those bounds. Because the thing is, I don't really think her issue ends at struggling to "have it all"; to an extent she does! She is a good parent, even if her kid is a little rebellious; her marriage is supportive (and has fun sex); she gets to go off to save the world with Yeza's blessing on occasion, when the world needs saving. She doesn't have all of these things all the time, but... that's not really a flaw, that's just a fact of life.

But she started out her adult life settling to an extent—even if she loved Yeza and loved being Luc's mom, she did the safe thing that was expected of her. The goblin attack and everything that transpired after shoved her out of that life, but in retrospect, to an extent it likely feels that that pushed her to find something more that she wouldn't have had otherwise. Being pushed to her limit under the worst conditions made her better, stronger, braver, and at the end of it she found that she could have both her original life and much of her new life—so why wouldn't she then wonder if further experiences of that ilk could do the same?

Crucially, she has not actually run up against a hard limit yet, and as such she hasn't had reason to believe that there is a point at which she has to stop and recognize that there isn't more for her to find. When she was drinking more heavily during missions, even when it caused the death of herself or others, there were no long-term consequences. And the thing is, I'm not saying that she should face that kind of major consequence, but she seems as though she is scared to accept that maybe she could be happy if she stopped before she does.

I'm also not suggesting that she should stop experimenting or trying new things—the Luxon knows I am not one to talk in that realm—but I do think she is searching for novelty not because that would make her happy, but because she doesn't believe that she has the capacity to know what would make her happy. She was unaware that polyamory was even an option, so think of what else she might not be aware of! She doesn't have perfect knowledge of the world, after all, so how can she trust that she's found what she really wants? So yeah, she could fuck someone else, and it might even be an enjoyable experience that she didn't know was missing! But that only prolongs the question of what else she might be missing.

I think that deep down, she's terrified that if she doesn't keep pushing until that external hard limit, she will end up with regrets later, and simultaneously she is resentful that her friends all seem to have reached a point where they are largely content with what they have, because she wants them to have everything. She wants herself to have everything. And she has not yet allowed herself to come to terms with the fact that only she can determine when the everything of what she already has is enough, and anything else is the cherry on top.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[slightly-knot-insane]

A Little Bit Rusty [part 2]

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: continuation of this short drabble, now with more plot, hehe. also, i imagined this monster as some kind of dinosaur hybrid, but i'll still keep it vague enough for readers to imagine whatever they like ^^ content: nsfw, some steamy moments with clothes on, fingering

You left his apartment before he woke up, figuring it will be less awkward than to have breakfast together and spend the morning in silence avoiding each other's gaze. The night was so good, though, you think as you enter the museum, your workplace.

It's hard to focus on paperwork you left unfinished yesterday in order to have fun with your co-worker, aka supervisor, aka mentor. It's very hard not to think about his long monstrous tongue or his teeth biting your inner thighs.

"Good morning..." You jolt up immediately recognizing your mentor's voice. You didn't notice when he entered the office. He is standing a few steps away from you, like you have a disease. "Are you... okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You are truly surprised with his question. Last night was fantastic.

He suddenly stands with his back straighter than before - if that's even possible. "R-right. Good to know." And then basically runs away.

Maybe he didn't have such a good time? He sure didn't act unsatisfied. You chuckle looking at him trip over his own legs.

It's a busy day, Saturday, and the museum is full of people. You both have tours to lead, but since you only started working, you are mostly free or assisting him.

You actually love listening to him, since he's very eloquent when talking about archaeological findings, especially about bones. He is especially charming with kids and can make them laugh easily. But as soon as he lays his eyes on you, he blushes or stutters. It's so entertaining seeing him flustered you can't help but on purposely make his job even harder.

You shorten your skirt, pull your blouse down to expose your bosom, and tighten the belt around your waist to accentuate your curves even more. When he sees you the next time, his jaw drops like a malfunctioning lid. Luckily, his group is enjoying some free time exploring the science room so he has time to quickly approach you.

"You, um..." he tries to form words, ask you something very polite probably, but you bite your lip and his pupils dangerously dilate.

He pushes you behind 'staff only' little door in the next room and shoves your body against the wall. It is so cramped in there and you can't move - not that you want to. This 'rusty old man' how he called himself, is all but out of practice, and you get wet just thinking about what he could do to you right now.

"I'm not blind," he growls and pushes his clawed hand into your hair pulling your head backwards. He licks your neck along your jugular. "You're toying with me."

"You think?" your sarcastic remark is cut short by his hand sliding between your thick thighs and lightly touching your mons pubis.

"Why did you leave this morning?" he asks you but doesn't let you answer because he pushes his tongue inside your mouth. All you can do is moan and suck. "Why?" he repeats letting you catch your breath.

"I-I'm not sure," you reply, mind hazy, "I wanted us to think about everything, I guess. Analyze things."

"I see," he hums as his finger slithers inside your panties and rubs your lewdness while his other hand grips your hips. "I recon we're both done thinking."

He pulls his finger out and licks it with the tip of his tongue. Your pussy throbs.

"We should get back to work," he says, blushing again, returning to his old flustered self... and kisses his wet finger before exiting the storage room with a naughty wink.

[ third part coming soon! ]

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if... Batsis with a oral fixation ⁉️

Not in a kinky way but like a stimming way, I have autism irl and I chew and bite on stuff to help get some feelings I'm not a fan of :P

Also I bite people I trust cuz Ik they won't mind or rlly judge me for it so what if batsis bites Grayson cuz she trusts him or somethin 🤯⁉️

A/N: So babes...i'm sorry this took a while. I was out of it for a while...I cannot stop biting my loved ones either...it's rough out here, really.

Characters: Dick, Tim, and Jason

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Dick wouldn't really mind it, I don't think?

Maybe at first he's like..."what ya got there..?" and it's just a whole chunk of his arm in your mouth.

He has a look of both concern and amusement on his face because well...this is a first.. But if he's aware of your usual oral stims and how you are constantly chewing or biting at something, I think he wouldn't question it further. It's easy to put two and two together, y'know.

But the fact that you only do it to him and maybe to the other siblings is enough for him to be okay with it. It makes Dick feel extremely special and dare I say honored to be a human chew toy. Dick adores anything that you do, especially if that thing is specifically because you trust him.

I think it'd be super cute having you hold onto his arm while ya'll are chilling on the couch. Maybe watching a scary movie, and because you're getting stressed so the entire time you are just gnawing on his bicep...poor guy. Lol but he actually doesn't even notice it after a while of you constantly doing it.

Like he's chatting with Babs and here comes your evil little teeth all ready to sink into his skin.

The only time I think he's be against it if he's super sweaty and gross or is trying to concentrate on something important....otherwise,,go ham.

But would I be crazy if I say his hair when it's long is perfectly chew-able.... like pleassseeeeee rachellll give it to meeee

I can imagine him giving you some of his bracelets to chew on. I imagine he wears these string bracelets and they are perfect chewing material.

*you have almost bit his entire finger off...*

Jason would be a bit turned off from it.

He's not particularly keen on you biting him. It doesn't feel good, it maybe even a bit irritating or stressful for him. This is not to say he thinks that your fixation needs to go but he'd rather you do it to anyone else instead.

Maybe he'll give you one of his old jackets for you to chew on. it's perfect, he got it cleaned and it has tons of tabs and buckles for you to chew. That way you can still have something of his to fixate on without necessarily bothering him. It does kind of warms his heart when you choose his items to stim with tho. It's assuring that he's still able to help ground you even if it's in a different way....

Tim..does not care. Like the most he does is just give you a strange look, then goes back to whatever he was doing prior.

You aren't hurting him, nor is he irritated so who is he to force you to stop. It's clear that you are overwhelmed and needs something that'll help you make it through soo have fun, sis.

He never directly addresses it either. It's just a thing that he accepts.

Maybe if you are chewing on the him of his shirt and your saliva is causing it to get rather wet and slightly uncomfortable, he'll just go change the shirt and give it to continue doing your stimming with.

I feel like Tim just had random chew-able trinkets around his room too, maybe even keeps tough gummies or lollipops around as an alternative for you.

[hannieehaee]

Hello,how are you,hope everything is going well in your life ☺️

May I ask please for SVT reaction if their SO is serious and always wears poker face person but she has soft spot only for him🙏🏻

And may I add God bless all tumblr writers, thanks to you guys I’m learning English language 🫶🏻

their cold s/o having a soft spot for them

content: established relationship implied, fluff, etc.

wc: 633

a/n: i hope things are going well for you too! sorry this took so long. i hope you like it!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

good. it's exactly as it should be. he's a little possessive, so this just works perfectly for him! everyone who knows you knows about your soft spot for him and he thrives in it.

jeonghan -

jokes and teases you about being obsessed with him as soon as he notices how differently you act around him in comparison to everyone else. would constantly use this as leverage to get you to do or say things. can't really blame you, though. so many people have a soft spot for him.

joshua -

he thinks its the cutest thing. sometimes he cant help but laugh when he sees you light up at his presence. your soft spot for him is such a serotonin boost for him. like damn you must really like him!

jun -

he gets a little flustered when he realizes you have a soft spot specifically for him and no one else. is he that fun to be around? is he that much of a light in your life? won't ever actually question it, but rather just grow to enjoy it.

soonyoung -

he probably doesnt even realize you tend to have a poker face or be perceived as cold for other people. he mostly pays attention to how you treat him and is too distracted by your existence to realize he's the only person you ever smile around.

wonwoo -

he thinks its adorable. loves how you could look like you're having the worst time of your life up until you spot him, lighting up immediately. he knows you're not actually miserable unless he's there, but he still finds it cute that there's such a contrast in your attitude between when he's with you and when he's not.

jihoon -

you guys are twins!! he gets told a lot that he seems cold, that some people are put off by his closed-off exterior sometimes. when he met you, he'd completely understand how most people felt around him. except he'd soon realize that you'd made an exception for him, being the sweetest person alive to him in specific. he'd just have to return the favor.

seokmin -

he kind of loves it. it just means he gets to try and make you crack a smile or a laugh while in public. he knows you have a soft spot for him, but he'd want to show it off to everyone else, show them that you're whipped for him as he is for you.

mingyu -

he also tries to get you to smile more often in public. he makes it his own personal mission to make sure how pretty your smile is since most of the time you have a poker face. but at the same time, he also enjoys keeping you to himself sometimes.

minghao -

he's known to appear more serious than he actually is, so he relates. you'd have a very specific dynamic where you both have a soft spot for the other while keeping a safe distance from most other people. he'd really enjoy this.

seungkwan -

you'd kind of remind him of vernon lol. he'd find it cute, same as he does with vernon. he's such a bright person, always smiling and making others smile, making him the exact opposite of you. you'd balance each other out pretty well.

vernon -

you're both misinterpreted for being cold sometimes, even though its just a case of having a poker face. it'd be a funny sight to see for everyone else, how you'd both instantly light up any time you were together.

chan -

it makes him feel special. it's like there's a whole side of you only he gets to have and it's a huge privilege he doesn't take for granted. sometimes he'll even go out of his way to ensure you're extra smiley and happy when you're with him.

[bloggerspam]

Steph's new year resolution is to spend actual time with Val.

First step: Val's phone number.

Asking Jason will be a bust. He's Val's boss, a good one, so Steph won't even bother asking when she knows he won't divulge employee information like that.

That leaves asking Val herself, or passing a note along with Jason.

She trusts Jason, she does. He's leagues better than if Steph were to ask Dick, or even Tim.

She'd rather get made fun of, in that loving way Jason does, than be smothered and inundated with questions and screams the way Dick and Tim do.

But Jason is a good boss, and Steph's grown up with too many Bats to know what the normal boundary is between employee and employer.

So, obviously, she stalks Jason at work in her free time to see if Val works any of those shifts to ask her herself.

She hits money on the third day.

"Val!" Steph saunters over with a wide smile. "I haven't seen you since Riddler took you away."

"Hey, Steph." Val looks so cute when she's flustered, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Val's working on a car, in that delicious coverall grease monkey look, doing a simple oil change. Steph perches herself delicately on the side, so as to not be in the way.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Steph pouts, "It's dangerous to go towards the Rogues, you know."

"Oh, well…" Val laughs nervously, smudging more grease when she rubs at the back of her neck "Y'know, Amity Parkers are just built different I guess."

"I have no doubt that you…handled yourself just fine," Steph placates, leaning forward a bit to run a finger down Val's well muscled biceps, "but I would feel so much better if you played by Gotham rules…"

Val does that nervous little laugh again, breathy, and gods does Steph want to ruin her.

"I can try," Val bites her lip, "But with friends like Danny…"

Steph giggles. "He's a trouble magnet huh?"

"You have no idea." Val smiles helplessly, and they get caught like that for a long moment.

Val's eyes skip back and forth between hers, even flicking to Steph's lips for a scant second, making Steph's heart skip a million beats.

But then Val coughs, breaking eye contact to reach under the hood to do…something. Steph's too busy mourning the death of a moment to really figure it out.

But Steph is nothing if not persistent.

"So, hey, speaking of friends…" Steph clears her throat, "You go to Gotham U, right?"

"Yeah," Val confirms, flicking a glance over at her as she shuts the car hood, "Early education major."

Steph pauses. Because what are the chances? "No way."

Val hunches her shoulders up, "I know, doesn't really suit me but—"

"No!" Steph frantically interrupts, "That's not what I meant, it's just, I'm a human development major!"

Val stares at her, uncomprehending, which is fair. Steph smiles helplessly as she explains, "I want to be an special education teacher, for teens with learning disabilities."

Val blinks. "…How have we not seen each other on campus?"

"I have a night job, so I take a lot of my classes online." Steph explains, "The ones I do have to go in person for are late afternoon classes, usually Wednesdays."

"Ah." Val nods in understanding, "I take mostly morning classes, and afternoon shifts here at the shop."

"Like ships in the night," Steph smiles ruefully, "Or bikes in the afternoon, I guess."

Val laughs, voice a yummy timbre that brings a little shiver down her spine. There's a rasp to her, and her accent makes everything sound so much nicer.

"That means this will work out." Steph gets them back on track, feeling all sorts of nervous.

"What will?" Val wipes her hands on a rag, tossing it over her shoulder as she leans on the car next to her.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to study together some time," Steph bats her eyelashes, "With my schedule being the way it is, it's kind of hard for me to make friends…"

"S-sure, yeah, sounds great." Val stutters, patting her pockets for her phone, only to realize she's in her coveralls. "Ah…"

"Just dictate it to me, and I'll text you so you'll have mine." Steph giggles, pulling out her phone and creating the new contact as Val gives her the info.

"And hey, maybe we could spar some too," Steph eyes Val's biceps, remembering the little brawl she and Danny had and licking her lips, "It's one of my new years resolutions to keep fit."

"I'm not an easy opponent y'know." Val smirks, looking Steph up and down and sparking shivers with her gaze.

"Trust me," Steph mutters as she sends of a winky face text, "I know."

(Val, without Steph's knowledge, doesn't realize it's flirting flirting.

She just thinks it's Steph's personality, being flirty with the winky face.

Sam bangs her head on her desk when Val texts her so.)

===

Danny is visiting on Valentines Day, in protest to the holiday itself.

Danny's always kind of hated holidays in general, now that Val thinks about it.

Tucker says it's leftover trauma from the school bullying, Sam says it's because his parents are assholes about them. Val just thinks Danny hates capitalism.

It could be all of the above, honestly.

The point is, it's Valentine's Day and Danny has just texted her that he's on his way to Gotham to hang out with her, and Val's not sure if this means Jay's done something wrong or not.

Val has been talking to her friends on almost a daily basis, but Danny's been tight-lipped about his friendship with Jay.

After Christmas Break, after the phone number exchange, Team "Get that D in Danny" thought it was a done deal.

Jay was a straight forward kind of guy, and Danny's never been shy about flirting.

Surely, something should have happened, right?

But Val wasn't really present when Danny and Sam were sort of dating, and Val was in the relationship with Danny, so she doesn't actually know how Danny is when he's dating someone.

She's been taking her cues from Tucker, who says that Danny isn't really the "my girlfriend/boyfriend" type. Danny's always referred to Sam and Val, in their respective relationships, by their names.

But then again, everyone in Amity Park knew each other, and ghosts hardly ever care about such mortal statuses. (Ignoring Johnny and Kitty, whose whole shtick is their relationship. That's a whole different can of worms.)

The point is, Val is suffering. Team "Get that D in Danny" is suffering.

And she needs to know if she has to beat up her boss for Danny or not.

Jay's been Fort Knox about the whole thing too, and it's getting irritating.

"Danny's coming to pick me up." Val finally says at the end of her shift, glaring up at her boss. "What did you do?"

Jay, wide eyed and covered in grease, drops the washer fluid in his hands on his (thankfully) steel-toed boot.

"Danny's what—" Jay lunges for his jacket, draped over his workstation, frantically pulling up his phone and— "I gotta go."

She then watches her boss, resident Crime Lord, Billionaire baby Jason Peters Todd-Wayne, book it to the back rooms.

What the fuck?

Ten minutes later, Jay comes back out, freshly showered and in clean, fitted clothes. He's even got a red rose from…somewhere.

Val reiterates: What the fuck?

"Danny hates red roses." Val says, confusion laced through her entire fucking being. They look too much like blood blossoms for any of the Amity Parkers to have any sort of affection for the flower. "He doesn't like red flowers in general."

Jay immediately tosses it into a nearby oil catch tray, looking like he might even set it on fire, if he could just find a match…

"Okay, seriously," Val puts her hands on her hips, "What the fuck is going on? Was that an apology rose?"

"What?" Jay whips his head towards her, "No!"

"Gods," Val throws her hands up in exasperation, "Are y'all dating or what? Danny's been weirdly adamant y'all are just hangin' out but I see you in here, moonin' and what not."

Her accent is getting worse in her agitation and she really hates it, which turns into a vicious cycle.

"We're not dating." Jay finally admits, sitting heavily down on one of the stools by his workstation. "But I am wooing him."

There's a long beat of silence.

"Pardon?" Val's voice is flat, disbelieving. "You're what?"

"Wooing." Jason juts his chin out, "We've done a couple of face time hang outs, streamed movies together and stuff. But it just never seemed the right time to ask him for a visit, or for me to go visit him."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Val tries to soften her voice. Red Hood, resident crime lord and bad ass, is a romantic. Huh.

"I wanted to ask him in person." Jay mumbles, "Important stuff's for in person conversations."

"In this day and age?" Val asks unthinkingly. "I doubt Danny would care."

They both know he'd probably say yes.

"Yeah, but Danny's been…he's been looking into schools to transfer to," Jay looks down at his hands, "Didn't want to influence the choices."

Danny had come out to this parents about Phantom just last month. It was a development everyone was not only extremely thankful for, but still getting used to.

The Fentons, as expected, were fully supportive. They turned a dime, burned their research metaphorically and literally to 'start over from an unbigoted perspective.'

Jazz has been thoroughly enjoying the family therapy sessions.

Schedules were created, to lessen Danny's load, and better safety locks were made to mitigate the necessity of those patrols in the first place.

Overall, Danny's been sleeping more, less stressed, and happy as a clam, if a little embarrassed by his parent's smothering love and support.

Val had thought that maybe Jay was a big part of that too, romantically speaking. Clearly, she was only half right.

"Danny loves Gotham." Val starts, carefully picking her words. Because it's true, he loves it more than she does. "He likes how weird and crazy it is, and Gotham U's engineering program is one of the best in the nation."

It would have to be, with how often things need to be reconstructed around here.

"The pizza's great too," Danny's voice suddenly cuts in from behind her, "Not to mention the company."

Val twirls around, hearing the clatter of Jay jumping up suddenly and banging his hip on his worktable with a pained hiss.

"How long have you be standing there?" Jay squeaks as he rubs his hip, face burning.

"Not long, since Val said I love Gotham. Which I do." Danny tilts his head with a confused smile. "Why? Gossiping about me?"

"We were talking about your choices in transfer." Val quickly covers, as much fun as it would be to just call both of them out, Val's not that mean. "Didn't want to accidentally influence the choice or anythin', y'know."

"Last time I checked you were looking into Star City, right?" Jay quickly adds, shooting Val a grateful look.

"Yep." Danny grins, popping the 'p' obnoxiously, "They've got a pretty comprehensive scholarship, but it's about the same as Gotham's, and honestly, Gotham's in my top two choices—"

"Gotham's a top choice?" Jay cuts in, confused but sounding a little…hopeful, "Nobody ever…I mean, even I know Gotham's crazy…"

"Gotham's a lot like Amity Park," Danny shrugs, before looking away with alarmingly red ears, "Just bigger, more goth. Plus, y'know, you and Val are here…not to mention the rogues here are way more fun than Amity's ghostly menagerie…"

"Are you sure you don't mean the vigilantes?" Val smirks, sensing an opportunity. "Or maybe a certain vigilante?"

"Mmm…nope." Danny feigns thinking hard about it. "I definitely meant the rogues."

"Uh huh…" Val drags out, "Nothing at all to do with your third place hall pass pick."

"Hall pass pick?" Hook, line, and sinker. Jay tilts his head. "What's that?"

"It's a list of celebrities monogamous couples will allow their significant other to sleep with and not count as cheating." Val innocently explains, gleefully watching Danny squirm. "It was mostly a joke, but me and Danny had one when we were dating."

"And heroes and vigilantes are basically celebrities," Jay follows the line of thought, before his eyes get a little gleam to them, "Which Bat does Danny have a celeb crush on?"

"No-one!" Danny hastily answers. Val wonders what Jay would do to his siblings if Danny did have a celeb crush on them.

"Red Hood." Val smiles with all her fucking pearly whites. "Danny likes bad boys."

Danny makes a noise like a tea kettle. "Don't judge me!!!"

To Val, Jay looks like he doesn't know whether to be flattered, or concerned.

To Danny, he must look thoroughly confused.

"Listen," Danny tries to explain himself, "Have you seen those thigh holsters???"

Jay chokes. Val laughs her fucking ass off.

(The three of them get pizza afterward.

Val missed her opportunity to leave them to it, and has to sit there and watch Jason stare at Danny making porno noises at how good the pizza is.

She texts Steph about how much she hates Valentine's Day because of it.

Until, of course, Steph joins in and she hates it a little less.)

===

Easter break, and Steph is bored out of her god damn mind.

She texts Cass first, then Babs, but one's in dance practice and the other's working a shift at the library.

Naturally, she texts Val next, sending over a selfie of her pouting and sad, with an appropriately dramatic lovelorn caption.

She gets back a picture of Sam, Tucker, and Danny fighting each other on a couch, controllers in hand with a glow reflecting against their faces in a dark, but massive looking room.

"Back home in the trenches," Steph reads aloud, sighing and lovesick.

They've been texting back and forth for the past month now, and honestly? Steph considers them dating.

The problem is, even when Steph says "it's a date!" Val just…doesn't seem to get it.

Steph would call it a straight girl move, if she didn't know 100% that Val at least thinks Steph's sexy af.

Or, at least, really wants to kiss her, if the way the other girl stares at Steph's lips is anything to go by.

And Val stares a lot.

But she always pulls back with a nervous laugh, as if Steph is the one rejecting her.

It's very frustrating, but Steph has learned that Val doesn't actually have a lot of experience with girls, so she might just be…shy.

But! At least they've been on study dates, and sparring dates, and one time they even got froyo!

Steph's been trying really hard to be patient.

It's not really working.

There's another ding! It's Cass, telling her to come over to Wayne Manor. The Batkids are having a sudden movie marathon.

She has a lot of fun with her family, watching terrible horror movies and throwing popcorn at all the stupid people doing stupid things. She sends Val a selfie of her cuddling up with Cass and Damian, of Dick and Jason dumping buckets of popcorn on each other, of Tim and Duke taking god damn notes.

It's even more fun when Val sends pictures back. Of Sam sitting on Tucker and Danny laughing so hard he's fallen off the sofa. There's a selfie of Val and Sam painting the boy's nails in bright neon green color, and a selfie of the group in matching ghost themed pajamas, what looks like Wallace and Gromit playing on the big screen behind them. A picture where Danny and Tucker are snoring, cuddling each other very intimately, with Sam in the background doing a little peace sign.

Steph's buried under Tim's legs and Dick's arms now, hardly able to send a selfie of her face with the way it's covered in limbs, but she manages it.

Val sends one back, in a darkened room where Sam is watching some movie next to the sleeping boys. Val's sleepy smile and half lidded gaze warms her up from the inside.

It's a great night, all in all.

She dreams of soft kisses, warm cuddles, and B grade horror movie kiss scenes with a smile on her face, she's sure of it.

(Steph wakes up to someone rudely tearing off the blanket she was sharing with Cass and loudly announcing it's breakfast.

She throws a pillow at Damian for it, who scoffs and dodges her 'paltry attempt.' Her head hurts from all the sugar she consumed last night, and there's an ache in her back from sleeping on the floor.

Val sent her a good morning text and rumpled selfie that features a soft smile, and Tucker two steps away from spilling pancakes all over Val.

Steph eats breakfast with such a wide smile, Duke asks if she won the lottery or something.)

===

It's looking to be a very hot summer in Gotham, if April is anything to go by.

Isn't April supposed to be full of showers? They had an abrupt chill last week due to Mr. Freeze, but since then it's been hot and Val is suffering.

But Danny has come 'round to visit, and it gives her the energy she needs to get through the day so she can hang out with them over the weekend. Danny's always run cold, and Val's never been shy of siphoning off that chill in the summertime.

Val didn't have a shift today, so Danny picked her up from school and they've decided that pancakes and waffles are in order.

It's 2pm on a Thursday, but that hardly even matters.

What matters is that Danny is wrong and waffles are clearly more superior than pancakes.

"You can throw pancakes like a frisbee, what are you even saying," Danny rolls his eyes as they cut through an alley to get the Denny's, "Waffles are way too crunchy."

"I want to look inside your head and see what delusion is playing 24/7," Val shoots back, "Why would a food need to be used as a frisbee to be superior, first of all, and second of all, the texture is not crunchy."

"The inside of my head is just like any other human," Danny scoffs, "It's been tested and everything. Plus, if you can't use your food item as a frisbee in order to quell the sausage rebellion, is it even worth having as food?"

Val squints her friend for a moment, even going so far as to pause her walking. Danny, after another moment, stops with her but does not meet her eyes.

She smacks the back of his head.

"Ow! What the fuck Val! Just because I'm right!"

"No joking about tests." Val growls, waiting until Danny shows the appropriate amount of regret, before swiftly getting back on topic, "Besides. Waffles are sturdier, and the shape can still be used as a frisbee against sausage rebellions."

Danny takes a breath for the admonishment, centering himself from bad memories. He thinks on her latter statement, nodding reluctantly. "Textures still shit though."

Val groans, continuing their way through the alley, "The texture is so that syrup has places to be, syrup on pancakes just slides off—"

"Hands up!" Just in front of them, a man is brandishing a knife in one hand, with the other reaching palm up, "Give me your wallets and nobody gets hurt."

Val internally scoffs, making eye contact with a gleeful Danny. He's been involved in more Rogue incidents than Val has, and he doesn't even live here.

"Aw, c'mon man," Danny simpers, hands in his pockets and shoulders scrunching up, "Can't you see we're just poor college students just trying to get to Denny's?"

"And you and your girl can go along your merry way," The mugger rasps, "after you give me your wallets. You can take the date home."

Val and Danny simultaneously make an uck sound.

"Been there," Danny grins, ruefully.

"Done that." Val rolls her eyes.

"Got the scars and everything to prove it!" Danny chirps, showing his lichtenberg scars even though they're irrelevant.

Val smacks him upside the head again, but Danny doesn't even flinch. Stupid halfa-biology.

"Just give me the money!" The mugger loses his patience, pulling out a gun. Ugh.

"And why don't you give me a break," A modulated voice says from above, before something large drops down and breaks the mugger's arm.

"Hah! Break, that's a good one." Danny laughs.

Red Hood freezes, before groaning with that modulated voice. "Nobody tell Nightwing. I'd never live it down."

Val bites her lip, wondering if Nightwing is Dick Grayson, the asshole cop who arrested her and Danny a couple months ago. Dude was not subtle in the interrogation of his sibling's new friends, and kept riffing with Danny using puns.

Val hates the guy on that principle alone, so it won't be hard.

"Lips are sealed, Bo—ahem—ig guy." Val really has to figure out the best time to let her boss know that she knows.

"Thanks for saving us, Red Hood, sir." Danny smiles at Hood, shy-like. "I didn't think we'd see you again after…"

"That thing with Riddler?" Even through the modulator is apparent Hood is smiling. "I thought you were finding trouble on purpose, but maybe trouble just likes to find you?"

Val's gotta hand it to him, Jay's a good actor. But as someone who knows who he is? It's clear that Hood is relishing the attention. Finding out your crime lord persona is a top choice must have outweighed the confusion of a crime lord persona being a top choice.

"Either way, it's no problem. Punks shouldn't be muggin' in my territory anyway." Hood peacocks his way into a casual leaning pose, and it's funny as all hell.

"Oh!" Danny looks around, "I didn't realize we were already in Crime Alley?"

"The one Denny's in Gotham is in Crime Alley," Val sighs, "I told you this."

"I thought we established that I don't listen to you." Danny retorts, "That's why we broke up."

"We broke up because of your clear preference for dick, Danny." Val drawls.

Hood chokes.

"This is bullying," Danny jokes, ears bright red from Val no doubt embarrassing him in front of his favorite vigilante, "And you have no leg to stand on, with the way you were drooling after Kate Winslet."

"Most of your hall pass picks were men," Val reminds him, and because she's nothing if not an opportunist, "Speaking of which—-what's it like to be texting one of them almost every day?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Danny sniffs, trying to pull Val through the alley, "Why do you keep bringing up my hall pass picks anyway?"

"Everyday?" Hood's voice, even modulated, sounds jealous. He's probably wondering if Danny's been texting the other top two choices above him.

"Yeah, everyday." Val confirms, much to Danny's dismay.

"Val!" Danny hisses as Hood leans a little closer. "Shut up."

Danny's probably thinking she might embarrass him by mentioning that Red Hood is Danny's third place pick. If only he knew.

"My boss is his fourth place pick." Val grins, as Danny slumps in relief. If only he knew!

She watches intently as Hood freezes, hand going to a pocket that isn't there, almost like he wants to immediately text someone. He seems to settle for a slow drawl, "S'that so. Small world. You work for a vigilante I know or something?"

Damn good actor, but not subtle enough for someone whose looking. He's definitely warring with a bunch of different emotions, and even through the helmet she can tell.

He wants to know why his civilian identity is fourth, when his crime lord persona is third.

"O-KAY!" Danny yells, pulling her more forcefully, "That's enough of oversharing with a crime lord who doesn't know us and clearly has other things to do. Thank you again Mr. Hood, big fan, love your work, the 8 heads was inspired really—"

Val cackles all the way through the alley, watching as Hood grapples away in a daze.

When they sit down at Denny's, Danny gets a text from Jay that makes him mumble into his menu.

"Why does he want to know my top two hall pass picks? I'm not even in a relationship!"

Val tosses a jam packet at his head.

(Steph texts her afterward, asking about Val's Hall Pass picks.

Val texts her no comment.

Somehow, Jay finds out, which leads to Danny finding out.

Danny texts Steph that Kate Winslet, Amanda Seyfried, and Black Canary were her top 3.

When Steph texts All Blondes, huh? Val lunges at Danny right there in the Denny's.

They get kicked out, and are summarily banned from the establishment.)

===

Gotham is muggy in May.

Steph hates how sticky it makes her skin feel, how lethargic her body gets, and most of all, she hates how her she stupidly made her Spoiler uniform have a lower face mask.

She's definitely going to get pimples, and it's going to suck.

The bright side is that she's best friends with not just one, but two Wayne kids.

This means that she can enjoy the Wayne Manor indoor pool with the other Batkids for most of the summer day until patrol time.

It's good to have connections.

She's relaxing with Babs and Tim on the lounge chairs, and whilst normally she would join in on the watergun fight the other batboys and Cass have going on, she's just too tired.

It's been a long first week of summer, especially with that Mad Hatter case she and Cass broke two days ago.

Mad Hatter cases always gave her the heebie jeebies, considering her own blonde hair and blue eyes.

So: chilling at the pool. Val comes back next week, with a bonus Danny in tow to start the process of finding an apartment for both of them to share, and Steph's not the only one excited about it.

Jason's been over the god damn moon.

Her phone buzzes with two incoming texts, but before Steph can even reach over to grab it, a loud thump! startles all vigilantes to whip up towards the sound.

Jason has tripped over a lounge chair, ass over kettle, groaning.

Amidst the laughter, Steph gets another buzz, so she checks her phone. It's two discord messages from Val.

valerino: Phantoms dog has invaded sams pool valerino: D's really excited about it 🙄

The last text is a photo of Danny, shirtless, getting absolutely slobbered on by a glowing green dog. Holy shit. Wait a second.

stephieeee: uhm???? green dog????? stephieeee: did u send this pic to Jason too? valerino: Yeah, long story short, hes a ghost dog. Hes cool though. And what? No, why? stephieeee: cuz he just ate shit tripping on a lounge chair stephieeee: right after u sent that pic valerino: Lol danny sent a selfie i think. We're taking a break from a water fight tucker started to play with cujo stephieeee: lolllllll stephieeee: that tracks stephieeee: we had a water gun fight too stephieeee: but i sat out with the girlies stephieeee: the heat is just stephieeee: Too Much valerino: Lol danny just showed me the pic he sent. Its a thirst trap, and he didnt even know valerino sent an image

The picture of of a shirtless Danny, with abs, holding up a see through, green dog. His arm muscles glisten in the lighting as he smiles a beaming smile, teeth white and gleaming, with his face smooshed up against the dog's stretchy, pudgy little face. It's adorable and all kind of rippling muscle-y. Boy is lean, mean, and looking good in his NASA swimming trunks, even to Steph.

stephieeee: OMGGGGG stephieeee: hes actually RIPPED??? stephieeee: also i love cujo so much? he's adorable???? valerino: Hes stronger than he looks, remember? lol and yeah, cujos a real sweetheart

Steph honks out a laugh so loud it echoes even amidst the clamour of Jason being chased around for his phone. Babs hums an intrigued note, but Steph simply smiles at her and flaps a hand at where Dick has Jason in a headlock, whilst Damian grabs the phone and attempts to hack into it.

Steph decides to take a picture of the rowdy group, Jason with his really red face, Duke and Harper jeering at the photo with Dick. Damian had gotten bored once he saw it was just a picture from his so-called 'paramour.'

stephieeee: the fam is never letting him live this down stephieeee: plssssss stephieeee: Jason is so down bad its embarrraasssssiinnngggg

Satisfied, Steph decides to get up and grab some of the iced tea Alfred left for them earlier. She's taking a much deserved sip to soothe her throat when she her phone buzzes twice more.

valerino has sent an image valerino: Danny is embarrassed as all hell, his face is SO red!

It's a selfie of Val laughing with her whole body, sort of cut off as Danny scrambles to get a shirt on. He's alarmingly red, looking like he's tripped in his haste to get the Red Hood themed shirt on, but Steph can't focus on that.

She focuses on Val, wet in a bikini top and daisy dukes.

Steph chokes on her tea and falls into the pool, cup and phone and all.

At least, Steph thinks as she recovers from her almost death-by-bikini-pic fall, my phone is bat certified and waterproof.

She takes another quick look at the photo, before she dunks herself in once more, just to cool her flaming cheeks down.

Tim'll fish her out, if only to see what happened.

Until then, the water feels great.

(Val and Danny get a series of photos after, from an unknown number that claims to be Jay's brother Tim.

One of Jay and Steph red faced and commiserating with each other. They're clearly talking about something, hands gesturing at what looks like Jay's phone.

One of Steph in a simple purple bikini emerging from the pool glorious and slicking back her hair out of her face, eyes half open, looking sultry as she catches sight of the camera.

One of a shirtless Jay getting shot by multiple streams of water, one arm up and laughing and smiling, handsome and joyous.

One of Jason, toppled over a lounge chair with his hands covering his clearly red face.

One of Steph with only her eyes above the water, cheeks and neck so red you can still see them even submerged.

Val and Danny practically faint. Sam and Tucker have to write their thank you texts for them.)

===

"I might be dying." Val groans from where she's sprawled on the floor of the new apartment she and Danny are sharing for their duration of Sophomore year.

It's a nice place, for the Narrows. Big living room, two bedrooms, a nice bathroom that heats up in only a couple minutes. The kitchen isn't anything fancy, just a stove top and a microwave, but Val and Danny don't have the capability of cooking up fancy stuff anyway.

Val's stuff was packed up easy, not hard to do when a college dorm room doesn't really allow for a lot of stuff in the first place. Though she did have Tucker bring up Huntress stuff, as well as some of the packed up clothes she didn't get to bring up the first time she moved now that's she's got the room.

Danny doesn't have that many belongings, per say, He's minimalist, in that way.

But he has a lot of stuff for his workshop. Since they don't' have a third bedroom, most the living room's going to be dedicated to it. There's a big rolling table with drawers under it for storage that can be pushed to the side so Val can practice her katas, and an industrial tarp they can throw over it to use it as a dinner table if need be.

Danny, like his parents, likes to spread out whenever he's working on something.

Unlike his parents, however, he's paranoid about contamination, and always puts everything back in its place when he's done.

He's been burned too many times to not be.

Plus, Val can use his stuff to do maintenance on her hoverboard.

They like to be efficient and practical about things.

The point is, she, Danny, Tucker and Sam have spent most of the day lugging up heavy cardboard boxes and furniture that is heavy and sometimes metal.

"I said I might be dying!" Val reiterates into the silence of the now cardboard filled room.

"We heard you to the first time." Sam drawls as she walks into the living room with a cup of water from the kitchen. "I don't even know why you're whining."

"Yeah, Danny did most of the heavy lifting," Tucker chimes in as he trails in behind Sam with a box of pizza. She hands it over to Val as she sits up from her sweaty sprawl.

Val rolls her eyes, because that is inherently untrue. "It's June, it's hot, and most of us did heavy labor."

"No, no. Tucker's got a point," Danny cuts in, lugging the last box of what looks like a bunch of a tools. "I did, in fact, bring up all the furniture, and the bulk of the community stuff."

He sets it down with the rest of his workshop stuff, dusting his hands and adopting a stupid pose where he flexes his arm muscles. Val gulps down her water in disgust.

"And Val and I brought up all the clothes and bedroom stuff," Sam scoffs, "Tuck got a couple boxes of all that electronic crap."

"And none of us have halfa strength to make it easy." Val points a finger threateningly at Danny, who puts his hands up in surrender. "Hard. Labor."

They sit in a circle around the pizza and shoot the shit—making the same old banter that never gets old, making grandiose travel plans that may or may not ever leave the group chat.

About how Sam's set to intern at the Daily Planet, finally about to work with her hero Lois Lane. How she hates how shiny and modern Metropolis is. How Wes has this crazy theory that dorky, clumsy, always going to the bathroom Clark Kent is Superman. How Sam believes him 100%, but won't ever tell him because she thinks it's funny.

How Tuck has this suspicion that the Flash is affiliated with Star Labs, somehow. That the tech in there seems out of this world almost, inter-dimensional in the way ecto-tech can be, but on a different frequency. How his dorm-mate is definitely some kind of meta, maybe even a time traveler, with the way he keeps using words like crash and mode in weird ways. But he's a great roommate, so Tuck minds his business.

And then, of course, the conversation ends up to their love lives.

Sam's got this enby in one of her journalism classes that keeps talking circles around her and Sam's this close to hate fucking them about it.

Tuck's been flirting it up with the girls, per usual, but there's a girl whose been trying real hard to pick up what he's putting down, and he's not actually sure if he wants that.

That conversation goes on a tangent about asexuality and aromanticism, but it'll have to be tabled until after Tucker has time to really…research the idea.

"I'm telling you, Val," Tuck changes the subject, "Steph is definitely into you."

"All the spars? Study dates?" Danny adds in, "Hasn't she been taking you on those ice cream dates too?"

"First of all, it's froyo," Val corrects haughtily, "Second of all that's all friend stuff. I did all that stuff with you guys, and I'll be doing them with you once the new semester starts."

"Third of all," Sam continues, "You have no leg to stand on, Mr. can't play doomed tonight guys," Her impression of Danny is nasally, and horribly wrong, but it's too funny to not laugh at, "I'm gonna watch a movie with Jason on discord!"

"That's—that's different." Danny sputters.

"Dude sends you food on a weekly basis because you said you forget to eat sometimes," Tucker says reluctantly, "And sends you letters."

"Letters???" Sam says indignantly, "You didn't tell me about any letters!"

"Since when has he been sending you letters??" Val asks, grabbing Danny's collar and shaking him when he mumbles and doesn't answer them clearly.

"Since January!" Danny finally yells, grabbing her hands and pulling them off, "They're just, they're not—they're nice! He's being nice. I told him I missed getting letters, and…"

Tucker, Sam and Val all groan in unison.

"He's been wooing you for half a year and you didn't even notice??" Val shrieks, into the ceiling. The ceiling is unsympathetic, but Sam and Tucker are.

"You've basically been dating Steph for half a year and you didn't notice!" Danny's voice is high pitched, his ears are red, and he's screeching with his hands on his face as he falls back and rolls all over the ground.

"You're both useless." Sam intones, "This could be solved by texting them."

"I can't just text her." Val says hotly, at the same time Danny says "Important conversations are not for texts!"

"Gods, you're perfect for him," Val mumbles under her breath, remembering Jay's very same fucking words all those months ago.

"Relationships are all about open communication, y'all." Tucker says in a wise tone.

They all stare at him. He makes a face, shrugging. "Fair enough. Carry on being useless."

"You really think he likes me?" Danny says, in a small voice through his fingers. He's not looking at any of them, and is curled up on the floor. "You think he's been…wooing me?"

"Danny…." Sam shakes her head, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder. "The man has been trying his damnedest to make this whole thing romantic for you, hasn't he?"

"You've been having virtual breakfasts together, haven't you?" Tucker softly adds in, scooching over to pat Danny on the head.

Val rolls herself over to Danny's other side, the three of them surrounding him and patting him in some way. He reaches over, snags on Val's shirt sleeve.

"I'll text him," Danny's voice trembles, "But only if you text Steph."

Val opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it at Danny's pleading eyes. She sighs.

Tucker hands Danny his phone, and they draft about a million texts before they collectively settle. Movie and a dinner, just the two of them. Easy.

"Here goes nothing…" Danny takes a deep breath, before pressing send. He laughs nervously, before straight up chucking his phone at Sam, who catches it.

"I'm going to obsessively check my phone until he answers so let's work on your text instea—" A buzz interrupts him, all four heads swinging towards the phone in Sam's hand.

Her eyes widen, mouth gaping. Danny rolls over, leans to see—

"…Oh." Danny's face crumples. "I guess…I guess that's a no, then."

"Danny…" Tucker reaches for him, but Danny shakes his head and stands up.

"I gotta…I gotta get my room set up. Thanks for all the help guys, I—" He cuts himself off, voice going small and hurt, "I guess he got tired of waiting?"

He bites his lip. Val doesn't know what to say. None of them do.

He goes to his room, and Val never sends that text to Steph.

(Red Hood gets a text message from Danny asking Jason if he'd like to catch a movie together.

There's a follow up text where Danny asks if maybe Jason would like to get dinner afterward too, just the two of them.

Red Hood is in the middle of Nanda Parbat, stealing his stupid brother's no longer missing spleen back from the creep who tried to clone him.

Red Hood has bloody gloves, and has three ninja assassins stalking him.

Red Hood texts back a "can't." but nothing to follow up, not without getting a knife to the neck.

He manages to get back home, toss the spleen back at his brother, and fall into a dead sleep 18 hours later.

When Jason wakes up another 10 hours after that, it's to an abundance of messages from his friends and family. Only one is important.

dannywithawhy: ok.

Jason falls out of bed.)

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[cushfuddled]

This article is going to make me disintegrate into a pile of cockroaches

Kind of refreshing

I don’t know whether to laugh or scream

1. What universe does this writer live in where it’s the UNCOMMON outcome for the male platonic soulmate protagonists to REMAIN platonic friends, to the point of it being a breath of fresh air to see two close male characters NOT declare their romantic love for each other or kiss or fuck by the end of the show

2. How do I get there

3. I understand some folks would like to see different kinds of fan content, but that doesn’t mean mlm shippers need to make less mlm content, and also—I cannot believe I have to say this—the fanbase ≠ the canon show. A fanbase “dominated by” (as if we’re some brutish occupying force thrust upon a ravaged underclass rather than…you know…some marginalized folks having fun with fictional characters?) mlm shippers does not mean the show itself is dominated by canon mlm couples.

4. Did you know you can skew toxic masculinity, model kindness and emotional honesty between men, AND canonize a gay relationship AT THE SAME TIME? :)

5. Oh, they can’t be GAY because then that’d reinforce the belief that kindness and emotional honesty makes you gay?

6. Question! :)) If the problem…is that boys are so terrified of being perceived as gay that they’d rather impale themselves upon the javelin of toxic masculinity…WHY is the solution always “show boys that love and vulnerability don’t make you one of those gross fags you’re so scared of” instead of. I don’t know. “BEING GAY ISN’T BAD. BEING GAY IS NORMAL. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE AFRAID OF BEING GAY.” If boys don’t think being gay makes you a horrific little freak of nature…maybe they’ll be less scared to perform actions which might cause someone—a gay friend; a homophobic classmate; a random bystander—to perceive them as gay. Because SOMEONE will always make Assumptions. People are nosy. Some people are even staunchly, happily bigoted, regardless of how many male platonic soulmates they see Not Kiss on TV. Crazy, I know! 🤪

7. This writer doesn’t mean any harm, but their article feels like another pebble in a landslide of faux-progressivism (AKA homophobia in a rainbow hat). The implication that a brotherly relationship would better SeRVe sOciEty, or be the more TRANSGRESSIVE (??????) choice (against the overwhelming tidal wave of canon gay protagonists in fantasy shows, presumably)…makes me feel…SO supported as a queer person :)))! Thanks for shielding me from that hail-of-bullets canon gay romantic love, Arcane. Keep fighting the good fight!! 🫡

[hottiesforhockey]

ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note:  this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. 

One day, he thought. 

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum. 

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol? 

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift. 

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t. 

You couldn’t.

 Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours. 

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour. 

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head. 

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.” 

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra. 

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans. 

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form. 

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again. 

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you. 

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat. 

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out. 

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room. 

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan. 

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly. 

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly,  lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly. 

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours. 

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back. 

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out. 

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house. 

+

+

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache. 

You fucked your best friend. 

And then you ditched. 

What if this ruined everything? 

What if he regretted it? 

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay? 

Matty ♥️:  I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk? 

Matty ♥️:  I know you’re reading these, please answer me. 

Matty ♥️:  I miss you. 

Fuck. 

+

+

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

 He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head. 

What were you sorry for? 

Leaving? 

Crossing the line between friends? 

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you. 

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago. 

No response. 

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility. 

What if you didn’t want to see him? 

What if this was it? 

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore. 

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear. 

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?” 

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.” 

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

[shaylogic]

Joshua Colley on Monty: Adventures & Mysteries, Friendships, Joys & Fears, Thoughts on Niko, Crystal, and Jenny, and Facing the DBDA World Unburdened by Homophobia

[Transcription of my linked Joshua Colley Cameo]

Hello, Shay! It is me, Josh. Um, thank you so much for getting this Cameo. Thank you so much for supporting me. You said, "Hello <3" Hi! "What are some more mysteries and adventures you would've liked to see Monty go on with the detective agency friends? Which members would he get closer to over time?" Oh my gosh! Well, I think him and Niko would've been *crosses finger in the "tight" gesture* locked in. And I also think him and Charles probably would've been locked in. I know he was kind of--Monty was kind of a hater at the beginning. Um, but towards the end he--he turned it around. So I think they--they would definitely get along. Um, and I don't know, I think I would love to see--in my mind, in, like, another season, or y'know, like, Monty would be like, slowly--he would get turned back into a human, but then he would be slowly turning back into a crow until--like his end transformation would be like, him in human form but he had wings. So I think uncovering that kind of mystery could have been really fun. Um, and just more--just more adventures. I mean, those mysteries were so fun in season one. So, um, that's what I would've loved to explore, but we're just going to have to use our imaginations. Um, you said, "What were his thoughts on Niko, Crystal, and Jenny? Did the butcher shop creep him out after Esther's kitchen and blood magic?" Um, probably. *nods* I think he--I think he loves Niko. Um, I think he was just, like, vibing with Crystal. I think he was scared of Jenny, for sure. Um, but love all of the actors that played those parts. We had a grand old time. Um, "What are some of Monty's biggest joys and fears?" I think his biggest joys are probably just, I think he really liked the romance of it all. And like, just getting to explore his new human body was probably really fun. And his fears were probably his mom. *laughs* I would have to say his mother--and his heartbreak. Um, "It occurs to me that Edwin's life was heavily affected by homophobic society, but Monty was pretty isolated from other people and queer history/culture. How might he have adapted to going out into the dating world on his own?" Ooh, I don't know. I think--you know, in the world of "Dead Boy Detectives"--um, I kind of like the way. . . it wasn't that big a deal that Monty was a queer character. Um, I like the--how natural it felt, and how--um, yeah, I don't know, I just really loved that. And I think, um, I know that's really a big part of Edwin's. . . um, y'know, arc. And so I think it was nice for Monty to be kind of just confident and um, naive, in a way, to that. . . side of--of things, you know what I mean? And I think that's what made him so wonderful and. . .um, sweet. And lovable. I love Monty, and I'm so happy that you loved him, too. "Thanks so much for your work, and your answering these questions." Oh my gosh. Of course, anytime, Shay. Thank you so much for watching "Dead Boy Detectives". Thank you for supporting me again. Um, it seriously means the world. I hope I get to meet you one day, um, and answer more questions, and give you a big hug. But, until then, *gestures between his face and the phone* we're just gonna' have to do it through the screen. Um, but yes, thank you for all the love, um, and, I'll see you soon! *aggressively peck-kisses the phone camera* Bye! *sing-song cutie voice*

Loved this so much! And I still do love Monty <3

Joshua Colley is still on Cameo if you'd like to support him.

[tthoroughfare]

kerosene (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the one where she breaks up with cat.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: jackson!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 0.8k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

I AM ENJOYING WRITING THIS SO MUCH i literally don't want them to get together because i just love yearning so much sighhh. i'm already up to the part where things finally happen and i know i'm gonna end up posting those, then going back and writing little extra parts to slot in where they're still friends. anywayyy hope you enjoy <3

something about the conversation makes ellie deliberate for weeks. it was the way you’d spoken about your relationship just not feeling ‘right’, the way she couldn’t really verbalize anything she felt like she should say about cat. she doesn’t know if she’s just overthinking everything. cat’s great. sure, she can’t see herself spending the rest of her life with her, but she makes her happy. they have fun. they have things in common. she feels like she starts to make a mental list of all the reasons they’re together, analyzing the relationship, analyzing her own feelings. she can’t shake the notion that now they’re settled in, the excitement of newness gone, she, too, feels like something isn’t ‘right’.

she hopes it just goes away on its own. but when just over a month passes and nothing has changed, she knows she has to just do it. 

it starts off as a regular day; she meets cat at a spot they frequent, stomach churning at the anticipation. she wants to just rip the band-aid off, but she can’t. the words won’t come out. she flounders around for a while, talking about nothing, knowing full well cat can tell something’s up. finally, when she straight up asks her why she’s being weird, she just comes out and says it. she wants to break up.

of course, she feels awful. cat’s confused, and crying, and asking all kind of questions ellie can’t really express any answers to. she’s upset about it, too. but she just knows in her heart it’s for the better.

it’s cemented when she’s walking back home, realizing she feels a little lighter.

she sees you properly again about a week later, when there’s an event in jackson. she really wasn’t planning on going, not wanting to risk seeing cat (not wanting to have to interact with anyone, pretty much), but dina had convinced her, saying she ‘can’t lock herself away forever.’

she walks in late, party already in full swing, and immediately spots you in the corner chatting to jesse. you haven’t actually spoken in a few weeks, just a greeting when you saw each other out and about, but you seem happier than you were before. she kicks herself mentally when she finds herself hoping it’s not because you’ve found someone new.

she awkwardly hovers around, getting herself a drink and sipping it, people watching. these things were never her idea of a great time.

after about ten minutes, dina appears at her side, visibly tipsy. “what the hell are you doing?” she asks playfully, gesturing at the room full of people. “you’re a single woman now, c’mon. get out there.”

ellie pulls a face, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “yeah, that's definitely my style.”

dina lets out a short, exasperated sigh, taking ellie by the wrist and tugging her across the room, towards you and jesse. “at least socialize. you’re all… weird. more than usual.”

“oh, shut up,” she retorts lowly, but allows herself to be hauled over to the two of you. her stomach flutters slightly when she gets a proper look at you; you’re a little more done-up than normal, eyes sparkling in the warm light as you greet her.

she doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or something else, but that night is the first time things start to feel explicitly different. on one hand, it’s similar to how it was before — the odd pleasantness dissipated in the air. it feels more like a real friendship again, rather than two people dancing around each other. but on the other, something just feels… new.

she actually ends up having a really good time. she spends the majority of the night with you, drinking more than you both probably should, conversation flowing easily. and when it’s over, she insists on walking you home, despite you saying dina’s staying the night and you weren’t going to be alone anyway.

she just shrugs and smiles.

on the short walk back, dina’s chatting your ear off, thoroughly drunk, but you can’t really focus on anything she’s saying. not just because of the fuzzy feeling in your head, but because of the way you’re so, so aware of ellie’s presence. you’re walking in between them, noticing the way she seems to gravitate towards you, swaying away slightly, then back in. you cross your arms, not wanting to accidentally brush against her, not really understanding why.

she lingers at the door when you get home, dina heading straight in and kicking her shoes off, flopping down on your couch.

“well… thanks. you’re free to go,” you joke after a small pause.

ellie shoots a lopsided smile, leaning against the doorframe. “welcome.” she pauses, like she doesn’t want to go, like she wants to say something. but she doesn’t. she just taps the doorframe and stands up straight. “see you later.”

dina yells out a ‘bye, ellie’, and you wave goodbye as she turns around to leave, trying not to think about the way that smile sent your stomach all funny. “get home safe. update me on the hangover.”

she looks over her shoulder at you as she walks away, chuckling. “will do.”

you go to close the door, watching her stuff her hands into her pockets and make her way down the street for a moment too long.

[junedenim]

to say good night

sleep can happen anywhere

warnings: fluff, smut, blowie, piv, and raspberries

word count: 3.6k

You watched him make the bed. He was always slow and careful with this kind of thing. It was rhythmic, second nature to tuck the duvet under the mattress and fluff the pillows just right. It was weird for a man to be so careful after sex. The sheets had been a mess covered in each of you. He still spills out of you now, trapped by your underwear. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself but got trapped in the doorway watching this meticulous routine as he changed the navy blue sheets to baby blue ones. You wonder if he has any different coloured sheets or if they are all blue.

He's fixing the nightstand now. His alarm clock that your hand pushed off when he was going down on you. His spine curves, little rivets showing through the skin of his bare back. You get to drag your hand down it tonight when you lie side by side and go to bed with one another. Not just fucking bed but sleeping bed.

And he's so lovely. You're not sure you've ever seen something, especially a man so lovely as he sits down on the bed to fix the time on the clock. His eyes shine back at the glaring red digits. Your hand curls around the doorframe, trying not to give yourself away to him. He's so cautious when he knows he's being watched, but here, he's loose, uncaring, and serene, so serene.

His hair is a fluff mess. One that swirls and makes cascading waterfalls as it tries to fall forward on his face. He slightly jumps at the beeping noise the clock makes and a giggle escapes you, impossible to hold back at his cute, jolting, meticulous, lovely, serene self. No hand covering your mouth hides the giggle. His eyes snap up with the fear he's been caught out like you've accidentally caught him masturbating in his childhood bedroom, not fully grown fixing his alarm clock.

But then he releases, not everything, but just enough to lightly chuckle. "You snooping on me?"

Part of you wants to shrink behind the bathroom door and hide but his laughter is solaceful. "I'm just going to the bathroom," you say as you slowly shut the door.

He laughs, this time more boisterous. It's easy for him to let go when he's making fun of you. "Uh-huh, yeah, right."

"I swear!" You yell back through the closed door as you drop your panties and wipe him out of you (disgusting but not and that almost disgusts you more about how you can be so affected by a person that you start to cherish their semen) and dispose of it. Your cheeks are flushed red in the mirror and you splash water to temper the fire burning its way out.

Exiting the bathroom, he stands by the dresser having covered that gracious bare back with a T-shirt. It makes you want to yell at him for the crime he's committed. It was horrible that he covered his butt with his boxers but this. "Why'd you put a shirt on?"

Alex once again jumps at a surprising sound. He turns around and smirks. "Why'd you put a shirt on?" He counters.

Fair. But it's his shirt and your underwear, isn't that what most guys find sexy? He's in his pajamas, very cutely, but five minutes ago he was coming inside you so a tad more explicit behaviour tonight shouldn't be out of the question. So, if he needs something from you then you'll trail your hands down the shirt, fiddle with the bottom—teasing, of course—and take the garment off, dropping it at his feet as an offering.

His lust-filled eyes work as encouragement, straying you from an insecurity. His hands move from his side and meet the bottom of his shirt. He's slow, much more than you were. You ripped the Band-Aid off, and he's easing it slowly away from the skin. He nearly gets trapped in its collar and has to twist his head back and forth to withdraw from it. Then, he tosses it at your feet, a slight chuckle of embarrassment rippling through him. "Now get in bed," he tells you.

You look toward the pristine sight, something off of HGTV or an Ikea catalogue. "But I don't want to ruin it," you candidly reply. It even has one of those small useless pillows sitting there for merely display purposes.

He walks toward you. "Get in bed," he says with a smirk. He pats your ass giving a light squeeze to your right ass cheek before heading into the bathroom. You look behind you at the closed bathroom door and inch your way to the bed, carefully taking off the small useless pillow. You pull back the duvet and slide into the sea of blue and then you wait.

You see the light spilling out from the bottom crack of the bathroom door. You hear him turn on the sink, the sound of him brushing his teeth. The water shuts off but he doesn't come out immediately. He takes his time and you wish you could peek in on whatever he's doing. Washing his hands, styling his hair, psyching himself up in the mirror, whatever it may be you want to be witness to it.

The door clicks open and he walks out, making his way to the bed and under the covers. He pulls the blankets over both of you and moves close by means of huddling for warmth. Your nipples rub against the blanket, shielding them from his view, but not his imagination. "Are you cold?" He asks.

You shake your head but tighten your hold on the blanket. You are a little cold but mostly nervous, just a tad. He nods and you can see the hesitance spilling from him. There's something intimate about sex but in comparison to this, it's nothing. The personal laying of your figures side-by-side. Your boobs are exposed and his chest is so close your palm can almost touch it. Instead, you two sit in silence, scared to be the first to speak because it's the first time you've done this with each other. 

Because it's not just spending the night or a hook-up, it's something far greater that you can't name. Something you want to work so badly it could kill you. Because he's looking at you like that: eyes warm and shiny, perfect for falling into. Him. Him. Because he's right up against you without touching you and now you have to relinquish yourself to him in a far more vulnerable way than sex. But the idea of falling asleep in his arms seems so nice that you can't bear any distance, even if it is small. 

"Do you always make the bed like that?" You ask him. You relax down into the pillow, turning onto your side to face him more clearly.

His smile grows warmer and it makes your insides feel less cold. "No. I'm neat but I'm not that neat."

"Why'd you do it that way then? Special occasion?" You smile back knowingly. He's always been one for silent gestures. Only the little things you notice way down the line. The little things you know now and the ones you have yet to discover.

He blushes, turning bashfully away from you. "Maybe. Yeah. Thought I'd make it look more homely."

You giggle, not because it's very funny, but because he's very charming. Enough to make any girl giddy. "It looked more like a display room to me but it was very pretty to watch."

Alex turns onto his side now, smirking in such a delight that it pierces through you. "Yeah. And you like to do that stalking thing?"

You bite your lip from mild embarrassment and in an attempt to hide to smile he's forcing increasingly on your face. "You're very cute to watch. I'm sure you know that."

"Well..." He trails off but his hand moves under the covers, landing on the curve of your side, just under your ribs. He's delicate, not trying to make a big deal out of it, the same with everything he does. But you notice. It's hard not to notice that warm touch.

"I don't even think I made my bed this morning," you tell him. Not that it matters much when you're lying in his.

He chuckles and gradually leans closer and closer. "I like to be organized." That's plenty nice under these nice sheets but his lips are far greater as he comes toward yours. He hovers before latching on. It's a smooth grip, nothing harsh as you lock lips. Everything about it flows.

His hand moves up your figure, his thumb lightly caressing the bottom of your boob. Your hand steadies on his shoulder. He feels firm as your hand grazes down his arm before shifting over to his chest, feeling him beneath your hand.

The kissing becomes harsher, not aggressive, but determined passion from both sides. You were drawn together and it felt impossible to ignore, even as things became more rushed. You rolled over and he followed with his body on top. His hand massaged your side and your bodies smushed together, your boobs stuck in between each other in that small space.

"You just changed the sheets," you mumble in the chaos of attached lips.

His lips strayed, moving down from your lips, kissing your chin, and down the column of your neck on that tender part of your throat. "Fuck that. I don't care," Alex kissed into your skin. He paid tribute to your right collarbone, briefly sticking out his tongue and running a line across it. He kissed your shoulder and moved down further to your breasts. 

He licks his way to the nipple, already sensitive from the cold and rubbing up against him. Suddenly, he makes a loud smooching noise and blows a raspberry on it. It's ticklish, erupting impossible to avoid laughter as you push his head away from the affected spot.

"Stop it," you manage to get out. "So much for being sensual."

Alex kisses one of your ribs like it's him and it may be what created you. "I never promised sensuality."

"I thought you making out with my breasts implied that." He laughs and kisses the untouched boob. His lips hover like he's threatening to do it to the other one. "I'll leave if you do it again. What if someone did that to your dick?"

He thinks about it, tossing his head back and forth. "It'd probably feel good." His eyes look away like he’s imagining the pleasure.

Your hands reached down, snaking in between your two bodies. You grab a hold of the waistband of his boxers, snapping it against his skin. "You want to bet?" You push him onto his back, gazing down at him.

"You don't know men very well if you think the threat of a blowjob is gonna scare them off."

Still, you descend him. Your fingers dance on his hip bone. He delightfully protrudes onto you. He conflicts with himself whether to revel in the feeling with his head on the pillow or watch you as you tease him. His eyes remain on you as your pointer finger grasps onto the elastic of his boxers. Edging him in anticipation. A dance between the dainty and the robust. 

You send him a mocking grin, displaying your teeth, latching onto that waistband, dragging it slowly, revealing the bottom portion of his stomach before stopping. You kissed the newly exposed skin as he sucks in a breath like he hasn't taken one in minutes. You press your face into him. Your nose inhaling him into you, the smell of him plain, only a simple bar of soap has passed this area. Yet, however plain, it calms you. You wish to rest your head here for a little while, maybe fall asleep here because he isn't restless here. This is where things calm.

You resume. Your hands drift further down, dipping into his boxers, giving a slight touch to him. Your hands are cold against the warm skin. It might turn him on even more. Finally, you pull his boxers down fully, letting his erection pop out on display. Your hand grabs a hold of it. He shivers from the cold, anticipation, and the soon-to-be relief.

You hold him carefully in your hand like you're observing him scientifically. You need to cover every surface with your eyes, every vein needs to be noted, and the way he twitches should be put in the records. "Come on," he just barely mutters.

It's the complete opposite from earlier when he was quick with you. When you were messy with each other. When alarm clocks were pushed on the floor and sheets were left with no choice but to wash. You're careful now, if not, torturous. Alas, you lick up the side of him to the tip. Your tongue grazes over the slit, enjoying the way it makes him stiff. 

You seal a kiss on it before your mouth covers the top of him. You suck on him, pleasurable for both him and you. Then, you blow a raspberry on him. You wish to capture the way he wiggles around and groans but you're too busy laughing at him. "How was that?"

Alex brings a hand to his head. He rubs his fingers between his eyebrows to calm that distress in him. "Not very sensual." You share a laugh before taking him off guard with how quickly you return to the task at (or in your) hand. 

You stroke him, moving the salvia from the top down to lubricate the bottom. Your mouth covers him again, but this time takes him fully in a slow controlled manner. The pressure pushes against your throat as your nose rubs that spot on his stomach again. You pull yourself off, wiping the string of spit that connects you. Your hand continues its work as you kiss his hip, then the top of his thigh, then his pelvis, then his penis.

His hand stops you from taking him completely in your mouth again. "Get on me."

"What?" You question.

"Let me fuck you again." He's almost begging, his eyes fluttering shut and his grasp on your upper arm strengthening. "Please."

"What about the bed?" It was so nice moments ago but the blankets have been thrown and the sheets exposed, a trace of your spit already covering them.

He shakes his head on the pillow, trying not to lose the moment. He pinches that glabella. "Let's just fuck on the fucking floor."

You hesitate on the bed but he's quick, already has his knees pressed on the cold wood floors. He reaches a hand up to you, which you take, kicking your feet out and meeting him on the floor. "I'm gonna get a splinter from this."

He laughs, placing his hands on your waist, his thumb stroking up and down. "How do you want to do this?" He doesn't hesitate, dragging your panties off as soon as he can.

"I don't know. It was your idea. Just fuck me, I guess."

"Okay," he mutters like he's still trying to figure it out himself. He looks around, trying to place the space on the floor, and then kisses you, overpowering you. You're on your back, your shoulders grazing the floor's rug. You could start a fire with the way your skin brushes against it. You clutch his neck to grasp on something desperately as he moves himself through your folds, soaked up in you.

Now, it's sensual as he eases slowly into you. It's barely anything but then it's barely nothing. Everything is touched and you were just like this less than an hour ago but it already feels different. The way his eyes land on you is much softer and his touch is caring. There's no rushing, roughness, or scratching. It's tender, graceful, and clutching. He's powering but not overtly. His hips snap but not aggressively.

It's fulfilling. He kisses every nerve ending in you. It's making love in all those stupid, cheesy, romance movie kind of ways but it's him and it's you, something yet to fully be explored and you get to be a first-hand witness to every touch he lands on you. His thumb strokes you so carefully but it lights you up completely. 

You arch up into him and you know he's much closer than you are, so, you reach up and smooth your hand over his cheek before wrapping your arm around his neck. You whisper into his ear for him to let go and give himself over to you. It's late and tiring, it's like falling asleep in each other's arms as he lets go into you.

Everything in him is sensitive. He shudders as everything comes over him. He buries his head into your neck, rubbing his nose against your jugular. Your hand runs through his hair as he groans the last bits of relief into your skin. It's content. Your heart rates settle against one another as if you're beating in time with one another. 

Alex starts to move again, even slower than before, but he's not willing to let this go. He doesn't like it just being about him. He doesn't like all that attention. So, he gives it, gives it all over, fucking you with the remnants of him still inside you. 

His overstimulation settles as he begins to rush forward. The thumb stroking picks up right over your clit and it's cold hands on warm flesh. It's so divine, an enhancement. It's not just a regular touch, it's an imprint as the cold seeps into you and he drives himself into you. He groans and you moan but it's all whispers for just one another. No soul will ever hear each other this way because it's never been like this before and you're not sure it will ever be like this again, even with him. It's a sliver of time for just the two of you.

Each of your breathing grows heavy and your hips lift. It all moves quicker and you can feel the rug burn forming on your skin as you come. It overrides anything. You clutch onto him in any way possible. Your hands in his hair, your legs around his waist, him still sitting inside you. It's a release. Completely. 

When everything relaxes just enough, your grasp loosens and he rolls beside you onto his back. You tilt your head slightly up to look at his profile, even with barely any light in the room it's scenic. It's like looking out at the ocean from the cliff. 

He has steadied himself when he turns his head over to meet your eyes. "Good?" It could mean a number of things. If you're okay, if the sex was okay, if you're alright staying here on the floor forever.

Either way, you are. "Good," you answer in the affirmative. You reach out to him, pushing his hair back so you can get the best view of his eyes. "You?"

Alex nods. His eyes are obviously tired, fluttering with the wind. "We should get back in bed."

"Or stay here for a minute more," you suggest because the moment will be gone, ending forever, the second you stand up from this small cocoon of space.

He doesn't reject the idea. His body is so relaxed against the wood. "When I was younger," he tells you, "I used to sleep on the floor because I was scared of my bed."

It's a privilege to know these small stories about him. To run your fingers through his hair as he tells you a childhood story that has him smiling. "Why?" You ask.

Alex shifts closer, his arm landing over your waist. He tugs you closer to him as if he wants to absorb you, live in one body with you. It almost feels like that in this small space where your breaths duel one another. "I don't know. It was my first big kid bed. I think I thought monsters lived in there."

You squint. "So you slept closer to where they lived under your bed?"

He chuckles and gives a light squeeze to your side. "I was four, I had no logic."

You recall, "I used to just sleep in my parents' room. Might've caused their divorce." Your hand drifts away from his hair and down to his back, at long last rubbing down his spine, feeling those notches in him. If he sleeps on his stomach, you might wake him up tomorrow by kissing your way down those vertebrae.

"Why?" He questions just like you.

"They could never have sex 'cause I was in there all the time." There's laughter shared, an increased amount, maybe because you just had sex and you'll have plenty more sex but for now you'll lie here. You want to squeeze him in between your fingers, pinch a piece off of him, and carry it around with you in your bag, in your pocket, in your skin.

His hand moves to your back, moving along your spine, massaging the muscles around it. "I walked in on them once. I think I'll take your side of things," he said. He pulled a disgusted face before dusting a smile. "I thought they were wrestling."

Your laughter is loud, infectious and it makes him laugh too and you'll get up off the floor at some point but for now, you'd like to stay here in a world with just the two of you.

*

a/n: i like this one. maybe because i was more relaxed when i wrote it. excuse yet another 'perfect sense' title, it just fits so well. thanks, bye.

[qqueenofhades]

I bought your 'Empire' the other day (which I am excited about; I haven't started it yet), but somehow completely missed that you had written historical fiction, and about the Plantagenets, my favourite historical dynasty, so I'll be jumping on that.

I was wondering if you had recommendations for historical fiction set during the Plantagenet reign? I've tried Sharon Kay Penman and unfortunately didn't get on with her writing, which is a shame as I've heard good things about her series. I know Philippa Gregory has several novels set during that time period, but her books seem to be verging on bodice rippers, which isn't what I'm looking for. Was just curious if you had any suggestions for well-researched fiction set during the Plantagenet reign.

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for several days (my apologies) largely because I was trying to think of a more helpful answer for you. Medieval historical fiction is VERY hit and miss for me, not least because it is often written by people who, uh, are not historians and thus have Certain Ideas (TM) about what the medieval period is like. Or they want to use various aesthetics, or they want to make some (usually questionable) point about how women were treated in the past, or they just go whole-hog on total nonsense. As an example of all of these things at once, let us all stare in horror at this recently-released book description together:

(The book is called the Stone Witch of Florence, by the way. I took one look at this and ran screaming. WHY.)

A stone witch?? So she channels the power of gemstones like a modern-day Instagram healing crystals influencer??? BUT ZOMGZ WITCHCRAFT. In the middle of the Black Death. "Unorthodox cures" you say. But they also need holy relics for protection, and I totally trust the author to understand about medieval hagiography/cult of the saints. Totally. We definitely won't get some half-baked comparison between Sekrit Women Magical Gems Which Really Work and Dark Ages Church Superstition Holy Relics Which Are A Fraud, or.... something??? And our nobly mistreated protagonist will super definitely be a real physician if she gets these and never ever accused of witchcraft (which LET US ALL SAY IT TOGETHER IS AN EARLY MODERN THING!!!!) Because medieval medicine was just a bunch of gemstone vibes anyway! Makes total sense!

...my head hurts.

Anyway, while not all examples are this egregious, the point is: I love historical fiction, but I almost always can't read it when it's set in the medieval era. I read Sharon Kay Penman a while ago and enjoyed her stuff at the time, though I have assorted gripes with it on a stylistic/historical level. While Philippa Gregory does have real academic credentials, she likewise has gone totally down the bodice-ripper alternate-history crackpot theory Secret Women Magic version of things, which is... fine if that's your jam, but just like you, it is not mine. I thus have to read fiction which is set in other periods or which I know less about or where at least I am more capable of turning off my brain and accepting things for the sake of the story. So as you see, I unfortunately don't have many useful suggestions for you in this field, since the kind of medieval historical fiction that I like to recommend is, say, The Name of the Rose. Which is terrific and written for someone of a professional medievalist's level of knowledge, but is not exactly everyone's cup of tea when they just want something fun and easy to understand.

I am, of course, happy to give other book recommendations if you'd like to broaden your request, and I'll do my best to think -- but yes! As I said, I wish I could be more helpful here. I shall persist.

(Also, of course: thanks for buying EMPIRE! I do hope you enjoy.)

[covenofagatha]

taking requests, angel? if so...

I saw some Kathryn gifs and an idea came to me: Agatha, after a long and exhausted working week, asks female reader to have a date, but the date is on their house because Agatha is too tired to go out. Reader is happy, tho, because her love language is quality time and physical contact. Something like a dinner, maybe, idk... so they end up having a very lovely time together, cuddling on the sofa until they fall asleep. Smut or not in the end, it's up to you... but I'd love to read something cute from you:( I don't know if that's okay...

if you're not taking requests, I totally understand that! I don't want to bother you.

- 🌙

Fun fact, this is my first time writing something that's not meant to build up to sexy times! Also the fluffiest thing I've ever written so hopefully it's good!

Home is where the heart is

A change of plans in your date night with Agatha leads to a confession.

Word count: 1200

Warnings: fluff, softness

Still on for dinner and a movie tonight? 

It’s the text you sent your girlfriend, Agatha, an hour ago and she still hasn’t responded. This usually isn’t like her, but you know how busy work can get. And you know how tough the last week had been on her, but you were really looking forward to spending this Friday night with her. 

The two of you had been dating for three months now and it always seemed like the older woman wanted to do something, whether it be going to a nice restaurant or mini-golfing or painting pottery. Like tonight, Agatha is supposed to take you to the newest spot in town that just opened up and then you were going to see Corpse Bride as it was playing again in theaters. 

You would never complain about any of this, but you’re a little worried that Agatha thinks that you need all of this to hang out with her. 

A text from Agatha buzzes finally. Doll, I’m so sorry. You frown and pick your phone up, afraid she’s going to cancel. I’m so exhausted from work, how would you feel just coming over tonight for something chill? I can order pizza. 

You breathe a sigh of relief and type back. I would love that! See you later. You almost finish the text with a ‘Love you’ but neither of you had said it yet and you were sure as hell not going to say it over the phone for the first time. 

You also weren’t sure how Agatha felt. She was older and you weren’t exactly sure what she saw in you. She was beautiful and confident and wealthy and could have anyone she wanted, and yet she chose you. 

A part of you deep down is perturbed that this is just a fling for her. It would crush you if that’s what it was. 

But you bury that insecurity somewhere dark inside you and you get ready for date night. 

Since you’re not doing anything special, you opt for a comfy purple sweater and black leggings. You do put on lacy underwear just in case Agatha’s in the mood, but you are totally content if not. 

You just want to spend time with your girlfriend. 

You get to her house right at six, which was when you were supposed to meet anyway, and you only have to wait a second after ringing the doorbell for Agatha to appear. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, stepping to the side so you can enter. She’s wearing sweatpants and a tank top, hair loose, but she’s never looked more beautiful. You press a cheek to her kiss and she hums happily and follows you into the kitchen. “Sorry to cancel our plans at the last minute, I’m just so tired.” 

“No worries at all,” you reassure her, opening the pizza box that’s already on the counter. It’s your favorite kind and you put two pieces on a plate and grab a beer. She does the same and leads you over to the couch where you sit on opposite sides facing each other. “Everything okay?” You ask once you’re both settled. 

She sighs dramatically and her head flops back against the couch. You laugh and nudge her with your foot. 

Agatha looks back at you, mirth sparkling in her eyes. “It was just a rough week, hon. Lots of people bothering me, asking stupid questions they should know the answers to, following up on emails that they haven’t responded to. And I had to work late those couple nights.”

You frown. “I’m sorry. You work so hard and no one seems to give you the credit you deserve.” You take a bite of your pizza and chew it thoughtfully, wondering what else you can say. You know she’s been really busy and you’ve hardly seen her at all this week. 

But she leans forward and pats your thigh. “But this has certainly helped.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “The pizza and beer?” You ask innocently, fishing for more. She rolls her eyes fondly, knowing how much validation you like. 

“And the company, hon. You’re pretty great, you know?” 

You smile and squirm with contentment. “You are too, Aggie. I’m always happy to just sit on your couch and talk. I just want to spend time with you, no matter what we’re doing.” 

She smiles gratefully. “Me too, baby. Now, how has your week been?” You launch into an animated retelling of something that happened at work and she hangs onto every word. It takes you a bit longer to tell the story in-between bites of your pizza, but her attention never wavers. 

It makes you feel so warm inside how Agatha always pays attention to what you’re saying. She makes you feel so seen and you couldn’t be more lucky to have her. 

Once you’re done talking and with the pizza, she puts on an episode of Modern Family, your comfort show. You lay between her legs, your back to her front, while she gently strokes your hair. You trace lazy circles on her thighs through her sweatpants and it’s absolutely perfect. 

She tilts your head to the side and angles hers so she’s able to kiss you softly. It’s just a press of her lips against yours at first, but it slowly becomes more and your mouth parts for her tongue. 

It’s not a needy kiss though, not a kiss meant to lead to something more, it’s a kiss full of adoration and longing and intimacy. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Agatha murmurs against your lips.

“Not as perfect as you,” you say back and you can feel her smile against your skin. 

She lets you go back to the show and wraps her arms around you. You can feel her deep breathing and you feel so safe and warm that you start to doze off. 

Right before sleep takes you though, you feel her nuzzle your temple and whisper into your ear: “I love you, baby.” 

Your heart leaps and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. You whirl around so fast that you almost fall off the couch. Agatha’s eyes are wide and you think you see fear in them. 

“Did you just–” You start. 

At the same time, Agatha says, “I’m so sorry–”

You both cut off at the same time. You smile wider than you ever have before and you move so you’re straddling her lap. You put your arms around her neck and rest your forehead against hers. 

“Agatha Harkness,” you say. Her eyebrows raise. “I love you, too.” 

She closes the distance between you and kisses you again, this time with more passion. You whine and try to pull her as close as you can, needing to feel her body against yours as much as you can. 

“Say it again,” she says and you smirk. 

“I-” You kiss her. “Love.” Another kiss. “You.” She grins and gives you a long kiss and it eventually sizzles out and the two of you are just holding each other, your chin on top of her shoulder. 

“I’m so glad I cancelled our other date,” Agatha muses and you chuckle, squeezing her tighter. “Stay here with me forever, love?” 

You promise that you will. 

And when you both wake up in the morning in that same position, she tells you that she loves you again.

You hope she never stops saying it, because you know that you never will.

[blackenedsnow]

ART X A SELF DOUBTING VAMPIRE READER PSLPLSPSLLS!! like they think they taste all rotten and nasty but art doesnt think sooo!

red as snow

WARNING: Self doubt

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Vampire! Reader

NOTE: Omg this is so fun to think about!! thanks for the ask <3 I ALWAYS love writing about vampires OHHHH MAN

SUMMARY: Art doesn’t mind what’s wrong with you. That’s the worst part, really. You can’t understand how someone so perfect in his brutality could ever want something so rotten.

The blood pools around your feet in lazy rivulets, stark and shining against the pale stretch of snow. It’s almost beautiful, in a grotesque sort of way – the kind of beauty you find in shattered glass or a body just before the life leaves it. Art would know what you mean.

He’s doing something behind you, a slow, lilting tune, soft as snowfall. He’s in his own little world, swaying slightly, his bloodied hands clasped behind his back. His clothes look filthy now, stained with deep red streaks.

You think he looks ridiculous. And perfect.

“Do you ever think,” you say quietly, your voice barely carrying over the winter hush, “that I might taste bad?”

Art stops. His head snaps toward you, and even though you know he doesn’t speak, you feel the weight of his question in the tilt of his head, the way his wide eyes narrow just slightly.

“You know,” you murmur, staring down at the corpse between you, “if someone tried to bite me. My blood’s probably awful. There’s something wrong with me.” you glance back at him, watching the way his grin widens like it’s some private joke only he gets. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

You’re half-joking, but it still stings when he laughs – or whatever you’d call that silent, breathy wheeze of his. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little defensive. You fold your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t it be bad? I’m rotting from the inside out, Art. I can feel it. There’s no way it’d taste good.”

He straightens up, wiping at his face even though there’s no tears, no sign of any real laughter – just that grin of his, smeared with someone else’s blood. He takes a step closer, his boots crunching over the snow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, turning away. “I mean it. It’s not romantic to drink from something dead.”

He’s behind you before you can finish the thought, his hands curling over your shoulders in a way that makes your skin crawl – and not because you don’t like it. You hate that you do. That you want him to hold you tighter, to crush you in that terrible grip of his.

“I mean, maybe it’s fitting,” you continue. “You’re a demon. I’m a vampire. We’re both monsters. But even monsters deserve something better than this, don’t you think?”

Art spins you around in one fluid movement, his hands dropping to your arms to hold you in place. You can feel the press of his fingers through your clothing, too strong, too insistent, but you don’t pull away. He’s tilting his head again, his grin growing impossibly wider, like he’s daring you to keep talking.

“You don’t believe me,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Then, quick as a flash, his hand moves to his chest, dragging his fingers down like he’s unzipping it, miming something pulling at his heart.

You swallow hard. “You’re just saying that.”

He glares at you, his grin faltering for the first time. It’s subtle, just the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make your breath catch.

“Okay, okay,” you say quickly, raising your hands in surrender. “You love me. I get it. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can smell the copper tang of blood on him, can see the splatters drying on his skin.

Maybe he doesn’t care what’s wrong with you, doesn’t care if your blood tastes like poison, if your body is too far gone to be anything worth having. He just loves you.

[moni-logues]

just taking it upon myself to do this without being asked because it was FUN! also everyone please consider yourself tagged to do this too if you want!

1: What’s your current bias line?

aeifughaveufgvuhegvaesgvkj look i'm in trouble.

the official answer is BANGCHAN and LEEKNOW. the unofficial answer is mostly screaming

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

god this is a good question and i've no idea? possibly one of the two above tbh

3: What song was your first?

it was either district 9 or god's menu, I THINK. I listened to those two and thunderous quite a bit without actually diving into their discography

4: What’s your current favorite song?

*sings badly* so COVER ME NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. she's in her belter era, lads

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

boy who knows. i've definitely got a little bit of mimo in me and hyunjinnie being a pisces is ofc a shared spirit

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

3racha it has to be

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most?

fr i love chan's nose

8: What’s your favorite album?

😬 you are exposing me as someone who simply cannot remember albums but i'll say oddinary because it was the first i listened to in full

9: Do you have any albums?

i have two maxidents, yellow wood, all in? idk man i didn't pack any albums when i moved to seoul so they're all at home

10: Have you been to a concert?

saw them at BST in Hyde Park!!!!!!

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

minsung should win this by a country mile but unfortunately my wives have had a VERY SUCCESSFUL last quarter so hyunibini are up there

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

i'm kind of obsessed with love poem in general so obviously that

13: Favorite SKZOO?

WolfChan natch

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

i want to go to the park with Chan and berry

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

han? minho? but seungmin does get a shoutout

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

im sorry but i know nothing about dance so this comes down to whose body makes you the craziest when it moves and the answer is minho and binnie

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

i have not watched them all 😬

18: Favorite MV?

see above lol i am not a mv girly tbh

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

hyunjinnie pleasssssse

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing.

see above re: who im spending the day with. chan and i are going to have a hella romantic time in the park

.·:*¨ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒚 ¨*:·.

20 Questions for my fellow Stays!

Making a little tag game because I love them and I’m nosy tbh. I also just love interacting with yall!

1: What’s your current bias line?

2: Who’s the one that made you Stan?

3: What song was your first?

4: What’s your current favorite song?

5: What members personally resembles yours the most?

6: If you had to pick a specific racha which would you choose?

7: What’s one attribute of the members do you like the most? (Example: Chans dimples)

8: What’s your favorite album?

9: Do you have any albums?

10: Have you been to a concert?

11: Who’s your favorite duo?

12: Favorite cover/solo songs:

13: Favorite SKZOO?

14: If you had a day with one member what would you wanna do with them?

15: Who’s your favorite singing voice?

16: Who’s your favorite to watch dance?

17: Do you have a favorite SKZ Code?

18: Favorite MV?

19: Who do you think you’d be best friends with?

20: Let’s feed those delusions, Who are you picking for a date and what are you doing?